Mushing is Murder Page 3

  And so she had uprooted her life and moved to the frozen north. She could stay in touch with her friends, there would be other men that she liked, and at the end of the day her family was more important to her than a flashy job and an apartment with a rooftop pool.

  But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t miss those things anyway.

  Her bed dipped slightly as a cat jumped up on it. The cat sniffed her knee for a moment, then rubbed his face against it, purring. Angie stroked the feline’s soft fur.

  “I really need to learn to tell you two apart,” she murmured. “Thanks, kitty. I’m feeling a bit better. Shall we go see if Mom needs any help? That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

  She rose to her feet, feeling the soreness in her legs that came from standing all day. She felt a sudden pang for her office, with its plush leather swivel chair she practically sank into, then shook her head. She would get used to being on her feet all day. If someone Betty’s age could do it, she sure could.

  Her mother was in the living room, watching a re-run of an old sitcom. She looked up when Angie came in and smiled.

  “How was your first day?” she asked in her soft voice.

  “It went about as well as it could have,” Angie said, taking a seat on the couch next to her mother. “It was nice to see all the familiar faces. How was your day?”

  “It wasn’t too bad. I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to.” The older woman sighed. “Did your father say what time he’d be home?”

  “He was at the diner when I left and said he was going to stick around there for a while, then go to the store for food. He mentioned something about having a late dinner and inviting the neighbors.”

  Her mother nodded. “I talked to Cheryl on the phone, and she and Dave will be over here at about seven-thirty.”

  “All right. What needs to be done before then? I’m happy to help.”

  “The table needs to be set, and the wine needs to be brought up from the basement. The stairs are hard for me, and so is carrying the plates. Would you mind doing that?”

  “Not at all.” Angie got up. “Where’s Pet? I wouldn’t mind having her around while I help get everything ready.”

  “She’s probably out with the other dogs. Your father took her out when he got back this morning to feed her and give her some time outside. She gets restless if she’s in the house all day.”

  “I’ll go grab her, then I’ll get started on the table. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

  She retraced her steps to the front door and pulled on her boots and a parka she found in the closet before stepping outside. There was a well-worn path through the snow that led to the dog yard which she followed, keeping her fingers tucked into her coat pockets and her head down against the wind. She paused at the gate to enter the code on the padlock, then let herself into the fenced in yard. Looking up, she saw her father’s team.

  There were over twenty dogs in all, each of them tethered to a warm dog house with a platform on top. Most of them were watching her, some barking, some jumping excitedly against their tethers and wagging their tails. Most of them were dogs she didn’t recognize, which wasn’t surprising considering how long she’d been gone.

  She had been apart from the mushing community for long enough that she could see how the set up might look to outside eyes. Someone who wasn’t familiar with keeping dogs this way might see twenty dogs tied up to chains, living their lives outside in weather that was far too cold for a human and feel bad for them, but she knew that the dogs were well cared for and happy. The dog houses, which were raised off the ground and insulated with straw, kept the dogs warm even in the coldest of weather, and the tether gave them much more space to move around in than a kennel did. Even though most of the dogs got along with each other, it wouldn’t have been safe to have twenty dogs running loose in even a big yard for long periods of time without supervision. Keeping them separate like this kept them safe.

  Even though she liked having Petunia in the house with her, she understood why most of the dogs had to live outside. Any dog that lived inside wouldn’t be acclimated to the cold, and wouldn’t have as thick of a coat or as tough of paws as the dogs who were used to the weather. Dogs that weren’t used to the weather could get cold or injured when they were out racing in the depths of an Alaskan winter. And there was no doubt that the dogs loved what they did. It was undeniable when she saw the excitement in the dogs’ eyes when the harnesses came out, or when they saw a team straining against the sled before the snub line was released. They were happiest doing what they had been born and bred for; running.

  It was addictive to humans too. Seeing the team like this made her itch to get back on the runners of a dog sled for the first time in ten years. It was an incomparable feeling, like flying through the snow. She never felt as connected to the dogs as she did when she was out mushing with a team.

  But dogs, like humans, got older. According to her father, Petunia still went on short runs to help with training the younger dogs, but she was retired from the racing team. She got sore, and at night, if she was outside, she got cold. After years of running at the lead of his team, she had earned a lazy retirement in front of the fireplace, and it seemed that she knew it.

  “Hey, girl,” Angie said as she approached the red and white husky. Petunia’s whole body was wriggling as she approached, and she dropped down to roll around in the snow before bouncing up when Angie reached for the clasp that attached the chain to her collar. “Let’s go inside.”

  The older dog knew the routine well, and dashed to the gate, waiting impatiently for it to be opened. Angie pushed it open and stepped out with the dog, pausing to redo the lock behind her. By the time she turned around, Petunia was already halfway down the worn path back to the house. Angie followed more slowly, watching as the dog paused by the building where the sleds were kept. She paused, looking back at Angie as if asking a question.

  “No, sorry girl. We’re just going inside.” She gestured toward the house.

  The dog ducked her head to grab a mouthful of snow, then trotted the rest of the way up to the porch. Angie could see the stiff way she moved, but despite her age, the dog seemed just as happy as ever. If humans were as positive as dogs, she thought, then the world would be a much better place.

  5

  It was well past dark by the time dinner began. The five of them sat around the dining room table, Angie sitting in awkward silence while the older couples laughed about something she hadn’t been around for. She liked Cheryl and Dave, but hadn’t spent much time around them since her sister’s funeral. She wasn’t sure where the conversation would lead once they turned their attention to her, and would rather avoid the serious topics if she could.

  “We’re being rude, Dave,” Cheryl said at last, touching her husband’s arm. “You’ll see Rod tomorrow, you can tell him your story about the bear then.” She turned to Angie. “Now, Angie, dear, how are you doing? I was so thrilled when your mother told me you were coming back, but of course this has got to be quite a big change for you.”

  “I’m doing well,” she replied, giving the older woman a smile. “It is a change, but it’s really not as much of a change as I was expecting. Even after all this time, it’s almost like I never left. Pretty much everything’s the same here, which makes it a lot easier to adjust. How have you two been?”

  “We’re hanging in there,” Cheryl said, her hand still on Dave’s arm. “The winters are getting harder, of course. It used to be that I never thought twice about waking up in the dark to go feed the animals, but now my old bones start complaining the second my alarm goes off. Dave, of course, needs just as little sleep as always. He’s out goodness knows how late at work, then gets up before I do in the morning.”

  Dave chuckled. “You forget that I take a nap in the middle of the day when I can.”

  “Maybe once a week,” Cheryl scoffed. “You and those dogs of yours. You spend every spare second you have off practicing with Bill and Rod. You’ve got dog fur on the brain, Dave, I swear. The three of you are going out again tomorrow morning, leaving me to tend to everything else on my own.”

  “It’s not fair to the dogs if they don’t get their exercise,” Dave said innocently. “It’s too bad Angie’s all grown up now. Remember when she was ten and she would come over before school every morning to feed the animals for us? I’m guessing two dollars a day wouldn’t do it anymore.”

  Angie chuckled. She remembered her mother shaking her awake an hour before her siblings had to get up, making her keep good on her promise to the neighbors to work for them for the winter. It hadn’t been a fun year, but the money had been nice back then.

  “Sorry, my dad’s already got me working my fingers to the bone at the diner.”

  “We’ll have to stop in sometime and see you at work.” Cheryl looked at Angie’s mother and smiled. “You must be so proud of her, your little girl all grown up.”

  “I am,” her mother said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Angie saw the sadness there, and knew she was thinking of her little girl who didn’t get to grow up. The table fell silent as if everyone else’s thoughts had gone to the same place. Cutting herself a small bite of salmon, Angie thought, This. This is why I left.

  The next morning got off to a better start than the previous one had. She made it to the diner on time to open, and she met one of the employees she would be working with frequently, a teenager just out of high school named Theodore Wiggin, who told her everyone called him Theo.

  He seemed to know his way around the diner better than she did, so she let him take care of the opening routine while she got the coffee started and prepared the waffle maker and the electric skillet for pancakes. She knew that at some point she would be taking ove
r the managerial side of things, which had been her mother’s job, but she needed to get familiar with how the place was run first.

  “Excuse me, um, Mrs. Seaver?”

  She looked up to see Theo standing next to her, looking nervous.

  “You can call me Angie, if you want,” she said. “I’m not married, plus whenever someone says Mrs. Seaver, I just think they’re talking to my mother.”

  “All right, then. If you’re sure. Angie… um, is that supposed to be waffle batter?”

  She looked down at the bowl of batter she was mixing. “Yeah. Did I do something wrong?”

  “Just… did you use the pancake mix to make it?”

  “Was I not supposed to?”

  He shook his head, still looking nervous, as if he was afraid he was going to get in trouble for correcting her. “We use the Belgian waffle mix in the pantry. The pancake mix sticks in the waffle maker, and it doesn’t get that nice, crisp golden color that the Belgian mix does.”

  She sighed and looked down at the bowl. “Thanks for telling me, Theo. I still have a lot to learn.”

  The rest of the morning went surprisingly smoothly. She quickly got into the swing of things, making hash browns, eggs, and pancakes as if it was what she had spent the last ten years of her life doing. They were just about to switch over to their lunch menu when Theo came into the kitchen to get her.

  “There’s a guy out front that wants to see you, Miss — Angie. Well, he wanted to see your dad, but I told him he’s not here and he said you would do.”

  “Do you know who it is?” she asked.

  “No. It’s a regular, but I don’t remember his name. Starts with an ‘M’ I think. He’s more your age than Mr. Seaver’s.”

  “All right,” Angie said, her interest piqued. “Can you finish this omelet for me?”

  Theo nodded. She washed her hands quickly, then went out into the dining area to find a handsome man who looked to be about her own age, give or take a year or two, waiting next to the register. His brown hair had snow and ice in it, and he was wearing thick gloves.

  “Hi, I’m Angie Seaver,” she introduced herself. “My employee said you wanted to speak with me?”

  He shook her hand. “Malcolm Miles,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I need to find your dad. I tried calling the house and no one picked up. I already know he isn’t here, but I was hoping you’d know where to find him.”

  “I think he was planning on taking the dogs out and running the team on our neighbors’ property,” she said, thinking back to the conversation from the night before. “I could try calling their number if you wanted. Cheryl might pick up.”

  He shook his head. “No, I just came from there. No one answered the door.”

  Angie frowned, beginning to feel concern. “What’s going on?”

  “I own the property bordering Cheryl and Dave’s land. I was outside about an hour ago when a team of dogs came running across a field and came right up to my house. I managed to grab them. The sled was empty. There was no driver.”

  Angie’s eyes widened. “The team lost their driver?” There was a certain amount of risk whenever anyone took a team of sled dogs out. Even people who had lived and breathed the sport for years sometimes made mistakes, and one slip or one too-sharp turn could send the driver flying off the sled. It wasn’t unusual for the team to keep going if that happened, either unaware that they had lost their person, or spooked by the accident.

  “Whose team was it?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound as visions of her father lying injured out in the snow somewhere flooded her mind.

  “I don’t know. I assumed it was Dave’s, which is why I came to see if your dad could help me go look for him, but if your father was out there too…”

  “You went to my family’s house? My mom didn’t answer the door?”

  He shook his head. “We need to get out there and see if we can find the guy who’s missing his team,” he said. “The dogs are safe enough — I took them out of their harnesses and put them in my garage with some blankets — but whoever was on that sled might not be so lucky. I’d go on my own, but I don’t know the local trails and I’d have no clue where to start.”

  She nodded. “I’ll come help you figure out what’s going on. Just give me a moment to tell my employee what’s going on and see if I can make arrangements for someone else to come in. Dave and Cheryl have a lot of property. This could take a long time.”

  Consumed with worry, Angie followed Malcolm to Cheryl and Dave’s house after arranging for things at the diner. While she was driving, she called the landline at her parents’ house, and when that didn’t work, she called her mother’s cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  She felt a rush of relief when she heard her mother answer.

  “Mom, where are you? Is everything okay?”

  “Cheryl took me into town for some shopping and to get lunch,” she said. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Apparently the guy who lives on the other side of Dave and Cheryl found a team of dogs attached to a sled, but no driver. He couldn’t find anyone at either house, so he came into town hoping to find Dad at the diner. He found me instead. I’m going to go help him search for whoever owns that sled. I’m guessing it’s either Dad or Dave.”

  She heard her mom say something to someone else. “Cheryl says Bill was supposed to go out there with them too. We’re on our way back. Oh dear, I hope no one’s hurt.”

  Angie swallowed. “I hope so too, Mom.”

  She was surprised when instead of turning into Dave and Cheryl’s driveway, Malcolm went a mile further down the road and turned onto what she assumed was his driveway. She hesitated at the turn off to Dave’s, but decided to follow him instead.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked as they got out of their cars. She could hear dogs barking, a sound that was so familiar that she hardly paid attention to it anymore.

  “I figured we could grab my snowmobiles. It’ll be faster than walking, and they’re more maneuverable than a dog sled. Plus, if we find someone injured, we can carry them back more easily this way. Do you know how to drive one?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded. “Help me get them ready. We’ll follow the trail the dogs left, and see if we can figure out what happened.”

  She got to work helping him, trying to ignore the sour feeling in her stomach. They were already on their way when it occurred to her that she should have asked to see the sled and the dogs. She might have been able to tell whether they were her father’s, or someone else’s. It would have been worth the extra few minutes to put her heart at ease.

  The dogs had run a curving trail, driverless, through the field that bordered Dave and Cheryl’s property. She could see where the uncontrolled sled had slammed into rocks and logs, likely scaring the dogs even further. It was pure luck that they had run in the direction of Malcolm’s house, and that he had been able to grab the team as they ran by. They could have gone on for miles otherwise.

  The going was slow as they picked their way through the field, but they sped up as they hit one of the groomed trails on Dave and Cheryl’s property. There were old tracks from previous days, but luckily it had snowed during the night and the most recent ones were easy enough to pick out, even from the seat of a snowmobile.

  She let Malcolm lead, following him almost on autopilot, as she looked around for any sign of the injured driver that he might have missed. If someone was calling for help, it would be almost impossible to hear them over the roar of the engines. She was about to signal to Malcolm to pull over so she could suggest that they stop every few minutes to cut the engines and listen for shouting when he pulled to a stop anyway.

  He waved to get her to stop, but she was already slowing down. By the time she got her snowmobile stopped and the engine turned off, he was wading through the snow, across the ‘Y’ where two of the trails intersected. She saw what he was heading for before he reached it. A man was laying in the snow, and he wasn’t moving.