A Year of Mysterious Deaths at the Riverfront Dog Park

By Saundra McKee

This book bundles the first four volumes of the Riverfront Dog Park Series for one low price. Over the course of a year, the once peaceful dog park in beautiful Greenbanks, PA, has been the scene of four mysterious deaths. Terry Drake, part owner of 'Crafts and Jo', with her retired teacher friends and beloved canines seek to bring the perpetrators to justice

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saundra McKee
• Release date: Apr 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310810640

Saundra McKee

I am a retired educator. I taught in the public schools for 15 years and at the university level for 22 years. I love to travel the world. I enjoy politics, dogs, mysteries and water sports. I am a lay speaker in the United Methodist Church.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Monday

Two weeks before Christmas

The threat of an imminent snow storm was in the air as I reluctantly headed out of my warm cozy home with my two rescue dogs, Mickey and Maisey. The small mixed breeds jumped with glee knowing that they’d soon be racing around the new dog park. The words dog park literally sent them into a frenzy. They barked and bounced as if they were on Pogo sticks. I didn’t even try to get their new coats on them.

I couldn’t help but smile as I approached the huge dog park recently built along the picturesque Allegheny River. The efforts many of us had made to acquire grants and clearances had really paid off. Daylight was just beginning to break through the tall evergreens as I opened the chain link fence and sent the two black terrier mixes racing. I think we’re the first ones here today, kids. Your usual pals won’t be here until later, but you’ve got vet appointments at eight. Take a few laps and do some business. Maybe we can come back again when it warms up.

I tightened my scarf and put on woolen gloves as I watched my two best friends chase each other around the many structures that had been built into the park. There was a small covered bridge, a maze, a ladder like structure, several fire hydrants, and a miniature tugboat along with other objects that both dogs and children found fascinating. I could relax more about their wellbeing in the winter with the fleas and ticks gone and the yucky stuff they too often found to roll in frozen solid.

As my dogs made their way down to the partially frozen river, I noticed some other movement. A large brown dog was pacing near the water’s edge and whining frantically. When I got closer, I realized it was Rex, Angus Harvey’s three year old lab. Then I spotted what appeared to be a body on the frozen ground. Dear God, I whispered to the cold wind blowing in off the river, please don’t let him be dead. I called my dogs and put them back on their leashes, then hurried down the riverbank toward the water’s edge. I reached down and petted Rex’s head as Mickey and Maisey sniffed their old friend, trying to give some canine comfort. I ordered the well trained dogs to stay as I headed toward the body. With a second thought, I turned back deciding to tie them to a post. The body, with its back facing me, was dressed in a dark blue down parka and red sweat pants. I called out Angus’s name, and there was no answer or movement. As I got closer, I feared that my old friend had suffered a heart attack. Angus was in his mid sixties, overweight and unable to give up his pack a day smoking habit. He ate whatever he wanted and only exercised when walking the dog or playing a round of golf. I prayed it wasn’t too late to save him and tried to recall the steps in CPR from the many classes I’d taken but never put into practice over the years. As I drew nearer I saw that the frozen ground around his body was covered with blood….so much blood. I inched around the body trying not to step in the blood, only to discover that the head had been severed and was missing. I quickly stuffed my gloved hand partly in my mouth so I wouldn’t scream my horror and scare the dogs. For a second I thought maybe it was a homeless stranger and not my friend Angus, but the whines coming from Rex told me that wasn’t true. As calmly as possible, I reached for my cell phone and reported all the necessary details to the 911 operator. With that done, I walked away from the body and the curious dogs, threw up my breakfast and began to shake and cry uncontrollably. I wasn’t good in a crisis and lived a safe life, trying to avoid situations that distressed me. The little holiday spirit I’d managed to muster went flowing down the rushing river like a carelessly tossed plastic bottle.

Chapter 2

Within minutes, state police, the county sheriff, EMTs and other first responders arrived. Greenbanks was a small historic town of 10,000 that prided itself on cooperation and respect among various agencies. My family had lived in the area since the Irish potato famine pushed them out of Ireland to seek greener pastures. Sheriff Tom Hodges, a tall handsome man in his late thirties, was a former student of mine and seemed as concerned about my well being as gathering clues. What he lacked in smarts, he made up for in kindness and sincerity. I did my best to maintain my composure and answer the questions being fired at me by the state police like a Gatling gun, assuring the authorities that I hadn’t seen or heard any other people in the dog park nor had I seen the missing head anywhere. I think I mumbled that it might have rolled into the river. When someone suggested that Rex or one of my dogs might have carried it off, I got hot under the collar and let the talking heads around me know it. All I could muster was, Seriously???

The Sheriff, a burly former college tackle, shook his shaved head changing the subject. Well, Ms. Drake, the media is going to have a circus with this story. It’s not too often that a state legislator is murdered. And no one has ever been murdered in this manner anywhere around here. It’s something like you hear about the mob doing to snitches in the big cities. We haven’t been able to contact his wife. Any idea where she could be?

I recalled that Angus’s wife Lydia was on her way to Myrtle Beach to visit their only daughter who was expecting her first child. Please call me Terry, Sheriff. I think Angus was planning to join up with his family in South Carolina next week. You remember their daughter, Susan. She lives in Myrtle Beach now. If there ever was a daddy’s girl… My voice trailed off. This is just so horrific. Lydia and Susan will be devastated.

Lydia and Angus were best friends as well as spouses. Angus was one of the good guys in my opinion. I’m sure he had his detractors, but he’s held onto his office for over thirty years. No one even bothers to run against him. I couldn’t fathom who could or would murder Angus.

I wasn’t sure what I was thinking to myself or articulating out loud at this point, but Hodges gave me a curious look. Then he shrugged. I’d say it was someone familiar with his habits. Do you know if he came to the dog park on a regular basis at this early hour?

I’m not usually here this early, but I know that when he wasn’t in Harrisburg, Angus would often bring Rex here before going into his office. It’s only a few blocks from his house. I imagine a lot of people know he came here many mornings. He was so proud of this park. Without his help, it wouldn’t be here.

The sheriff nodded. Angus knew how to get things done, that’s for sure. The manner of death is just so damn ghoulish. I’m already in over my head—oh dear, forgive that expression. Maybe the state boys can bring in some experts. For Pete’s sake, why chop off the poor man’s head? That just seems like overkill.

I shuddered recalling the grisly scene and trying to keep my back towards it. This area has witnessed some horrific deaths but that was way way back, ranging from Indian massacres to colonial battles and lynchings related to the Underground Railroad. I’d like to think we’re more civilized today, but I guess not. If you guys are done with the questions, I really need to get home and take some aspirin. I have a horrible headache.

Someone mumbled that my headache was nothing compared to Angus’s, and I stomped off. I’m not the most sensitive or politically correct person in town and I usually have a good sense of humor, but really?

I was relieved to finally return to my almost paid off home, dogs in tow. It was right on the river and had a dock where I kept my boat tied up until the river froze. The dogs clamored as much for boat rides as they did for walks. I’d agreed to take Rex to my house until other arrangements could be made. Once inside, Mickey and Maisey protectively guarded their toy boxes while gazing hopefully at me for treats for all their duress. Rex just followed me through the house whimpering.

You poor sweetie, I hugged the handsome lab. You must have witnessed everything. I’m so sorry. Your Angus was a great man and he loved you so very much. I know when he led the way to creating the dog park, he was thinking of you and your friends.

I felt tears running down my cheeks as I put on the tea kettle. I hadn’t wept so much for years. I noticed that there were five new messages on my answering machine and dreaded repeating what I’d witnessed to even my closest friends. I could gossip with the best of them, but this was just too close and painful. For some dumb reason, I suddenly felt bad that my house was only very minimally decorated. There was an old horse drawn sleigh in the front yard, a couple wreaths, a vase of holly and the artificial tree with fish ornaments that I dragged out of the closet every year. Now I knew I wouldn’t be in any mood to decorate further. I was glad that I’d decided not to throw any parties or invite anyone in over the holidays.

I decided to go by the craft/coffee shop, in which I shared ownership with three dear friends. As well as being very busy during the holiday season, one or more of my pals were usually there and never failed to cheer me. I often took the dogs with me, but decided to leave them at home this time. My friends didn’t need distracted by the dogs from the story I knew I would have to tell them.

I listened to my messages, and was reminded of the missed vet appointment and several upcoming holiday engagements. I couldn’t imagine that the holidays would be very cheery with such a violent death on our minds. I got some dog treats out of the cupboard and noticed a bottle of bourbon that someone had given me years ago. I thought about downing a shot, but resisted. Sometimes I wished I still drank liquor. It’s good for blocking unpleasant memories, at least for a little while. But the hangovers just weren’t worth it. I tossed the pups a festive red and green stocking shaped biscuit each and headed back out into the winter weather. It had begun to snow, so I chose to take my small ten year old SUV instead of walking the half mile to the converted brick train station that housed our shop.

Crafts and Joe had been in existence for three years and was doing well financially. My three partners and I had been friends since childhood and had each spent twenty years in the teaching profession. When we hit our early forties, we all seemed to acknowledge that we were feeling burned out. All the testing and standardization and politics had taken the joy out of teaching for us. We brainstormed and decided that we were good at crafts, cooking and dog care. Since there were already two successful pet shops in our small town, we opted for Crafts and Joe, and kept the shop pet friendly, offering dog treats along with an assortment of people treats like fresh scones, biscotti, muffins and cinnamon rolls. At first, we did most of the crafting, cooking and sales, but gradually outsourced most of the jobs to others in the surrounding area. We even had women from the local shelter and students from the vo-tech school cooking and doing a lot of the sales and inventory work. Despite the help, most of us stopped by each morning to touch base and see how everything was going. This time of year, we kept running out of things and had to urge our crafters to bring in more rugs, baskets, pottery, jewelry and the like. With the current economy, most were happy to oblige.

Ellen, Bonnie and Sean were gathered around our usual table in the rear of the coffee shop. The place was busy and abuzz with conversation. It seemed that word of the death of Angus had spread like a brush fire across the community. I tossed my ski jacket into the office and sat down at the oak table. I could never resist taking a quick look around at the cozy interior with its gleaming hard wood floors, stone fireplace and custom made oak shelves. We’d gone all out in decorating. Martha Stewart would be impressed if she ever found her way to Greenbanks.

Terry, we heard you found his body, said Ellen grabbing my hand. How are you doing? Ellen the former kindergarten teacher was petite and blonde and the nurturer of our small group. She volunteered at the animal shelter and was a master gardener too.

Carol, a young intern, set my usual mocha latte’ down in front of me as I nodded in appreciation. I’m trying to get the gory picture out of my mind. I think I’m still in shock. What are people saying?

Bonnie was in the process of reading texts on her phone. She was also a former college math professor who kept our books in order. Bonnie was tall, thin and academic-looking with rimless glasses and unruly red hair. Her partner Melissa was a reporter for the local paper and usually had the inside scoop. Mel says that the coroner has confirmed that it was Angus who was killed. She gulped, His head hasn’t been found. They’re thinking that the perp likely took it with him or her in some kind of bag or container since there doesn’t seem to be a blood trail. Or maybe it just got tossed in the river. They have divers on the scene as well as blood hounds that can pick up scents from the water. They don’t know if Angus was beheaded before or after he died. They suspect that some very large sharp knife was the weapon. There aren’t any defensive wounds on his hands or anywhere which makes it seem like poor Angus didn’t know what was coming or was shot in the head first. It’s all too strange and weird. How could you not put up a fight?

The old friends nodded and took sips of their beverages while lost in their thoughts. I’m sure our appearances belied the sadness we all felt. As former teachers, we all had many holiday sweaters, scarves and ties that were pretty outlandish. We still wore them during the season, and no matter what our mood, we tended to look ever cheerful to those who didn’t know us well.

Sean, who for my money could give George Clooney a run in the looks and charm department, looked devastated to me. He was a former English teacher, was widowed and raising two sons. I really admired Angus and how he could work with people. He was not your typical politician, that’s for sure. I love how he always said, ‘anything is possible’. He made me a believer. I hope they find who did this soon. That should bring a little bit of peace to his family. I just can’t believe he wouldn’t put up a fight either. He was one feisty guy.

I nodded and tried to smile at the faces that I’d come to think of as my family. My parents and sibling had passed on. My one attempt at marriage in my twenties ended when my husband decided he didn’t want to be married to me any longer for reasons I still have trouble articulating. It might have been related to my drinking and some other flaws I’d carried over from college. My ex, Will, was also Bonnie’s older brother. Will didn’t approve of her lifestyle, so neither of us had much to do with the guy. Besides he lived somewhere in Wyoming or one of those square states and seldom made the trip back to Pennsylvania.

I wonder when the dog park will reopen? It’s going to be difficult going there for a while, but our dogs love it so much, mused Ellen.

And Angus would want the park to keep going, said Sean. He put so much effort into making it happen. You’re our history teacher, Terry. Why do you think someone would choose beheading? It makes it almost seem like a ritual kind of killing.

I shrugged. Decapitation was pretty common in ancient cultures and is still used in the Middle East. Somewhere I read that if the blade is sharp enough, it’s fairly painless. I think there have been a few decapitations in our country in recent years. They’ve laid the blame on the drug cartels or organized crime groups trying to send a message. Maybe that’s the key. Angus had no time for drug dealers and was trying to get laws passed that required anyone receiving public assistance pass a drug test. He was also a strong advocate for stronger penalties for drug dealers and wouldn’t even consider supporting legalization of marijuana like some states have done.

Just then, Mike the local mailman walked in bearing a stack of envelopes and boxes. He was usually a font of information and didn’t disappoint. They found the weapon!

Chapter 3

Suddenly all the café clatter and comments of busy shoppers came to a halt and silence filled the building. All eyes were on Mike. Guess they had divers go in the river and they pulled out this thing that looked like some kind of contraption with a sharp blade. Like a portable guillotine or something. If that doesn’t beat all. Poor Angus; in all my travels, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word against the man. Even those who didn’t agree with all his political positions still liked him. He was like, you know, one of us. Well, gotta go. People still like to send Christmas cards and packages. Thank goodness! Two more years and I’ll be here sipping hot cocoa with the rest of you slackers, he