An Army of Noses

By Holly L. Lewitas

This charming mystery boasts an endearing dog who helps her human snuff out crime.

An Army of Noses is the third Spunky Murder Mystery penned by Holly L. Lewitas. Spunky is an older terrier mix who lives with her owner, clinical psychologist Dr. Hannah Richards, and a variety of cats. The book is told from Spunky’s point of view, so there is plenty of enthusiasm for naps, treats, walks, and visits around her local Wisconsin college town. These frequent trips out with Richards allow her to team up with her feline friends and the other members of the “army of noses” (including neighborhood dogs and a sharp-eyed owl) that ultimately solves the mystery of who murdered Richard, a local gay man and lover of one of Richards’s patients.
Spunky’s animal army is aided by members of her owner’s therapy group, one of whom is jailed erroneously for the crime. These human sleuths are much less on the ball than the observant feral cats, or “free spirits” as Spunky calls them, who hang out at the local laundromat and, of course, the furry heroine herself. There are some unrelated side plots about other psychology clients that lend interest to the story line and help flesh out Richards’s personality.
Lewitas is adept at dialogue, both inner and outer, and this gives her characters lots of distinguishing characteristics. From the frequently out-of-breath cat Fearless to the romantic banter between Richards and her police detective boyfriend, there are strong portraits of the many characters in this well-populated mystery. Spunky is a particularly endearing character with strong opinions about the feline and human species. She doesn’t lack for self-esteem (“Luckily for everyone, I’m as patient as I am cute”), and the book is shot through with her clever commentaries (“Every critter knows the likelihood of getting extra tidbits greatly increases if you swap humans. People are much less rigid when it’s someone else’s dog”).
This book is the perfect cozy mystery for any animal lover. While containing serious adult themes, it is not graphically violent, making it a mystery that relies more on brains, humor and instinct instead of gore to entertain readers. It is an exciting, highly entertaining read not only for animals lovers but for mystery lovers as well. Although some of the adult themes may deter those who prefer less edgy reading material.
Spunky’s character appears is based on the large-eared cutie sharing the author photo on the rear cover, which explains the many lighthearted and knowledgeable insights into pet behavior. Lewitas’s third installment in this charming mystery series should win even more animal lovers into her circle of readers. ---
Rachel Jagareski - Foreword Clarion Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holly L. Lewitas
• Release date: Aug 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310461125

Holly L. Lewitas

Holly Lewitas grew up in Bay Shore, Long Island in the 1950s as the middle daughter of two World War II veterans. She had an idyllic childhood just like the old commercial – as American as apple pie and Chevrolet, until she went to college in the 1960s, when, as she puts it, “all the influences came to bear.” The 60’s expanded her world, her view of life and taught her to stand up for her beliefs even in difficult times. Holly Lewitas has always been an animal lover by nature. She’s a registered nurse by training, and an avid mystery reader. Little did she know that her years of work in psychiatry and animal rescue would all come into play when she created the well-received Spunky Murder Mystery series. Years ago, while living in Chicago, she rescued a terrier mutt puppy, and it quickly became obvious that Spunky was no ordinary dog. Years later after surviving the death of her beloved husband, she transplanted her-Yankee-self to Alabama to be nearer to her family. It was then that Holly felt it was time for the world to know this smart, classy, charming, lovable canine. She began to put words to Spunky’s personality and the unique voice of Spunky took shape. It was no stretch of the imagination that Holly saw this determined terrier as a solver of mysteries. With Spunky’s curious personality and terrier tenacity, it was the perfect match. Before long the need for alternative points of view became obvious and Holly’s rescued felines provided a plethora of potential characters. Holly has learned that one can see the whimsical in even the mundane, ordinary things if keep your mind open to the possibility. Her animals have always helped her view the world in the simplest and best way. She set out to write suspenseful tales that would enthrall the reader, give them a smile or two, and make them feel sorry when the story ends. According to the reviews, she certainly has done just that. She invites you to meet the wise, clever, and whimsical Spunky. She believes you too will fall in love with her.

Book preview

Chapter One

"Spunky,—(breath)—everyone knows cats can—(breath)—leap higher than dogs—(breath)—so tell me, thou great doggie sage—what's up with that?"

That's simple, my feline friend. Cats are filled with hot air!

Ha-ha.

Okay, Fearless, since you started this discussion, tell me why cats can't roll over, shake paws, or sit up on command like a dog can?

"That, my buddy,—(breath)—is proof positive—(breath)—cats are smarter than dogs!—We have the humans convinced—we're untrainable—(breath)—and hence, we're not the ones doing stupid tricks—you are!"

Fearless's breathing issues have never stopped him from participating in a good debate on the subject of cat versus dog. Unfortunately, the office phone rang and put an end to this one.

Our human mom, Dr. Hannah Richards, went to retrieve the call. She's a clinical psychologist, and she sees the majority of her patients via computer. The unlisted phone number that was ringing is known only to the answering service and a few select patients. It was not a good sign that it was ringing this early on a Thursday morning.

Hello....John? What did you say?—you're where?—Hang on...I'm putting you on the speakerphone so I can grab a pencil.

Dr. Richards, I said I'm in jail! I got arrested last night. I only get this one call and I didn't know who else to call. I need a lawyer, but I don't know any. Can you call one for me? I don't have a lot of money, but I promise I'll pay them. You know I will, I—

Hold on, John. Slow it down. Of course, I'll be glad to contact a lawyer for you, but first you have to tell me what in heaven's name were you arrested for.

I was charged with being drunk and disorderly, lewd and lascivious behavior, and consorting with male prostitutes.

"My goodness, John, what were you doing last night?"

"That's a long story, Doc. But you know, better than anyone, that I'd never do anything lewd and lascivious. I admit I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Doc,—(John dropped his voice to a whisper)—I'm so scared I don't know what to do."

John, of course you're scared. I promise I'll help in any way I can. Did you get hurt?

John answered, Only my pride.

Well, that won't kill you. Okay, let's concentrate on getting you that attorney. Which precinct are you at?

The one near the college. I don't know the address.

That's okay, I know where it is. Have you seen a judge yet?

No, Ma'am. The cop said my arraignment would be later today.

Okay, I'll make some calls. I'm sure I can find you a lawyer for the arraignment, and then we can figure out the rest of the plan. John, did you plead guilty to anything?

No, Ma'am.

Good, keep it that way. I'll come see you. I'm sorry I won't be able to get down there until later today. I have patients scheduled all morning. I'm not even sure the police will let me see you, but trust me, I'll try, and I'll get an attorney headed your way as soon as possible.

Thanks, Doc. I feel better now that you know where I am.

Listen, John, if a detective by the name of Frank Finley talks to you, be sure to remind him you're one of my clients. He's the same cop who helped our group when Theo caused all that trouble. I'll call Frank and see if he can help in any way, though I'm not sure what the rules are about that sort of stuff, so I can't guarantee anything. But, remember his name—Detective Finley.

Detective Finley. Okay, I'll remember. Thanks, Doc.

After Mom hung up, she sat there shaking her head. Goodness gracious, what has that boy gotten himself into?

I nudged her with my nose. She patted her lap. I jumped up, put my paws on her chest, and kissed her nose. She chuckled. Thanks, Spunky. I needed that. I bet John could use a hug too. Jail is no place for anyone, but it's certainly no place for a sweet gay man!

She sighed deeply and placed me back on the floor. "Okay, girl, it's time to call Tom and see if he can help us, again!" Tom Mackey is an attorney and a longtime friend of Mom's. He has helped her before, with other clients. Luckily, today he was available to take her call. Mom put him on the speakerphone before she went to grab her coffee cup.

Tom, I've been counseling John Gaynor for over a year. He also attends my therapy group every week, and I can tell you he's one of the sweetest, kindest men I've ever met. He's a good, honest man, and he's not a liar. If he says he didn't do what they arrested him for, then I can guarantee you the cops got something wrong. Yes, he's gay, but I've never known him to associate with prostitutes. There simply has to be more to this story. He needs your help, Tom, but he does have a limited budget.

Tom said, Hannah, you know I trust your judgment. But even if it turns out you're wrong about him, he still needs legal counsel. I'll be glad to send one of my associates over there. Don't worry; if his case doesn't get complicated, we'll use an associate, and John should be able to manage the fees. I'll be glad to arrange a payment plan.

Thanks, Tom. You're terrific. I owe you big-time.

After Mom hung up, she immediately dialed again. I listened as she pushed the buttons, and the sound pattern emanating from the phone told me she was calling her ace in the hole, Detective Frank Finley.

Mom began dating Frank about three months ago. Before that Mom had been happily married to my human Dad, Adam, for twenty-five years. Then without warning, six years ago, she became a widow. Dad was the love of her life, and Mom had no big desire to find a new human companion. In fact, over the past six years, Mom had only briefly dated one other man—Jacob.

Mom and the detective had actually first met professionally many years ago. Then out of the blue a few months ago, he called, asked her out and everything changed. Fortunately for me, Mom and her former beau, Jacob, are still friends. The reason I say it's fortunate is because Jacob is the human companion to my best dog-pal, a big Labrador named Quincy. If our humans were to stop seeing each other, I'd sorely miss the big lug. If the truth be known, too many canine friendships come to a screeching halt just because you humans get your noses out of joint!

Today, Detective Finley wasn't answering his phone. Mom left a voice message telling him about John and asking for his help. Before she hung up, she glanced at the clock and added, Frank, I just noticed the time. I have three back-to-back therapy sessions starting in thirty minutes, and I haven't even fed the animals yet. I need to turn off my phone and get busy. Would you please leave me a voicemail so I'll know that you got this? I'll call you back after my last session. Thanks, bye.

Then Mom began hustling to get us all fed. Feeding time at our house is no easy assignment. First, you start inside, feeding me and my four feline house-buddies—Fearless, Bobby, Sweetie, and Fancy-Pants. They're neutered, but they're still one-hundred-percent male, which means they get ornery when they're hungry, especially Mr. Fancy-Pants. After that, Mom heads outside to feed the passel of cats that live in the barn and the numerous cathouses scattered about the property. Twice a day, like clockwork, they all show up in the back yard to eat. It looks like a used cat parking lot!

The reason we have so many cats is because Mom began rescuing and neutering stray cats about three years ago. Back then I was a nine-year-old, twenty-pound mutt who had never even met a cat, let alone lived with one. Mom's new project created challenges for both of us. But luckily for everyone, I'm as patient as I am cute. Once the cats learned which infractions resulted in the immediate removal of their butt fur, we began to get along just fine.

In fact, over the years I've come to learn cats can be useful to have around, especially when a task requires climbing fences, knocking objects off high places, or stealth sneaking. I have also learned to avoid cat claws at all costs, and even though I think every cat is a little peculiar, no two have the same temperament. Each has his or her own quirks and talents, and the quicker I learn their quirks the better it is for me. Without a doubt, cat logic can be baffling, but I've also been able to witness their great wisdom. I routinely get to see their cat brains in action, since all of us assist Mom with her computer therapy sessions. Bottom line, despite their feline idiosyncrasies, I couldn't ask for four more loyal or trusted friends.

Today our first patient was a lady by the name of Nikki George. This was her second session. A judge had ordered her and her boyfriend, Lee, to start therapy after the Department of Children and Family Services initiated an investigation of the endangerment of their young daughter, Amber. According to the caseworker's report, the cops had arrested friends of Nikki and Lee when they bought drugs from an undercover cop. They listed Nikki's address as their own and an hour later, the police showed up with a warrant and began searching the house. They found drugs and paraphernalia in the friends' car, but none inside the house. Nikki and Lee weren't arrested, but police did notified D.C.F.S. Their investigation resulted in Nikki being ordered to start therapy. The judge assigned her to Mom.

Nikki came across as talkative, friendly, pleasant, and cooperative. She was skinny, with hardly any meat on her bones, and even though she said she was thirty years old, she dressed in clothes like the ones I see on the two teenage girls who live down the street. Her short, dark brown hair was streaked with a bright crimson color, and the dark liner around her eyes made her look like my dear friend, Bandit, the raccoon. While I find Bandit's eye-circles to be adorable, Nikki's did not have the same effect on me. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. Why do some humans work so hard to look so weird?

Today, Nikki seemed very upbeat. Doc, yesterday, the social worker from D.C.F.S. made an unexpected home visit, and everything went really well. I think she's going to close the case.

Why do you say the visit went so well?

Nikki sat up straight, threw back her shoulders, and proudly said, The house was spotless and nice and toasty warm. There was plenty of food in the fridge, Amber behaved perfectly, and the case worker told me everything looked exceptionally neat.

Nikki, according to my records, you work full time, and Amber is two years old. Is that correct?

Yes.

That combination doesn't strike me as being conducive to everything being extraordinarily neat. If the visit was unannounced, why was everything all shipshape?

Oh, I clean all the time; I can't stand things to be dirty or messy. I'm obsessive that way.

And if Amber makes a mess?

Nikki began talking much faster. "More likely it would be Lee who made the mess. He's a real slob, and he never makes Amber pick up anything. He lies on the sofa all day and lets Amber do what she wants. When I get home from work, I always make Amber put away her toys. Don't get me wrong, Doc, Amber can play with her toys whenever she wants. Kids should be allowed to play, but they must learn to pick up after themselves."

Does Amber have a lot toys?

"Oh, she has a ton of toys. In fact, she just had a birthday, and I got her one of those little motorized cars. She looks so cute driving it. She loves it."

"Amber is two years old and you bought her a motorized car?"

Yeah, it's a small one with a big battery. It doesn't go very fast, so she can't get hurt, and I watch her closely.

Nikki, from what I know, those cars cost a lot of money. You told me Lee doesn't have a steady job, and you work at a department store, so tell me, how much money do you two have saved?

Well, none, but it was her birthday. Heck, Doc, when I was a kid no one ever gave me anything. I wanted her to have something special.

"And if Amber gets sick, or if your real car breaks down, then what do you do?"

Good point. I should start saving money.

Nikki, have you ever had a sum of money saved up?

No, Ma'am, I've never been that lucky. I've always lived paycheck to paycheck, but most of the time I pay all my bills, and I'm trying real hard to pay off some of my debt each month.

And that debt is to whom?

Doctors and hospitals mostly, but I also have an old electric bill and some old credit card charges. It'd be a lot easier if Lee got a real job and stopped spending my money.

Why doesn't Lee have a steady job?

Well, he had some trouble in the past with drugs. He did some jail time, so no one is anxious to hire him. He works odd jobs. He's a talented carpenter and he's a great father to Amber.

But you just told me he's a slob, lies around on the sofa doing nothing, and never tells Amber to pick up her toys.

Yeah, that's true, but he really loves Amber and he's never mean to her.

Nikki, tell me something, the friends that stayed at your house, did you know they were doing drugs?

"I knew they did drugs. Danny's been arrested before for drugs, but I told them they couldn't bring that shit in my house, and they promised they wouldn't."

And why did you let them stay at your house?

They had nowhere else to go; they were sleeping in their car. I felt sorry for them.

They could have gone to the shelter run by the Catholic Church.

Yeah, I know, but I couldn't tell them to do that.

Why not?

They're my friends.

So you let these people, one you knew had a criminal record and who you knew did drugs, stay in your house with your two-year-old daughter, because you felt sorry for them?

Nikki started getting louder. "Yeah, but you're missing the point. I didn't let them in until they promised not to bring any drugs into the house. The cops found the drugs in their car—not in the house! So see, I was right. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know what the big fuss is about! I didn't do anything wrong! It wasn't my fault they got arrested for buying drugs!"

Mom shook her head and sighed.

I agreed. The possum living in our barn had more sense than Miss Nikki George.

Chapter Two

After her last session, Mom checked her cell phone and played back Frank's message. Hannah, I got your message. I'll try and see what I can learn about John's arrest, but I want to be very clear about one thing—I'm not butting into another cop's case. Call me when you're done seeing patients, and I'll let you know what I've learned.

Mom dialed Frank's number, punched the speakerphone button, and then hurriedly began making herself some lunch.

Detective Finley speaking.

Hi, Frank, it's Hannah. What did you find out?

Not much. Apparently, there was a group of men busted last night at a gay club on Fifth Street. Your guy was one of the men they hauled in. Tony Derenzo is the detective assigned to the case. He's a good man, but I haven't been able to talk to him yet because he's been out all morning. But, Hannah, I'm serious—I'm not butting into his case.

I understand, Frank. Can I go see John?

Not until after he's arraigned. Did you find a lawyer for him?

Yeah, Tom Mackey sent over one of his associates. Do you know when John will be arraigned?

He's assigned to Judge Matthew, and he always starts at one p.m. sharp. Listen, I've got to be at the courthouse on one of my own cases, so if I can, I'll poke my head into Judge Matthew's courtroom and see if I can learn anything. But if I were you, I'd wait at least two hours before heading down here.

Thanks, Frank. I really want to see him. There has to be more to this story. Frank, one more thing, do you think you could get permission for Spunky to come?

Frank laughed. Woman, you don't ask for much, do you?

Now Frank, you know Spunky will calm John faster than I ever could.

Heck, Hannah, it's a small town. Every cop in the precinct has heard about you and Spunky after the nursing home incident. I don't think any of them would mind Spunky coming with you. If there's a problem, ask the desk sergeant to give me a call. Hey, are we still on for dinner tonight?

We sure are. Any idea what time you'll be done?

Not at the moment. I'll call later and let you know.

After Mom hung up, she seemed momentarily stumped. Well, now what? We don't have any more patients to see, we can't go see John for two hours, and it's too early for our friends to be at Puppy Park, so now what do we do?

I cocked my cute little head to the left so she'd know I was trying to help.

What about a nice walk in the woods? What do you think of that, Spunk?

My rude feline friends didn't wait for my answer. Their butts were already going through the dog door, but their haste would be in vain. There was no need to hurry. It was early spring here in Wisconsin, and that means the weather can change from one day to the next. Yesterday was actually balmy, near sixty, then early this morning a cold front came through and Mom was now saying, It is darn-right nippy out there. We weren't going anywhere until Mom first put on more layers.

She's a petite, slender woman, and she chills easily. She compensates for this by wearing more clothes than other human I know. Since it would take her a while to get ready, I indulged my soon-to-be thirteen-year-old joints and sank into the softness of my new big, plump, bright-red doggie pillow. A visitor told Mom she should have bought a pink pillow for a female dog. Mom laughed and said, You don't know my Spunky. There's absolutely nothing pink about her except her cute little pink belly. She's one tough terrier, and if I brought home something pink, she'd probably pee on it!

She got that right!

I watched as Mom changed into a heavier pair of jeans and a long-sleeve turtleneck. She then pulled on a heavy sweatshirt, added a wool vest, a jacket, and a baseball cap. After checking to make sure her mittens were still in her jacket pocket, we were finally ready to head out the door.

The sun was bright and sat high in the sky. The temperature felt in the high forties. Deep woods surround three sides of our house. When we cut through the back woods, Mom and I can walk to the college campus or Puppy Park in about fifteen minutes. By using the other trails, we can stay in the woods and frolic without being bothered by traffic or people. As we turned the corner, the bright sunshine bounced off a mass of yellow daffodils, forcing me to squint. The daffodils were already in full bloom, but the forsythia was just beginning to bud out. I love this time of year; not too hot and not too cold. Since I've gotten more gray hairs, I've noticed that the cold makes my joints ache more, and I tire faster than I used to in the summer heat. But the spring and fall are still perfect.

There were many fresh scents. My brain was having trouble keeping up with all the updates my nose was receiving. The last one told me Woody, our resident woodchuck, was already out and about after his deep hibernation. The skunks and raccoons are lighter sleepers than Woody, but their activity level is also greatly reduced in the winter. From the number of crisscrossing scents I was now picking up, it was obvious that they too were back in full swing.

I lifted my nose off the trail and saw the four cats ahead of us. Bobby, Sweetie, and Fearless are all tiger-striped tabby cats, but it's easy to tell them apart. Bobby has a stubby bobtail, while the tail on his brother Sweetie is long and thin. Sweetie also weighs more than Bobby, and has gray markings, not brown, between his dark black stripes. The easiest to identify is Fearless. Not only do his long, lanky legs make him the tallest, but his head is permanently tilted to the left. Yup, his head tilts all the time—twenty-four-seven. He's been like that since he was a baby and a man wearing heavy boots kicked him in the head. If not for the help of some momma cats, Fearless would have died, but they got him to Mom in time. Eventually his outer wounds healed, but his neck never did straighten out, and he still needs to take twice as many breaths as the rest of us because of his damaged windpipe. It doesn't hurt him one little bit, and it doesn't hold him back from doing exactly what every other cat does. So unless you're a man wearing heavy boots, don't expect that big boy to back down. However, it remains a mystery to me how he can walk in a perfectly straight line with such a crooked head.

The last of our housemates, Fancy-Pants, looks entirely different. If you take an orange and white Creamsicle, inflate it with air, attach a head at one end and a fluffy orange and white feather duster to the other, you'd have Fancy-Pants. But, it needs to be a very big Creamsicle. He out-eats all of us!

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