Charlie and Jack

By Phoebe Otis

Someone is killing beloved pets in Provincetown. Charlie Rice and his dog, Jack, along with his cousin Diana and best friend Billy are working to solve the mystery in the town by the sea. Who could be doing such a cruel thing? The answer lies closer than any of them could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543413519

Phoebe Otis

Formerly an actress and singer, Phoebe Otis loves writing about life on Cape Cod, where she lives with her wife, four dogs, three cats and three birds.

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Copyright © 2017 by Phoebe Otis.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017905420

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5434-1353-3

                Softcover         978-1-5434-1352-6

                eBook               978-1-5434-1351-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/05/2017

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

For my

wife, Betty, and all the dogs we’ve loved.

CHAPTER ONE

August 2001

T here was almost a foot of water at the bottom of the trench. He’d never seen rain like that. Sheets of it slammed down, hiding the jungle around him behind a wall of water. He was soaked to the skin and shivering from the cold and fear.

Take it easy, kid, said his CO, crouching next to him in the wetness. Nobody’s doing anything as long as it’s raining like this.

The next thing he knew, he was on his back in the water, looking up into the driving rain. There was something on top of him. He pushed up with his arms and the body of his CO rolled off to his left. He sat up. Nothing he was seeing was making sense. The trench was still filled with men, but nobody was moving. They were all just lying there, staring. Why didn’t they move? He started screaming.

Jack’s cold nose and wet tongue woke him up. Whenever Charlie Rice had that dream, his dog would wake him by jumping on the bed and licking his face.

I’m okay now. I’m okay, he said, sweating and breathless.

Jack stretched out beside him, and they both listened to the sounds of the coming dawn outside the little house.

A lot had changed for Charlie over the past year. He no longer roamed the beaches and roads around Provincetown dressed in his old tuxedo pants and donated shirts, his soft voice keeping track of what he saw around him. Nobody called him Charlie Mutters anymore. He still took careful notice of his surroundings, and he and Jack loved long walks through the woods or along the beaches, but he no longer felt the need to hide from life and the memories of a long-ago war. Most of the reason for that was the big black dog beside him. Jack had been nearly dead when Charlie found him in Beech Forest, abandoned by a careless summer visitor. With the help of friends, Charlie had coaxed the dog back to health and somehow, Jack’s need had mended the rift in Charlie’s mind. Together they had healed each other.

Okay, Jack, off the bed now.

Jack rolled over onto his back, his four long legs pushing upward in a big stretch. He looked at Charlie and whined softly.

Come on, lazy, said Charlie, pulling on some jeans and a shirt. We have work to do! Let’s go!

Jack jumped to the floor, and Charlie made the bed.

On the way to the kitchen, he opened the front door and let Jack out. From the window, he watched the dog patrol the perimeter of the yard, marking as he went. Not for the first time, Charlie saw how wolf-like Jack was. His black coat was flecked with dark brown, his snout long and pointed, his ears close to his head. His eyes were light brown and full of intelligence. Somewhere in his background, a Labrador retriever had contributed a running gait as fluid as ink, but who knew what ancestor had given him his size? When Jack stood on his hind legs, he was as tall as Charlie. One of his favorite things to do was to put his front paws on Charlie’s shoulders and stand eye to eye with him. Charlie was Jack’s world. It was as if the dog knew Charlie had saved his life. Charlie would tell it the other way, saying Jack saved his life, and both were true.

The sun was rising as they finished cleaning up breakfast.

We’d better get over to the shelter. It’s feeding time.

The shelter and Charlie’s house were on property that had been in the Rice family for several generations. Charlie had spent his childhood there, in a big white house overlooking the sea. He inherited it when his grandfather died, but by that time Vietnam had done its damage and he had retreated into his safe world of wandering and making lists. The house had burned to the ground one winter, and Charlie had taken up residence in an old camper cap on the land. His days were spent walking the roads, forests and beaches of the Outer Cape, taking note of everything he saw, using the healing beauty of the place to block the hideous memories. The property had almost been lost to back taxes and unscrupulous developers, but with the help of his best friend Billy and his cousin Diana, that plan was thwarted, and the land now belonged to the town. A vote was taken at Town Meeting, and plans for the animal shelter were approved. Charlie was hired by the town to run it. Many bake sales, benefit shows, potluck dinners and raffles later, ground was broken and the building went up. Everyone helped. There was no shortage of plumbers, electricians, and carpenters eager to donate their services. What had been an empty foundation full of wild plants since the old barn fell down in a storm was now home to stray and abandoned dogs and cats.

As they approached, a chorus of barking greeted them. Charlie grinned at Jack.

Sounds like they’re awake.

Later, after Charlie had fed all the animals and cleaned up, he let the dogs out into the outdoor runs and stood watching them with Jack.

That little guy’s had a hard time, he said, watching a small black dog with obvious damage to his hind quarters. He moved along pretty quickly using his forelegs, his hind legs dragging behind him. The other dogs were ignoring him, except for one brown female of indeterminate breed, who followed the little dog and sat with him when he got tired. He paid her no mind at all, but she stuck by him anyway.

There were only five dogs in the shelter at the moment. Charlie had cared for as many as a dozen there. The end of summer on Cape Cod meant an increase in the number of stray or abandoned cats and dogs. Sometimes people thought they might stay for the winter or just didn’t think at all before taking on the responsibility of a pet. Some just figured someone else would take care of that adorable puppy/kitten. So the animals got left behind. Some died, some went feral in the dunes, but the lucky ones came to Jack’s Place, where they found a home and safety. In the year since the shelter had opened, Charlie had overseen the care of more than thirty stray dogs and cats, finding them permanent homes on the Outer Cape.

C’mon, Jack. We need to see to the new cages. They’ll be filling up soon.

He and Jack started toward the rear of the building when they heard someone pull up outside. Charlie looked out the window and saw the animal control officer’s van. Matt Tarvers was climbing out. Charlie went out to meet him, Jack at his heels.

Hi, Matt. What brings you out here?

Hi, Charlie. I stopped by to tell you about a call I got this morning. Margie Whittman thinks someone murdered her rabbits.

What?

That’s what she said. She told me she went out to the hutch this morning and they were all dead. I’m on my way over there now to investigate. Could you come with me?

Sure, Matt. Can Jack come too?

I was hoping he would. Some of his abilities might come in handy, that’s for sure.

Let’s go.

Charlie secured the shelter, left a note on the door for anyone looking for him, and snapping a leash onto Jack’s collar, he and his dog joined Matt in the