Cinderella: Dog Gone, A Cindy Nesbit Mystery

A JLT Publication

Cinderella – Dog Gone

A Cindy Nesbit Mystery

© 2012 by J. Lee Taylor

eBook ISBN:

All Rights Reserved

Cover Artist:

Katrina Kirkpatrick

Published by JLT Publications

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with other people, please purchase additional copies. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com for your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Originally published under the title Cinderella and the Wolf in June 2006 by

Hard Shell Word Factory

PO Box 161

Amherst Jct. WI 54407

books@hardshell.com

www.hardshell.com

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of

the author, and have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same

name or names. These characters are not even distantly inspired by any

individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure

invention.

Dedication

In memory of Rusty, my brother and his wife’s first Golden Retriever and the inspiration for the dog in this book.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Author Information

CINDERELLA – DOG GONE

J. Lee Taylor

Chapter One

Halfway over the Sierras the heater in my ten-year old Jeep finally gave up the ghost. I should have taken it as a bad omen and returned to Reno. Instead, cold to the bone, I followed Interstate 80 into the Sacramento valley and found a mid-winter fog had settled over the flats like wet wallpaper. Because of the poor visibility, I reduced my speed and glared at the clock. Fifteen minutes late. To make matters worse, I missed the Vacaville exit and had to double back.

First the heater, now the fog. What else could go wrong?

I was on the east side of the Sierras to meet a new client, San Francisco socialite, Erika Stanley. Someone was stealing the Bay Area’s top-ranked dogs. Fear for her champion golden retriever had prompted the call. She thought the situation required additional security. A mutual acquaintance, her husband’s financial advisor and my long-distance boyfriend, Ty Rhodes, had recommended me.

Erika offered a lot of money for what sounded like a glorified dog-sitting job, something I was overqualified to do.

FINDERS, INC., the private computer search company I own, locates lost items. Erika’s dog hadn’t been stolen, and it wasn’t lost. Glorified dog-sitter or not, I needed the money.

Her directions led me down a gravel drive to a large clearing. On one side stood a rambling ranch-style house that needed paint and a four-car garage with not-so-new vehicles in every bay. Across the sparse yard, a remodeled barn bore a modest sign declaring WOLF KENNELS.

A sleek red Mercedes I’d never be able to afford was parked out front. I wheeled Old Blue next to it and went in search of the office where I was supposed to meet my new employer. Before I could rap on the door, a man’s rough voice stopped me.

Rusty will win. I guarantee it.

"Don’t pull that high-and-mighty crap with me, Dane. After dropping out of the show circuit for a season, your reputation isn’t what it used to be. I know you need this job. No, don’t say another word. I don’t care what your personal reasons were. Sam’s will named you Rusty’s handler, otherwise I never would’ve hired you. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll get a lawyer and break the damn will and the exclusive contract. I’ll get another handler and see to it you never work dog shows in California, again. Or anywhere else."

Damn it, Erika, I know what I’m doing. Rusty isn’t the only expensive dog I’ve worked with. I’ve got insurance. I have an alarm system tied to the house. I don’t need some security expert from Reno telling me how to run my business. Rusty is safe.

That’s what Sally Farnsworth’s handler thought until her dog was stolen out of his kennel yesterday, answered the woman. That will not happen to Rusty. He must be at that show this weekend. Another set of eyes and ears is added insurance.

That sounded like my cue. Although I felt as if I were about to enter a war zone, I knocked.

Come in, the male voice snapped.

I entered a small room that could be an office or a reception area. The two occupants showed no signs of blood. That was a good sign, right?

The only furniture was a plain desk and two wooden chairs. A beautiful woman occupied one of the seats. I concentrated on her.

Hi, I’m Cindy Nesbit. I pretended I hadn’t heard the argument and extended my hand. You must be Erika Stanley.

She rose from the wooden seat as if it were a jewel-encrusted throne. She was a tall, slender blonde who offered me a limp handshake. I couldn’t guess her age, but she exuded Money, with a capital look-what-I-got ‘M.’ Her fingers were loaded with glittering rings, but the abundance of gaudy jewelry clashed with her designer label cashmere pantsuit. No one could overlook the egg-sized diamond wedding ring squatting on her left hand.

A classic Andy Rooney truism came to mind: Money can’t buy class.

Erika motioned to the other person in the room. This is my dog’s handler, Dane Wolf. You’ll be working with him.

Wolf stood next to the window, arms crossed over his chest. In his early to mid-thirties, he stood five foot ten or eleven, whip lean but muscular. He wore black jeans that fit snug over his...uh, legs. His black turtleneck sweater matched the jeans and his eyes. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

I don’t like men with hair longer than mine.

Without a word of greeting, he gave me the once-over, as if measuring my worth in inches. His sneer told me that at five feet one and three quarter inches, I came up short. Vertical discrimination strikes again.

No mistaking the belligerent look on his face; this wasn’t going to be an easy meeting. I held out my hand but he ignored it. As casually as possible, I stuck it in my pocket. I had the feeling he was keeping score, and he’d just made a point.

Erika caught the silent exchange and addressed her remarks to Wolf. My financial advisor said Cindy is a security expert.

Oh, really?

Since when had my boyfriend become her financial advisor?

For that matter, when had I become a security expert?

Although...there had been times when I used unconventional methods to get into areas where I wasn’t supposed to go. I suppose if you stretched the definition, I qualified as a security expert.

I own my own business and often work with the police, I hedged. Neither of them had to know it wasn’t a burglar alarm business or that one of my closest friends was a member of the Reno police department.

Erika nodded. My husband, Sam, God rests his soul, trusted Ty’s advice. After I talked to Cindy, I knew she was right for the job. I feel much better knowing Sam’s dear Rusty is in such capable hands. Her words were sweet, but her cold tone closed off any further arguments.

Wolf didn’t say a word. The muscles in his jaw clenched.

I swear I heard his teeth grinding with frustration.

Erika looked at a wristwatch that flashed more rows of diamonds than Iowa has corn. I have a luncheon in the city. She slipped a check out of her pocket, she handed it to me. You’ll get the other half of your fee after the dog show, as we agreed. Dane, don’t forget my party Thursday night. Bring Rusty. With another nod in my direction, she left the room.

With another glance in Wolf’s direction, I could see he was seething. A flush of color spread over his angular cheekbones. I wouldn’t have blamed Wolf if he’d told Erika Stanley to take her job and shove it.

Diplomatic, she wasn’t.

Based on what I’d overheard, Wolf didn’t want any help, especially mine. He wasn’t going to be easy to work with. I thought about running after Erika and giving her the check back, but the money would fix the hole in my roof.

Security expert, my ass, Wolf muttered to the window. Guarding Girl Scout cookie money, more likely.

Not wanting to get in a name-calling contest, I did my best to act like the only grown-up in the room. I pretended not to hear his insult.

Since I’ve been hired to guard Erika’s dog, I’d like to meet him.

Yeah, Dane, why don’t you show her Rusty?

I turned around and found we had an audience. The sneering girl who had spoken was one of a matched set; her unsmiling teenaged twin stood beside her. Behind them, stood a young man in his late twenties, a taller version of Dane. The family resemblance was uncanny.

What could it hurt? piped up the other girl. The sooner you do, the sooner she’ll leave.

The girls glared at me. I smiled back. My mother had taught me to be tolerant of children.

Dane Wolf turned on his heel and walked out of the office. Without bothering to look over his shoulder to see if I followed, he called, Come.

What did he think I was? One of his dogs?

With the rest of the Wolf pack behind me, I sauntered after the alpha male. Instinctively, I knew if I hurried, he’d believe he’d scored another point.

We exited the office and entered a hallway that opened onto a large space divided roughly in thirds. A barn in a previous life, it had been completely transformed on the inside. Large enclosures connecting to outdoor runs took up both sides of the building. At the far end of the center area were washbasins, dryers, and two grooming tables. A huge ventilation system whirled overhead, eliminating any doggy odors. Everything was immaculate. Although I had no experience with kennels, I knew I was looking at a first-rate operation. I lengthened my stride to keep up.

Was Wolf trying to make me run? I reminded myself to control my temper.

Several dogs got up from their bedding as we approached. All wagged their tails, happy to see Wolf and curious about me. One barked a hello, but Wolf used a slight hand motion, and the dog quieted. We came to the next to last enclosure, and that’s when it happened.

For the second time in my life, I fell in love.

There. Wolf pointed at a glorious golden retriever. Champion Monarch Rustler. Rusty, come on out.

Wolf opened the gate. Rusty bounded into the walkway, reddish-gold silky fur waving with every step. He ignored Wolf and politely came to sit in front of me.

I looked at a still-frowning Wolf to see if it was okay to pet this magnificent animal. He gave a brief nod.

Because I grew up in a small trailer, there had never been enough room or money for a pet. My only experience with a dog was my current neighbor’s ratty little mutt that barked every time I came near what he considered his fence. Cautiously I held out my hand for Rusty to sniff. He lapped a big sloppy kiss and ducked his head underneath my palm to encourage a session of petting.

That did it. I was lost.

I knelt and gazed into melting chocolate brown eyes. Before I knew what had happened, I was hugging him and baby talking in his ear. Rusty responded by trying to get closer, thus knocking me on my keester.

A choking sound came from nearby. Suppressed anger or laughter, I couldn’t tell. Either way, my current position was less than dignified. Rusty didn’t help matters by using his tongue like a washcloth on my face. I ended up on my back trying to avoid the slobber and giggling like a six-year-old.

I grasped Rusty’s head in both my hands and pushed him away. Get off me, you big lummox. Sit.

He did. I got to my feet, not realizing Wolf stood over me. In my three-inch high-heel boots, I came close to being five feet five inches, but Wolf was still several inches taller and a lot more intimidating. He was much too close. I took a step back.

Another point for him.

As you can see, Rusty is safe, he said. He’s with my brother or me at all times. There’s a phone by the door. On your way out, use it to call Erika. Tell her you’ve changed your mind.

I’ll be happy to do that, Mr. Wolf, I said, heavy on the sarcasm. Of course, you realize your employer may not be pleased to have her judgment called into question. She thinks the threat to Rusty is real enough to hire added security.

He gave me another thorough once-over that might as well have said, You?

Before he could voice more objections, I tried a different tactic. Look, what harm could it do to have someone else check out your security arrangements? You have an alarm system in the kennels tied into the house?

He nodded.

What else?

Silence.

What other precautions have you taken?

The dogs bark at strangers, and I’m a light sleeper.

I walked to the phone and lifted the receiver. I’m sure if I try real hard, I can convince Mrs. Stanley you don’t need any more help keeping her dog safe. Your arrangements are adequate. I can catch her on her cell phone. Do you have the number?

Dane, why does she want to call Erika? asked a different voice from the doorway.

I hadn’t noticed anyone standing