First Born (4 page)

The lieutenant looked back at the house. “Tiny called before you got here.”

“I wondered where he was.”

“He’s tracking down a forensic odontologist to examine Miller’s bite marks. Maybe the expert can help determine what caused them.”

Caldwell just shook his head.

Lake squinted. “So in addition to the interesting animal marks, Tiny had the same impression you did of the car scene.”

“Bad date interrupted?”

“Possibly. We’ll know for sure once we get results back from the lab,” Lake said.

“You would think with significant injuries she wouldn’t have made it far,” Caldwell said.

“Unless something dragged her off.”

Caldwell stopped chewing his gum. That hadn’t occurred to him.

“You see Miller’s claw marks?”

“Yeah. What the fuck?” Caldwell asked.

Lake shrugged as he turned to look down the street. “You gonna help me talk to Sinclair’s neighbors?”

“Sure,” he said, faking an enthusiasm he didn’t feel. Sinclair was dead, but Moore might still be alive somewhere and in need of help. He’d touch base with Search and Rescue the moment he got back to his car.

* * *

Celine Dion blasted from the Bose sound system as they rode through Buckhead in Larry’s convertible Mercedes. It felt so good to hang over the side of the car with her face in the breeze Lily wondered why she hadn’t tried this instead of sitting for hours on a therapist’s couch.
Note to self: stick Celine Dion poster on Larry’s cubicle...if I ever get out of this situation.
She and Larry had a long-standing feud at work that involved the exchange of teenage boy-style practical jokes. He would never live down Celine.

Lily didn’t let the music get to her. The pink bows and matching rhinestone collar that Larry picked out for her were still giving her fits. She wasn’t too thrilled with the hot pink nail polish either, but hey, he paid for it. She didn’t have much say in the matter.

He had worked on his laptop and returned phone calls from the coffee shop next door while she received her spa treatment. Lily spent most of the time trying to review the latest developments in her miserable life. Guilt plagued her. At least she recognized it for what it was. How could she have been so dumb, so trusting of someone like Phil Miller?

As they pulled into the driveway of the Ansley Park home or “the Manor” as Lily had come to think of it, she noticed Frank’s black Audi A-4 in the driveway.

When they entered, she ran to the front of the house to peer through the French doors of Frank’s office. He was pacing while talking on a headset. He waved as Larry picked her up and held her to the glass. Confusion washed over his face followed by a eureka moment.

“A girl!” he mouthed.

“Duh,” said Larry through the glass before walking back to the great room. As he flipped on the Channel 5 News, he fed her gourmet doggy treats. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings so she ate them. Hungry as a pregnant elephant, she would have eaten cardboard.

Larry gasped as a familiar picture flashed on the screen. The news anchor relayed the few known details about the death of Lily’s elderly neighbor as the camera panned to a picture of the duplex they had shared, now draped in yellow crime scene tape.

“Oh no!” Lily began to rumble like an asthmatic cat while she paced the floor.

Larry turned toward her. “What?”

She sat.
I talked.
This wasn’t good. Lily attempted a howl, “Oroarorarara.”

Larry took a sidelong glance at her, fear evident in his pupils. “What is that? Are you hurt? Did someone damage your vocal cords?”

She chased her tail before flinging her new squeaky heart toy in the air at him.
I’m an idiot dog, Larry!

He rubbed his face and hair before shaking his head. “I have got to get some sleep.” Turning back to the news, Larry reversed his steps and plopped onto the cushy sectional. She lay down with her ears wilted to the side of her head. Officials were not releasing any information about the cause of death. Of course, the reporter speculated about Sinclair’s death and a connection to Lily’s disappearance and the bizarre attack on Phil Miller. Lily growled fiercely at the image of him on TV.

Larry’s eyes darted to her. “Pea brain, what’s the big idea? I can’t hear a word they’re saying.”

As they flashed to the crime scene again, she caught a glimpse of Detective Simms. She watched his every move on the screen.

“Dog!”

She turned to Larry. His frosted hair was heavily gelled in a faux hawk and it looked like it was standing on end even more than usual. He raised one eyebrow at her. “Did you recognize Detective Hottie?”

“Wuf!”

“You are something else.” He turned back to the TV to listen to the details of a house fire in Smyrna. With a deep sigh, he clicked off the TV.

She raced over to him with the stuffed squeaky heart in her mouth and dropped it at his feet.

“Aw, thanks.” He lifted the heart between two fingers, his nostrils flaring. Apparently, he had an aversion to dog slobber. He placed it on the ottoman. “Now,” he said with his hands on his knees. “If you are to stay here, you need a name.”

She cocked her head as Larry turned and yelled, “Frank, come in here!”

Frank skidded into the room, hair frazzled, earpiece askew, documents in hand. “You just see the news about the neighbor?” he asked. Lily didn’t appreciate his morbid interest.

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

Frank waited.

“We need to name Dog.”

Frank looked at her.

She gazed back.

“I’m sorry I thought she was a skunk this morning,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t have my contacts in. She did kind of smell.” He grabbed the heart and chucked it her way. She stood stock-still.

Larry chuckled.

“I think there may be something wrong with her,” Frank said.

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” Larry insisted.

“Well. Look at her bottom teeth. Why do they stick out like that?”

“It’s an underbite; very common in little dogs,” Larry huffed.

“Weird,” Frank said, sitting down.

“You better kow-tow to the princess. The groomer said she’s a
purebred
Shih Tzu. They used to live in the palaces of China.”

“Yeah I read about that. They may have originated in Tibet,” added Frank. “Do you know that Shih Tzu means lion? She is considered a foo dog or guardian lion like the ones that protected palaces and temples.”

Impressed, she snuck a glance at Larry. He was dumbfounded.

“Let’s call her Cimba—it means ‘small’ in Tibetan.”

“Cimba makes me think of a large elephant,” Larry said disgruntled.

“How about Foo Foo?”

Larry squinted with disgust. Lily snarled a deep primitive rumble.

“Scary,” Frank said, eyeing her with respect. “How about T-Rex?”

Larry ignored him as he picked up the heart and threw it across the room. Lily bounded into the kitchen and returned to drop it at his feet.

Frank walked to the kitchen. Lily scurried behind him nipping his heels the whole way. Frank swung around to glare at her. She rushed back to hide behind Larry. “Did you just see that?”

“See what?” asked Larry.

“I think she bit me.”

“Frank, really? She weighs eleven pounds. How ’bout I call you a waaahmbulance?”

Frank smirked as he took a sip of water and returned to his spot on the ottoman. I printed out some info on the foo dogs of China.” He handed a page to Larry. Lily strained on her hind legs attempting to see the picture.

“What an ugly mug,” Larry said. It was a Wikipedia blurb showing two lion-like creatures. One had a ball under its paw, representing the earth, but Lily didn’t pay that much mind. She focused on their menacing, demonic faces.

“It says these fierce lions guarded against evil spirits,” Frank said.

“I know that would scare me away,” Larry responded.

“Tibetan lamas bred the dogs to resemble little lions. They are considered holy dogs because when Buddha came to earth from heaven he rode on a lion,” Frank said, placing his glass on the side table.

Larry bent down, surveying her as if she were an oracle.

Frank chortled. “There ain’t nothing holy about that dog. She sounds like Satan’s hell hound when she barks.”

Lily wanted to bite him. Not just nip. Take a chunk out of him.

She breathed a visible sigh of relief when they settled on “Tashi” which apparently connotes prosperity and good luck.

As much as Lily liked Frank and Larry’s company, she yearned for some time alone to think. All the talk about fierce Chinese lion-dog creatures made her nervous as did the haunting image and scent of the man in black. Her sweet neighbor, Mona Sinclair, was dead. She had been a good friend to the Moore family.

Lily tried to keep out the dark emotions that crept through her mind, but she couldn’t. Her father, Officer Arthur Moore, had been shot in the line of duty six years ago. Her boyfriend died nine months ago. Now Mona was dead. What was going on? She needed to figure out how to get her body back so she could function. Life as a dog was a real bitch.

Liling sipped fuzhuan black tea from her favorite tea set decorated with a peach blossom pattern. The pink blooms brought to mind her granddaughter, her namesake, far away in the Peach State. She managed a weak smile. Another coughing fit struck, but she sipped some more tea. It didn’t prevent the coughing, but it did ease her throat.

Out the kitchen window, she watched young children kicking a shuttlecock made with the handsome striped feathers of a pheasant and a lucky coin wrapped in bright material. She studied the green waters of the river as she touched the warm surface of her mother’s sacred heirloom positioned next to her teacup.

After a deep breath, she arranged the jewelry in a silk-lined box and closed the cover. With trembling fingers, she traced the outline of fucanglong, the dragon of hidden treasure, engraved upon the box’s teak surface. The creature assumed to undulate and pulse. But it was just her nerves bringing him to life, deceiving her eyes and ears.

Her eyes stayed locked on the dragon as emotions raged inside her. A tear escaped, accelerated over the curve of her cheek, and halted at her jaw, suspended in uncertainty. She wiped it away while whispering a blessing for Liling through dry, cracked lips, “Shangdi baoyou.” Her granddaughter had already been tested, but the true crucible was yet to come.

As she watched Larry reading his email messages on the computer, Lily wrestled with guilt. Perhaps she should warn him that she was not good luck, but rather the Grim Reaper in a furry costume. People were
dying
around her for God’s sake.

It was hard to sit idly by while she worried about loved ones and they worried about her. There was also the constant fear that she would suddenly shift to human form, providing a peep show for her new roommates.

Just as she started to relax, she heard a loud whoop from Frank. He emerged from the hallway and skated across the kitchen hardwood floor like Olympic gold medalist Evan Lysacek in black socks. “I did it.”

Larry looked up briefly from the computer. “Did what?”

Frank flashed a cocky smile. “I nabbed that big investor.”

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Larry, who jumped up from his chair to join Frank in an end-zone dance. Larry’s exuberant movements resembled those of a cheerleader rather than a wide receiver.
Where was her phone?
She could have videotaped the entire episode and blackmailed Larry for months by threatening to post it on YouTube. Instead, she watched helplessly from a blanket on the floor.

“Let’s celebrate!” said Larry.

They spent several hours guzzling champagne, feasting on filet mignon, and conducting Yo Yo Ma and the Berlin Philharmonic orchestra before doing something that resembled Zumba moves to Lady Gaga. Finally, at one in the morning, Lily followed them upstairs to bed. They had separate bedrooms since Larry snored. Within five minutes, she understood why he slept alone. It sounded like a Nor’easter was blowing through. She stumbled to Frank’s room and collapsed next to him on the down comforter.

Frank had fallen asleep with the light on. In the morning hours, Lily felt like a little girl scared of the monsters under the bed. Panic had crept back to taunt her. To distract herself from her tragic reality, she ogled Frank and fantasized about him as James Bond.

When she opened her eyes at 5:30, she was staring directly into his exquisite face. His full eyebrows slanted down as if he were pondering something unpleasant. In the middle of the night he had divested himself of the down comforter and now lay bare-chested in silk boxers. He had an angular face and long, narrow nose. As her adoration began anew, she stretched her arms above her head. She wiggled her toes and...

Toes. She had toes again.
Holy mother of Buddha I’m butt-naked in Frank’s bed.
Her leather collar was in several pieces across the comforter, a casualty to her transition. Quickly, she slunk backwards off the bed.
Clothes.
She grabbed sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt from the closet. Keeping an eye on Frank, Lily backed out of the room.

“Aaaaachoooo!”

She turned toward the source of the sneeze. Larry. The door to his room was ajar. A shadow loomed across the threshold. After several moments with her breath held, she bolted for the stairs. She hit the top step going way too fast. Frank’s sweatpants that she had haphazardly rolled at the bottom had come undone. The polished oak floor acted as a ski ramp and she caught air. After several bad bounces on her rump, Lily managed to grasp the handrail mid-flail. Her left arm was stuck at an awkward angle above her head where she clutched the banister.
Ow!

“You okay Frank?” yelled Larry.

“Whataya mean, I’m fine,” Frank replied still half asleep in his bed.

Sprawled on the stairs face up, Lily listened for the slightest sounds that would indicate the actions of her roommates. With her enhanced hearing, she could discern the slightest squeak of the mattress coils as Larry shifted in his bed. A soft rustle of Frank’s down comforter indicated he was not a threat either. After several more seconds, she reassembled her limbs before tiptoeing the rest of the way down the stairs.