High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series) by Janice Peacock Page A

loudly as he moved around the room, his nose sweeping every inch of the floor. His tail wagged wildly, knocking the small lamp off the nightstand. I caught it before it hit the floor. I was sure the dog had sensed Gumdrop and was determined to find him.
    I grabbed my laptop, since I ’d need it at some point this weekend and didn’t want to leave it in the room. “I’ll go get your bag.” I eased my way out of the room and shut the door, in hopes I could contain Stanley in the guest room. I grabbed Marta’s bag and noticed the front door was open.
    “ Gummie?” I said, as calmly as possible. I peeked out the door. “Gummie?” I called more loudly. “Oh, Gumdrop, today is not a good day for you to decide to be brave and explore the outside world.”
    Should I shut the door and hope he was still inside? Or did I leave it open in case he decided to come back in? Oh dear. I peered outside, hoping I could spot him, but he wasn’t there. I gently closed the door with a wish that he was still inside, hiding in a closet.
    Marta came out of the bedroom, holding Stanley by the collar. The dog was panting heavily, drool dripping from the corners of his droopy mouth.
    “ So, Stanley—that’s a cute name for a dog,” I said, trying to make idle chitchat and touring her around the house.
    “ Well, it’s not his real name, just his nickname. He is a purebred basset hound. I’ve been breeding them for years. Jax, I’d like you to meet Ellison’s Post Falls Sherlock Stanton.”
    “ Sherlock?”
    “ Oh, yes, I’m a big mystery fan,” Marta said. “I especially like the ones with dogs in them.” This was no surprise to me.
    “Since I’m a breeder, I get to choose his official name. But he’s usually just called Stanley,” Marta added.
    I wasn ’t sure what the protocol was for meeting a dog, but I certainly hadn’t done it right when I met Tito yesterday.
    “ Uh. Hi,” I said to Stanley, whose full name bordered on ridiculous.
    “ Say ‘shake,’” Marta whispered in my ear.
    “ Shake?” With that, Stanley lifted his fat paw, pad-down like royalty, for me to greet him properly. I swear, this dog had better manners than I did. I gave his fat paw a squeeze, and he set it back down on the floor.
    “Oh, look at his pretty collar,” I said, noticing the elaborate jewelry around the dog’s neck, his silver nametag tucked in among crystals, charms, and tiny glass dog bones.
    “Thanks, they’re my specialty,” she said. “Jax, I am so sorry Stanley startled you.”
    “ Well, it’s just that I can’t seem to find my cat.”
    “ Oh, he’ll turn up. When he does, you’ll see that he and Stanley will be the best of friends.”
    “ Okay, we’ll hope so,” I said, scanning the room, looking for a fluffy gray tail sticking out from under a piece of furniture. I didn’t see one.
    Marta smiled and looked like she needed to break some bad news. “One itty bitty thing, Jax, I should warn you about is that Stanley has a leather fetish.”
    I didn ’t want to think about what kind of weirdness that was.
    “ He likes to chew on shoes, especially fine leather,” Marta said, reacting to my puzzled look.
    I reached down slowly and picked up my nice l eather handbag from the floor, and set it on the kitchen counter.
    “ I should take my cutest puppy-wuppy out to the backyard to do his piddle,” Marta said.
    “ Piddle?”
    “ Oh, you know, go to the bathroom,” she explained. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up any messes he makes.”
    “ I don’t actually have a backyard. I have a place to park my car at the entrance to the studio back there—no real yard per se, just a cute little brick patio with a bistro table.”
    “ Oh, well, Stanley can poop just about anywhere,” she said, reassuring me.
    I wasn’t reassured. I was worried. Worried Gummie would never return while that dog was here. Worried about what the studio entrance might look like after several days of “piddle.”
    I searched for Gumdrop