The Telltale Turtle (The Pet Psychic Mysteries) by Jim Lavene;Joyce Lavene Page A

Catherine hobbled across the road after him. She'd lost one of her lavender slingbacks in the marsh. One of her favorites too.
    Charlie turned on the heat in the truck. "Are you sure about this?"
    She closed the door behind her. "Absolutely. And thank you for your help with the bird. Is your hand all right?"
    He held it out and she peered at it closely, holding it in hers until she realized how close they were and quickly dropped it. "The skin isn't broken. You should be fine. She didn't mean to hurt you.
    "I know. Were you hurt?"
    "No. I'm fine." She shivered. "Just cold. Does the poodle live down here on the beach?"
     
    "Yeah." He started the truck moving forward again on the rough, steamy pavement that led out to the tip of the peninsula. The storm was already giving up on trying to push aside the large body of land it had come across. Rain fell fitfully and the wind still raced along the beach, but its fury was spent.
    Charlie talked about the couple as they drove toward the house. The husband was a successful stockbroker with little time for his wife. The wife spent her time spending his money and getting a tan. Something had made the husband suspicious and he'd wanted to know if she was cheating. He wouldn't give any other details to be sure Charlie did his job.
    "If she's cheating," he concluded, "she's really careful about it. I haven't seen her within ten feet of another man for the last six months. But she's in and out of that spa all the time. I think he might work there. I've checked out the staff. Tom Wilson, the spa owner, seems like my best lead so far. If the poodle's heard anything about Wilson, or any other name, that would be helpful."
    "I'll do what I can."
    As plans went, it worked fairly well. They pulled up close to the impressive iron fence and Mary Catherine jumped out to see what she could get from the dog. It was a large, black, standard poodle, probably about fifty or sixty pounds.
    Luckily, it had stopped raining just before they got there. A light haze hung over the area, imprinting the air with the strong scent of the sea.
    "Get anything yet?"
    "Not yet." She was too busy thinking about how damp and uncomfortable she was to wonder what the poodle was thinking.
     
    Baylor, on the other hand, was asking why she was standing in the rain, talking to a dog. Mary Catherine tried to explain, but the cat fluffed up his tail and hissed at the poodle, who barked back at him.
    "What was that?" Charlie asked. "Did you get that?"
    "That was ego. Two animals used to being dominant in their households warning each other off. Nothing more, I'm afraid." "
    "Did you question the dog?"
    I tried. But I need to get on his wavelength first. I have to know how he thinks."
    There was nothing from the poodle but thoughts about how handsome and exceptional he was. He cocked his head when she questioned him a little about his life. He made it clear right away that he resented the intrusion into his private thoughts.
    "He's going to be difficult," she told Charlie coming back to the truck. "I don't know if he ever thinks in terms of anything except what affects him."
    "Maybe you could play on that. Maybe this impacted him in some way.
    "I'll try." She sighed, already fed up with the animal. Most animals were self-centered but this one was exceptionally so. He couldn't seem to think of anything but what he was going to eat (it was never enough, never as good as he wanted it to be) and what color his nails were going to be painted.
    "Hey!" a woman yelled as she ran out to see what was going on. "Are you trying to hurt my dog?"
    Tommy cried out as he pushed himself against the side of the box that held him until he finally flipped over on his back and lay there helpless.
     
    "What is it?" Mary Catherine reached through the open window, hearing the scratching in the container. She turned him over and looked into his tiny face.
    The turtle repeated over and over again that he knew that voice, while the poodle barked,