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Then the second one happened. On Christmas Eve, my cousin Mags had been taken right off the street at the annual Holiday Spectacular fair. She’d been kept blindfolded and was ultimately let go when the crooks—a man and a woman—got spooked and ran.

They’d meant to take me but had mistakenly abducted my eerily similar looking cousin instead. They called her “Russo”—my last name—and warned her to keep her nose out of places where it didn’t belong.

Well, Mags had returned to her home in Larkhaven, Georgia, no worse for the wear, and we hadn’t heard from her mysterious kidnappers since.

I doubted the ransomed retriever had anything to do with either of those cases, but reviewing our history at least gave us a place to start with this new investigation.

“Are you thinking about when Mags and Octo-Cat were taken?” Nan asked, steepling her fingers and tapping them against her chin.

I nodded, then sighed. “Both were so horrible.”

“Mark is probably going out of his mind with worry for his poor dog,” she said with a wrinkled frown.

“Actually, I’m not so sure.” I shot a glance toward Octo-Cat, who’d seated himself on the opposite side of the table and taken up a vigorous grooming session focused primarily on his forehead and ears.

He paused and nodded his approval.

“Per Octo-Cat, the mayor was lying to us. Or at least hiding something important,” I revealed as I played the conversation back through my head.

“About which part?” Nan wondered aloud.

I shook my head, yet again wishing I knew the answer.

She snorted. “Well, that’s helpful.”

“Still, at least we know to take what little he told us with a giant grain of salt.”

Nan considered this, then stood suddenly, flinging her chair backward with such force it startled me and both animals.

“Where are you going?” I asked as she scurried toward the coat closet off the foyer.

She didn’t look back as she explained, “If the mayor isn’t going to tell us the truth, then we’ll have to go find it for ourselves.”

“Online?” I asked meekly even as she’d already begun to pull on her hot-pink snow boots.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Outside.”

Ugh. That was the exact place I wanted to avoid, given our current polar vortex situation.

“I’m not going,” Octo-Cat said from his place a few stairs up from the ground floor.

I paused between shoving my mitten on one hand and readying it for the other. “Why not? You always come. You’re my partner, after all.”

He turned his nose up at me. “Yeah, well, this partner doesn’t do subzero temperatures.”

“It’s still at least five degrees out there. And this isn’t some stupid jog, it’s part of our investigation. C’mon.”

“Let me rephrase that.” He paused and took several deep breaths before continuing. “I don’t do cold and wet. It’s like the whole world decided to take a bath and then let the water grow frigid. I don’t do baths. And if my fur coat isn’t enough to keep warm, then I’m not going.”

“Fine. Then you’re not going. But you also better not complain about being left out.” I turned away from him and began to dress for the impromptu outing.

“Please. I have better things to do with myself than follow you around on your wild goose chase.” He yawned to emphasize his point.

Paisley ran up beside Octo-Cat, wagging her tail so vigorously she stumbled and fell down one of the steps. “Mommy, I’m coming, right?”

“Of course you are!” I assured her.

“Just one last thing and we can go,” Nan said, reaching for a plastic shopping bag on the top shelf of the closet and pulling out a baby pink sack. “It’s the wrong shade of pink, but it will have to do.”

I eyed the cloth accessory warily. “What is it?”

“I’ll show you! C’mere, my sweet girl.” Nan smacked her lips and bent down to pick up the Chihuahua who came running straight into her arms. She then worked the straps of the sack over her arms so that it rested against her chest.

Paisley realized what was going on about the same time I did and began to wiggle in desperate fright. “No, no, no! I don’t want to go in the bag!” she yelped.

“Just hold still for a second, my dear,” Nan instructed, wrestling with the Chihuahua to wedge her into the baby carrier.

Paisley continued to whine and squirm.

“Angie, can you please tell her this will be a lot easier if she cooperates?” Nan grunted.

“Sweetie, you need to—” I began, but Nan interrupted with a triumphant “Ah-ha!”

The poor little Chihuahua had been tucked into the carrier and strapped in securely. Only her tiny face and giant ears peeked out from the top.

Nan spun and posed. “What do you think?”

Octo-Cat laughed heartily. “Ha, ha, you look ridiculous!” he crowed.

Paisley whimpered and sighed.

“I’m not so sure she likes it,” I offered.

“Well, she just has to get used to it is all. It will help keep her warm while we’re out and about. It’s made especially for little dogs like her, you know. By the way, you’ll have to drive. We can take my car, though.”

“Okay,” I said and followed my grandmother outside to her car. It was easier to just go along with what she said. At least this wouldn’t require any grueling exercise.

Or so I sincerely hoped…

Chapter Seven

Mayor Dennison live in a surprisingly modest house on the far edge of town. Part of me had hoped we’d have housekeepers, cooks, butlers, and a full garrulous staff to question, but just like crime—small-town politics didn’t pay.

It was clear Mayor Mark lived alone. It was also clear that nobody was at home. What wasn’t clear was how Nan knew where to find him.

“Think we can break in?” she asked now, rifling through her pockets for who knew what.

Paisley heaved a giant sigh from her place affixed to the front of Nan’s chest. I had to admit, she looked absolutely adorable in that Puppy Bjorn.

“I’d rather not start our investigation by committing a B&E,” I said. My breath rose above us in icy puffs.

“Look at you with the lingo,” Nan crooned, clutching a hand to her chest, or rather to Paisley on her chest. “You don’t have to help, but—yeah—I’m breaking in.”

I groaned. Of course she was.

Paisley whined and shivered so violently I was surprised that Nan didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you okay?” I asked the dogcicle.

“S-S-S-S-So c-c-c-cold,” she answered weakly.

“Nan,” I called as she moved toward the porch with a sure stride. “Nan, we need to put Paisley back in the car with the heat running.”

“N-N-N-N-No,” Paisley cried, her eyes practically sealed shut with quick freezing tears. “I w-w-want to h-h-help.”

“I’m not letting you catch your death,” I promised whether or not she wanted to hear it. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to the car.”

“Hang on a minute there,” Nan muttered. “We’ll be inside the house in just a…” She bit her tongue as she maneuvered something in the lock.

“Second,” she finished triumphantly and pushed the door open, motioning for me to lead us inside.

Oh, I didn’t like this at all. As bad as it was to take part in this unlawful entry, it would have been even worse to send Nan inside unsupervised.

“Five minutes,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “Then we go, no matter what.”

“Well, you’re no fun.”

I ignored that last barb and searched the tidy open floor plan for something that might prove useful in our investigation.

“Look for a home office,” Nan suggested, already sneaking deeper into the house.