Murder With Peacocks(69)

"He's never done it to me before. But it's what he usually does when someone he's interested in tells him to get lost. He fixated on Eileen when we were in high school, and it became a regular nightly routine for a while. Her father tried to set the dogs on him, but all dogs like Scotty."

"No doubt he makes them feel superior."

"There, you see?" From down in the backyard, we could hear Scotty launching into an off-key version of "Hey, Baby."

"Scotty!" I yelled out the window, waving the vase. "If you don't shut up this minute I'll throw this!"

"Is he dressed?" Michael asked, peering over my shoulder.

"Unfortunately not. Scotty! I mean it!" Scotty continued to bray, so I threw the contents of the vase at him.

"Good shot," Michael observed. "But it doesn't seem to be working. Try this," he said, fishing a small plastic squeeze bottle out of his shirt pocket and handing it to me. I aimed it at Scotty and was pleased to see that when the contents of the bottle hit him, he stopped in midverse, looked up at me reproachfully for a few moments, then sighed and stumbled off.

"Ick, what was that?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the rank smell rising from the bottle.

"I have no idea," Michael said. "Some esoteric brew Mrs. Tranh concocts for Mom. It's supposed to repel dogs. The idea is to squirt it at any larger dogs who fight back when Spike picks on them."

"Well, it did the trick," I said, handing back the bottle. "At least for now. Oh, please let this be a temporary aberration! First Steven's Neanderthal brother and now this. I just can't deal with Scotty on top of everything else. If one more oaf comes near me ..." I said, shaking my head and leading the way to the stairs.

"Define oaf," Michael said, moving away slightly.

"The way I feel at the moment ... any member of the male sex."

"No exceptions?" he asked, plaintively. "Dad. He's totally bonkers, but he's not an oaf."

"Agreed," Michael said.

"Rob ... I think."

"You think? Your own brother and you're not sure?"

"His taste in women is highly questionable," I said.

"No argument there. Anyone else?"

"Michael, if you're fishing for compliments, I'll grant you provisional exemption from oafhood on the grounds that you helped rescue me from Scotty, and have refrained from asking what I could possibly have done to encourage him to leap out of the closet at me like that."

"Like you said before, somehow I don't think Scotty needs much encouragement."

"The wrong men never do."

"What about the right ones?"

"I'll let you know if I ever meet one," I said.

"Speaking of which, have you ever considered--" Michael began, and then was drowned out by a frightful commotion in the yard. Scotty, still unclad, suddenly burst through the azalea patch and streaked across our yard, closely pursued by all three of the Labradors from next door.

"That's odd," I said, "the Labs usually like Scotty." Spike popped out of the azalea patch, barking fiercely, and disappeared in the direction Scotty and the Labs had taken.

"Oh, God," Michael said. "It must be Mom's dog repellent. Though why a dog repellent should make dogs chase him I have no idea. I suppose I should go see if he needs help." I wasn't sure whether he meant Scotty or Spike, but I didn't feel much like helping either of them, so after watching Michael lope off in the general direction of the furor, I went to bed. After making a note in my indispensable notebook to borrow the so-called dog repellent from Michael before the next time Barry showed up.

Tired as I was, I had a hard time tuning out the barking noises, steadily increasing in volume and variety, that seemed to come first from one end of the neighborhood and then the other.





Saturday, July 9



Having gone to bed before midnight, I was up by eight and feeling virtuous about it. I joined Mother for breakfast on the porch, and felt suitably rewarded when Dad dropped by with fresh blueberries and Michael with fresh bagels.

"We certainly had a lively time around here last night," Mother remarked over her second cup of tea. Michael and I both started. I had thought Mother safely out of the way during Scotty's unconventional visit, the ensuing mad dash around the neighborhood, and the countywide canine convocation that had reportedly dragged the sheriff and the normally underworked dogcatcher out of their beds at 3:00 A.m. Michael had a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

"Could you hear the party all the way down at Pam's?" I asked.

"Oh, no, dear," Mother said. "But I think some of Samantha's friends must have gotten just a little too exuberant."