♫If I only had the words to tell you♫
♫If you only had the time to understand♫
♫Though I know it wouldn't change your feelings♫
♫And I know you'll carry on the best you can♫

♫If I only had the urge to tell you♫
♫If you only knew how hard it is to say♫
♫When the simple lines have all been taken♫
♫And the food has all been eaten for the day♫

High Stakes
Chapter 13

    I had one stop to make before I could continue my investigation. I could clearly hear growling, loud and close by. I paused to listen and felt a familiar rumbling. Aha! Another mystery solved. I headed to the K-9 Café for a light snack. A couple of double cheeseburgers, a hotdog, and order of wings later, I was thinking clearly again. I know, I know, that’s a pretty paltry snack, but I was hoping to get a bit more to eat once I arrived at my destination.

    I’ve done my fair share of paws-on inquiries as a private eye, but I learned early on that it is helpful to have a network of contacts—dogs “in the know,” so to speak. I call them informants, but you might call them snitches. I was headed to the new workplace of one of my favorites. She maintained the appearance of a hardworking, legitimate employee, but I knew that she still cultivated relationships with organized crime. She recently had taken a job at the biscuit factory and I was about to pay her a visit.

    I timed it perfectly. She was just stepping out the back door of the factory for a rawhide break when I arrived. She was fumbling with a pack and didn’t notice me approaching.

    “Can I offer you one of mine?” I asked.

    Surprised, she looked up with a start. A cloud of confusion passed behind her eyes but quickly cleared, only to be replaced with a stormy temper. “What do you want?” she demanded.

    “Skye, Skye. Is that any way to greet an old friend?” I cajoled. She snatched a rawhide from my pack and began chewing angrily.

    “I’m not your friend. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not in the business of giving out information anymore. Especially not to you.”

    She was putting on a good show, but I knew better. A Catahoula Leopard Dog can never change her spots. It was simply a matter of careful and clever persuasion.

    “I’ll give you a ham,” I offered. She paused in her chewing. I could clearly see she was tempted. “And a jar of peanut butter,” I added, sealing the deal.
    “Fine. What do you want to know?” she sighed.

    “What do you know about a little restaurant called Miss Steak?”

    “What about it? They make a good steak,” she replied, apparently still reluctant to assist me.

    “I think there’s a deal going down there. Do you know a couple of guys who might be working that kind of job? I’ve been told there are a beagle and a black Lab involved,” I divulged, offering some of my information as a good faith gesture that I wasn’t simply on a fishing expedition.

    “Maybe,” she admitted. “Sounds like Basil and Quincy. They can’t resist a job involving food.”

    “A girl was attacked there last night. Could they have done it?” I asked.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Someone was hurt? That doesn’t sound like them. I would say they’d do anything for food, but I really don’t think they would hurt anybody. This sounds big,” she said. “This might even be too dangerous for you.”

    “Aw, Skye, I didn’t know you cared,” I teased. There was nothing that got under my skin like an unsolved mystery. No way would I back out now. “Thanks for the information.” I looked up at the factory. “Say, any chance I could get some free samples?”

    “Come back with my ham and peanut butter and we’ll see,” she snorted, tossing the nub of her rawhide at my feet.

    She hadn’t been as helpful as I had hoped. I now had names to go with the descriptions Miss Matches and Samantha had given me, but I couldn’t call the mission a complete success. I was still hungry.