Clicker Training (Stanley Hastings Mystery, A Short Story) Read online

  “Zelda is the dog?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What time did she wake you?”

  “Six-fifteen.”

  “Was that earlier than usual?”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Why do you suppose she woke up?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it was being in new surroundings. Oh, I see. You mean did she hear something? It’s a possibility. Did you pin down the time of death?”

  “Not with any accuracy. But I doubt if it was six-fifteen.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You shouldn’t be. If you were here in the house just like everybody else, you could have killed him at any time. In point of fact, I would find it very unlikely you killed him in the presence of your dog.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors.”

  “Again, that doesn’t let you out.”

  “No, but common sense should. Why would I drive here all the way from New York with my wife and dog to kill a man I never met?”

  He shrugged. “Why would anyone?”

  “They wouldn’t,” I said. “Obviously the killer has some connection. You have only to find it.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “Really? How you doing so far?”

  He frowned. “Mr. Hastings, I find your manner insolent.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ve had no sleep, and a considerable shock. But that’s no reason to take it out on you. I’m just getting impatient with your preliminary questions which I happen to know have no bearing on the crime.”

  “Oh? And how do you know that?”

  “Because they’re all tangential, and they don’t relate to the actual killing.”

  “You want me to ask you questions about the actual killing?”

  “I thought that was the point of your investigation.”

  “It is. And you are a key factor in that investigation, having found the body.”

  I winced. “I wish I hadn’t found it.”

  “Because of the shock?”

  “No. Like I say, because it clouds the issue. All you want to ask me about is finding the body.”

  “Oh, is that right?” he said, ironically. “And what is it you’d like me to ask you about?”

  “I told you. The killing.”

  “I see. You feel you could shed some light on the matter?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Very well then, Mr. Hastings. What do you know about the murder?”

  “I know who did it.”

  WE WERE once again assembled in the living room, just as we had been the day before when Alice had given the demonstration with the dog. With a few exceptions. Alice and I shared a couch with Abercrombie this time, our chairs having been taken by Mr. and Mrs. Stone Inn, who had been invited to join the proceedings. Zelda lay curled up at our feet.

  Aside from that, everything was pretty much the same. The young couple were on their love seat. The middle-aged couple were on a couch. The bearded man sat in an overstuffed chair.

  The elderly gentleman wasn’t there, of course, but the policeman was. He stood on the chalk outline in front of the Christmas tree and addressed our little group.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have talked to you all. And I am happy to say I have made some progress. That has been largely due to one man, Mr. Stanley Hastings, who, as you know, found the body because he happened to walk his dog.” Here he bowed to Zelda. “That was at six-fifteen this morning when the alarm was raised.”

  He paused, smiled. “By a happy circumstance, he also happened to walk the dog during the night. I’m going to let him tell you what happened then.”

  All eyes turned to me. Not that anyone knew the name Stanley Hastings, but they all knew the dog.

  I didn’t bother getting up. I sat on the couch, patted my dog. “Last night Zelda went to sleep early,” I said. “Which is not surprising. It’s a new environment, it’s new people, it’s overstimulating, and she doesn’t get her normal naps. At any rate, she went to sleep early and didn’t get her usual last walk. Which is why she woke me in the night. She woke up and needed to go out. So I pulled on my clothes and hurried downstairs. I was not fully dressed. Because, frankly, I wasn’t going to take her out, I was going to send her out. I was cold and half-asleep and didn’t want to wake up any more than I had to. Anyway, I didn’t have her leash on, since if I wasn’t going out with her, there was no point. I brought her downstairs, let her out the back door.

  “Only she didn’t go right out. Instead, she trotted over and looked in the living room door.” I pointed. “Right over there. Stuck her head in, looked in the direction of the Christmas tree. I called her, and after a moment or two, she trotted over and went out the back door.”

  “Uh-huh,” the policeman said. “And what do you conclude from this?”

  “There was someone in the living room who attracted her attention. Most likely the decedent and his killer.”

  “Did you hear sounds from the living room?”

  “No, I didn’t. Frankly, I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “And what makes you think they were there?”

  “Zelda’s actions.” I shrugged. “And the resultant corpse.”

  The policeman held up his finger. “Aha. The corpse. How do you know that wasn’t what attracted the dog’s attention? The body could have been lying there, and the murder could have happened some time before.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Zelda’s actions. This morning, when we found the body, she trotted right over to it, sniffed it. If it had been there last night, that’s what she would have done. But she stopped in the doorway. Cautiously. Which is what she would have done if there had been two people in there not on the friendliest of terms. Dogs are very sensitive. They read body language well. It is my contention that Zelda got a look at the decedent and his killer very shortly before the deed.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” said the bearded man I thought was a sailor but who had turned out to be a life insurance salesman. “It means nothing of the kind.”

  “Oh, you think not?” the policeman said. “Well, I think it might. Mr. Hastings has a theory, and a very interesting one.” He gestured to me. “Why don’t you tell them what it is?”

  “It’s very simple,” I said. “Zelda is very smart. She saw two people arguing. Then she saw one of them dead. She can make the connection one person harmed the other.”

  This time it was the middle-aged man who spoke. “I think that is a little much. Mr. Hastings, are you telling me the dog knows who committed the crime?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “She doesn’t know she knows it. All she knows is two people didn’t like each other and one is dead. She doesn’t really know the other person killed him. That is a leap we have to make. But she knows who that other person is.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Abercrombie said. “You expect us to believe that?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “But I can prove it.”

  For once I silenced Abercrombie. He gaped at me, his mouth open.

  I stood up and took a little metal clicker out of my pocket.

  “Zelda,” I said, “go round.”

  Zelda got up and circled me.

  “Sit,” I said.

  Zelda sat at my side.

  “Down,” I said.

  Zelda lay down.

  “Stay,” I said.

  I walked to the middle of the room, turned around. Zelda was still lying there.

  “Zelda, come,” I said.

  Zelda got up, trotted over to me.

  “Sit,” I said.

  Zelda sat and I clicked. I reached in my pocket and handed Zelda a puppy biscuit. She chomped it gratefully, looked up at me expectantly.

  “Zelda,” I said. “Walk with me.”

  Zelda walked at my left side back across the room.

  I stopped, said, “Zelda, sit.”


  Zelda sat at my side.

  I said, “Zelda. Touch killer.”

  There was a stunned silence in the room.

  Zelda looked up at me expectantly.

  Raising my voice slightly, in a high pitched tone dogs like, I repeated, “Zelda. Touch killer.”

  Zelda’s eyes traveled around the room. Then she got up, turned, trotted over to the love seat, and put her head in the young man’s lap.

  But it was the young woman who sprang up. “No! Stop it!” she cried. “Get her away from him! Danny didn’t do it! It was an accident!”

  I must say, Danny no longer looked like the all-American boy. From the expression on his face, and the daggers he was darting at the young girl, I got the impression if it weren’t for the others in the room there might have been another “accident.”

  OF COURSE, it was just a trick. Zelda didn’t see the young man arguing with the old one. Because I never took her out during the night. She slept straight through till six-fifteen. No, I must admit that was a slight fabrication for the purposes of trapping a killer. Which worked pretty well, I might add.

  You’re probably wondering how I knew Danny was the killer. Actually, I didn’t. I didn’t even know he was Danny.

  But Alice told me. Alice is good that way. She told me and then refrained from telling the policeman, in order to make me look good.

  Actually, she would have told the policeman, had he bothered to ask her. But he didn’t, and Alice made up her mind if he was as obtuse as that, she wasn’t going to volunteer it. She said she thought he would take it better coming from a private eye. But I know better. At any rate, that’s what she did.

  But how did Alice know? Well, her powers of observation are as acute as mine are virtually nonexistent. And while the policeman was telling us all about the crime, she was watching the people in the room.

  Danny, to his credit, betrayed not a thing. Alice knew he was guilty from watching the girl. From the way the girl was watching him. Just the way she looked. Of course, there was nothing specific.

  Which is another reason Alice didn’t want to tell the policeman. She figured he’d put it down to women’s intuition, vivid imagination, flight of fancy, what-have-you.

  And as for the motive, we didn’t have one. I made it up. Turned out it was right on the nose, but then even I can’t be wrong all the time. I figured most likely the old man and the girl were related in some way the old man would never have dreamed to suspect. And that Danny and the girl had followed him here deliberately in the hope of making something out of the connection.

  I don’t believe murder was ever intended, at least not by her. But when the opportunity presented itself, Danny took it. Not being particularly smart. Not figuring the relationship, though tenuous, could be traced. Particularly if the young woman presented herself as an heir. Though, to be fair, had they survived questioning, gone home to New York, and months later accepted a bequest, probably nothing would have come of it. Because the actual connection, grandniece twice removed, whatever that means, was not particularly likely to come out.

  Except for Zelda.

  And how did Zelda identify the murderer?

  Clicker training, of course.

  Alice and I spent a half hour with her alone in the living room training her what to do. Of course, we didn’t teach her to touch the killer. She had no idea who the killer was. Or Danny, for that matter. No, we clicker trained her to touch the love seat. As soon as she learned it, we added the command, “Touch killer.” Which was fine with her, and she learned it well. Any time we want a love seat touched, that’s all we have to say.

  I doubt it will come up often.

  But it certainly saved the day.

  And it certainly made a big impression on the other guests.

  Abercrombie was exuberant. “Would you believe it?” he said, triumphantly. “The poodle solved the crime!”

  I didn’t bother to correct him.

  class="center">Books by Parnell Hall

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  A Puzzle In A Pear Tree

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  $10,000 in Small, Unmarked Puzzles

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