Downward dog, p.1
Downward Dog, page 1
part #1 of Dog Yoga Mystery Series
Downward Dog
A Dog Yoga Mystery Book One
Katherine Hayton
Copyright © 2019 Katherine Hayton
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover Design by kathay1973
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter One - Sundial D for Death
Also by Katherine Hayton
About the Author
Chapter One
Hine Trewlove frowned at the clock on the wall. Its ticking had grown steadily louder the longer she spent in the waiting room. Now, the noise clouded out all her other thoughts.
“Mr Makepeace will see you now,” Marjory, the receptionist, called out as though going to see the accountant was a great privilege.
Considering she’d had to wake early to get into the office on time, only to find him running late, Hine thought he should be the one being grateful.
“What can I help you with?” Francis Makepeace asked as she sat down, clutching her bag close to her chest as a shield.
“Did you have a chance to look through the latest set of invoices I’ve entered?”
The accounting software she used at home, usually while muttering dark words under her breath, had a direct link to his computer. It meant he could exclaim over the lack of profits in her yoga studio a mere second after Hine.
From the way Francis pulled his keyboard close and hummed and hawed over the screen in front of him, she guessed he hadn’t. Obviously, she wasn’t his only client but surely it had occurred to him to look when she made the appointment? Apparently not.
Hine had tried to get into his calendar on Friday but found out he was fully booked. It meant she’d had plenty of time over the weekend to ruminate on her imminent demise.
“Why’s this figure so much higher than normal?” he asked, pointing to the screen as though she could see from the other side.
“It’s the rent. The landlord put it up.”
“By the maximum, it looks like.” Francis bent closer to the monitor—presumably hoping that would give him a different answer—then sat back with a dissatisfied expression on his face.
“This shouldn’t happen,” he muttered, clicking on the keys.
“Trevor Wallbright told me he sent you the notification of the increase.”
Hine kept her voice level as she spoke, hoping her tone wouldn’t reflect the accusation in her heart.
“No.” Francis frowned at the computer again, then wrenched open a drawer and pulled out a manila folder. “Or he might have. I get so much correspondence through, it’s hard to keep track.”
But that’s what I pay you for.
Hine bit on her bottom lip, closing her eyes. She needed this man’s help and advice. It wouldn’t be forthcoming if she started blaming him within minutes of stepping through his office door.
“Here we go.” Francis held a paper aloft as though it was a prize. “You’re right. He sent me the notice. I forwarded it to you via email.”
“I didn’t get it.”
“Hm. That’s weird.” The accountant clacked the computer keys some more. “According to this, we sent it out a few weeks ago.”
Hine stared at her nails, bitten down to the quick. She didn’t want to waste billable hours arguing over a notice she definitely hadn’t received. What she wanted was to sort out a way through this.
Well, that or have the rent go back down. Of the two, it would be the option she preferred.
“I can’t afford it.”
“Sure, you can.” Francis once again tapped away, oblivious to her increasing agitation. “It says here, you’ve more than enough to cover the increased costs. You’ll be fine.”
“My bank account says different.” That morning’s balance told a sorry tale, indeed.
“Oh, here’s your problem. Your debtor's list is completely out of control.”
“It’s the same as it was last month.”
“Yes.” Francis tapped a pen against his teeth. “And the month before. That’s why it’s becoming a problem. Is there any reason why these folks haven’t paid?”
Hine thought of the list of excuses her clients trotted out on a regular basis. The town seemed in the constant grip of a recession that apparently had bypassed the rest of the country. One sad story eclipsed the next until her heart groaned with sympathy.
What she wanted to do was offer people more solace, not hound them for a debt.
“I warned you when you set up, you’re on such slim margins, there’s no room to carry debtors. Get your clients to pay in cash, then you’ll be back in the money in no time.”
Francis clapped his hands together as though applauding himself, then stared at her across the table. “Was there something else?” he asked after a few minutes passed in silence.
Hine felt a trickle of sweat building up along her hairline. The office was hot and airless after a weekend with all the doors and windows shut. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her lungs struggle with the stale air.
“When I read through my tenancy agreement with Trevor, it seemed he couldn’t put the rent up by more than ten percent per annum. The current rise appears higher than that.”
The accountant fiddled with the paper file again. “Yes. It also says if he misses an increase one year, he can put that percentage towards the following year.”
“Except I’ve only been in the building for eleven months.” Hine sat forward, her handbag pressing harder into her abdomen. “So, the most he should be able—”
“The countdown doesn’t begin with your tenancy.” Francis gave her a sickly smile of sympathy. “It counts from the last year he increased the rent. According to this schedule—”
“But that wasn’t how it was explained to me when I signed up.” Hine banged her palm down flat on the table, enjoying the sound and the sting of contact. “I thought the earliest he could increase was at twelve months and the most was ten percent.”
“Yes, I can understand why you thought that.” The accountant brought something up on the computer and Hine watched his eyes flick from side to side, skimming it. “Unfortunately, it’s not the case.”
“But you’re only telling me that now, when it’s too late?”
“Who can remember what we discussed a year ago?” Francis sat back in his chair, shrugging. “What’s important is what’s on the contract.”
“So he kept the rent low until he hooked a tenant and now he’s hiking it up to the maximum allowed? How is that fair?”
“Oh, it’s not fair. Your problem is, it’s legal.”
As Hine’s face heated, a flush spreading from her chest to her neck, then creeping onto her cheeks, Francis held a hand up.
“But as I said, it doesn’t matter. Once you chase up all those outstanding debts, you’ll be sweet. If you need a hand with advice on collecting them, Marjory can give you a pamphlet on your way out. It explains the entire process in detail.”
“I know the process.” Hine sat back, wanting to explode at somebody but not feeling she had the justification any longer. She’d been sure her landlord was in the wrong. Finding out he was within his rights to hike up her rent made her see red at the same time it cut the legs out from under her.
“What other places are there in town?”
“You have a rental agreement for the next two years.”
Hine flapped her hand in dismissal. “Not at the price Trevor’s set, I don’t. I’d need to raise my class prices by twenty percent to cover the increased cost.”
“Well, there you go, then.” Francis closed her file and replaced it in the drawer. “You’ve got a plan of action. Good for you.”
“I can’t actually do that. I have trouble filling the classes as it is.”
“Yes. Running a yoga studio in a township as small as Pinetar was always going to be a struggle. I believe I warned you of that in our first conversation.”
“It was fine until Trevor got greedy.”
Again, Francis shrugged. “To be fair, it’s a long time since he had a tenant in your space. If you’re doing well, why shouldn’t he?”
“But I’m not doing well.” Hine slammed her palm down again, but it was far less satisfying the second time around. “I’ve put everything I had into the business and now it’s not even earning enough to cover the rent.”
“I hate to say, I told you so,” Francis said with a grin showing how much he loved it.
Hine vaguely recalled a few conversations about how it would be a struggle to get her business off the ground. How profits would be low for the first few years, as with any other small business.
At the time, it had been
“You’re my accountant,” Hine said with a sniff. “Haven’t you hidden money away somewhere for a rainy day?”
Francis’s uproarious laughter assured her he’d done no such thing.
“Cheer up, Hine. If you get your clients to pay you for the services they’ve used, you’ll be fine.”
“You mean, I’ll scrape by.”
“Barely. But yes, that’s exactly what I mean. How’s the new class shaping up? Doga, isn’t it?”
His amused smile reflected the attitude of many of the townspeople when Hine had outlined her latest class. “No, it’s just yoga. For dogs.”
“And what’s the difference?”
“Doga involves the owners, either using the dogs as objects in the routine or as equal partners performing the same moves. My class isn’t for people at all.”
Francis blinked slowly at her, confusion written large on his face. “You’re teaching yoga to a room full of dogs?”
“That’s right. I’ve noticed the increasing strain in the pets around Pinetar and thought this might help them deal with their concerns.”
“You think dogs have a lot of worries on their minds?” When Hine nodded, Francis burst into laughter again. “Well, doesn’t that beat all? I’d wish you luck, but I have a strong feeling I’ll see you in my office again next month with far worse news. If you have trouble chasing up your bored housewives for their payments, good luck getting an attendance fee from their dogs.”
He shook his head as she left his office. Marjory was standing outside the door, a pamphlet at the ready. Hine’s stomach tightened at the sight of it. She could already feel the weight of the conversations ahead of her—her empathy kicking into overdrive before she’d even started.
“I’m so sorry to hear things aren’t going well,” the receptionist said, taking her seat with a broad grin of satisfaction. “It’ll be a pity to not have the option of attending yoga when I want to.”
Hine gave her a puzzled frown. “Have you ever come to one of my classes?”
“No.” Marjory’s smile widened. “But it’s been nice to know I could if I wanted.”
Chapter Two
Penelope took one look at what her owner was holding and launched between her mistress’s legs, running as fast as her squat bulldog form could carry her. The hallway floor toyed with her for a moment, the polished wood sending her sliding sideways instead of gaining ground.
With a mighty grunt, toenails tapping on the varnish, she threw her weight in the opposite direction. As her body equalised, Penelope gained purchase, and she ran.
The doorways blurred past as her mind raced. Not the guest bathroom, that was a tiny trap. Not the lounge. It was bigger but with only one entrance it would just prolong the inevitable.
Although the mistress’s bedroom had a low window, it would land her squarely in the fenced enclosure of the fancy rose garden. She’d eschew that tangle of thorns even if it meant getting caught.
Penelope skidded around the next bend, her body recovering more quickly this time as her mind planned three steps ahead.
“Don’t be a naughty doggie,” the dame called out. “Once you get into the matching outfit, you’ll love it as much as I do.”
Fat chance. The last time Penelope had given in to her mistress’s desire to swaddle her in clothing, she’d ended up embarrassed and ridiculed, unable to hold her head high in the doggie park ever again.
The spare bedroom! Ha. That had a second door and a window she could easily reach by jumping onto the bed.
With a sudden veer, Penelope was through the doorway and scurrying for the protection under the bed. With the bedspread tassels at floor length, the dame wouldn’t be able to see her. She’d move on to the master bedroom, thinking it a more likely choice.
Penelope’s nose snuffled air in so loudly, it wouldn’t matter how well she’d hidden away. Although her lungs cursed, she reduced her breaths in, attempting to lessen the noise.
“Are you in here?” the dame called out, walking into the neighbouring bedroom.
Ha. Fooled her. Penelope drew in an extra-large breath, safely out of earshot of the next room.
Now, she needed to plan out her next move. It was one thing to evade her mistress on the first pass, quite another to stay hidden until she gave up altogether.
The window offered the best shot. Open to let the breeze through, it should be a quick matter to jump outside and run to freedom. The shed offered another rest area while she got her breath back again, then Penelope could sprint for the tree line and true safety.
The Dame didn’t like to go into the forest. Not even the small patch on her own land.
With one ear cocked for the sound of her mistress’s footsteps, Penelope trotted out from under the bed, leaning her weight onto the pads of her foot to make each step silent.
One jump onto the bed, out the window, freedom.
As her mistress said, a simple plan was a good plan. Penelope backed up a little more, shook her hindquarters to loosen the muscles ready to spring, then launched herself forward.
She struck the bed smack in the middle. Right under where the mattress offered a cushion. Straight into the wooden frame.
By the time she shook her head to rid it of the dizziness, the dame had slammed the door closed, cutting off her retreat. Although Penelope growled, the sound emerging as a stern warning from the back of her throat, failure couldn’t be avoided.
Her mistress swooped in, catching her around the midriff to lift Penelope high into the air.
“Now, don’t you feel foolish for running away from me?” the dame cooed as she fitted Penelope’s legs into the bright pink garment. “With our matching onesies, you’ll be the envy of the entire class.”
If I don’t die of shame first.
Penelope briefly considered biting her owner, then closed her eyes and submitted to the indignity. A tear leaked through her eyelid, trickling down to be absorbed in her fur.
Why couldn’t she have a mistress with better clothing sense?
At least they were going to a human building. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to display her embarrassment to the doggie world.
Penelope’s bark disappeared completely as the dame lifted her from the vehicle a half-hour later. Everywhere she turned, she saw dogs.
A Pekinese poked its head out of a handbag long enough to laugh at her.
At her. A Pekinese. The most ridiculous breed in the entire canine kingdom laughing at a mighty bulldog.
Penelope’s worst nightmare was coming true.
Chapter Three
Hine pressed a hand to her stomach and drew in a deep breath as Dame Cholmondeley approached. The woman had avoided conversation for the last few weeks—innocently, she was sure—but that had to stop today.
As the only person on her long list of debtors that Hine knew to have plenty of money, the dame had won first try of her fledgling demanding payment skills.
“Who is this?” Hine asked, all thoughts of debt forgotten as she saw the deathly embarrassed dog clutched in the dame’s arms. “Are you Penelope?”
“She certainly is,” the woman replied, shaking the bulldog back and forth. “And she’s so proud to wear the same outfit. Aren’t we cute together?”
Hine continued to hold her smile of welcome in place through sheer force of will. Even with that, she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening. “Aren’t you two adorable?”
The bulldog ducked her head, not meeting Hine’s eyes. The poor thing. “Are you going to the masseuse upstairs while Penelope learns all about yoga?”
“I am.” The dame shifted her head from one side to another, a gigantic crack echoing out from the movement. “It’s about time I pampered myself.”
