Lady And The Scamp: Lady And The Scamp / The Doctor Dilemma. Dianne Drake

Cassie asked the second she punched the appropriate number on the phone pad.

      “Yes, it’s me. But before you say anything else, if you’re making plans to string the jerk up, I’ll go out and buy the rope myself.”

      “Who are you talking about?”

      “Who do you think I’m talking about? Nick Hardin, of course. I thought that was why you called me.”

      “I called you because Duchess still won’t eat anything.”

      “I thought you were calling about Nick’s talk show this morning?” Dee replied. “Everyone else in Asheville is sure talking about it. I’ve heard it’s even going to make the evening news tonight.”

      Cassie lowered her coffee cup from her mouth to her desk, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. “I only listened to the first part of his monologue, and then I turned the stupid thing off,” she admitted.

      “Then you mean you don’t know?”

      “Know what?” Cassie demanded.

      “Oh, Cassie,” Dee whined. “Nick Hardin didn’t use your name, but he left no doubt about who filed the lawsuit against him. He said things like, and I quote ‘I really can’t blame old Earl. After all, his new lady love did just win Best-in-Show at the Westminster Dog Show in New York City.”’

      Cassie gasped.

      “It gets worse,” Dee assured her. “He also said, ‘I know I should find some comfort that the lady suing me looks more like a model than an attorney, but even so, I admit I was a little shocked that she expected me to pay seventy-eight dollars a day for someone to sit with her prissy pooch….”’

      “I’ll kill him,” Cassie screeched.

      “Not if I get to him first,” Dee vowed. “He took a cheap shot at me, too. During the last part of his program the jerk had the nerve to say that ‘the only highlight of this whole episode might be uncovering yet another predator who is greedily feasting on Asheville’s unsuspecting citizens.’ And then he went on to ask everyone if they’d checked their veterinarian bills lately and pointed out that ‘the vet who takes care of Earl’s girlfriend drives a red Porsche.”’

      Cassie glanced at the waste can sitting beside her desk, deciding she may to use it if the wave of nausea plaguing her stomach washed over her again. After several seconds of silence, she blew out a deep breath and dabbed at her clammy forehead with a tissue she’d taken from her purse.

      “I’m really sorry I’ve dragged you into this, Dee,” she finally managed to say. “I should have known better than to go up against a crazed militant like Nick Hardin. Especially since he’s willing to use the media as his weapon.”

      Dee remained silent a little longer than usual. “Oh, what the hell. I’ll weather the storm far better than you will, my friend. But maybe you should think about dropping this lawsuit. Do it while you still have time.”

      It was Cassie’s turn to remain silent a little too long. “You’re right. Maybe I will drop the suit. But I’m more concerned about Duchess right now. She still won’t eat a thing and she’s listless. I’m really worried, Dee. Do you think I should bring her in and let you check her?”

      “Is she drinking any water?”

      “A little, but she just mopes around. I swear it’s almost as if she’s grieving over something. Does pregnancy do that to dogs?”

      “Now, don’t go into orbit, Cassie, but I don’t think her condition is physical.”

      “You mean you’re saying you think the dog is a nut case?”

      “No, I’m saying I think it would be a good idea to have that behavior therapist Lenora has on the payroll to stop by and evaluate Duchess. He’s worked with her in the past. Especially before some of the major dog shows. And he knows Duchess’s temperament. Do you have his number?”

      “Yes,” Cassie groaned. “But I don’t even want to think about what Nick will say on the air when I add a doggy psychiatrist’s bill to the list of expenses.”

      “You asked for my advice, Cassie, nobody said you had to take it,” Dee reminded her curtly.

      Cassie removed the clasp from her hair and let the long tresses topple down her back. Along with the upset stomach, it seemed she was now developing a throbbing headache. “Sorry, Dee,” Cassie said with a sigh. “You know I value your opinion. I’ll call the guy the second we hang up.”

      “I promise this man knows what he’s doing, Cassie. And he always insists on seeing his patients in their home environment,” Dee added. “See if you can make the appointment for around seven tonight. I’d like to be there myself when he examines Duchess.”

      “Will do,” Cassie agreed. “And I’ll even call Louise and see if she won’t fix us a pan of her award-winning lasagna.”

      “And after dinner, maybe we can sneak over to Nick Hardin’s house and smother him in his sleep.”

      Cassie snorted. “I’d rather see his head roll out from under a guillotine blade, myself, but that wouldn’t be torturous enough for the creep.”

      Dee laughed. “See you at seven. I’ll bring the wine.”

      Cassie returned the receiver to the holder on her desk, then propped her elbows on her blotter and placed her head in her hands. After massaging both of her temples for several seconds, she searched through the numbers her mother had compiled for Duchess’s care before she left for Europe. When Cassie found the name she wanted, she decided Houston Baumfarger was an appropriate name for a man who devoted his time delving into the minds of the animal world. And had Cassie’s own mental state not been so rattled from the morning’s hectic events, she may have found a little humor in the response she gave when the shrill voice of the renowned dog psychiatrist answered his private line.

      “Houston?” Cassie said. “We have a problem.”

      IT WAS DARK WHEN NICK pulled into his driveway. He’d ridden all the way to Mount Mitchell which, at an elevation of more than six thousand feet, was the highest point in the state. Embracing the great outdoors usually cleansed his inner demons and left his soul restored, but nature had failed him this time. The experience hadn’t purged Cassie Collins from his thoughts. Instead, her memory had ridden right along with him as if she’d been sitting behind him on the bike with her arms clasped tightly around his waist.

      In a far worse mood than when he’d left his office that morning, Nick lifted the flap on the saddlebag at the back of his motorcycle and retrieved two containers of spicy takeout he’d bought from a quaint little Chinese restaurant he’d discovered on the west side of town. A wide variety of eating establishments was the one thing Nick missed most about Atlanta, but that was all he missed. He didn’t miss the traffic, the fast pace or the wild lifestyle he’d left behind when he made the decision to head for the peace and solitude of the mountains.

      The turning point had actually arrived when Nick awoke one morning at his sprawling Atlanta home and found that he didn’t know half of the people who were already milling around his pool. When he noticed several people snorting cocaine from the neat little rows they’d skillfully lined up on the glass top of his patio table, however, Nick went into orbit.

      Nick loved his brandy and savored the taste of fine wine. He even had a passion for imported beer, but he had never indulged in taking drugs, nor would he tolerate drug use in his presence. Within the space of five minutes, he’d cleared the place out, and he put his house on the market the same day. Within two months, he was on his way to Asheville in search of a better life.

      “Hey, buddy,” Nick said when Earl tore into the foyer and began jumping around his legs. “Did you realize you’ve become a celebrity overnight?”

      Greetings exchanged, both Nick and Earl headed for the den. But as Nick walked toward the bar, it crossed his mind that other than the bedroom,