Hair of the Dog by Susan Slater Read Free Book Online

melted that could have been from a cot, Dan thought. Not a lot.
    â€œIs this everything from the office?”
    â€œYeah, pretty much. Firemen gave orders for it to be dragged outside—didn’t want any flare-ups.”
    â€œWhy don’t we go see what’s left inside?” Dan couldn’t see anything that needed his attention out here.
    â€œDon’t get your hopes up. It’s just a charred, soggy mess.”
    And she wasn’t kidding. The building was cement block so this wing was still standing, but that was about all. Window casings had melted away, doors had disappeared, a large molten lump just inside the door had probably been a file cabinet. A couple of slender twisted pieces of metal resting against the wall suggested a picture frame. Must have been something poster-sized. He stepped into the room.
    Dan’s shoes squished as he walked and after taking about a half dozen steps forward, there didn’t seem to be any point in going further. It must have been a hot fire which right up front suggested arson. He dragged out his trusty Nikon and snapped pictures—floor, ceiling, windows or lack thereof, doorway leading to the hall—this was more perfunctory than noticing something suspect. Soot, water stains, and charred wood supports obscured possible clues. It looked like arson and everyone supposed it was, but he made a mental note to check with the Volusia County FD and walked back through the door.
    He paused in the hallway to record his notes. A dictaphone app…who could have guessed at how quickly technology would progress. But he wasn’t complaining, the saved time was a boon. He turned slowly, pausing at each potential point of interest, and voiced his comments watching them miraculously pop up in print. Would he be giving away his age if he admitted to how impressed he always was by this technology? Yeah, probably.
    â€œReady to take a look at the kennels?” Melody had been standing quietly beside the doorway.
    â€œSure.” He slipped the mini iPad into his briefcase and started to follow. “What the…?” He’d obviously stepped on something. He leaned against an outer wall, slipped off his right loafer and checked the crepe sole. Wedged into the rubbery grooves on the base of the shoe was a small die—the number 9.
    â€œAny idea what this is?” He held out the blackened number in the palm of his hand.
    â€œPart of an old tattoo kit. All racing greyhounds have tattoos.”
    Dan tried to get his mind around every dog having a heart on its chest with maybe MOM or a flag in the middle. “I don’t think I’m following you.”
    â€œOh, sorry, every dog has an identifying tattoo—one in each ear. In the right ear is the NGA registration number. That’s National Greyhound Association. In the left you’ll find a combination of letters and numbers. The first is a digit depicting month of birth, second digit is the year, and the third die is a letter which tells you what litter order the dog was tattooed in.”
    â€œGive me an example.”
    â€œWell, the five numbers in the right ear are self-explanatory. It’s the left ear that gets tricky. If you have an 119B, the dog was born in November of 2009 and was the second dog in the litter to be tattooed. There will never be more than three numbers and a single letter in the left ear. Try this one: 88C.”
    â€œAugust of 2008 and the third dog in a particular litter to be tattooed.”
    â€œPerfect.”
    â€œWould tattoo kits have been kept in the office?”
    â€œNot really. I don’t know why any would even be at the track. The kennel owners tattoo their dogs long before we see them here. All a part of puppy preparedness. And the tattoos are usually done with a pretty sophisticated kit—or a pen nowadays if you have the money. That’s the old-fashioned way.” She pointed to the number 9 in his palm then bent