B R Snow [Snow - The Case of the Quizzical Queens Beagle

A Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mystery

B.R. Snow

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either used fictitiously or are the product of the authors imagination. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written consent of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law.

Copyright 2018 B.R. Snow

ISBN: 978-1-942691-45-7

Website: www.brsnow.net/

Twitter: @BernSnow

Facebook: facebook.com/bernsnow

Cover Design: Reggie Cullen

Cover Photo: James R. Miller

Other Books by B.R. Snow

The Thousand Islands Doggy Inn Mysteries

• The Case of the Abandoned Aussie
• The Case of the Brokenhearted Bulldog
• The Case of the Caged Cockers
• The Case of the Dapper Dandie Dinmont
• The Case of the Eccentric Elkhound
• The Case of the Faithful Frenchie
• The Case of the Graceful Goldens
• The Case of the Hurricane Hounds
• The Case of the Itinerant Ibizan
• The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell
• The Case of the Klutz King Charles
• The Case of the Lovable Labs
• The Case of the Mellow Maltese
• The Case of the Natty Newfie
• The Case of the Overdue Otterhound
• The Case of the Prescient Poodle

The Whiskey Run Chronicles

• Episode 1 The Dry Season Approaches
• Episode 2 Friends and Enemies
• Episode 3 Let the Games Begin
• Episode 4 Enter the Revenuer
• Episode 5 A Changing Landscape
• Episode 6 Entrepreneurial Spirits
• Episode 7 All Hands On Deck
• The Whiskey Run Chronicles The Complete Volume 1

The Damaged Posse

• American Midnight
• Larrikin Gene
• Sneaker World
• Summerman
• The Duplicates

Other Books

• Divorce Hotel
• Either Ore

I gently slid the smallmouth bass back into the water and watched it disappear with a flick of its tail. I rinsed my hands in the still-not-warm-enough-to-get-in water then dried them with a towel and leaned my fishing pole against the seat.

I think Ive had enough, I said, refilling both our coffees.

Me too, Josie said, reeling her line in. So, youre saying youve finally calmed down?

For the moment, I said, stretching out on the seat. And if I can manage to avoid seeing her today, I should be able to stay that way.

Josie chuckled as she placed her pole next to mine.

Look at this way, marriage is going to be a piece of cake after you guys get through this, she said, sipping her coffee. And your mom just wants your wedding to be perfect.

Where exactly does an eight-foot ice sculpture of the bride and groom fit into your definition of perfect? I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Yeah, I didnt see that one coming, Josie said, laughing. But it will be August. Maybe itll be really hot that day, and itll melt fast.

At this rate, Im never going to make it to August.

Hey, youre inside a hundred days, she said, digging through the cooler to retrieve a container packed with pastries. Its the homestretch.

I grabbed a blueberry muffin and quickly worked my way through it as I looked out at the calm water bathed in early morning light.

Three more months, I said, shaking my head. I wonder what shes going to come up with next.

Just try to roll with it, Josie said. The more you argue with her, the more she digs in.

Whose wedding does she think it is?

Oh, its way too early in the morning for rhetorical. Just eat your muffin.

Wed made the decision to go fishing last night after Id gone another ten rounds with my mother about her latest additions to my wedding day. At first, our conversation had gone well, the eight-foot ice sculpture notwithstanding, but had gone downhill after she, again, brought up the guest list for additional discussion and debate. And her decision to invite a couple I barely knew had opened the floodgates. Unwilling to run the risk of offending anyone, she had quickly added another forty people to the invitee list and crossed the five hundred mark. And given that the guest list had been expanded, a two-hour conversation about the required changes to the seating arrangements ensued that left my mother exasperated with her belligerent moppet and me exhausted and grumpy and threatening a Vegas elopement.

It was at that point when Josie had suggested a morning of fishing on the River sans my mom.

I reached for one of the rapidly disappearing chocolate crullers then spotted a bizarre and brightly colored vessel heading downriver in the main channel several hundred yards away.

What the heck is that? I said.

I have no idea, Josie said, reaching for a pair of binoculars. Its not big enough to be a commercial ship. She focused the glasses on the boat then handed them to me. A circus? Thats weird.

Using the binoculars, I scanned the boat from bow to stern. It had to be a couple hundred feet long and sat about ten feet above the water. Painted yellow and purple with red accents, the sign on the side displayed the name Pontilly Family Circus in cursive script. I lowered the glasses and handed them back to Josie who took another look before tossing them on the seat next to her.

A circus that travels by boat? I said, frowning. Have you ever heard of anything like that?

Never, she said, shaking her head. The cages on the deck tell me they have animal acts. And you know how we both feel about those.

Yeah, I said, reaching for the binoculars and taking another look. Then I scowled. Great. Somebody onboard just tossed something in the water.