Page 3 of A Spot of Trouble
The two cops glanced at the Dalmatian, whose name was Cinder, not Sprinkles. She’d been Cinder since the day Sam adopted her from the city pound.
“She definitely looks like Sprinkles,” one of the policemen said.
The other officer nodded. “And Sprinklesisthe only Dalmatian in Turtle Beach.”
“Exactly.” The woman glared at Sam and held out her hand. “Give me the leash.”
“No,” Sam said.
“No?” Officers Joe and Josh echoed simultaneously.
“No,” Sam repeated, more firmly this time.
The nearby corgi snorted his displeasure at hearing one of dogdom’s least favorite words repeated in such rapid succession. The retirees were now headed their way, a few of them leaving winding trails in the sand from the wheels of their aluminum walkers.
“Sprinkles, wherever she is, isn’t the only Dalmatian in town. Not anymore.” Sam nodded toward his dog, still maintaining a perfect down position beside him despite the epic level of the surrounding chaos. “This is Cinder. She belongs to me, and my name is Sam Nash. We’re new to Turtle Beach.”
“And you’re a…” Officer Joe looked him up and down. “A fireman?”
One of the senior citizens—an old man wearing suspenders and a newsboy cap—shook his head in apparent disgust.
Sam had no clue whyfiremanseemed to be a dirty word all of a sudden, but he had no intention of sticking around to chat about it. He didn’t want to be late for his first day on the job, plus he had a beach house full of moving boxes that needed unpacking.
He nodded. “I’m the new fire marshal. Cinder is my partner. Check the name on her tag.”
The policemen peered at Cinder and then back toward Sam’s nemesis, which was somewhat of a foreign concept for Sam since he’d never had a nemesis before. Not even close. But if he had to have one, at least his nemesis was nice to look at, with waves of tumbling strawberry-blonde mermaid hair and eyes the color of sea glass.
She was a mess, though.Clearly. A brazen, beautiful mess.
“Please.” She rolled those lovely blue-green eyes so hard they practically rolled right out of her head. “Are you saying I can’t recognize my own dog?”
Sam shrugged one shoulder. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Impossible.” She tucked a lock of her mermaid waves behind her ear.
One of the cops cleared his throat. The other one’s lips pressed together in a slight grimace. The retirees glanced back and forth between them. Officers Joe and Josh seemed conflicted, which made Sam feel like he might just walk away from the dog beach a free man.
“Violet,” Officer Joe said in a measured tone, “do you think maybe…”
Before he could finish his thought, a blur of black-and-white spots leapt into their midst and shook itself, spraying all those assembled—human and dog alike—with seawater.
Correction: not just seawater, but some horrible combination of seawater and whatever fishy substance the spotted troublemaker had recently rolled in.
Senior citizens fled as quickly as they could in all directions while dogs barked at the ensuing panic.
“Oh my God.” Officer Joe covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his elbow.
Officer Josh choked out a gagging sound.
Violet’s cheeks went as red as a fire hydrant. She shot a sheepish glance at Sam and then quickly looked away.
“Sprinkles, I presume?” Sam arched a brow while the newest Dalmatian on the scene writhed around on its back in the sand, pleased as punch to be the center of attention.
“Yep.” Officer Josh nodded and stepped out of range of the flying sand. “That’s definitely her.”
The dog was an even bigger mess than her owner. Why was Sam not surprised?
“Sprinkles, stop. Stop it right now,” Violet said.
