A cozy mystery about paradise in peril
Released February 2024, this is my first fictional novel. Here is the book trailer:
I created this website to promote and market the book once it was released: https://naplesjusticealliance.com
And here are the Foreword and first chapter:
Foreword
“Dogs make human civilization possible. Their social dexterity allows them to fit seamlessly into human society. They heighten the joy of human play yet dampen human aggressiveness. Their physical abilities amplify human power yet constrain unwarranted human destruction.” ― Brian Hare and Vanessa Woods, “The Genius of Dogs: How Dogs Are Smarter Than You Think”
People who are dog lovers will not need to be convinced of these assertions. Over thousands of post-domestication years, dogs have adapted their social intelligence to integrate smoothly into human life in a way that enhances our lives and society overall. These words describe dogs’ importance to humans with great eloquence:
The best friend a man has in the world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous is his dog. A man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer. He will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth, an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him, to guard him against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes his master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.
George Graham Vest, a small-town 1800s Missouri lawyer, delivered this speech as his closing argument in a case representing a man who sued another for the killing of his dog. The speech made no direct connections with any evidence presented. Yet, Vest and his client won the case. Clearly, the jury sympathized with what Vest’s client had lost.
“Dogs have been part of human societies for longer than any other domestic species. Like no other species they exemplify the role of companion animals. Relationships with pet dogs are both very widespread and very intense, often leading to strong attachments between owners or caregivers and animals and to a treatment of these dogs as family members or even children.” ― 2020 Conceptual Analysis article by Judith Benz-Schwarzburg, Susana Monsó and Ludwig Huber
Writing this novel was a joyous exercise of creating a compelling mystery – the likes of which you probably haven’t read before. My hope is that it will entertain you, challenge you and make you laugh from time to time. But it is also intended as a tribute to my now-10-year-old dog, Skipper.
I’ve been around many dogs in my life, but Skipper is by far the most intelligent and emotionally attuned of any of them. You’ll learn a lot about him, as much of what you will read portrays him accurately.
A very brief history: When my wife and I lived in Whitehouse, Texas, we adopted Skipper at three months old as a rescue from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals of East Texas. We learned that he had been recovered from a home in which he and his litter-mates were discovered closed in a cabinet. One of his fellow pups in the litter had a noticeable bump on the head which we were told might have resulted from some sort of physical abuse.
Skipper didn’t have any signs like that, but to this day he still is afraid of loud noises and raised voices – even when it’s people just trying to emphasize a discussion point, and not involved in an argument.
I hope you’ll also gain new perspectives from this beloved four-legged protagonist and his favorite humans on what truly matters most in life. For instance, Skipper’s uncanny emotional intelligence and capacity for compassion provide a model of unconditional love. And his perseverance confronting adversity shows that one’s past need not define one’s future.
Enjoy this journey of mystery, laughter and courage!
Chapter 1: Diamond in the Ruff
In the heart of Naples, Florida, a mid-morning sun’s brilliance transformed white sands into dazzling gold. A tender breeze weaved a gentle symphony of rustles and whispers offering a refreshing coolness against the tropical heat.
The air filled with the cheerful din of families chatting and laughing together. Children’s bubbly giggles blended with the lower rumbles of fathers trading jokes. Children shrieked and splashed in the turquoise waves, tossing beach balls that floated atop the cresting waters.
Under the shade of rainbow-hued umbrellas, adults reclined in low chairs, sipping icy drinks as condensation dripped down their hands. The coconut-scented lotion warming their skin whispered of summer.
Amid the joyful chatter, a lanky brown dog prancing through the sand, tail waving like a flag, made vacationers pause their conversations and crane their necks for a better look.
He seemed to defy classification. His thin body and long legs gave him a distinctive gait, almost a trot like a dog-show finalist. His short, brown coat was punctuated by splashes of white on his jowls, belly, and the underside of his wagging tail.
“Well, hey there, aren’t ya full of flair and flash?” called out a man with a heart as expansive as the Florida beaches. Barry Pope, a retired professional baseball player, had been observing the frolicking dog from a beach chair.
He absently traced the sand with his finger, a distant look in his blue eyes, as if he was somewhere far from the beach, lost in a memory.
Barry’s eyes twinkled behind his aviator sunglasses, a friendly smile curling his lips, revealing hints of nostalgia. He picked up a pebble, his fingers naturally adopting the grip of a two-seam fastball — a lingering ghost of his past life as a professional baseball pitcher.
He leaned back in his chair, toes sinking into the warm sand. The cries of gulls and crash of waves filled his ears. A deep breath escaped his lips as the sea breeze washed over his skin. After years of stadium roar, this beachside calm soothed his soul.
Making the big pitch to record the crucial strikeout, the deafening cheer of the crowd, the game-saving moments – they all echoed in his mind. But so did the memories of empty hotel rooms, the hollowness after the crowd’s cheer died and the loneliness of the constant travel. All these were a testament to his days of playing with and against the best in his sport.
Barry glanced at the empty chair beside him, then back to the dog. For a moment, the chair didn’t seem so vacant.
The brown dog, a curious mix of Whippet and Rhodesian Ridgeback, ceased his play. With his head cocked to one side, he studied Barry with an intensity suggesting more than mere curiosity, as if sizing up the stranger before cautiously approaching with a calculated, yet fluid stride.
Barry invited the dog to sniff his hand, which he did, as if verifying all was well. His tail, once tucked modestly between his legs, now unfurled and waved like a flag of truce — an unvoiced testament to his perception of Barry’s noble intentions.
“Nice to meet ya, buddy,” Barry said to his new friend. “Ya sure seem friendly.”
Barry stroked the dog’s long snout and scratched behind his ears, his heart swelling with a strange but welcome warmth. In response, the dog swept its front paws forward in a low bow, sinking to the cool morning sand with a serene smoothness mirroring Barry’s growing tranquility.
The dog moved with a certain grace, each step a dance between caution and curiosity, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a discerning gaze.
From the rustling of the palms, hinting at a coming breeze, to the distant trill of a bird lost from its flock, nothing missed his gaze. When a toddler a few yards away dropped her ice cream, he was the first to notice, trotting over and offering comforting nuzzles even before her impending wail reached her mother’s ears.
“Awww, how about that?” Barry said. “What a good boy!”
Each time Barry would reach to scratch his head, the dog leaned in, eyes closing in contentment. And when Barry stopped, he’d open one eye, giving a gentle nudge with his nose to ask for more. Each exchange, each look shared between them seemed to tie an invisible thread, knitting an enduring connection.
“Do ya come with a name tag?” Barry asked, his gaze sweeping the bustling park, after noticing that the dog had a collar but no tags.
Among the sea of sunbathers, children building sandcastles and vendors peddling ice cream, there was no sign of anyone searching for a dog. No stray leash was in sight along the shoreline.
The dog’s mouth opened in a relaxed pant, tongue lolling. Each step was an unhurried lope, tail swinging gently, at ease. A possibility started to take shape in Barry’s mind.
“Ya lost? Or just living free and easy?” Barry asked rhetorically.
Barry chewed his bottom lip as his eyes flitted between the dog and the passing beachgoers. He shuffled from foot to foot, hesitation and eagerness warring within him.
“Just our luck, huh? Two bachelors on the loose,” Barry chuckled, a hint of mystery in his tone. He nudged the dog lightly with his foot, a playful glint in his eye.
Barry’s new friend chased after a butterfly, leaping into the air to try to catch it in his mouth when he perceived the distance between the two was close enough to strike. Anything buzzing or flying around his head received this same treatment, as he had no tolerance for such intrusions.
The vibrant green grass tickled his paws as he ran off the sandy beachfront, and the warm sun cast playful shadows on the ground. As the new friends approached a community baseball diamond in a park just blocks from Barry’s home, laughter from children playing nearby filled the air. But it was the sound of a baseball being hit catching the pooch’s attention.
“Nice hit, Joey!” said Barry, clapping as he arrived at his Little League team’s practice. The retired baseball player watched as the kids he coached practiced their swings.
The mutt’s ears perked up at the smack of the ball connecting with the bat. He bounded over to where it had landed, snatching it up in his mouth just as a young boy went to retrieve it. The boy giggled, delighted by the dog’s playful antics, while Barry looked on, intrigued.
“Hey, outfielder! Stealing the show, aren’t we?” Barry called out, impressed by the dog’s apparent love for the game.
The pup trotted over to Barry, dropped the ball at his feet and wagged his tail expectantly.
“Think ya can catch this curveball?” Barry said, picking up the ball near the team bench and tossing it high in the air toward second base. With lightning speed, his new friend took off after it, expertly predicting its trajectory and catching it mid-air before returning it to Barry’s side.
“Who are ya, really? Mickey Mantle in disguise?” Barry said.
The dog would position himself in just the right spot for the catch each time, as if he could read Barry’s mind. It was clear this was no ordinary dog.
“Let’s knock this one out of the park, champ!” Barry called out to one of his players, winding up for a solid throw.
The young batter launched the ball high into the air, and the canine raced after it with determination. The dog expertly adjusted his course, leaping fluidly to snatch the ball just before it hit the ground.
“Sign him up for the Yankees!” Barry said, clapping. “You’re something else, aren’t ya?”
The canine wagged his tail proudly, looking up at Barry. He could sense this was someone who understood him, who appreciated his talents and love for the game. And for Barry, the connection with his new companion was undeniable.
As the dog trotted back to him, tail wagging, tongue lolling out in a canine grin, Barry’s laughter echoed through the baseball field and surrounding public park, a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in a while.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t ya? Got any more tricks up your sleeve?” Barry asked, reaching down to pat him on the head. “Maybe we’re meant to be a team, you and I.”
As the practice time wound to a conclusion, Barry and the dog walked away from the park, side by side. Barry smiled down at the dog keeping pace beside him. He gave the pup an affectionate pat on the head and scratched under his chin. The dog nuzzled against Barry’s leg as they walked, eliciting a warm chuckle from his new friend.
“How about trading the sandy beach for a comfy couch? Ya up for that?” Barry asked, glancing down at the dog.
As Barry spoke, the dog’s ears shifted forward intently. His eyes locked onto Barry’s face, tail swishing excitedly. He shuffled closer with every word, utterly engrossed. The dog’s tail thumped wildly, his eyes shining. But Barry raked his fingers through his own hair, eyebrows knitted together. Taking in a stray was no small thing.
He rubbed his chin, considering the responsibilities associated with owning a dog – walks, feeding and grooming, veterinarian visits, not to mention the possible damage to his home. But despite his doubts, he couldn’t walk away from this four-legged baseball prodigy.
“All right, wanna be partners in crime?” Barry asked.
With every word, the dog’s tail wagged faster. As Barry finished speaking, it barked thrice in quick succession, its eyes bright and attentive. He seemed to understand the world around him better than most animals, communicating not only through barks or whines but also through his actions and expressions.
“Deal sealed, then. Welcome to the crazy Pope household,” Barry sighed, his decision made. “We’ll give it a shot, buddy. But y’ve gotta promise to behave yourself, okay?”
After bouncing between the minor leagues and major leagues throughout his 10-year professional baseball career, Barry now lived in a modest, single-story house nestled in a quiet Naples neighborhood.
Shielding his eyes from the blazing mid-day sun, Barry led the dog up the front path. Vibrant yellow paint coated the single-story ranch-style house, evoking a tangible warmth. As they reached the front door, Barry fumbled for his keys, singing an upbeat melody:
“I’m walking on sunshine, wooah
I’m walking on sunshine, wooah
I’m walking on sunshine, woooah
And don’t it feel good!”
A tidy garden surrounded the base of the house. The backyard was an ample size for playing catch, complete with a sturdy oak tree providing shade during the hot summer months and surrounded by a chain-link fence.
“Welcome to yer new home,” Barry said, unlocking the front door and stepping inside.
The new tenant followed, his eyes darting around curiously as he took in the comfortable living room with its plush sofa, baseball memorabilia adorning the walls, and a large flat-screen TV. The open floor plan connected the living room to the kitchen, which boasted sleek stainless-steel appliances and a cozy breakfast nook nestled by a bay window.
“All right,” Barry said, clapping. “Let’s get ya settled in.”
He led the dog down a hallway adorned with framed baseball jerseys and photographs from Barry’s days on the field. In the corner of his eye, Barry noticed the framed photo of himself and his manager when he was in rookie ball playing for the Bakersfield Blaze, Walter “Walt” Anderson. Barry was young then, in his minor league uniform, and his skipper stood next to him, his arm slung across his shoulders in a rare display of affection.
At the end of the hallway, Barry and his furry friend entered the master bedroom, where a king-sized bed took center stage, its navy-blue comforter inviting them to sink into its soft embrace.
“Guess we gotta find a bed for ya too, huh?” Barry asked rhetorically, scratching his new pal behind the ears. The dog responded with a happy nuzzle against Barry’s hand, his eyes closing contentedly.
As the evening progressed, Barry organized a corner of the room, complete with a cozy dog bed – assembled from spare blankets and pillows – and a cereal bowl serving as a water bowl.
About mid-evening, the brown dog got up and started walking around the entire house. Barry allowed him to explore on his own, because he knew he didn’t have anything breakable within the dog’s reach.
A few minutes later, he heard a distinct noise which he knew immediately. It was the tinkle of the decorative hanging bell on his back door, the one Barry’s mother gave him when he first moved into his home, symbolizing the beginning of a new chapter in his life.
But the only time the bell tinkled was when the door opened, so Barry jumped off his sofa and rushed to the door. He was relieved to find the door was not open, but the dog was nudging the bell with his snout. When Barry entered the room, his new housemate stopped nudging the bell and turned, sat and stared at Barry.
“What’s up, boy?” Barry said.
The dog turned and nudged the bell again, making it jingle. Then he did it again – turned, sat and stared at Barry.
“Want to go out?” Barry asked.
The brown dog barked three times and his tail wagged. Barry opened the back door, and his new friend dashed out the door. After sniffing the yard for about 30 seconds, in a ritual as old as dogdom itself, the canine hunkered down, looking a bit like a furry tripod, ready to pay his daily tribute to nature. It was then Barry realized he’d need to pick up some poop bags at the store the next day.
After re-entering the house and making his way back to the bedroom, the pup stretched and yawned – his lean, muscular body unfurling. As Barry noticed a worn-out baseball cap on the hook by the door, memories of his old manager, Walt, flooded back. The stern, yet comforting presence who steered him through the tumultuous early days in the minor leagues.
Everyone called Walt “Skipper,” sometimes “Skip” for short, an affectionate nickname acknowledging his leadership.
Skipper was always there, with his worn cap, cigar-smoke voice and unyielding belief in the team.
Barry looked back at the dog and focused his gaze on the ridge with speckles of white running down his back, reminding him of his former manager’s traces of gray.
“Ya remind me of Skipper, ya know?” Barry said, looking into the dog’s eyes. “He was always there for me, through the ups and downs. Always believed in me. Like you, with yer tail wagging and yer never-ending enthusiasm.”
The dog held his gaze, head slightly tilted as if he was trying to understand the quiet nostalgia reflected in Barry’s eyes. His tail thumped against the floor – a steady, rhythmic beat echoing in the silence.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Barry’s mouth. “Skipper,” he said, testing the name. The dog’s ears twitched, and he gave an approving woof, his tail wagging faster. Skipper then jumped up on the bed with Barry. “Yeah, that’s right, boy. Skipper it is.”
As the newly named Skipper nuzzled against Barry’s hand, a wave of warmth washed over the well-traveled baseball veteran. He connected with his past, bonded with his present and anticipated his future unexpectedly. He felt at home. And so did Skipper, the newest member of his team.
“Night, Skipper,” Barry whispered as he turned off the lights, his heart swelling with gratitude for the unexpected gift of connection now in his life.
“Ruff!” Skipper replied softly, already drifting off to sleep, secure in the knowledge he had found a home and a friend who understood him like no other.
The two spent their first night together in companionable silence, both feeling as though they had finally found their place in the world.
