Work on the next Jake & Boo book, Not an Elf, is on track for publication in early November! It’s a Christmas-themed tale set mainly in Waxahachie, Texas. Both sides of my family have roots in Ellis County, and Waxahachie in particular. I’m planning to do a write-up about that in my first newsletter, coming out in March – sign up for the mailing list over to the right >>>>>

But in the meantime, here’s an excerpt from Not an Elf:

We finished the slice of pie and I was on my third cup of coffee when there was a knock on the window next to our table. We both jumped and I turned to see Petreski looking in, a ball of silky brown fluff held in the crook of one arm.

“Is that a dog?” Andi asked.

“I think so. Where’s its face?”

Andi wrinkled her nose. “I think it’s that mushy bit on the right.”

“Huh.”

“Oh good lord,” said Alva Bettencourt, coming over to our table. “What on earth is Ruben Petreski doing with Karl Lowel’s dog?”

“So it is a dog,” said Andi.

“Did you hear about Karl?” I asked Alva.

“Oh, sure. It’s all over town. Good riddance to bad rubbish as my mama used to say. But that dog.” She sighed and shook her head before going back to the counter to ring up a customer.

I turned back to the window in time to see a string of drool drip from Jermaine’s mouth – I could see a little pink tongue lolling out of it now – and land on Petreski’s hand.

“Eww,” Andi and I said in unison.

“I’d better get out there before your brother loses it,” I said, tossing some cash on the table. “Take care of the bill, okay?” I grabbed some napkins and hustled to the door.

“This better pay off,” Petreski said, as he used a napkin to wipe the drool off his hand.

I looked down at the dog in my arms. Beady brown eyes looked up from a smooshed-in face. I tucked a napkin underneath Jermain’s chin. “I hope so, too.”

“You getting anything from him?”

“I’d say it’s too soon to tell. He may not even be aware yet that his human isn’t coming home.”

“I gotta say,” Petreski said, tossing the used napkin into a trash can, “I’ll be surprised if he ever figures it out.”

“Boo! What a terrible thing to say!”

“Jake, I don’t think that dog’s all there, y’know?”

I stroked the silky fur and told Jermaine what a good, good boy he was.

“Did you get his food and toys and stuff?” I asked.

“In the car.”

“What are we going to do with this, uh, dog?” Andi asked as she joined us. “Because you know mom’s gonna have a meltdown.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Petreski told her. “Let’s go, okay?”

“What about Daddy?” Andi asked when we got in the car.

“He’ll get a ride back with Chief Watts.” I turned and met his eyes and he gave me his “we need to talk” look. I nodded, and he pulled onto the road.

Had we really only been here two days?

* * *

Andi was inside with Beth, probably talking about crazy Jake and his dog fixation. Boo and I were in the backyard, looking down at where Jermaine sat on the dried grass, staring off into space.

“Maybe he doesn’t need to go,” I said.

“Well, Mom said he doesn’t come inside until he does.”

“We could be here a while.”

I picked up a stick and threw it, to see if I could get Jermaine to do something. Anything other than sit and pant. He stood, walked over to where the stick had landed, and sat back down, staring towards the line of trees at the back of the property.

“Lovely,” said Petreski. “I told you. Not all there.” He tapped a forefinger against his temple.

“Maybe he’s old and tired.”

“He’s three. I checked his paperwork. He’s a registered, purebred Pekingese.”

“Inbreeding, maybe?”

“Lovely,” he said again. “Are you getting anything yet?”

I tried to relax and open my mind. I’d had some minor success with that recently, and had discovered that sometimes animals could sense me like I was sensing them.

There were some squirrels in a nearby tree, and something scurried behind the barn, but I ignored anything that wasn’t Jermaine, and got… well… hmm. Usually, trying to read animals like this is like swimming through dark water, and a dog will kind of shimmer and glow and emit emotions or sensations. They’re not verbal, but their sensations tend to be strong. But comparing Jermaine to those other dogs would be like comparing a smooth black river rock to a cut diamond.