The Theft of the Barking Dog
Edward D. Hoch
NICK VELVET HAD come to England to steal a dog.
“It’s no Hound of the Baskervilles,” the woman in blue had told him. “If he didn’t have those guards around his place I’d go after it myself. It’s just a big Old English sheepdog named Rodney, the friendliest creature in the world.”
“This Manuel Curzon is your former husband?” Nick asked, making notes as he spoke with Evita Curzon. She was a dark, Latin type with a slow, seductive smile.
“That’s correct. Rodney should really be my dog, but Manuel won’t give him up. He’s being very unreasonable about the whole thing.”
“My fee would be twenty-five thousand dollars plus travel expenses. Is Rodney worth that much to you?”
“That much and more.”
. . .