The courageous golden retriever sped home, parcel in tow, delighting in the breeze as it picked up the subtle scent of German sausage from the package's wrapping. He ignored the more powerful aroma of flour and yeast. Standing on his hind legs, he propelled the swinging door to the Pie Hole open, wagging his tail in triumph. He sped into the kitchen, having to stop abruptly when he spotted Ned just around the corner.
"Digby," Ned said lightheartedly.
Digby dropped the parcel, sitting down in front of it.
"Did Olive have you bring that in for me? Good boy," he said, wishing he could give his faithful friend a pat or scratch behind the ears. Careful not to graze the dog's fur as he went, the Pie Maker bent down to retrieve the dough. Digby whimpered when Ned turned away.
"Hm?" Ned asked, turning back around.
Digby turned toward the restaurant, trying to show his master to the door where he desperately needed to head. He gave an abrupt bark, turning in a circle before facing the front entrance again.
"Can't play now. There are pies to be made."
But Digby did not want to make pies. He wanted to save Olive from the clutches of the three illegal accordion dealers. He barked again, frustrated that he could not just grab his master by his apron and pull him along. But why not? The canine knew that only fur touching skin would result in his demise, and the apron was in no way a part of Ned's figure.
"Digby! No, bad dog!" The Pie Maker floundered as his dog tugged him out among the tables filled with customers. HIs arms were raised high for fear of accidentally hitting his pet or his customers. Pie stuffed faces glanced up at the curious spectacle before shrugging and returning to their desert. "Digby!" Ned reprimanded, all too aware of the scene they were making. Unable to think of any way to get his dog off of him, he began to walk with him, approaching the front doors.
By an unlucky coincidence, private detective Emerson Cod flung open the door, hitting the Pie Maker in the face. Ned staggered back, clutching his soon to be bruised chin.
"Ow!"
"What you doing standing in front of a door like that?" Emerson exclaimed, taking off his soaked hat.
"It was-Dig-" the Pie Maker stammered.
"Never mind. Don't want to know. What's with the pit bull?" Emerson pointed at Digby, who was beginning to get a horrible feeling that he would not be able to persuade Ned to go with him. HIs tail drooping, he reluctantly let go of the apron. Before Ned could explain, Mrs. Pepperstein, a new but frequent customer of his, walked over.
"What kind of place are you running here sonny?" she demanded, her feathered, wide-brimmed hat bobbing as she spoke. "Dogs running around everywhere, no refills?"
"Actually there was only one dog, and we always give free refills," Ned tried to say with a smile.
"Well your service is slower than molasses then," she said with crossed arms, her frown making her wrinkled face distorted.
"I'll fix that right away, Mrs. Pepperstein," Ned said, turning quickly to Emerson. "I need your help."
Emerson rolled his eyes. "I just came in here for a piece of pie and there are dogs and customers running around all over the place,"
"One dog, one customer," Ned corrected under his breath." Please."
Emerson Cod sighed, dumping his overcoat and hat in the nearest empty booth. He escorted Digby by his collar up to Ned's apartment, the helpless animal whimpering in defeat.
Back in the kitchen, Chuck failed to find a solution to the inferior dough Digby had brought Ned.
"This dough will turn to soup before it assumes anything resembling the shape of a pie crust," the frustrated Ned cried. "In all my life I've never worked with such unwilling dough!"
"And in all my life I've never worked with such needy people," Emerson commented.
"I'm not needy. Because someone asks for help once doesn't make them needy."
"I believe you've asked me three times now. 'Emerson, go bring the crazy dog all the way up to the apartment. Emerson, go give Mrs. Peppershoes her refill. Emerson, can you-?"
"Hey, Emerson," Chuck interrupted, carrying a stack of teetering plates from the main room. "Would you mind helping me with these?"
"What is wrong with this dough?" Ned said incredulously, watching it flake away between his fingers.
"The only dough I care about is the kind you're gonna give me for playing waitress. Where's the blonde anyway?" Emerson said, taking the dishes from a grateful Chuck.
"Olive?" Ned asked, concentrating on pouring the right amount of flour. "She went to get pie supplies. She and Digby brought this.... stuff back."
"I pieced that bit together myself. So why isn't the hired help helping?"
"Chuck, could you go find Olive?" Ned asked, though clearly not hugely concerned. It was a busy night. As chuck went off in search for Olive, Emerson set the pie smeared dishes in the large sink. He turned on the water but wouldn't bring himself to start cleaning anything. He had his limits. About to complain sarcastically once again to his associate, Emerson noticed a square piece of brown paper on the counter where Ned was pounding at the dough. Picking it up, he instantly recognized the logo of an out of business bakery a client of his used to work for before it was closed due to the client's mysterious disappearance.
"This is where she got that dough?" he asked skeptically.
Ned groaned in defeat, slamming down his rolling pin. "Wherever she got it we won't be buying from them anytime soon. Or ever."
"No problem there. This bakery has been out of business for over a year." Emerson informed him.
"Then how did she-"
"I can't find Olive anywhere," Chuck said, running back into the kitchen.
The Pie Maker got a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach. Suddenly Digby, who was normally quite well behaved, didn't seem so out of line. Now that Ned thought about it, Digby had been overly urgent with the apron tugging. For him to risk his own life by connecting himself physically with Ned was extremely rare. Also now that Ned thought about it, he'd never actually seen Olive return. His eyes flickered back to the paper in Emerson's hand, the sinking feeling turning into a drowning one.
"We have to go."
A/N: Please let me know what you think. :D