A young housewi, Mrs. Betty Hargrave, has phoned you. She is terribly distressed by the fact that Henry Courtenay, a neighbor in her apartment building, has threatened to sue her.
“Our eight-year-old son, Tommy,” she says, “Was outside playing with our little Scottish terrier, Dougall. He’s a dear little dog and quite harmless. Well, Mr. Courtenay came along and Dougall playfully jumped against Mr. Courtenay. Mr. Courtenay hates dogs, so he kicked Dougall away, and Tommy held him while Mr. Courtenay got into his car and drove away.”
“Then what?” you ask.
“I just had a call from Mr. Courtenay. He said he’s at Community Hospital receiving emergency treatment – for a wound on his leg, where the dog bit him! He said he plans to sue us for plenty.”
After you assure Mrs. Hargrave that you’ll investigate the matter, you hurry over to the hospital. You find sour-faced Henry Courtenay in an examining room, preparing to leave. You ask the doctor if you may examine the wound.
The doctor draws up the sharply creased, spotlessly clean leg of Courtenay’s light gray trousers. He carefully removes the bandage, revealing freshly cauterized marks on the right calf.
You ask the doctor, “Are you sure these are a dog’s tooth marks?”
The doctor replies, “They look like it, but I wouldn’t swear to it.”
Then you ask Courtenay, “Did you come here immediately after the incident in front of your apartment building?”
“You bet I did!” he says. “You can’t take a chance with a dog bite.”
“I think you’re taking chances,” you say, “with a foolish attempt to frame a charge against the Hargraves. I think you inflicted that wound on your leg yourself – maybe with a fork – to look like tooth marks. In any event, I’m sure the Hargraves’ dog did not bite you!”