How to Fetch a Felon

by Cat Clayton

  “A ‘no dog rule.’ That’s not a thing.”

  “Well then, I’ll write one in.” She spun around and stormed off.

  I had a feeling she’d threaten the COW if she didn’t get her way. But threatening to enforce or write in some crazy no dog rule takes the pie.

  “Gah, she gets under my skin.”

  Chiquita, you allow it to happen.

  I glanced down at Cuff, nodded, and gave him a thumbs up in agreement. “You’re right, Cuff. I do.”

  I ushered Cuff back into the warm lobby, and I remained on the front porch. Observing Peacock clomping down the sidewalk, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and noticed a missed phone call from Jackson. I hit redial.

  “What’s up, buttercup?”

  “Oh just slew a dragon named Mrs. Peacock.”

  “What’re you talking about?” I heard the sleepiness in his voice.

  “I’m kidding. We’re working hard. How about you?”

  “Dragging myself out of bed, again. I think I managed six hours of sleep. It’ll have to do though.”

  “Why, what’s up?” I heard Taffy yapping in the background.

  “Becker called. Said they ran a preliminary tox screen on Ziggy Wood, and his BAC was 0.36,” Jackson said.

  “What is BAC?”

  “Blood alcohol content. A 0.36 is well over the legal limit, causing alcohol poisoning and can even cause death.”

  “What a terrible way to die,” I replied.

  “You’re not kidding. I’m gonna swing by the station. Afterward, can I bring Taffy in for a quick groom? I know I don’t have an appointment, but she could really use a trim.”

  Did he even have to ask? At this point in our relationship, I’d do anything for the guy. Besides, her visit will cheer up Cuff.

  “Sure thing. We’ll see you soon.” I shivered from a cold breeze as I disconnected the call. I squinted, peering down the sidewalk. I could still make out Vivienne at the end of the street as she stapled a campaign flyer to a telephone pole.

  A warm burst of air hit me as I opened the lobby door. I hurried inside, pulling the door closed behind me. Prince was on the floor, running in circles around Cuff, while Ms. Stella, Gertie, and Daniel chatted. Cuff showed no interest in playing with the spunky pup. He blinked up at me.

  I am not amused, Chiquita.

  I chuckled to myself and scooped him up in my arms. Sorry, little buddy. But isn’t he super cute?

  Cute, yes, but he has the energy of the Energizer Bunny, and he thinks my tail is a toy.

  Prince bounded over to the row of chairs near the window, sniffed one of the chair legs, squatted, and peed.

  Puppies, Cuff grumbled.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I should’ve been watching him better,” Ms. Stella said, her voice ringing out in a high pitch.

  Daniel’s hands fluttered in the air. “Don’t you fret. I got this!” He grabbed a roll of paper towels and sanitizing spray from under the counter and cleaned up Prince’s mess. “Puppies will be puppies.”

  Gertie had brewed a pot of coffee while I was outside on the phone. I caught a whiff of cinnamon and wished my aversion to the caffeinated beverage had subsided.

  “Oh, Daniel, I told Jackson we could fit Taffy in today. I hope that’s okay.”

  Taffy, my love. I cannot wait to see her.

  I rubbed the top of Cuff’s head.

  “Sure thing,” Daniel said, grinning ear to ear. He pointed to a bag on the counter. “Pick one out. Stella brought us all scarves from her shop.” He tugged on both ends of the aqua scarf. “I already picked mine out.”

  I smirked. “Of course, you did.” I reached in and pulled the pile of soft material out of the gift bag and selected one with a black, gold, fuchsia, and white plaid pattern. Two scarves remained, one each for Gertie and Stoney.

  “Oh, these are gorgeous, Ms. Stella. How sweet of you!” I said, twisting mine around my neck.

  She flapped her hand. “Don’t mention it. I’ve put all my scarves, hats, and gloves on clearance. They’ve already sent me my spring inventory. I don’t have room to keep it all.”

  “It’s not even Christmas yet,” Daniel squealed.

  “Oh dear, that’s life in retail,” Ms. Stella said, glancing down at Prince sprawled out on the lobby floor. “I guess he wore himself out. Thank you for letting me bring him by. This way he’ll be familiar with you and your crew for his first bath.”

  Gertie wandered up to the counter. “I’ll take the black one and give Stoney the green and pink one. It’s mighty generous of you to bring us gifts, Stella. I must stop in your shop sometime soon. I love the dress you have on. Do you carry those in your shop?”

  Ms. Stella fanned out the indigo velvet skirt of her Renaissance-style dress. Set against the dress’s deep shade of blue, her green eyes glimmered. “Why yes, I do. And I would love to show you around. Please stop by, Mrs. Lamarr.”

  “Call me Gertie. Everyone does.”

  “Gertie, it is. Well, I must mosey on. My clearance sale starts this afternoon.” She gently picked up Prince and nuzzled her nose in his soft fur. “I’ll set something up for Prince in the new year. Happy Christmas, everyone!”

  “Merry Christmas to you too!” I said.

  She was out the front door with a Whoosh!

  “I like her,” Gertie said, sipping her coffee. “Maybe we should introduce her to your father. They seem to be about the same age. What do you think?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I think Pop would not like us getting into his business. But—”

  Gertie blew out a hot breath. “You always knock down what I say.”

  “If you would let me finish, I would have agreed with you. It’d be nice to see Pop and Stella become acquainted. I think it’s a great idea if we can do it without him finding out we were in on it.” I winked at her.

  “Oh. I guess I should’ve let you finish.” She gave me a sheepish grin. “Maybe we can work our magic with the situation. You know how stubborn your father can be.”

  “Oh boy! Just what Mr. Lamarr needs. You two wrapped up in his affairs,” Daniel said, letting out a whistle. “I hope your magic doesn’t backfire on y’all.”

  She patted him on the back. “Nah, he’ll never catch on.” She waddled toward the groom room.

  Cuff had fallen asleep in my arms, and I didn’t want to wake him. I sat down on a stool behind the counter. Daniel plopped down on the other.

  “How’d you get rid of Mrs. Peacock so fast?” he asked.

  “I told her we’re not hanging her campaign flyer in here.”

  He chuckled. “I bet she’s madder than a wet hen.”

  “I’m done allowing her to push us around. Oh, before our afternoon grooms arrive, I have to tell you what I found out about Ziggy.” Daniel’s eyes widened and he set his chin on his fist, waiting for me to deliver the goods. “I spoke with Jackson and learned Ziggy’s BAC, his blood alcohol content, read 0.36, which according to Jackson is super high.”

  “Wow, I’ve never known anyone to drink until they died. Sounds awful.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. His body is en route to Austin for an autopsy, but according to Jackson, it’s probably what killed him.”

  WHILE GERTIE AND DANIEL were busy with Taffy and a new client, a gorgeous black and tan German shepherd named Hannah, I went for a stroll. I wanted to see if I could find out more information on Earl Wood and figure out why Pop refused to do business with him. Gertie mentioned he used to hang out at Dickie’s Bar, and I wondered if he’d stopped in there since he’d returned to Buckleville. I glanced at the dog clock on the wall. 1:48 PM. The bar opened at 2:00 PM. I looked around for Cuff. He wasn’t in the lobby, so he must’ve gone back with Taffy.

  “I’ll be back in a few!” I hollered to the groom room.

  “Okay!” Daniel called over the Christmas tunes they were playing.

  Dickie’s bar was three blocks down from Scrubadub, on the opposite side of the road. I observed the front of the bar from across the s
treet for a few minutes before I crossed. A few single patrons had entered once the red blinking Open sign turned on in the small, grimy window.

  I tugged open the heavy wooden door, gasping when the stale stench of cigarette smoke assaulted my senses. Unholy smokes! The bar lighting was so dim, I squinted to make out where the tables and bar were so I didn’t run into them.

  A figure, male or female—I couldn’t tell, perched on one of the swivel bar stools at the end of the counter. A man and a woman, both I didn’t recognize, sat at a small table to my right. An old-school jukebox played “Good Hearted Woman” by Waylon Jennings in the corner of the gloomy room. I approached the bar and hopped up on a barstool. It squeaked as I peered over the bar.

  “Hello?”

  A man popped up from the floor area behind the bar. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What can I getcha?” He wore his jet-black hair greased back and a cigarette tucked behind his right ear. Beady eyes roamed over my top half. It appeared he hadn’t seen a dentist in forever.

  “Oh, I’m not here for a drink. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions.”

  One bushy eyebrow raised. “I don’t answer questions for someone not drinking in my establishment, missy. So, what’ll it be?”

  I guessed it must be five o’clock somewhere if I want this guy to talk. “I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay please.” I folded my hands on the bar and smiled.

  The other brow joined the raised one. “Lady, does this look like a wine bar to you? It’s beer or liquor.” He crossed his arms across his scrawny chest.

  “Well, I don’t drink beer, so I’ll have a rum and Coke.”

  He dropped his arms and poured my drink. As he set the glass on the counter in front of me, he grumbled, “Name is Dickie. I own the place. Now, how can I be of service?”

  I heard the sweet voice of Dolly Parton come on the jukebox with her song “Here You Come Again.” The memory of Dolly and Gertie prancing around the stage at Little Bob’s last month brought a smile to my face. The gracious singer made a huge donation to Little Bob’s fundraiser for Alzheimer’s when she flew down in her private jet, to deliver a new waxed version of herself. It far outdid the wax statue Gertie accidentally melted with a flare a few months back.

  “I said, how can I be of service?” Dickie interrupted my train of thought.

  “Sorry.” I glanced down the bar and behind me to make sure no one was within earshot. “Are you familiar with a man named Earl Wood?”

  “You talkin’ about Ziggy’s little brother?” He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it. A plume of smoke billowed over his head.

  “Yes.”

  “You some kind of cop or something?”

  Or something, I thought. I shook my head and took a big gulp of the amber liquid courage in front of me. “I’m President of the Citizens on the Watch program here in town.” I’m sure it didn’t exactly give me the go-ahead to question people, but I gave it a whirl anyhow.

  His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I know him. What you’re askin’ for?”

  I took another drink and enjoyed the rum warming my insides. “Is he a customer of yours?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has he been in here since he returned to town?”

  “Yeah.”

  Speaking to this guy was like trying to have a conversation with a teenager.

  “Does he cause any trouble? What about other customers? Does he get along with them?”

  Dickie ogled me, triggering alarm bells to sound off in my head. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he nodded. Like a dragon, thick spirals of smoke shot out through his nostrils.

  “Mostly yeah. He met two guys in here the other night. They argued about money. One dude is bad news; he’s known around these parts for dealing.”

  “Do you mean drugs?” I asked for clarification. The cloud of lingering smoke tickled the back of my throat.

  “What else would I mean?” He looked at me like I was stupid. “I heard Earl call the one guy Kramer, but that’s all I know.”

  I shrugged. “What about the other guy he met up with? Did you know him?” A cough escaped, and I patted my chest, willing it to behave.

  Dickie shook his head. “No. A grumpy little guy, and he seemed off his rocker, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t, please explain.” I sipped the rum, and as the drink worked its magic, I relaxed.

  “He had on a Santa suit.”

  I choked. “A what?”

  “You heard me. A red suit and hat, white beard... you wannanother?” He rolled the last two words together and took a puff of his cigarette.

  Hmm, interesting. Like the squirrelly Santa talking with Earl outside the used car lot when we had lunch earlier. I glanced down, noticing I’d reached the bottom of my glass.

  He gave me a sideways smile, smashing out his smoke in a dirty ashtray. “Speak up, lady. I’ve got other customers.”

  Already feeling the effects as the rum rushed into my bloodstream, I knew better. “Um no, thank you,” I said, pulling out a ten-dollar bill from my bag. I slid it across the counter. “And you can keep the change.” I tumbled off the stool, my boots clicked as they hit the cement floor.

  His narrowed eyes zeroed in on me. “Hey, about Wood, my name’s Bennit, and I ain’t in it. Get my drift? Keep my name out.” The request sounded more like a threat than a question.

  “No worries,” I said and high-tailed it out of the bar, trying not to stumble due to the rum.

  I called Jackson on my way back to the shop. “Hey, does the last name Kramer mean anything to you?” My lips tingled as I spoke.

  “Not off the top of my head, why?” he asked.

  “Just something I heard regarding Ziggy’s younger brother possibly being involved with a drug dealer. Or, what about a Santa being in town?”

  “Did you say ‘Santa’?” I heard him sigh over the phone. “Steely, what’re you up to? And, how did you hear about this Kramer person?”

  I remembered Dickie’s threat, and I didn’t want the wrath of a sleaze bag coming after me.

  “Um... I can’t say.”

  “Steely, we’ve been over this before. If you have information about any illegal goings on, I need you to share it with me.”

  “I want to, really, I do. Can’t we say I’m merely doing my civic duties as the President of COW.”

  “Then you realize part of those duties is to report to the police department. So, spill it,” Jackson said.

  “You’re right. Okay, I stopped by Dickie’s Bar because I heard Earl Wood hung out there before he left town years ago. I thought maybe he’d been in there, so I went to check it out. The owner told me Earl was in there the other night with some guy who goes by the name Kramer. Dickie says this guy Kramer’s known around as a dealer.”

  Jackson paused before answering, and I thought I heard a facepalm. “First, I can’t believe you walked in there. With your asthma issues, please say you wore a gas mask.”

  “Funny, like that wouldn’t have been conspicuous. It reeked of smoke, not to mention the guy puffed like a smokestack.”

  “Listen, Steely. Don’t go back there. They have a real gambling problem upstairs, and I’m fairly certain Dickie’s in charge. I hear he’s a real tool. How’d you get him to talk?”

  “I bought a drink and tipped him. It was easy, to be honest.”

  “I’ll ask around about this Kramer character. But until I get there this evening for the COW meeting, can you promise me you’ll sit tight and no more sleuthing for today?”

  “I promise. But whatever you do, please tell no one how you found out, and don’t mention Dickie’s name.” I attempted to keep my voice steady and calm.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m certain Dickie threatened me as I left.”

  Chapter 6

  As the coffee percolated and April arranged frosted Christmas cookies from her bakery on a plate, the COW members gathered in the shop's lobby. Donny Thomas, Mr. Pet
ers, Pop, Sadie Westerfeld, Kit Fisher, from the bank, April Schirmack, Sauren, our newest member, Gertie, mostly because she works here, Jackson as our police department liaison, and Daniel and I. Thankfully, the effects of my afternoon rum and Coke had worn off.

  “If we could all get our refreshments and find a seat, we can begin tonight’s meeting!” I told my fellow members. “And, a big thank you to April for the sweet treats from Baker’s Bliss.”

  Everyone expressed their thank yous thank to April.

  Cuff and Taffy lounged in the corner on his fluffy dog bed. Watching him, my concern for Cuff’s health elevated. I hope the vet’s diagnosis presents nothing too serious, I thought.

  Me either, Chiquita.

  You heard that?

  He twisted his head in my direction. You get that I hear your thoughts, right?

  Yeah, yeah. I know.

  One by one, the members found their seats, making small talk with the neighbor next to them. Jackson sat down beside me.

  “Okay if I sit by you?” He winked.

  My insides stirred. “You better sit by me.” I winked back.

  Pop and Mr. Peters, who’d been chatting it up next to the coffee nook, finally realized everyone else had taken their seats and quickly sat down.

  Sorry, Pop mouthed.

  I smiled at him. “Okay, to begin tonight’s meeting, anyone have anything to report?”

  Kit Fisher raised her hand. “I live over on 4th and Main, and I noticed there are a few wooden fences with some kind of spray-painted words. I think they may be gang signs.”

  “Oh my goodness, I live one street down from you, Kit, and there’s a vacant house down my street with the same thing on the boarded-up windows!” Sadie added.

  Jackson cleared his throat. “We’re aware of the fence tagging. But not the house on Sadie’s street. I will drive by and look.”

  “I’ve got pictures on my phone.” Sadie popped up from her chair and rushed over to Jackson. I nearly choked on her overdone floral perfume. She thumbed through her phone and shoved it under Jackson’s nose. “Here they are!”