Then she asked as I handed her phone back, “She... she's going to be ok, isn't she? She's my friend and has helped me so much to learn the dog walking ropes. I'm thinking of going independent like her once I've paid my dues.”
Inspiring rebellion, one person at a time; that's my Finny.
I nodded assurance which I was only partially confident of. I always worried so much about my girl. Afraid that one day, the trouble she attracted would be too much for her to handle, or that I would be too late to help. “Fin is a force unto herself. She'll be fine. Now if you excuse me...” I said in a silly over the top deep tone, tipping an invisible cap, “...I've police business to attend to, ma'am.” This made her smile and almost giggle as I took off at a jog into the driving snow and wind toward Cherry Hill.
Thinking like Fin, I wondered why she would have not come out at 67th. Something had to have changed. And if it had, she'd go to ground somewhere it didn't threaten any innocent people or the people she felt responsible for. That ruled out her heading for Central Park Tails. The Ramble! She could lose an army there, nobody knew the twists and turns of the Ramble like my fiance.
How surreal was that? I had a fiance.
I realized I was almost running, by the time I reached the stone fountain at Cherry Hill, the snow impeding my need to go faster. I had passed a couple more walkers on the way. There were three there heading north again, toward the Bow Bridge that led into the Ramble. I smirked. Good Fin.
The storm seemed to be subsiding a little, I could see almost twenty yards through the snow with the beam of my flashlight, painting the world in the static of falling snow reflecting the light. And then I broke into a sprint when I heard a high pitched screaming ahead.
I flashed by six more dog walkers and their furry charges as they all started to run toward the screaming too, my heart threatening to choke me as it tried climbing out my throat. I felt my panic causing the adrenaline rush and anticipation of a fight. I barked out, “Fin!” Then poured on the speed as I drew my service weapon leveling my flashlight along the barrel as the shadow of the Bow Bridge over The Lake became a hazy outline in the lights of the bridge, creating a haunting silhouette in the darkness.
Snow dragged at my feet as I started running faster as my blood froze in my veins when I realized the screaming was coming from a figure dangling from the bridge, feet flailing. I yelled again, “Finnegan!” As I pushed past two dog walkers, who were also converging on the bridge.
I've never been so intensely afraid for anyone in my life as I was for the woman I loved at that moment. I really thought I might lose her, and my mind couldn't wrap itself around life without her smile. Fear and rage mixed freely, burning through the ice in my veins. I had to get there in time!
As some figures on the bridge came into view in the falling snow, I skidded to a stop, hesitating a moment to process what I saw, then glancing at my weapon I had trained on the scene. I dropped my aim, sliding the safety on the weapon to secure it as I started laughing at what I saw. Because of the adrenaline coursing through me, I likely sounded unhinged. But never, in a million years, could I have imagined what I was witnessing at that moment.
I holstered my weapon as I started walking forward, whispering to myself in humor, “Oh, Fin.”
Chapter 11 – Bulldogging
I glanced back as Calvin, Tink, and I ran down Broadway. I swear Morty had been aiming at us with his van just as he splatted into the snowbank. I think he even left the van running as he jumped out and started chasing us on foot. Leaving the vehicle there was like a giant billboard to the world. “Yes, it was me, Mortimer Gilbert who perpetrated manslaughter, dognapping, and am now chasing after the dog's liberator. Please come and get me.”
Was he really so single-minded that he was willing to break even more laws to do, what? Get even with poor Mrs. Havermail? I'm convinced he doesn't even know she is dead, or that he was the one who caused that death yet. But judging by his actions thus far, I'm not sure he'd stop even if he knew, this guy was not winning any awards for being a mental giant.
He wailed, “Get back here... with that dog! If you don't... you'll be sorry!”
Heh, he sounded like he was panting and puffing. He wasn't in the best of shape, we could lose him easily. I panted and puffed.
Shut up.
I'm in pretty good shape, I walk every day and on occasion have to chase loose dogs through the city. At least I didn't sound like I was going to die like the Mort-imizer back there. We'd give him the slip then make our way to the precinct.
I hesitated at that. If I gave him the slip, he might disappear, and poor Mrs. Havermail wouldn't get justice. I closed my eyes and shook my head, not believing I was about to do this. Calling out to my charges, “Slow down a bit guys.” We slowed just enough that we weren't increasing the distance between the man and us, giving him hope of catching up.
I explained to Cal, “We'll just lead him into a public place with a lot of people and have someone call the police for us. That way he won't get away.” I thought of the irony that we had just left a public place with lots of people.
Calvin... didn't look impressed. I looked at the huge horse of a dog for backup. “Tell him it's a good idea Tink.” She turned her goofy doggy gaze to me at the mention of her name. She was so adorable with her huge tongue lolling to the side. She was having great fun. This must be like an adventure for her.
My heart went out to her, not knowing that her mommy had passed on yet. I wondered if she had a family. If not, we'd make sure she found a loving home. No way was Animal Control getting their grubby little hands on her. She could take a bed, or three, at Central Park Tails.
So come on Fin, think. You just left the biggest congregation of people you could hope for back in Times Square, where can you find a place that is open on Christmas that would have a lot of people? I got it! The Radio City Rockettes always put on a Christmas Extravaganza. If we were lucky, they'd still be playing the last engagement of the night. I chirped out with humor, “To Radio City Music Hall my Scooby Gang!” Hmm... tough crowd.
It says a lot about the trouble I seem to get myself into lately, that I discounted the threat of a man chasing me through the streets of Manhattan in a blizzard. But I've never faced someone I feel I am not physically inferior to, and he obviously wasn't going to challenge my intelligence. At least the ringleader of the men who kidnapped me was more of an upper crust, intelligent, dirtbag.
I didn't see Mort as much of a threat, especially with Calvin at my side. I mean, did you see how he went at the man in the alley? My fuzzy hero.
But... it really really did hurt when the man punched me. I won't admit to crying when it happened. My stomach still hurt as we ran. I knew with certainty that it was going to bruise badly. So maybe it was prudent to not allow him close enough to do it again.
Hey, I didn't ask for your input. So shush.
I kept glancing back, having to let him stay close so I could just see him in the snow in the darkness. When the streetlights lit him up I saw his jowls puffing as he panted hard, his breath fogging in front of him. The man was not in shape, and not built for physical exertion.
Smug is never a good thing to be. You should never be too confident in yourself because that's when you start making mistakes. My overconfidence caught up with me just as the lights of the Music Hall cut through the storm. I was so intent on them I hadn't noticed Tinkerbell had decided to investigate a snow mound that was an ice aged representation of what had to have been newspaper boxes. Crossing in front of me and abruptly stopping to snuffle the snow.
This crossed my arms as she is like a kajillion pounds and I tangled my foot in Calvin's lead. My ankle twisted and with stars of pain flashing in my vision my head hit an ice patch on the walk when I fell. Ow... ow... ow. I touched the back of my head. “Ow!”
I looked at Tinkerbell, who looked back at me with a goofy doggy grin, then licked my face in a big slurp that felt like a wet, warm towel. Glack! I
giggled at her and scrambled to my feet and winced. It had been a good twist, and I couldn't put my full weight on the ankle. Why the fuzzy heck was I so clumsy at times? I swear the canine deities use me as their punchline at times.
Mortimer gasped out a few words between each breath as he rapidly closed the distance, “You'll... give me that dog... if you know... what's good for you!”
“Ruh-roh!” I hobbled as fast as I could toward the brilliant lights of the Music Hall. And then gulped when the bulk of the lights switched off. Had I missed the last performance? Mother fluffy, fuzzy tails!
He was just a few steps behind us, panting and gasping as I hobbled and the dogs looked at me, wondering what new game I was playing. We must have looked a sight, a woman limping along with a small man on the verge of a heart attack chasing. We were barely moving the speed of a jog, but it was the fastest I could manage at the time.
The unfortunate part as we came up to the now quite empty Music Hall, was that he was actually closing the gap. I swear, if I get through this in one piece, I'd never allow myself to feel overconfident again, and maybe I'd take Jane's advice and stay in the metaphorical car.
Nah.
I sighed in relief as a familiar face rounded the corner, Linus, one of Raife's newest recruits into his evil dog walking cult of doom. He was walking Mister Lin's Schnauzer, Nacho, tonight. I didn't want to risk him getting hurt, though Morty wasn't a huge threat, you never knew what desperate, and terminally stupid people were capable of.
He saw me coming, and he smiled and blushed like he always did. The kid was adorable, the shy ones always are. “H-hi Fin.”
I waved and babbled out as we passed him, “Hi Linus, can't talk dire situation, call Rafael, tell him to call Detective McLeary and let her know I'm heading for the precinct! Need a wraperoo-skidoo on the guy behind me.”
He nodded in confusion as I limped past, then turned back to my pursuer, walked in front of him, getting his feet tangled in Nacho's leash, and then walked to his other side when the man fell, tangling his feet more. I could hear him saying with all the innocence in the world, “Sorry mister. Are you ok? Let me help you up.”
Then Mortimer growling at him, panting out, “Get your hands off me, you stupid kid. She's getting away!”
I may have giggle-snorted. I owed Linus a fresh batch of home baked cookies. Fun fact, ninety percent of all leash trippings of jerk-faces in the city are purposeful. The moral? Don't mess with dog walkers.
I turned to head east. Normally I'd head through Central Park, my stomping grounds instead of a more direct route on the main streets, but my ankle was hurting, and I wasn't sure how long I could keep ahead of the man. I'd head over to Lexington then it would be a straight shot up to the station unless I could find another public space that was still occupied.
What else would be open on Christmas, and this late? My eyes darted to the skyline in front of me, the shadow of the almost medieval looking towers of St. Patrick's Cathedral loomed up through the storm. Not a canine saint, but close enough, and their doors would be open twenty-four hours. Eh, beggars can't be choosers.
I shivered. I had not been too aware of the frigid temperatures when we were moving at a faster pace, but I was losing some of my body heat now that I was moving slower, and exerting myself less. Brr.
I could hear the familiar panting and puffing of Mort as he was closing the distance once again. Was this what I was going to move like when I was like eighty? I'd probably have a gaggle of my own dogs to pull my walker for me like a dog sled team. I'd strike a senior pose if I had a chance, but Morty is gaining. I'd make eighty look good in a flower print sundress. I prefer pastels and solids now, but it seems every senior goes for those flowery patterns.
I imagine that Raife had contacted Jane by then. I was in troouuuuble. She would not be amused. I could picture her not amused cop face now. I'd be surprised if she didn't handcuff me in the apartment every time she left after this. And that wouldn't be as fun as the other times she handcuffed me when we were... eeep! I mean, I didn't say anything.
Dear lord just kill me now.
I smirked back at Mortimer after we crossed the street and I slipped into the ornate oversized doors into the Cathedral. He hesitated on the walk and looked around, then I lost sight of him when the doors shut.
That's right Mr. Dognapper, not too sure about following me into a church full of... I turned around. Oh, come on! The place was empty. Don't they do like, Christmas service or something? I've never been a religious sort, but I swore all the Christian-y churches did something special today.
I looked at the schedule conveniently on a stand in the entryway to the nave. Of course, mass was over at five thirty. Is somebody upstairs having a good chuckle at my predicament? At least Mort isn't following me in. He is probably envisioning a church full of parishioners too. Ooo, handy map on the board, and handy exit on West 51st Street. Goodbye Mortimer, smell ya later.
Oh boy, what was the protocol here? I've watched a ton of romantic comedies with churches in them. Everyone always just walked through the naves. I turned and walked with the dogs beside me down the rows of empty pews toward the transept. Was I supposed to cross myself, or curtsy or something?
I was about to turn left toward the exit, then hesitated at the stairs to the altar for a moment. I looked up to the beautiful altar with the storybook construction, it looking like a gateway to Heaven itself. I looked at the dogs who were both cocking their heads at me, wondering what new adventure I was going to bring us on.
I smiled at them, Tink just looked so big and goofy, and Calvin so debonaire. Then I looked back up to the altar, deciding to hedge my bets, and whispered, “Umm... God? If you're there, I just wanted to thank you for all the good in my life. My dog, my girlfriend, and my ever expanding family. If that was all your work, you did good. Umm... I guess that's it.” I didn't know if I should say amen or not.
Fun fact, amen means 'so be it'. I only know that because in the Battlestar Galactica reboot they said 'so say we all' instead, which was commented to be the same as amen by fans.
Oh, right. Focus, Fin.
I turned and took a half step. “Gleep!” I found myself face to chest with a tall man. I took a half step back to see a man in a robe, collar and a red cap. Was he like a cardinal or something? I blurted, “Sorry, sir, father, preacher sir.”
I felt that awkwardness that overwhelmed me when I wasn't sure how to act around someone, very aware of my hands. I pulled back my hood, thinking it suddenly very rude for it to be up in a church. I wanted to stuff my hands in my pockets, but would that look defensive? Why can't I ever figure out what I'm supposed to do with these things at the ends of my arms?
The kindly looking silver-haired man supplied, “Cardinal. Cardinal Collins. Are you alright, miss?” He left it a prompt.
“May. Finnegan.”
He smiled at my first name, then inclined his head slightly. “Miss May. You seem frazzled, and you're limping. I saw it when you came in. Should I call someone for you? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
Calvin, always a good judge of character, rubbed up against the man's leg and wagged his tail. The Cardinal looked down and smiled. I noted one of his hands absently rested on Tinkerbell's head and he scratched her ears. He liked dogs. That's all I needed to know about the man. He was one of the good people out there. Well, I guess he should, he was a holy man after all, right?
I didn't want to worry him, and I didn't want to cause trouble in his church in case Gilbert outside grew a pair and came in. I just said as I tightened my grip on the leashes and started moving past him. “Nothing too serious. I just need to get going.”
He asked, “Is it something you would feel comfortable sharing in confession?” Was he restraining some humor there?
My inappropriately chirpy and silly inner voice thought, “Not even Jane could get a confession out of me, and she's arrested me multiple times, I'm Teflon.” Not that kind of confession
Fin!
I shook my head and said in apology, “I'm not really religious, Cardinal, sir. I'm sorry to have bothered you.”
He struck a chord in me when his kind tone hit me, “Faith comes in many shapes and sizes, Miss May. It isn't who you worship, it is how you worship.”
This man was... unexpected. His words weren't as cryptic as they might have seemed to someone observing our interaction, but I got it somehow. I glanced back as we moved away and asked, “Can you do me a favor? Call the 19th precinct and tell them you saw me here? My girl will know what to do.”
He called out one last time as I grasped the door handle to push it open, “He heard you, Finnegan.”
God heard me? I hesitated, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath as I contemplated that, then stepped outside with the dogs.
Ok, that was an interesting interlude that will have me thinking for some time to come. Church wasn't as scary and oppressive as I have imagined in my head, with people pushing religion down my throat.
Time to finish this and get to the precinct, it's a shame I lost Mort back there, but I don't know how long I could keep ahead of him with my aching ankle. We hadn't taken ten steps in the storm, the chill wind raking my cheeks reminding me to pull up my hood, when I saw the outline of someone on the corner.
By the sacred tug rope, he wasn't quite as stupid as I thought he was. Hello Morty. The man called out, “Stop right there, girl. Give me that dog now, or...”
I interrupted him as we started hobbling at a slow jog the other way, yelling out, “Or you'll what, man? You have to know that it's all over. Everyone knows who you are now. You're going down.”
He actually hesitated at that, I almost let the manslaughter charges slip to him, but if he learned that, he might get desperate and the pups could be in a new sort of danger.
Case of the Great Danish Page 11
