The Klumps Mysteries: Season One (Episodes 1 through 7)

by DL Cook

  “Snuggles, guess what?” Libby said to Don, who was trying to figure out his binoculars.

  “What?” Don asked absentmindedly.

  “ I did it. I solved the case.” Libby beamed.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I found them hiding behind a tree and I brought them back.”

  “Where are the culprits?” Don looked around. “There's no one here.”

  “Right here.” Libby showed him the pups. “And this is Estrella and her husband. Doesn't he remind you of Tom?” she giggled.

  “I don't know,” said Tom. He balanced his PSP on his leg, an ice cream cone in the hand not using the phone. “My sister said I'm not supposed to hang out with you.” The PSP slipped. Tom lunged to catch it. The ice cream threatened to smear across his face. But Tom was faster than it. He turned his mouth and the entire thing went in. He caught his video game with the now free hand and swallowed his treat with minimal chewing.

  Tom let out a satisfied belch and debated whether he should buy another cone. He already had six, but was that enough to reward him for completing the assignment? He patted the thick manila folder, tarred with chocolate and feathered with fuzz, that the nice clerk gave him at Town Hall. All the public files on Douglas Hadiger. Don expected it to take a long time, so Tom figured he had the rest of the day off.

  “I don't know,” he said again to Duey. “I have to hit the gym.” His sweaty blubbers vibrated as he patted them. “Hmmm.” Maybe Duey was right. Moving boxes and stuff could be considered exercise. He checked his pockets to see how much money he had left. Pity his tax refund savings were gone. “If you buy me pizza afterwards you have a deal...Okay. Where is it?...On Pine?...Be there soon.”

  Don frowned at the dogs in the back seat, but said nothing. Libby cooed softly at the puppies, letting them lap at her hand while petting their sleepy faces. He turned forward just in time to see a truck pull into the lot. He tapped Libby's shoulder. “We got something.”

  He got out of the car and his wife followed. “Should we call for backup now?”

  “I don't know. What do you think?” Libby closed her door gently and waved at the dogs.

  “I asked you first,” Don said.

  “I asked you second,” Libby replied.

  “Why are we whispering?”

  “I don't know. I'm whispering because you're whispering.”

  “Alright. Let's go,” Don said in his normal voice. He drew his gun.

  They had to wait a minute for a sudden stream of cars to pass before they could cross the road. By the time they got to the building's entrance the truck's occupant or occupants left the vehicle. Don motioned to Libby like lieutenants and captains did in war movies. She shrugged back at him. Of course. Such films were always too intense for her and he had to watch them by himself, until they became too intense for him. Then they snuggled and discussed their future vacations.

  Don shook himself out of his reverie. Libby thought he was making fun of her and gave him an icy glare. Don gave her a questioning look.

  An “oh shit!” from inside reminded them why they were there. They crept in. By now Libby had her gun out too. A man stood in the semidarkness, scratching his head. Don motioned for Libby to go right while he went left. He was on the lookout for accomplices but so far it appeared the man was alone.

  They were getting close. About time to yell freeze and cuff the bastard. A soft metallic thud reverberated through all the pipes overhead. Libby's “owww!” followed shortly after. Don swiveled in her direction, almost losing his balance. His gun went off. The bullet punctured a pipe and steam bellowed out of the ceiling. “I'm okay!” Libby yelled over the roar as Don radioed for backup.

  The suspect bolted.

  “Freeze! Police!” Don shouted to no avail. They huffed and puffed after him along the maze of iced bodies and equipment.

  Tom pulled up to the warehouse's front entrance, next to Duey's truck. He thought about pizza toppings as he strolled toward the door. Duey rushed out and crashed into him. Tom barely felt the impact. Duey, meanwhile, bounced off and sprawled on the ground.

  “Sorry about that,” Tom made the I'm sorry I bumped into you smile he'd practiced with Libby. He stooped down and picked Duey up. “Are you okay?”

  Before Duey could answer, Don emerged, sweaty and rumpled. “Cuff him.”

  Tom followed orders. Don clapped him on the back and Libby said, “Good job bro.”

  “Do I still get a pizza?” Tom was puzzled.

  “For responding so quick, damn right,” Don said. He shoved Duey in the back of Tom's cruiser. “Drive him to the station and put him in a cell. I have to wait here for forensics. Libby, go ahead and deliver the dogs.”

  Tom's sister smiled. “Snugglespuss, if they let me keep one can I pretty please?”

  “Not in public,” a red faced Don said through gritted teeth.

  “Sorry, snu—hon--Commissioner D.”

  “She found some missing dogs,” Don explained to Tom, who nodded. “Now what are you still doing here? Get to work!”

  Libby smiled and tried not to cry as Sofia hugged her beagle.

  “Thank you so much,” Rosa Marie said. She ruffled her daughter's hair. “Soph, what do we say?”

  “Thank you,” said the happy girl. “Where did you go?” she asked Estrella.

  Libby waited for the dog to reply. When it didn't, she explained that she found it near the tracks by the warehouse on Pine Road. “She was with this guy,” Libby petted the brown pit bull who sat next to the nursing pups.

  “I know what happened now,” Rosa Marie said. “We fed this dog from time to time back at our old house. He followed us here. It's almost 100 miles. And Estrella wasn't getting fat. She was pregnant.”

  Libby waved her hand next to her face, unable to suppress the tears any longer. “It's so beautiful,” she managed.

  Rosa Marie agreed. Then she said what Libby hoped to hear. “We don't really have any room for all these dogs. That's why we didn't take this one in at our old place. This apartment is even smaller...”

  “I can take them!”

  After consulting with Sofia, Rosa Marie and Libertad decided that Libby would take the pit bull and his favorite pup, the one curled up by his side.

  “I feel like we're breaking up the family,” Libby said.

  “They can visit all the time, can't they mom?”

  “I suppose,” Rosa Marie said.

  “Yay,” Libby and Sofia said together.

  They agreed that Libby would pick the dogs up when the puppies were weaned. Libby hoped that would give her enough time to prepare Don and Tom. Both men in her life hated change. But she would convince them by dropping little hints.

  “I'm getting doggies. Doggies, doggies, doggies,” she sang on her way to the station.

  They watched Duey sweat in the interrogation room from behind the mirror. Don examined the paperwork on the ownership of the warehouse and thanked Lucus for a job well done. The two officers that had gone out of town came back not long after Don arrived at the station. “Excellent job, Kirk, just excellent,” Don had said while the female officer (what was her name? Vanessa?) fumed. Don asked whether she had something to say, but she declined.

  “What's the ETA on getting that radiator fixed? It's as hot as a jungle in there.” Don said.

  “Maintenance said they'd get to it yesterday,” Lucus replied.

  Don let out an exasperated breath. “Arthur, aren't you in maintenance?”

  The janitor, who'd been sweeping dirt at their feet and generally getting in the way in the tiny room jumped. “Oh my. You've startled me. What was the question?”

  “The radiator in the interrogation room. It doesn't turn off.”

  “Oh yes. There's just so much cleaning to do.”

  Don closed his eyes and exhaled again. “So Swinton has a wife and kids, who are missing. Kirk checked with their relatives. No one has seen them in a year. Are they on the run? Did Swinton kill them? Does someone else h
ave them? Tom got what might be a treasure trove at Town Hall. How did you do it, Klump?”

  Tom shrugged and swallowed his pizza.

  “How did you make it through security so fast?”

  “I have a pass.”

  “How'd you get a pass?”

  “At the Town Hall PSC.”

  “The what now?”

  Tom bobbed his head as he said the word in his mind and counted on his fingers. “The Public Servants Center.”

  “They give you a pass and then you don't have to stand in line? They let you use the elevator and everything?”

  “Yeah. What kind of an idiot would stand in line?” Tom wondered.

  Don looked away. The janitor bumped into him and pressed him up against the glass.

  “Arthur. Must you really clean in here now? At this moment?”

  The janitor started. “Oh my. I didn't realize anyone was in here.”

  “Really?” Don fumed. “Why don't you go throw out the garbage that's been piling up in the conference room since last year” he shouted and shewed the janitor out the door. Slamming it shut he said, “I've been complaining to Town Hall about him since my first day, but he's still here. Anyway, where were we?”

  No one remembered.

  “Right. Lucus, Tom brought a stack of documents on Hadiger.” He picked the manila envelope up with a tissue, dubious about the brown stuff on it. With Tom one never knew. He handed it to Lucus. “Comb through it and see what you can find. I also want you to be there to supervise when they dig up the body. I can't be there myself because of all these new bodies. We're stretched pretty thin.”

  “Got it boss,” Chalmers left the observation room.

  “You ready, Leslie?”

  The prosecutor nodded.

  Don plopped down across from Duey. “So I knew you were a scumbag, what with all your tattoos and killing your brother. But this,” Don laid out a few of the photographs from the warehouse that Peggy sent over, “is something else. You are one sick bastard.”

  “I don't know nothing about that, and where's my lawyer,” Duey replied with an affected calm.

  Don knew better, as he felt the table shake from Duey's fidgety legs.

  “Don't play dumb with me. We caught you inside.”

  “I was just there to move some boxes.”

  “So that's your excuse? 'I didn't kill no one. I was just there to rob the place,'” Don mocked. “Give me a break. You can't rob a place if it's yours.” He took out the documents Lucus found on the warehouse.

  “Mine?”

  “I'm not falling for it. No point in acting surprised. As you well know, Intrepid Quality Waste Collection Services owns the warehouse. You're the CEO and sole shareholder of the company.”

  “What?” Duey leaned back. “I never heard of that company before. I never set foot inside the place before today.”

  “Uh huh. Is this not your signature?” Don showed him a local tax return.

  “Yeah, but...”

  “Let's look at the list of charges, shall we? When they hear about this the members of the jury that let you off will regret not sending you to jail for killing your brother. We have theft of a truck, resisting arrest, and prior to that shooting at me—”

  “What? You shot at me!”

  “We'll find the gun, you scum bag.”

  “I don't have guns anymore!”

  “And then there's also all those bodies, which come with a list of charges all of their own. There's so many, forensics is still going over the scene. You're one sick bastard.”

  “I never seen those bodies before in my life.”

  “Uh huh,” Don rolled his eyes. “You killed them with your eyes closed? Wise guy.”

  “Where's my lawyer?” Duey lost his fighting spirit.

  Don basked in his fright. At last an open and shut case.

  “Where's my lawyer?” he asked again, his voice wavering.

  Norman Mettler stormed in.

  “Right on cue,” Don muttered.

  “Stop harassing my client,” Norm dropped his briefcase on the desk. “Well? What are you still doing here?”

  Don gathered his papers and left. He sat in the conference room with the others of his team as they waited for Norman to signal that he was ready.

  “He was Mirandized as soon as he got to the station, right?”

  “Yep,” Lucus replied. He didn't look up from Hadiger's file. Don noted that Lucus had forensics gloves on. He too was dubious about the brown stains on the envelope and documents.

  “We didn't beat him up or anything.”

  “Nope.”

  “So what's my dad going to say we did wrong?” Don stroked his chin.

  “There was no warrant to go into the warehouse,” Leslie said.

  “We have one now,” Don said. “Libby was in the place on another matter entirely. She stumbled upon the bodies, quite literally.”

  “And you used this discovery as the basis of your stakeout?” Leslie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you followed McCaliker into the warehouse to make an arrest?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That might be a problem,” Leslie furrowed her brow.

  Don sighed. “We should've gotten the warrant before we reentered the warehouse.”

  “Perhaps you reentered to warn McCaliker to get out when you smelled gas?” Leslie suggested.

  “Sorry about that,” Tom said.

  “All these damned rules,” Don put his shirt over his nose, “they get in the way of police work. And anyway, he was arrested outside the building, so...”

  Norman signaled that he was ready to deal with them. He didn't wait for the door to close before he said, “did you have a warrant when you entered the building and shot at my client?”

  “Well, um,” Don began.

  “I thought so. I'm getting all of that thrown out. You can take the bodies out and all that, but they're not my client's problem. You'll hear from the judge on that score soon enough. Now as to the truck allegedly stolen—”

  An unfamiliar man barged into the interrogation room. Everything about him said big city lawyer. He examined them for a second and then said to Norman “you're fired. Leave at once.”

  Norman scoffed at him. “Like hell. Who is this shyster?” he asked Duey.

  The suspect shrugged, his eyes wide. The city lawyer leaned in and whispered into his ear. Duey's eyes grew wider than Don thought possible. He swallowed hard and in a cracked voice said, “Norman Mettler you're fired. You're no longer my attorney.”

  “My word!” Norman got up so violently his chair crashed into the wall behind him. “Does this ambulance chaser know the local officials? Does he know the judge? Does he know the procedures? Stick with me and you won't spend a day in jail.”

  “Sorry,” Duey looked down at the desk. “You're fired.”

  “Well then,” Norman refused to look at his former client, “I'm charging you for the hour. With this city hack you'll receive my invoice in prison.” He stormed out.

  “Give me some time to confer with my client,” the dapper man said.

  Don scanned the suddenly pale Duey's face. “Um. This is your new lawyer?”

  Duey nodded.

  “Can I see your credentials?” Don asked. The lawyer showed him his bar pass and ID. “Alright, then. Call me when you're ready.”

  Everyone whispered excitedly at the conference table while Don tried to calm his father down. “Don't worry about it dad. It's not good for your blood pressure. Besides, I'm sure Duey's gonna commit many more crimes. He'll hire you back.”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure. Absolutely. And if not him, there's plenty of criminals in this town. They all need representation, and you're the first one they have us call.”

  “That's nice of you to say, son. But these damned big city lawyers. Why are they moving in here on my turf? Like the big chain stores pushing out the moms and pops. And this is the same law firm that stole that other case fro
m me. What? The big city doesn't have enough cases that these sharks are coming here?”

  “Take it easy dad. Here, sit down. Tell me about how the stock market went today.”

  “Oh, don't even get me started on that,” Norman smiled at Libby, who just returned. He finished the water she gave him and crumpled the paper cup. “It's like they're watching me. I want to buy something, the price goes up. I want to sell, the price goes down. It's their stupid big city computers screwing around with the little guys.”

  “So why don't you quit gambling and get a nice hobby?”

  Libby said, “You should get a dog. Dogs are awesome.”

  “You're a sweet girl. No. The market's my life. It's not gambling. It's trading. I just have to find the right system. All the big houses make billions of dollars. You're telling me I can't shave a few thousands of a percent off of that? Damned cheaters, making it hard for the little guy.”

  Duey's new lawyer stuck his head out of the room. “I gotta go, dad,” Don said. “Promise me you won't go to Methton looking for new clients? I'll call you when we arrest someone, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I'll just sit here a while if you don't mind.” He took out a paper bag.

  “Sure thing, dad.” Don went back to the interrogation room. The shuffling behind the mirror told him that Leslie was in the observation room, probably jostling with Arthur for space. “So how has your story changed, Duey? What lies has this pettifogger concocted for you?” Don sat down across from them.

  “My client has decided to confess,” the lawyer said without emotion.

  “To what?” Don prepared himself for some joke at his expense.

  “Everything. Isn't that right, Mr. McCaliker?”

  Duey, completely drained of color, nodded.

  “The truck, the bodies...?”

  “Yes. And he is prepared to sign a confession.”

  Don was nonplussed. “Why the change of heart?”

  “He found his conscience.”

  “You don't say.” Don wondered what trap the lawyer led him into. “Since you're in the talking mood, know anything about the murder of Scott Swinton?”

  Duey opened and closed his mouth, then turned to his lawyer. The attorney said, “my client regrets his actions in that matter. He is responsible for Officer Swinton's death. It's all right here in Mr. McCaliker's confession, which he will sign in front of you,” the lawyer placed a typewritten sheet in front of his client.