by Todd Borg
“If they catch Luther Washington trespassing inside of the senator’s estate, you’ll be in prison in minutes,” I said.
“Tyrone’s right,” Diamond said. “He should go. Me, too.”
“Diamond, you of all people know the risks. Your future is tenuous at best. They catch you breaking and entering while on suspension, you’ll go to prison, too.”
Diamond looked at me with a blank face. “Tenuous. Fancy word for a gringo cop.”
“You know I’m right, Diamond. You’re letting your anger about the senator trying to influence the sheriff on the shooting incident cloud your judgment. You want revenge, that’s understandable. But this is not the way. You’ll throw your career away.”
“And with my brown skin they’ll put me in the gulag.”
“Dammit, Diamond, you’re not listening!”
“Yes I am, Owen! Get off your high horse. It’s okay for you to pull a B and E at a United States Senator’s residence, but not us? You can play the courageous knight and break the law to try to save the world, but we can’t? You think that doesn’t come off patronizing as hell? Sambo and Jose pick the cotton while the master goes off to war?”
I held my hands up, palms out. I was breathing hard. “Hey! I didn’t mean it that way!”
Tyrone said, “The problem with white guys and brown guys is like the problem with men and women. One group holds the power. And no matter how much they think they’re being good guys, it’ll never work until they start seeing the world from the other point of view.”
“I said I didn’t mean it the way you took it!”
“Don’t matter what you mean,” Diamond said. “Matters how it comes across.”
“Okay, I get it!” I picked up another beer, opened it and drank most of it down. I turned away and tried to take a deep breath. The silence that followed seemed to take up all the air in the room.
After a minute, Diamond spoke in a low voice. “Kant said that doing good when you’re inclined to do good is no big deal. His point was that moral value is found in doing something you know you should do but is against your inclination.” He paused. “I don’t know what I’ve ever done that had moral value.” His voice had a plaintive note to it. “But the killer will be at the fundraiser, and he’s going to strike again. I could help stop him.”
I turned and looked at him.
Finally, I said, “What time is the senator’s fundraiser?”
FIFTY-SIX
I stayed the night at Tyrone’s and called Ellie Ibsen the next morning.
“Hi, Ellie, it’s Owen McKenna,” I said when she answered.
“Owen, I’m so glad to hear your voice! At my age, you appreciate things like a familiar voice. Does that sound crazy?”
“Ellie, you could never sound crazy.”
“Oh, stop. Why are you calling? I hope you are coming to visit.”
“Yes, I am. And I was hoping to borrow Natasha. I have a little project for her.”
There was a pause before Ellie spoke. “Would it put her in danger? It took a long time for her to heal when she helped you last year.”
I winced at the worry in her voice. My hope had been that we wouldn’t get to that question so fast. “Yes, Ellie, it may. But it won’t be as dangerous as the forest fire. This time, I want to give Natasha a scent and send her into a group of people at a party to find a person.”
“A criminal?”
“Yes.”
“And this criminal could hurt her?”
“Yes. But I’ll be right there. Others, too. If the person tries to hurt Natasha, I believe that we will be able to stop him.”
There was a long silence. “But you can’t guarantee her safety.”
“No, Ellie. I can’t.”
Another pause. “Will Spot be there?”
“Yes. I’m hoping that Spot will also protect Natasha. But I can’t promise that nothing will happen.”
Ellie didn’t speak.
“I’ll have two men with me. All of us will try to ensure the safety of the dogs. Because Spot can hold his own in most situations, we’ll concentrate on watching Natasha.”
Ellie’s tiny breaths were audible over the phone.
“Ellie, if this makes you too uncomfortable, I want you to say no. I will understand.”
“When do you want to do this?” she said. Her voice was small.
“I’d like to come down and get Natasha tomorrow morning. The gathering is tomorrow night.”
Her response was long in coming. “Well, okay,” she said.
Tyrone and Diamond and I spent most of Friday making a plan and going over the details. Tyrone had an extra mountain bike and adjusted the seat and handlebars to fit Diamond. We went out for a few supplies including non-toxic, brown tempera paint. We three could wear dark clothes, and Natasha was mostly black, so we’d blend into the night. But Spot was far too visible. I planned to turn him into a Stealth Dane.
We reasoned that the fundraiser would have the senator and his men on high alert, so I didn’t dare go back to my cabin to get my mountain bike. The bike I’d rented was still stashed in the forest near my campsite on the east shore. I could park Mrs. Duchamp’s 4-Runner at Spooner Lake, get the bike and escape into the darkness for another night of camping. Most important, I didn’t know if our invasion of the senator’s estate was going to end safely or not, so I wanted to see Street before then. I said as much.
“They could be watching the hotel,” Diamond said. “If she leaves, they would follow. We’d have to make it so they couldn’t follow her to you.”
“Or find her after we met,” I said.
“I can pick her up tonight,” Diamond said. “Maybe they follow, but it won’t help because I’ll drive directly to a boat of some kind. They won’t be prepared, so they won’t be able to follow. It’ll be dark. I’ll bring her to you on the east shore.”
I thought about it. “As long as you can move fast from your pickup into a boat.”
Diamond nodded. “When we return, we’ll come back to a different place on the shore. I’ll borrow a car. Street will be back in her hotel room before they figure it out.”
“I can arrange for you to use Jennifer Salazar’s runabout.”
Diamond paused. “Street will probably be safe, but seeing her still puts her at risk.”
“Yeah. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Besides, she may be able to help us get into the senator’s estate.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
I met Street at midnight on the east shore of Lake Tahoe.
I’d come through the dark without using my flashlight. Silent. Nearly invisible. I kept Spot on a verbal leash, walking the trail just in front of me. I don’t know what it was that made him obey so well and not run off exploring. Maybe he sensed something wrong, that we were on the run and in danger.
When I approached the shore, I stopped while I was still in the woods and looked out at the lake. There was a small chop and a light breeze. A crescent moon hung in the west, just over Maggie’s Peaks and Emerald Bay. The moonlight shimmered on the water’s surface in a silvery path that reached up to the beach. I saw the silhouette of a small boat cross over the light path. I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket, pointed it toward the boat and blinked it twice.
Diamond brought Jennifer Salazar’s runabout in at a glacial pace, shifting the small outboard into forward for a moment, then back into neutral for a long coasting glide.
The tiny cove had a narrow channel that led to a small arc of sand. The water near the beach was strewn with boulders that projected three and four feet out of the water.
Diamond bumped one boulder on the port side and touched two on the starboard so gently I doubted the hull was even scratched. Diamond eased the craft up to the sandy beach.
Street was standing in the bow. When Diamond touched the bow to the sand, she jumped off. She ran up to me and hugged me as Diamond waited in the boat.
Her grip around me was strong, almost desperate. We walked a short way into t
he forest.
“Owen, I’m afraid.”
“Me, too.”
“That guy in the mask who came after you. I keep having nightmares about him. I wake up just as he’s going to kill you with that handrail.”
Street pushed herself a few inches away and looked up at me. I could see in the moonlight that her eyes brimmed with tears. “Owen, why does he want to kill you? And Spot, too?” Street shook. She put her head on my chest.
Spot pushed his nose between us, levering us apart.
“Spot,” Street said, “can’t you see I’m trying to have a talk with this guy.” She attempted to put some levity in her voice.
Spot didn’t move, no doubt hoping that we’d think he didn’t hear and wouldn’t shove him out as a result. But in the moonlight I saw the tip of his tail make a small wag at Street’s protest.
Street turned her head up to me. “What if they find you at your campsite and...” She broke off.
“Don’t worry. The old cabin I’m staying in is well hidden, so I can come and go unnoticed. And I’ve got Spot at my side when I sleep.”
“How are you going to bring this to a close? You can’t camp out here forever.”
I told Street about the fundraiser the following night and our plan to sneak in with Natasha and Spot. “If the killer is there, the dogs will find him.”
Street bent down and hugged Spot. “Can you do that, boy? Are you really that good?”
Spot wagged.
I said, “Well, Natasha will find him and Spot will help. The fundraiser will be relatively safe. There’ll be lots of people around. I’ll be with Diamond and Tyrone. Surprise will be on our side, too.”
We were silent for a moment.
“I keep thinking about the man with the stick,” Street whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“And about Billy.”
“Your brother.”
Street nodded against my chest. “My father used a stick on Billy.”
“You mean, when Billy died?”
“Yes. Many times. Before he died was just one of them. A broomstick. The broom end broke off one of the times he hit Billy with it. My father kept the broomstick anyway. He slid it above the kitchen cabinets, up where he kept his rifle.”
Street had never told me this before.
“The coroner put pneumonia as the cause of death on the certificate. Billy was coughing a lot, and maybe he did have pneumonia. But we all knew what killed him. I remember my father locking me and mom out when he called the coroner. He was shouting and stomping around and pounding on the walls. He threatened the coroner. We heard some of the words.” Street raised her voice in a rough imitation of an angry man. “’It was pneumonia! You unnerstan? You put down pneumonia!’”
I held Street over Spot’s bulk, wishing I had the right words, not finding any. Street shook with anger, her head and shoulders jerking against my chest. Spot turned his head to look up at her.
“I learned then not to trust anyone,” she said. “Even the people closest to you. I’ve never had contact with any relatives since I ran away,” she said. “Now I’ve got you, and I’m trying to teach myself that I can count on you. That you’ll always be here for me.” Street looked up at me again. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“But you don’t make hollow promises,” she continued, “so you won’t promise that everything will turn out all right.”
I was quiet while we held each other. “You can help us,” I said.
“How?” she said, a sudden hope in her voice.
“But I want you to know there’s no obligation.”
“Of course. How?” Maybe the idea of helping gave her a focus. Made her feel less helpless.
I explained that our major problem was getting into the fenced and heavily guarded senator’s estate. I threw out some ideas, things that she could do to give us an opening.
Street looked out at the lake and up at the moon. “Let me see if I understand what you’re saying,” she said. “I get some fancy clothes, rent a limousine, show up at the senator’s place and make some kind of distraction at the gate?”
“Right. They will require an invitation, and there’s no way to get you one. I’m thinking you could keep the guard occupied long enough for us to get through the gate without him seeing. We’ll be in the woods at eight o’clock. You could have your driver flash the lights as you approach so we know it’s you.”
“What if I can’t pull this off?”
“You will, Dr. Casey. You are nothing if not excessively competent.”
Street took a deep breath, then reached for my hand. We walked to the water’s edge. “I better go,” she said.
Diamond stayed in the back of the boat next to the idling outboard, giving us a small bit of privacy. I boosted Street up onto the bow. She stepped over the gunnel and sat down on the little bench seat in the bow. She kissed her fingertip, reached out and touched it to my lips. “Be careful. Please.” Her breathing sounded as if she couldn’t get enough air.
“I will. I promise.”
“See you tomorrow night. Or maybe I won’t see you. But you’ll see me.”
“Thanks. I love you.”
Street held her hand up in a little wave as Diamond shifted into reverse and backed out into the dark water.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Tyrone picked me up on the highway just as dawn was throwing alpenglow on the east slopes of the mountains across the lake. He came along slowly in his black Suburban. I flicked my light on and off, and he pulled over.
We went north around the lake, turned off toward Truckee where we caught Interstate 80. The traffic was sparse at such an early hour, and we made good time from Truckee up to Donner Pass. From there it was a fast cruise down the west slope.
We turned south on Highway 49 and followed the winding road through Gold Country to Ellie’s Three Bar Ranch. The sun was well into the sky when we turned off on the perfect blacktop ribbon that stretched up to the white rambler with gray trim and red front door. Before we’d come to a stop, the door opened and Ellie stepped out with Natasha at her side.
“Is that the dog lady?” Tyrone said, surprise in his voice.
“Yeah. One of the best dog trainers in the country.”
“She looks awful old.”
“Mid-eighties, I think. But she’s got more energy than you and I put together. Let me introduce you.”
We got out of the car as Ellie approached.
“Owen! I’m so glad to see you!” Ellie reached up both her hands to take one of mine. I bent down to her four and a half feet and brushed her cheeks with my lips. She smelled like lilacs.
“My pleasure, Ellie. Ellie, this is my friend Tyrone Handkins. Tyrone, Ellie Ibsen.”
They shook hands. I noticed that Tyrone looked Ellie straight in the eyes. There was none of the wavering and shiftiness he had with other people.
Ellie turned to Natasha. “Natasha, please meet Tyrone.”
Natasha immediately sat down and raised a paw.
Tyrone broke into a huge grin. I realized I’d never seen him smile before. He gave Natasha’s paw a delicate shake.
“Didn’t you bring Spot?” Ellie said, unable to see him behind the dark windows.
There was a deep woof from inside the Suburban. I opened the door and Spot leaped out.
“My God, what happened to your poor dog?” Ellie said, reaching out to caress him near the long row of stitches.
“A little scrape he got into one night,” I said.
“Was it another mountain lion?” Ellie hugged him around his neck. She didn’t have to bend down.
“No, nothing that exciting.”
Natasha was jumping around at his face. He slapped a paw at her. She dodged and took off across the yard. Spot ran after her.
When Natasha decides to run, it is like an arrow leaving a bow. 0 to 30 in an instant. In contrast, Spot gets going like a big truck, shifting up through the gears. Eventually he gets movi
ng at a respectable rate. But don’t ask him to dodge and dart at full speed.
We watched them fly around the yard while we talked.
“Tell me again just what this gathering is and what you are going to have Natasha do,” Ellie said.
“There is a man who has committed murder. He was in my office and touched some things. He’s going to be at a fundraiser for Senator Stensen tonight. I think Natasha can identify him.”
“Pardon me, but why not use Spot?”
“Because the man’s scent is on my desk lamp. I don’t think Spot is good enough to pick a scent off of metal.”
“Remember, Natasha is only trained for search and rescue,” Ellie said. “What if she finds this man and he tries to hurt her?”
“Tyrone and I will be there along with Diamond Martinez. He is a deputy with the Douglas County Sheriff’s Department.”
“I remember him. We met when you and I found that body after the forest fire.” Ellie turned to watch the dogs racing in circles around the huge yard. “You said Spot will be there, too.”
“Yes. He’ll take cues from Natasha. As you know, he has an instinctive desire to protect her. I can’t say there is no danger, Ellie. But we’ll take every precaution.”
Ellie nodded. She turned and called out, “Natasha!”
The German shepherd changed directions in mid stride, ran over and sat in front of Ellie. Spot arrived a few seconds later.
Ellie said a few words to Natasha, then turned to us. “Be careful, Owen. Good to meet you, Tyrone. Good luck.”
We put the dogs into the back seat and left Ellie standing there. Her eyes were moist, but no tears fell.
Tyrone took it easy on the curves as we followed Highway 50 back up into the mountains. The dogs spent some time with their heads out opposite windows, then lay down to rest.
