Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery)

by C. A. Newsome

  Mark Hoebbel pressed his sinewy body against the hall wall by the rest rooms, listening. He didn’t like to use the men’s room at The Comet. The toilet stall was accessed by a swinging, louvered half-door, like in a 19th century Western saloon. The gap between the floor and the bottom of the door was 30”, at least, and if someone opened the men’s room door while you were using it, there was a good chance you would flash the ladies passing by on the way to their bathroom. The only protection it afforded was hiding his face, so no one would know whose ass they were seeing. His friends thought his modesty ironic, since his normal attire included jeans belted below his hips.

  Despite being in extreme discomfort, he’d waited until he was sure everyone was in the back room and the service was about to start, then he’d slipped out to use the toilet. Now he was the only person in the building not under the control of Desiree’s deranged father.

  Mark was a good guy, but no way was he going up against a half dozen guns. He slipped out the rear exit to the deck, ran down the steps and cut around the side of the building. Once he felt safe, he leaned against a brick wall and pulled out his phone. Panting, he explained the situation to the 911 operator, then hung up without giving his name. His mom lived up the street. He’d hang on the porch and listen for the sirens from there. This is gonna be sick. Gotta call the guys, they can’t miss this … oh, yeah, they’re still inside. . . . Wonder if Mom has any brew?

  “. . . New Age Devil worshippers poisoned her heart against God, against her own father. You taught her the ways of sin. You sent her home with witch marks upon her skin. Well, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!’”

  Lia gasped. Did Desiree’s father just confess to killing her?

  “. . . contaminated the pure and innocent fruit of my loins. This shall be your last day. But I am merciful. You have led lives of sin against God, but you have one chance to be redeemed before you meet your Maker. You may come up here, one by one to renounce your sinful ways and take Jesus Christ as your own personal savior. You who are saved, I will take you first to lessen your suffering.

  “You, Red. Will you be saved?” Josiah’s kind invitation sent chills down Lia’s back.

  Lia elbowed Bailey. “Say yes! Buy time!” she hissed.

  Bailey walked up to the front of the room.

  “Stop right there!” Josiah commanded when she was six feet away from him. “Kneel!”

  Bailey obeyed.

  “Repent your sins!”

  “I repent,” Bailey croaked, fear strangling her voice.

  “Louder! Let the Lord and all his angels in Heaven hear you!”

  “I REPENT!” Bailey yelled.

  “Do you Take Jesus Christ as your Lord and personal savior?”

  “YES!” She yelled.

  Lia heard faint sirens that suddenly stopped. She prayed that somehow, they were on their way to The Comet and had turned off their sirens for the final blocks. Josiah Willis seemed unaware of the approaching rescue. When called, Lia went up to ask forgiveness for her sins, reciting the Lord’s prayer in her most convincing “terrified hostage” voice to buy time. When she turned around, she noticed a faint aura of hope and relief over the crowd of hostages.

  Josiah was elated. He had walked into the Devil’s den alone and was saving souls. So far no one had refused his offer of Salvation. Some were offering prayers, even. Surely God saw his works in Heaven and he would be blessed. The light seemed to sparkle and flash colors around him.

  “Josiah Willis!” the sound boomed around him. He gasped in wonder. God was calling him!

  “Yes Lord! What will you have of your most devoted soldier?”

  Through the windows behind him, a dozen police cars with flashing red and blue lights could be seen arrayed across Hamilton Avenue.

  “Put your guns down and come outside.”

  This time he recognized the crackling of a bull horn. “Blasphemers!” he screamed in frustration. The mic squealed. “I will not be deterred from my holy path! You shall not interfere with the work of the Lord! The time of Judgement has come! Only the righteous shall be saved! You!” he roared at the next man in line. “Will you be saved, or shall I send you to Perdition now?” He aimed a gun at the man’s head.

  The man’s voice quavered. “I’ll repent. Give me a chance to repent.”

  Mollified, Josiah resumed welcoming the soon to be dead into His flock. In an eerie counterpoint to the bizarre revival, the lights continued to flash and a SWAT team could be seen assembling.

  The phone behind the bar rang. Lia was sure it was a hostage negotiator attempting to make contact.

  “Josiah Willis! Pick up the phone!” The bull horn boomed.

  “Ignore it!” Josiah yelled. The phone continued to ring.

  “You!” He waved his gun at another mourner. The woman came up and dropped meekly to her knees. She began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Josiah Willis kept one eye on her and another on the dozens of hands tiring on top of the sea of heads in front of him. Soon he would have saved everyone in the room. He had to work out his next move.

  How to control the crowd so as to deliver them all from the earthly plane before someone succeeded in stopping him? He hadn’t been expecting such a large crowd, or to face a police presence. How many cops were there? If he turned around to look out the window, he’d lose control of the Devil worshippers.

  Julia had gone to sleep under Lia’s table when Paul started his sermon. At the first gunshot, the terrified dog crawled behind Lia’s legs to press herself against the back of her ankles. Now she crawled out from her sanctuary and padded towards the front of the room.

  Lia was horrorstruck. The woman on her knees in the front of the room kept praying. Josiah glared over the top of the crowd as he continued in his mission of salvation, defiant against the barking of the the bull horn. Julia persevered in her solo trek forward, keeping under Willis' radar. Lia’s heart thudded wildly as more people became aware of the dog’s passage. Josiah droned on.

  Driven by a dim memory of the loud man, the bad man, the man who hated and yelled, Julia continued toward her objective. She emerged from under the front table, padding across the open expanse of linoleum towards the trio at the front of the room. She sniffed at the kneeling woman, who flinched in surprise. She stopped in front of Josiah and looked up, searching the face of the man who hurt her mistress. Josiah ranted on, oblivious.

  Julia did the unthinkable. She turned towards the crowd and slitted her eyes in contempt. Then she squatted and peed on Josiah’s foot.

  Josiah jerked involuntarily as the hot urine poured over his foot. Dave, aware that the gun was no longer drilling into his skull, ducked and rammed his shoulder into Josiah’s solar plexus. The two men tumbled to the floor and the guns went off. One shot went into the ceiling. The other tore through the plate glass window.

  The SWAT team responded, launching three flash-bangs through the shattered window before they blew the front door open.

  Lia watched Julia wobble her way back to their booth as Josiah Willis was led out of the room, hands cuffed and an officer on each side. “Poor pup,” she said, or at least thought she said since she couldn’t hear herself. She picked the traumatized dog up and cuddled her in her lap, stroking the soft head gently. Exhausted from all the excitement, Julia went to sleep.

  The disoriented group sat at their tables, blinking and waiting for their hearing to return while medics treated minor injuries caused by the flash-bangs and detectives attempted—without success—to take names and statements from people who could not hear them and could not read lips.

  “Well, dang,” Jose yelled, bracing his hands on the table and shaking his head in an attempt to restore his hearing, “I was all set to stun him into submission once Dave took him down.”

  “We should get to watch him twitching and incontinent on the ground after that,” Terry yelled back. “Now they’re going to put him in a nice comfortable cell where he gets three meals a a day and medical care.”

&
nbsp; Lia shook her head and rolled her eyes. Heckle and Jeckle were approaching her booth, followed by Dave Cunningham.

  “Dammit, I already had him when you came busting in,” Dave shouted, “Why’d you break down the front door? The back door was open!”

  “Guess we didn’t get the memo,” Heckle said, trying to shake him off. “Talk to my captain if you have a complaint. He stopped beside Lia, sneering as he looked down at her. “Should’ve known you’d be in the middle of this.”

  “Dave’s right. You could have saved the firepower. We had it handled without your help. Is Peter here? I’d like to give my statement to him, if that’s all right.”

  “Dourson and his pretty sidekick had better things to do. You’ll have to make do with us,” Heckle smirked.

  Lia felt like she’d been shot in the gut. Surely they meant Brent, not Cynth.

  “So far, no one knows how the perp knew about this little soiree. You got any ideas how the whack-job found out about it?” Jeckle said.

  “That was me,” Terry volunteered. “I invited him.”

  “Why did you do an idiot thing like that?” Heckle demanded.

  “We believed it was too soon to rule him out. I wanted to scrutinize the man. Inviting him to the service seemed the best pretext for talking to him.”

  Heckle and Jeckle looked at each other. “Rule him out for what?” Jeckle asked.

  “Desiree’s murder, of course.”

  “You were investigating the murder of Desiree Willis?” Jeckle asked softly.

  “Of course,” Terry said.

  Lia kicked Terry violently in the shin. He shot her a look.

  “Why of course?” Heckle asked.

  “Well,” Terry shrugged. “the incompetent boobs assigned to the case dropped the ball. We had to do something.”

  “Terry,” Lia gritted out. “Meet Detectives Hodgkins and Jarvis. They have Desiree’s case.”

  “I see,” Terry said. “I hope you appreciate that I was right.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jeckle said.

  “‘Thou shall not suffer a witch to live,’” Terry quoted. “He said it. It’s as good as a confession, don’t you think?”

  “Where’s the evidence that Desiree Willis was a witch?” Jarvis sneered.

  “There isn’t any,” Terry said. “But he thought so. He was convinced her friends at The Comet turned her into one. If you watch the tape, you’ll see.”

  “There’s a movie of this shindig?” Heckle asked, eyebrows raised.

  Lia nodded to the video camera mounted near the ceiling for recording musical acts. “Dave was recording Paul’s service. He intended to put up a memorial page for Desiree and wanted this to be a part of it. It’s probably still running.”

  Jeckle left to secure the video file. Heckle stuck a finger in Terry’s face. “We oughta haul you in for interfering with a police investigation, Bub.”

  “Now, see here, I—“

  “Can’t leave it to the professionals, can you? What else have you been doing, besides inciting riots?” Heckle sneered at Lia.

  “Nothing, really,” Lia lied.

  “Why do I doubt that? Keep it up, and we will haul you in and charge you, and your boyfriend won’t be able to help you.”

  Lia stuck her tongue out at him as soon as his back turned.

  A fiddle danced a riff from “Orange Blossom Special.” Ed Cunningham of The Comet Bluegrass All Stars walked up to the mic. “Folks, Cincinnati’s Finest have asked us to remove ourselves from the scene of the crime so they can collect evidence. We think everyone needs a little cheering up after facing our collective mortality. We’re relocating in the basement, where the silent auction to benefit Three Sisters Pet Rescue is kicking off.

  “We all knew and loved Desiree, and now you can serve her favorite cause while obtaining a personal memento of this fabulous lady. We’ll be playing for your entertainment. Dave’s providing free beverages and nachos for all survivors. Follow me downstairs and celebrate your continued existence on this earthly plane. Remember, be you Pagan, Christian, Atheist or Beer-itarian , we welcome all at The Comet.”

  Ed resumed playing as he led the crowd downstairs. It appeared that everyone was staying. Lia figured that like her, nobody wanted to face an empty apartment after such an intense experience.

  Everyone wanted to pet Julia and feed her treats. Al made his way through the crowd and gave Julia the obligatory pat.

  “Al, I’m glad you stayed. Desiree thought of you like a father, you know.”

  Al scoffed. “That girl, she needed a better father than the one God gave her. A lovely girl who deserved better.”

  “Crazy, huh?” Eric set down a plate of loaded nachos and pulled up a chair at the end of the table. Julia lifted her head from Lia’s lap and gave him a grin. He let her sniff his hand, then stroked her head. “Cute dog. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m holding.” She introduced him to her friends.

  Avery and Ed joined them and the group scooted their chairs around to make room for the newcomers.

  “I must say,” Avery said, “this is the most memorable memorial I’ve ever attended.”

  “Very sad,” Ted said. “Desiree was such a sweet girl. I’d bid on some of the Beanie Babies for my wife, but she wouldn’t like having something that reminded me of a pretty girl.” He looked longingly at the table. “I could get a coffee mug for my own use. Maybe I won’t tell her where I got it.”

  It was late when Lia finally pulled up in front of her home, satisfied with the evening’s outcome despite Josiah’s appearance. “If nothing else, no one who was at that service will ever forget your mama,” she told Julia, who curled up in the back seat. “But I’m glad to be home. I bet you’re one tired puppy. Did you like any of the people you met?”

  Julia started barking and jumping at the car window.

  “Cool your jets, Julia, I’ll have you out in a minute.” Lia was opening the door to the back seat when someone grabbed her by the hair and the tip of a knife pressed under her jaw. Shit.

  “Do exactly what I say, or I’ll cut your throat,” the man behind her snarled.

  “O-okay,” she quavered, thumbing the safety off the plunger on her kubotan. She shut her eyes tightly as she swung the tactical keychain up over her shoulder, spraying mace in her assailant’s face. God bless Peter and his drills.

  The man screamed, dropping the knife as he clawed at his eyes. Holding her breath and eyes shut, she felt her way around the car, out of the cloud of pepper spray. She let Julia out of the other side of the car and dragged the pugnacious animal inside, locking the door behind them as Honey and Chewy crowded around, sniffing and barking in agitation. “I appreciate you wanting to protect me, Julia, but your timing is all wrong.”

  Julia, continued to bark nastily and bounce against the door. Honey and Chewy joined her, the three scrabbling to get out while Lia peered through the window, looking for her assailant. Lia whipped out her phone and started to hit Peter’s number on her speed-dial, then changed her mind.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” Lia could barely hear the operator over the barking of the dogs.

  “I was just attacked outside my apartment. I maced him and got away, but I’m afraid he’s still out there.”

  “An officer has been dispatched. Please stay on the line. Were you injured?” She continued to talk to Lia, verifying that she was unhurt and all doors and windows were locked. Lia responded distractedly, wondering what Peter was up to and wishing he was there. She leaned against the doorjamb and began to cry. She watched through the front window as a police car drew up. The officer got out and shone a flashlight up and down the sidewalk, then went around the side of the house. He had the erect carriage of a military man and his long-legged stride was full of confidence.

  After he made his circuit, the patrolman came up to the front door. In response to Lia’s request, he showed her his ID. She opened the door to Officer Brainard and invited him in, introducing him t
o the dogs to ease their agitation.

  While Officer Brainard couldn’t be described as chiseled or lantern-jawed, there was something heroic about him. His deep chest attested to regular weightlifting. Lia suspected you could bounce a quarter off the biceps straining his shirtsleeves. Lia didn’t normally go for muscular guys, but after the day she’d had, Officer Brainard’s presence gave her a sense of security, like an Incredible Hulk teddy bear.

  “Sorry, I’m feeling really paranoid right now. I was held hostage at The Comet earlier this evening, and now this.”

  “You’ve had some night. He seems to be gone now. You’ve got a cut on your neck. Where’s your kitchen? Let’s clean that off before I take your statement.”

  Lia rubbed her neck where she could still feel the point of the knife. Her fingers came away smeared with red. She blinked. “Uh, it’s back here.” She led him to the rear of her apartment, the three dogs trailing behind. Kitchen meant biscuits.

  “Let me see that in the light,” Brainard said, tilting her chin up and examining her neck. Lia felt a jolt at the touch of his fingers on her skin. His warmth penetrated, the dry warmth from his hands and the moist warmth of his breath on her cheek. She inhaled his earthy, natural scent, spiked with a bit of perspiration from his jog around the house.

  Lia was acutely reminded that she hadn’t had sex in more than a month as her body started humming. It continued humming as Brainard wet a paper towel and dabbed at the drying blood on her neck.

  “It’s not deep,” he said, giving her shoulder a rub with a hand the size of a skillet. “It should heal without a scar. I wouldn’t bother bandaging it. Put a little peroxide on it after I leave.”