Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery)

by C. A. Newsome

  He gave her hair a sniff. “You picked up some overspray. It’ll linger in your clothes and hair. Best thing to get rid of the oils is Dawn dish detergent. Be sure you rinse several times and don’t touch your eyes, or you’ll regret it.”

  “Thanks. I’ll uh . . . just get myself a glass of water. Can I get you something, too?”

  “I’m fine.” He followed her back to the living room and sat on a Mission style chair when Lia took her place on the matching couch. Lia’s dogs crowded around her, nosing her free hand to remind her of the treats she’d forgotten to give them. Distracted much? She jumped up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She recounted her story from her perch on the sofa while feeding biscuits to the dogs, keeping her head down so he wouldn't notice her flushing face. “As you can see, it’s not much.”

  “Fast thinking on your part. You never saw the guy?”

  “No. I hoped the pepper spray would slow him up long enough for me to see him leaving after I locked myself in, but it didn’t. Maybe he stayed down on the other side of the parked cars until he got his bearings.”

  “Did any cars pass by while you were waiting for me?”

  Lia thought back. “Two. I didn’t pay much attention to them.”

  “He might have been picked up by an accomplice.”

  Lia mentally smacked her forehead. “I guess I’d better turn in my Nancy Drew merit badge. It didn’t occur to me that he might not be alone.”

  “I know you didn’t see him. Did you have any impressions of him?”

  “Just his voice. It was low and mean. He was hissing at me, so it wasn’t his normal voice.”

  “Did you get an impression of size or age?”

  Lia closed her eyes and compared her impressions tonight with her many experiences being fake-mugged by Peter. “Bigger than me, but not much. He didn’t sound old.”

  “Any reason to think this might be connected with the shooter at The Comet?”

  “I don’t think so. I never met Josiah Willis before tonight, and I’m sure he was acting alone. If he’d had friends, they would have helped him at the bar, wouldn’t they?”

  “Probably. Any chance your attacker followed you here?”

  Lia thought about the twisted shortcut she took home and shook her head. “I came the back way, down Innes. I think I would have noticed if someone was behind me.”

  “So either it was random, or they were waiting for you. Is there anyone you can think of who might have done this? An old boyfriend, perhaps?”

  Peter? Could Peter have possibly pulled this as another drill? He couldn’t be so cruel, could he?

  “No one I can name, but someone’s been leaving me little dolls, and they broke in recently.”

  “Dolls? You think someone who is leaving you dolls wants to hurt you?”

  “Desiree Willis was receiving little dolls made out of aluminum foil, and then she was murdered. After she died, I got dolls that looked like me and my dogs. So, maybe.”

  “Have you filed a report about this?”

  “I told Hodgkins and Jarvis about the dolls because they’re in charge of Desiree’s case. I don’t think they took me seriously. I filed a report about the break-in. There really isn’t much you can do about this, is there?”

  Brainard sighed and set his clipboard down. He leaned forward, elbows on thighs like oak tree trunks.

  “We’ll step up patrols on this street for the next few days. Other than that, the reports go to establishing patterns that may help us figure out what’s going on. I wish I could be more encouraging. How did someone manage to break in with three dogs here?”

  “We were at the park. We go every morning.”

  “So someone knows your habits. That’s something to think about. How did he get in?”

  “I left a window open.”

  He nodded, said nothing.

  “You might want to swap your locks out for double deadbolts that key-lock on both sides. Nu-Set has a jimmy-proof lock that isn’t expensive.”

  “Peter’s been after me to upgrade my locks for ages. Guess I need to do that.”

  “Peter?”

  “A friend.”

  He stood up to leave. “Do you have someone you can call to stay with you tonight?

  ‘Dourson and his pretty sidekick had better things to do.’ She shoved the thought away. “No, but I have my dogs. I’ll be all right.”

  “I’m on patrol all night. Here’s my cell number. If you hear anything, anything at all, you call me.”

  “This isn’t usual, is it?”

  “No, but if you call in a prowler to 911, it might get ranked as low priority and get lost on the bottom of the pile. I want to make sure someone shows up right away if this creep comes back.”

  “You think he might return? Maybe I will call a friend.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll flag Hodgkins and Jarvis on this report, but you may not hear from them for a few days. I imagine they’ll be busy with Willis for the next little while.” He tipped his hat on the way out, then stopped half-way down the walk. “You know, if you need a hand upgrading those locks, give me a call.”

  “If I were a ninety year-old cat lady, would you make the same offer?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t enjoy it nearly as much.”

  Lia shook her head and locked the door.

  “You left out the most important thing,” Bailey said after Lia explained her reason for the late-night invite.

  “What’s that?”

  “Brainard. Was he cute?”

  Lia shook her head. “Only you, Bailey. Pick up a half-gallon of ice-cream on the way over, will you? I want chocolate while we research deadbolts on the internet. No, wait. Make that Denali Extreme Fudge Moose Tracks.”

  23

  Tuesday, June 10

  “Tell us, Dourson,” Heckle said as he sat on the edge of Peter’s desk, toying with a paperweight, one Lia made for him while experimenting with polished concrete and broken glass. Jeckle lurked behind him, grinning. “Why is your girlfriend calling Brainard when things go bump in the night? You scared of the dark now?”

  “What are you talking about?” Peter was reviewing transcripts of interviews, desperately hoping for a lead to jump out and bite him on the nose.

  “You know Brainard,” Heckle said, “the jarhead who posed for that Marine beefcake calendar before he signed on here. He answered her 911 call last night. Bad move, Dourson. Hard to compete with a big, strong guy like Brainard, even if he is a little on the dim side. Now every time you make love to that sweet piece of yours, she’ll be thinking about him instead of you.”

  “Damn shame about her getting mugged, especially after being involved in that hostage situation yesterday,” Jeckle said.

  “What? Lia got mugged? What hostage situation?”

  “Awww, didn’t she tell you?” Heckle affected an expression of sincere commiseration. “Yessir, your girl had a busy day yesterday while you were doing whatever it is you do. What is it that you do, Dourson? . . . Well, wish we could stay to chat, but we’ve got a religious nut to terrorize.”

  Jeckle winked as, their work done, the pair sauntered off towards the interview rooms, Heckle whistling the tag-line from Jackson Browne’s “Rosie.”

  “Breathe, brother,” Brent said. “Shooting a fellow officer looks so bad on the record.”

  Peter stared after the pair and imagined unloading a clip in their backs. “What am I going to do, Brent?” he groaned.

  “First, you’re going to review the reports about The Comet and Lia’s mugging. Next, you’re going to ignore anything those idiots said about the ironically named Brainard. He’s not her type and you know it. Then you are going to end this Mexican standoff you’ve got going with Lia and call her like any decent person would do, to see how she’s holding up.”

  24

  Wednesday June 11

  “Goodness, Lia, look who’s here,” Bailey said, eyeing the parking lot from her perch on their picnic table.


  “Huh?” Lia looked up from the to do list she was making on her Kindle Fire. Peter exited his ancient Ford Explorer carrying a cup of coffee, a Pepsi and a white paper bag she suspected held at least one chocolate covered Bavarian cream doughnut. Viola tagged along after him.

  “He comes bearing gifts. Are you going to go meet him, or are you going to make him walk all the way back here and beg to talk to you in private?”

  “I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.” She thought about the number lying beside her phone at home, feeling guilty. She’d walked by it countless times since Monday night and each time she felt echoes of the raw, animal pull she’d experienced with Brainard. You don’t even know him, she reminded herself. You don’t even like him. All he is, is muscles. Stop thinking like a guy!

  Viola reached her long before Peter made the trek across the four acre enclosure. The dog wiggled and jumped up on the table, making urgent little “uh, uh, uh” noises while she covered Lia’s face with her rapidly flicking tongue. Julia, her territory transgressed upon, jumped up on the table and snarled at Viola. Viola interrupted her reunion with Lia to snap at the new girl. Lia jumped off the table and pulled a water gun from its make-shift holster on her belt and began spraying both dogs. The dogs stopped their confrontation. Julia sulked, retreating underneath the table to nurse a tennis ball. Viola, her face dripping, looked affronted and betrayed. “Sorry, girlfriend. Dog fights aren’t allowed.”

  “What's your excuse for spraying me?” Bailey asked. “I wasn’t biting anyone. And where did the gun come from?”

  “Sorry. Collateral damage. I just got the water pistol. Too many scraps up here lately.” Lia eyed the wet table with disgust. “I didn’t expect to be using it on anyone I knew. I guess a change of venue is in order. Damn it, I like this table. It’s got the best shade.”

  Peter walked up, escorted by Honey, who eyed the doughnut bag like it was the holy grail, and Chewy, who hopped along on his hind legs, a desperate bid for attention.

  “Backstabbers,” Lia muttered.

  “Unconditional love is a good thing, Lia,” Bailey said.

  “I’d wave my white handkerchief, but my hands are full,” Peter said as he arrived.

  “You got a handkerchief on you?” Lia asked.

  “Always.”

  She took the coffee. “Hand it over.”

  Bemused, he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket. Lia took it and sopped up the water on the table. She handed the wet and grimy cloth back to Peter, then resumed her seat. “Thank you.” She smiled. “What brings you here?”

  Peter looked at the ruined cloth and sighed. He handed it to Chewy, who shook it in Julia’s face, then took off at a run. Julia abandoned her tennis ball to chase after him, starting a game of tug-of-war.

  “I brought a bribe,” Peter said.

  “So I see,” said Lia.

  “Where’s my bribe?” Bailey said.

  “If you get lost, you can have the entire bag of doughnuts,” Peter offered.

  “No way is Bailey getting my doughnuts,” Lia said, snatching the bag away. She looked inside. “Bailey, I’ll give you two chocolate iced, glazed doughnuts from Bonomini Bakery if you stay here.”

  “Those are mine,” Peter said. “I’ll bring you a brownie from Whole Foods tomorrow if you find another table.”

  “Make it a chocolate mousse cup, and it’s a deal.”

  “Done.”

  Bailey hopped down off the table. “Come, Kita, let’s find a place where they don’t spray you.”

  “Traitor!” Lia called.

  “Sticks and stones,” Bailey retorted as she headed for Jose and Terry’s table, Kita sauntering after her.

  Peter climbed onto the table and sat a few feet away from Lia. He looked off at nothing. “You know you hate glazed doughnuts,” he said as he twisted the top off his Pepsi. “And you can’t give them to the dogs because they’re chocolate.”

  She handed the glazed doughnuts over, then pulled out the expected Bavarian cream treat and took a bite. “What brings you, Dourson?”

  “A couple of little birdies told me about Monday. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

  “Would these birdies be a pair of thuggish magpies?”

  “They would.”

  “As you can see, I’m fine.”

  Peter eyed the red line under her chin and privately disagreed. “I don't know where to begin. I’ve been an ass.”

  “True enough.” Lia concentrated on her pastry, licked a dollop of custard that threatened to fall into her lap.

  “Why didn’t you call me? You know I would have been there.”

  Lia sighed. “I thought about it.”

  “And?”

  “Heckle and Jeckle said you were with your pretty sidekick, and I didn’t think they were talking about Brent.”

  Peter swore, vehemently.

  “Peter, that’s not the only reason. I’m confused enough about us without tossing two near-death experiences into the mix. It would have been too easy to lean on you and let everything go back the way it was because I was needy.”

  “Are you going to lean on Brainard, instead?”

  Lia barked a laugh. “Is that what this is about? Officer Hunky?” She rolled her eyes. “Men. You don’t want me until someone else comes sniffing around. I’m not a tree you can pee on.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  She gave him a look.

  “Okay, it’s a little like that. But mostly not. When I heard about Monday, I realized it had gone too far. Between you sorting things out and me sorting things out, we were slipping away from each other, and I wasn’t there when you needed me. I hate myself for that. I can’t blame Brainard if he hit on you. . . . Did he hit on you?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  “I deserve that. I want us to fix this.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “I don’t know. I thought we could start by you telling me about Monday.”

  “I could use some help installing my new, jimmy-proof locks. Bailey was going to give me a hand, but she’s pretty busy these days.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Peter, I need to take this slow.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll pick up a pizza and my tools after work, and you can fill me in on what’s going on while I take a whack at it.”

  Peter pressed his lips together, willing himself to remain calm while he listened to Lia’s story. Heckle and Jeckle had left out some important facts, like not telling him the foil doll resembled Lia. He focussed his attention on dismantling the kitchen door lock so he could avoid looking at her.

  He reminded himself that Lia felt like she was handling things well. She had run off the mugger. She had remained calm for too many desperate minutes while Willis held The Comet hostage. And if he hadn’t come by, likely she and Bailey would have done a credible job of installing new locks. He stared at the disjoined pieces, wanting to take her in his arms and hold her so tight that nothing could hurt her.

  “This is going to take care of the door, but what about your windows? Isn’t that how he got in before?”

  “Bailey inspired me to follow a low-tech Peruvian custom.”

  “Oh?”

  “She showed me a picture from a trip she took. They embed large glass shards and plant cacti in a layer of concrete on the tops of walls so no one can get over them. I’ve got permission to do that to the sills. That way, someone can break the glass, but they still can’t climb in.”

  “Huh. Interesting idea. Your landlord gave you permission to do it?”

  “He did. It appealed to Rudy’s misanthropic tendencies. I promised him it was reversible.”

  “And is it?”

  “I’ll make it so it is. What’s happening with Josiah Willis? Did he kill Desiree? That’s what Terry thinks.”

  “We don’t know. He’s crazy enough to have shot her and he has no alibi, but there was nothing about the crime scene that suggested religious fanaticism, an
d we can’t place him there. The powers that be hope we’ll uncover more as we pursue the other charges.”

  Lia’s doorbell chimed.

  Puzzled, she returned to the front of her apartment to see Brainard’s earnest, all-American face outside her door. It brightened as she undid the chain and leaned out.

  “Officer Brainard, what can I do for you?” She gave him a quizzical look.

  “Ms. Anderson, I just wanted to stop by and make sure everything was okay. Say, you got a new lock. I see you went with the Nu-Set. Nice.”

  “That’s very considerate of you. As you can see, I’m fine, and the apartment is now jimmy-proof.”

  “That’s good to know. I was just on my way in to the station, and wanted you to know I'm still keeping up those extra patrols. You still got my number?”

  “Yes, it’s right by the phone.”

  “Be sure to call me if anything happens.” He glanced over Lia's shoulder. “Hey, I know you. You're a detective. Dourson, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.” Peter stood behind Lia and did his best to loom, taking advantage of the three inches he had on Brainard.

  Brainard smiled, showing perfect teeth. With forty pounds of muscle on Peter, he was not in the least intimidated. “Ms. Anderson said a friend was after her to upgrade her security. That must be you.”

  “It must be.” Peter smiled back despite gritted teeth and felt something vaguely feral surging in his veins. He swore he heard Lia whisper “Down, boy,” out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Thanks for stopping by. I really appreciate the extra patrols,” Lia said. She watched as Brainard strode down the walk and hopped onto a motorcycle the size of a Buick and roared off. She could feel Peter vibrating behind her.

  “Thanks for stopping by?” he asked.

  “What was I supposed to say?”

  “He wants you to call him.”

  “I figured that out. Are we going to argue about this? Because I haven’t encouraged him, and I don’t intend to.”

  “You thanked him for stopping by,” Peter pointed out.