by Jerold Last
I made a production out of clearing my throat and drinking some wine while mentally formulating how much I actually wanted to reveal to our friend, who was still a working cop. "We had an exciting and reasonably productive day. A couple of guys tried their luck at a drive-by shooting in front of our building when Vincent and I were on our way to lunch. Thanks to Vincent, there wasn't any damage. They really hadn't chosen the right time of day for it. Someone called in a 911. There was enough traffic going by that there wasn’t any way they could come back and make a second try without taking two or three minutes to drive around the block. By that time, they’d have been caught. We had plenty of time to get to a safe place after they missed us with their first try."
Suzanne gave me a look saying loud and clear I hadn't heard the end of this discussion and there'd be more to come later.
"The same two guys came by the office later that afternoon, pretending to be clients. I was ready for them this time. When the first one tried to pull his gun, a very illegal Uzi fully automatic machine pistol, I shot him. Three times. He got off a wild burst of shots, which made a mess of the office and of his buddy. Since both of them were dead, I called the cops. Guess who the two killers with Uzis turned out to be?"
Nobody guessed. So it was still my turn. "We had found the two crooked DEA agents from West Texas, agency I.D. and all, or they found us. One of them turned out to be named Harkins. He was the right age to be Sheriff Harkins’ son or nephew. There's another connection for your case, Steve. The DA can suggest they were there to keep Vincent's mouth shut, permanently."
Suzanne had been listening to all of this and analyzing the information. She drank a bit of wine and jumped into the conversation.
"Do we have a lot of coincidence going on here or is there some way that everything we've seen and heard is interconnected? This all began when the AKC hired Roger and Bruce. The idea was to investigate whether there was criminal behavior going on at the dog shows here in the western United States, and to check whether the integrity of the judging process had been compromised. I picked up a stalker at about the same time Roger was interviewed for this job in New York. Roger and Bruce had just started this investigation, when the first judge, Orval Krause, was murdered here in San Francisco. That's when Detective Callahan came into the picture. The next big event was the second murder, this time of another judge, Jorge Guerrero, in Vallejo. While all of this was going on, Bruce was showing Juliet quite successfully and discovering a whole lot of recreational drugs were being sold at these dog shows. Have I got it right so far?"
Bruce and I both nodded yes.
Suzanne continued, "I'd like to suggest a complex, but I think plausible, hypothesis that connects all of the stuff going on. If you agree, it not only makes a little sense out of a whole bunch of seemingly isolated incidents, but points to what we have to do next. My theory turns out to be an interesting example of how the scientific method can take us from bits and pieces of seemingly unrelated data, to a testable hypothesis, to a proof of our hypothesis. Let's start with a simple statement of hypothesis: There’s a mysterious Mr. X we haven't thought about, who is pulling the strings on several puppets behind all of these events, and each of these events are related. I think we have one more criminal to root out, and I think I know where to look for him.”
Steve Callahan looked and sounded very skeptical. “This is beginning to sound like a bad British mystery novel, Suzanne. Why confuse things that are already pretty complicated without a mysterious super-criminal in the background?”
It seemed a good time for me to jump back into this discussion. “Relax Steve. We’ve learned through the years to listen to Suzanne’s analyses. Whether it’s intuition or just raw smarts, she can see what’s going on from the perspective of the big picture a lot more clearly than I do, and probably than you do, too.”
Suzanne cleared her throat elaborately before continuing. "Let's assume the drug business at the dog shows was organized and orchestrated by our mysterious Mr. X. He recruited the help of two very dishonest and now very dead DEA agents. Let's further assume he's the one who corrupted, if that's the right word for recruiting a couple of long-time drug dealers, the Schaefers. Their job was to supply and sell drugs at the shows so he could develop a highly profitable business on the side. He ran into a problem when judging improprieties became apparent at the dog shows, which he didn’t have anything to do with. He was afraid the fixed judging might result in an investigation that could upset his lucrative drug business. He had the brilliant idea that if he instigated the investigation, he could control it by pointing his chosen private detective in the directions he wanted. Especially if the AKC hired a private eye who wasn’t too bright and whose loyalty could be bought for a bunch of money and a few additional perks. Apparently Roger was able to convince him, during his interview in New York City, he was that guy, with some cogent suggestions from Sherry Wyne that helped give the right image of being just a little greedy. In this scenario Roger was supposed to stop at identifying the two fixed judges, report back to the AKC who would fire them, and everything could go back to business as usual. Are you with me so far, Steve?”
“It’s still a bad movie script as far as I’m concerned, Suzanne, unless you have any real evidence I haven’t heard yet. Do you know who your mysterious Mr. X is?”
Suzanne looked directly at Callahan. "Take another sip or two of wine, Steve, and be patient. I’ll get there in another minute or two. Hunter Lodge's loose screws were not in the plan when the AKC hired Roger. By coincidence the corrupt judges were personally involved with the drug dealers. I suspect the murders were unplanned accidents in the context of Mr. X’s plot. That’s what happens when your partners in crime are low-life drug dealers. Put together a random drug war between two Mexican cartels and the two killings of the judges and Roger’s simple investigation, as planned by Mr. X, quickly spiraled out of control. Orval Krause, from all we know about him, was an opportunistic wheeler-dealer. I imagine he realized the Schaefers had a lucrative drug dealership operating out of their RV. He had the poor judgment to try to blackmail them into sharing the wealth. Albert responded impulsively, in what we now know was his typical fashion. Jorge Guerrero may have guessed who killed Krause and why. He also tried to shake down Albert and Sadie, with predictable, similar results. Or, maybe Guerrero was just affiliated with the wrong cartel, and conveniently happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Hunter Lodge's stalking of me was another attempt to get Roger off the case, but this time it wasn't about drugs, it was about fixed judges. Lodge somehow must have caught on those two judges could be bought. Perhaps he had some inkling their backgrounds weren't pure. Maybe he checked them out a bit more thoroughly than the AKC had when they became licensed judges.”
Vincent had told Callahan about the details of our relationship with the AKC, on the way over from the airport, including Hunter Lodge and his floral arrangements. Callahan started to nod as he thought about what Suzanne was saying. “I’m beginning to see where you’re going with this, Suzanne. Do you have anything at all that ties somebody we know, to being Mr. X?”
Suzanne paused dramatically to sip some wine and make Steve Callahan wait a bit longer for the answer. Perhaps it was her punishment for his initial skepticism. "So who is Mr. X? The Schaefers and the two murder victims weren't smart enough or well organized enough to put all of these pieces together and herd all of the cats involved in this mess. Neither was Hunter Lodge. Any of the rest of the AKC executive staff could certainly have been involved, but Harold Carswell has to be, by far, the most obvious suspect. He has the managerial skills and was most directly responsible for hiring Roger to investigate the integrity of the judging at the dog shows in this region. He had no idea Roger was as independent and as competent as he is, or he never would have interviewed him in the first place. Carswell assumed Roger would report regularly to him and he'd be able to keep him on track to do his job as Carswell envisioned it.”
; Suzanne took another sip from her wine glass. "Instead of receiving the regular updates he expected, Carswell had no idea what Roger, Bruce, and Vincent had learned was going on at the dog shows, until he received their first report some time yesterday evening. The report not only identified Hunter Lodge as being involved in crooked judging, but also indicated Roger planned to continue an already active investigation into who was selling drugs at the dog shows. Carswell obviously didn’t want this to happen. Reading Roger’s report woke him up to the unpleasant news he’d hired an extremely competent private detective, probably the last thing in the world he wanted to find out at that point. When he did receive the report, and the timing here is critical, he panicked and ordered his two crooked federal agents to kill Roger. It had to work this way. For the two DEA agents from West Texas to get to Los Angeles in time to try to kill Roger and Vincent at 11:30 AM local time, they had to start out long before Vincent missed his interview at the El Paso airport before his 10 AM flight that same morning. What could have provoked such an overkill response besides the report Roger sent to Harold Carswell?
“I don’t think we’ll ever be able to prove it, but I suspect that Carswell’s links to the Texas drug scene and the Mexican cartels go all the way back to his Vietnam service in the army. Killeen, Texas is a long way from West Texas, but Carswell may have seen the possibilities of being on a military base. There was a constant transfer of troops to and from Viet Nam, where the drugs came from, and a constant transfer of men and materials by truck and plane off of the base. He may actually have sought out his cartel connections back then.”
Of course, Suzanne had hit the nail on the head. A lot of law enforcement agencies in California, Texas, and New York City had a lot of work to do in the following weeks. From our point of view, things finally settled down. Detective Hawthorne returned my Glock to me with his thanks. He actually suggested that I offer to use it on the DEA staff in Washington. They kept calling him, demanding I be punished to the fullest extent of the law for whatever charges he could dream up, as an example to others who might interfere with federal agents in the performance of their duty.
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The AKC appointed Stanley Morgan, the corporate lawyer, as the acting CEO on an interim basis. Harold Carswell, was put on paid administrative leave pending a full investigation for alleged criminal activities. Morgan called me immediately after his appointment to thank me on behalf of the AKC, for what he referred to as a splendid job. He told me the check for my promised bonus was in the mail, accompanied by a second check, for double that amount, as an added bonus for the additional services rendered. These additional services included identifying Harold Carswell as a corporate bad apple and solving the murders. He suggested I continue in the employ of the AKC for the rest of the dog show season. I could keep campaigning Juliet on their dime to make sure all of the judging irregularities had been rooted out and the sport was once again clean. He also assured me I'd receive a generous retainer from the AKC in future years in return for keeping the services of my agency available whenever they needed assistance. Carswell was eventually fired with a golden parachute to finance his impending huge legal fees for criminal defense attorneys. After a brief search for Carswell's replacement, Morgan was selected as permanent CEO, which solidified our connection with the AKC.
Morgan eventually explained his visit to LA, several months previously when he called me about having a drink. Even as far back as then, he was suspicious about Carswell and thought about pointing my investigation in that direction. He decided at the last minute not to share his suspicions with me, for fear I’d share this information with Carswell.
A couple of months after I sent Harold Carswell the first report that precipitated so much action, Vincent was back in my office and seemed excited. “Roger, I think maybe we’re ready to send the AKC our second, and it should be the final, report. I found a dozen more judges out of several hundred possibilities, who seem to have been picking winners from the wrong end of the leash. They let Hunter Lodge’s dogs win too often, as well as a few other owners from other breeds. Interestingly, half of these dozen new judges who've come up on my computer are also from the southwest, one from New Mexico and the others from addresses in Texas. I’ve got some weasel words in the report, to indicate the methods I used haven’t been independently validated. I’d suggest to the AKC they ask the FBI to investigate these possible suspects. The Feebies have the resources to get the truth and should be highly motivated to do so, given the interstate commerce involved in dog shows and the asset forfeiture rules under a RICO prosecution.”
I forwarded Vincent's report to Stanley Morgan, now the CEO of the AKC, along with a cover letter explaining what the first report had contained, a copy of the first report, and assuring him the task was now complete from our end. I suggested he request an investigation by the FBI, who had the resources to do it right and the scientists to validate or refute Vincent's statistical methodology. He took my advice.
Juliet continued to overachieve in the show ring with Bruce's handling and their clear bond together. Early that summer, Sherry Wyne stopped by between dog shows to thank us for a job well done. She proudly announced her recent promotion from the AKC as a reward for her astute choice of private detectives. It was the same job title as regional representative, but she had less work to do at the dog shows, more supervision of others, and a sizeable boost in her income.
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Sherry, Suzanne, Bruce, and I sat around the patio table sipping fresh made lemonade courtesy of Bruce, while Robert was taking his afternoon nap. Juliet lay in the shade under the table, carefully adjusting her position until parts of her body and legs were simultaneously in contact with Sherry, Suzanne, and especially Bruce. Sherry looked at us for a moment or two and began, "I have an idea I've been working on for a while and would like to hear your reaction to it. Our original arrangement was that you'd return Juliet to me at the end of this case, which is more or less now, and take a puppy from her next litter. I've been thinking of a plan B. It works better for me in a lot of ways, and I do hope you'll consider it.
"If you want to keep Juliet, she's obviously happy here and loves being part of your family. I'd want a formal co-ownership contract for breeding purposes, where I pick the stud dog and get the pick puppy from each of the first two litters. I'll pay the stud fee in that scenario, unless you can still bill the first fee to the AKC. Then Juliet would be yours to keep, with no strings attached. My price for this generous, altruistic act is to have Bruce volunteer to train my two puppies to hunt and show, while he's training the puppies you'll keep from the same litters. I've been totally amazed at how much Juliet has learned from him over the last six months. I thought I was an expert dog trainer until I saw what he could do with her."
Bruce and Suzanne beamed. I thought I saw Juliet smile discretely, but I can't swear to that.
"Thank you, Sherry. I'm too young for you and I'm gay, but otherwise I think I could fall in love with you for keeping us together with Juliet," answered Bruce.
Juliet barked once to remind us she had a vote and it was yes.
Epilogue
Juliet had spent the civilized part of the night in the early stages of labor, producing nothing but a pile of shredded newspaper mixed in with now holey towels. Three exhausted humans gathered outside of her whelping box in a spare bedroom normally reserved for guests near the back of the house. It appeared that Juliet was not totally pleased with her whelping box, nor with Suzanne and Sherry, who kept on insisting she return to it after frequent pee breaks to the back yard. Each outing was a production, with Suzanne hovering nearby, carrying extra towels, in case Juliet chose to present her first pup outside, instead of taking a poop.
“Maiden bitches often can’t tell the difference between the need to take a dump and a strong cont
raction,” Sherry had explained, which is why the overly cautious Suzanne brought Juliet’s towels with each trip outside.
This was the long awaited first litter for Juliet, who had finally retired from the show ring four months ago with her Silver Grand Champion title. The murders were solved and the AKC bureaucracy was in a bit of an uproar. It seemed like a good time to step back and produce a new generation of Juliet’s line, while life was quiet for the whole Bowman clan and the next big assignment was still to come in.
“Having a litter sounded so much less nerve wracking and more natural than this, and a lot less sleep depriving,” moaned Suzanne. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, they stood in the drizzle out in the yard. “I sure hope Roger is getting some sleep – he’s getting the early a.m. shift with Robert, if I have anything to say about it. If Juliet ever lets them out, Bruce has no intention of letting the puppies out of his sight for the first week. Do you think we’re looking at a C-section yet?”
