The Case of the Caged Cockers

by B R Snow

  “Yeah, you have to draw the line somewhere,” Josie said, laughing.

  “I’ll do it,” Sammy said.

  “What?” I said.

  “I’d like to do it,” Sammy said. “They need our help. And I’m still the most junior person on staff, so it should be me.”

  “Sammy, you don’t have to do that,” Josie said. “That’s way above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “No, I insist,” he said. “Besides, I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog. Maybe one of them will pick me.”

  “Sammy, if you spend a couple of weeks with them around the clock, you may end up having to take all six,” I said, laughing.

  “Worse things could happen,” he said, shrugging.

  I couldn’t argue with his logic on that one. Despite his need for sleep, the kid was on his game.

  “Okay,” Josie said. “Why don’t you head home for the rest of the day, get your stuff ready, and be back here for the seven o’clock feeding?”

  Sammy got up off the couch, kissed Jill on the top of the head and left the office. Jill stretched back out on the couch.

  “I’m just going to catch a quick nap, and then I’ll handle reception the rest of the day. The schedule is really light this week,” Jill said. “Or at least it was.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, Jill,” I said, yawning. “I think I’ll head up to the house, grab a shower and then be back in about an hour.”

  “That works,” Josie said. “I’ll keep an eye on things here. Bring snacks.”

  I snorted and shook my head. But I knew that Josie wouldn’t be going anywhere for the next several hours until she was certain she’d done everything possible to make sure the puppies were safe and comfortable. The least I could do was make sure she was fed. Then Josie caught my eye and winked.

  “Oh, Jill,” Josie said.

  “Yeah?” Jill said, not even bothering to open her eyes.

  “I know you’ll be helping Sammy out and I want to thank you in advance for doing that,” Josie said.

  “It’s not a problem,” Jill said, yawning.

  “And Jill?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know that might involve some long hours for both of you,” Josie said, grinning.

  “So?” Jill said, opening her eyes and turning her head to look at Josie.

  “So just remember that our visitation hours end at ten,” Josie deadpanned.

  “Funny,” Jill said, shutting her eyes.

  We did a quick check on the puppies that were huddled close and sleeping comfortably and walked outside into the reception area. Josie noticed me fiddling with my phone and a pen.

  “What are you doing?” she said, leaning against the reception counter.

  “Jotting down the number of that call from last night,” I said, writing on my hand.

  “You’re going to call Jackson, aren’t you?” Josie said.

  “I certainly am. I’m sure our Chief of Police won’t mind helping us identify the number. With any luck, we’ll know who we need to have a little chat with by the end of the day.”

  “Us?” Josie said.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “This one’s personal.”

  “Okay. That’s what I was afraid of. But I’ll need to eat, shower, and sleep first. In that order.”

  “Sure,” I said as I started to head for the back door.

  Then I stopped and turned around. Josie didn’t seem surprised by my move at all. In fact, from the expression on her face, it looked like she’d been expecting it.

  “Yes,” she said, staring back at me.

  “We’re going to take these guys down, Josie. I’m making it my personal mission.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

  Chapter 3

  I stared down at the steaming bowl of penne and did my best to remain patient until Chef Claire and Josie got settled at the table. After my mother’s comments about my lack of table manners, I was getting an early start on a New Year’s resolution to be a more refined eater. I was also considering a resolution about cutting back on my overall food consumption, but I hadn’t made a final decision on that one. Before I commit to anything drastic on that front, I’ll see how well I survive Chef Claire’s holiday menus and our upcoming round of Christmas parties.

  “The things some people will do for money,” Chef Claire said, taking a bite of her latest masterpiece. “I mean, really. Who could do that to a litter of puppies?”

  “The sad fact is that there are probably more of them out there,” Josie said.

  “But we’re going to find them,” I said, nibbling on a piece of penne.

  Josie chewed as she watched my slow and deliberate movements.

  “Could you please pass the parmesan, Chef Claire?” I said, setting my fork down on my plate.

  Chef Claire glanced at the cheese that was a relatively easy reach for me but nodded and slid the bowl of cheese directly in front of me. She glanced at Josie, who continued to eat her dinner and stare at me. Chef Claire shrugged and went back to her dinner.

  “Thank you,” I said, slowly spreading a spoonful of parmesan over my pasta.

  I forked a single piece of pasta into my mouth, chewed slowly, and then wiped my mouth with a napkin.

  “What are you doing?” Josie said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m eating my dinner,” I said, spearing another piece of penne. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “A bad impression of a charm school dropout,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Funny,” I said, again selecting and chewing a single piece of pasta.

  “Well, whatever you’re doing, stop it,” Josie said, reaching for a slice of garlic bread. “You’re freaking me out.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Who am I kidding?”

  I stuffed half a meatball into my mouth and grabbed a piece of garlic bread.

  I’m glad I got an early start on this resolution. It was going be a lot harder than I thought.

  My phone buzzed. Recognizing the number, I put the phone on speaker and placed it on the kitchen table.

  “Hey, Jackson,” I said.

  “Hey, Suzy,” Jackson said. “The connection sounds scratchy.”

  “No, that’s just Josie,” I said, laughing. “She’s eating.”

  “Oh, for a moment there, I thought I heard artillery fire.”

  “Funny,” Josie mumbled through a mouthful of garlic bread.

  “Did you have any luck tracking down that number?” I said.

  “Yeah, it was easy,” Jackson said. “What are you guys having for dinner?”

  “A tomato-basil penne, meatballs, garlic bread, and a garden salad with a vinaigrette I’m thinking about using as a cologne,” I said.

  “Aren’t you sweet,” Chef Claire said, laughing. “Hey, Jackson, I made plenty if you’d like to join us.”

  All three of us jumped when we heard the kitchen door open. Jackson stepped inside still holding the phone to his ear.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket and sitting down next to me. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

  “Unbelievable,” Josie said, getting up from the table to grab a plate and bowl for Jackson.

  Chef Claire poured him a glass of wine, and I studied the two of them closely. Both Jackson and our local medical examiner, Freddie, had recently embarked on their own individual campaigns to win Chef Claire’s affections. So far, neither one had gotten any traction, but Josie and I were having a ball egging both men on. I made a mental note to tell Freddie about Jackson’s surprise dinner appearance the next time I saw him.

  Jackson took a bite of salad and sighed. Then he sampled the penne and murmured. By the time he got halfway through his first meatball, he was talking to himself and staring off into the distance.

  “Earth to Jackson,” I said. “The phone number?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jackson said, wiping his mouth. “I almost forgot. It’s a payphone.”

 
“A payphone?” I said, glancing at Josie. “They still have those things?”

  “I can’t remember the last time I saw a payphone. Or one of those see through phone booths,” Josie said.

  “They’re still around,” Jackson said. “But their numbers are way down. This one is at the old general store in Wildwood.”

  Wildwood was a tiny farming town about ten miles from Clay Bay. The general store Jackson was referring to had closed several years ago, as had pretty much every other business that used to line its main street. About the only thing there these days were some small family farms, a couple of fast food joints, and a dive bar called the Outer Limit. I’d been there a couple times when I was younger, and it hadn’t taken me long to decide it was aptly named.

  “That store has been closed for years,” I said. “I’m surprised the phone is still working.”

  “Yeah, I was too,” Jackson said. “But I guess it’s good to have it there in case of an emergency. Speaking of emergencies, how are the puppies doing?”

  “They’re all going to make it,” I said. “Thanks to Josie.”

  Josie blushed as she reached for the salad bowl.

  “Have you ever heard of any puppy mills in the area?” I said.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “And I asked around with the state police and some of the other local cops in the area, but nobody’s ever heard of anything like that operating around here.”

  “Well, we’ve got one now,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Jackson said. “It might have just been a family that didn’t know what else to do with a litter of puppies.”

  “No,” Josie said, shaking her head. “Those little guys were from a puppy mill. I’m sure of it.”

  “How do these mills operate?” Chef Claire said. “I’ve heard the term, but never the details.”

  “Oh, the people who run them are simply wonderful human beings,” Josie said, spearing a meatball with her fork. “Most of the mills are unlicensed and can house hundreds of dogs that are kept in deplorable conditions. The females are constantly being bred without adequate time to recover between litters. And when they become physically worn out and unable to reproduce, they’re often killed. The conditions are unsanitary, crowded, and the dogs are usually housed in cages that are often stacked on top of each other. No fresh air, no toys or exercise, not enough food and water.”

  Josie paused and gripped the edge of the kitchen table with both hands. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she took several deep breaths.

  “Should I continue?” she whispered.

  “No, I got it,” Chef Claire said, staring at Josie. “How about some dessert?”

  “Maybe later,” Josie said as she got up from the table and left the kitchen.

  “Wow,” Chef Claire said. “That was intense. I’d hate to be one of those guys if you two got your hands on them.”

  “When we get our hands on them,” I said.

  “Please don’t do anything crazy, Suzy,” Jackson said.

  “There’s nothing crazy about making sure people like that get what’s coming to them, is there, Jackson?”

  “No, I guess not,” Jackson said. “But just try to keep me in the loop, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding, then glancing at Chef Claire. “Did I hear you mention something about dessert?”

  Chef Claire laughed and headed for the fridge. She returned carrying a tray just as Josie reentered the kitchen. She was drying her face with a hand towel, and she sat back down and glanced around the table.

  “Sorry about that,” Josie said. “Those mills are a real sore point with me. What did I miss?”

  “Not a thing,” Chef Claire said, removing the foil from the tray.

  “Cannoli,” I whispered.

  “Yes, chocolate-almond,” Chef Claire said.

  “With the Amaretto cream filling?” Josie said.

  “That’s the one,” Chef Claire said. “Think you could force a couple down?”

  Josie shrugged.

  “I could eat.”

  Chapter 4

  We waited until Jackson made his reluctant, schoolboy departure, then hopped in my SUV to make the short drive to Wildwood. The straight two-lane county highway was empty except for the occasional patch of drifting snow accumulating along the side of the road. The full moon illuminated the flat, snow-covered fields that dominated the landscape and it seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

  “It’s beautiful,” Josie said, staring out the window.

  “Yeah, as long as we’re inside a warm car,” I said. “But imagine what’s it like to be a dog in a cage stashed away in a shed or a cold barn.”

  “I’ve been trying not to,” Josie snapped. “But thanks for the reminder.”

  “Sorry,” I said, gripping the wheel tighter. “I can’t tell you how much I want to hurt these people.”

  “I know.”

  I made a right turn onto a small road that soon became Main Street. Since it appeared to be the only street in sight, it had obviously been correctly named. This end of town was dark and empty. Several hundred yards ahead I could see a glimmer of neon I knew was the sign for the Outer Limit.

  “It’s spooky,” Josie said, glancing around. “I guess if I wanted to do something illegal, this would be a good place to do it.”

  I nodded and came to a stop in front of an empty, rundown building with boarded windows. A faded sign that read Wildwood General Store was suspended off the front of the building, and it creaked softly as it swung back and forth in the breeze. I grabbed my flashlight, and we hopped out of the car and stood on the street looking for signs of the payphone.

  “It must be on the side somewhere,” I said, walking toward the corner of the building.

  Josie followed, and we reached the edge of the building and started walking down an unshoveled path.

  “I guess they don’t have much of a budget for keeping the streets shoveled,” Josie said.

  “Or street lights,” I said, turning on the flashlight. “I think I see it up there on the right.”

  The only sound we heard was the snow crunching under our boots. It was a cold night, but we were dressed for it, and I was actually enjoying being outside until we reached the phone booth. It was one of the see-through models with one door that folded in half to open and close. Right now, the door was wedged open because the body with a single bullet wound in the middle of the forehead was sitting down with one leg extended at an odd angle preventing the door from closing.

  “Oh, no,” Josie said, recoiling at the sight of the frozen body with the confused look on his face. “Here we go again.”

  “Yeah. And all we wanted to do was take a look at the phone,” I said, staring down at the dead man. “The phone’s off the hook. Do you think it’s possible he was still on the phone with us when he got shot?”

  “I guess anything is possible,” Josie said. “You said the call ended abruptly, but you didn’t hear a gunshot.”

  “Whoever shot him could have used a silencer,” I said.

  “Yeah, sure,” Josie said, glancing around. “But why bother? From the looks of the place, you could set off fireworks and not have anybody hear it.”

  I nodded in agreement and called Jackson.

  “Hey, Jackson.”

  “Hi, Suzy. Thanks again for dinner. As always, it was amazing. And I think I made some more progress with Chef Claire.”

  “Good for you,” I said, changing ears to block the wind. “Look, Jackson, we hate to do this, but you and Freddie need to get out here. And you might as well bring the state police with you.”

  “What have you done, Suzy?”

  “We haven’t done anything, Jackson. And I don’t think I like your tone.”

  “Well, excuse me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  I explained where we were and told him about the dead body. Jackson listened closely, reminded us to stay there and not touch anything, then hung up.

  “He’s on his way,” I sai
d.

  “We need to wait here, right?” Josie said, bouncing up and down on her toes.

  “I guess we can wait in the car.”

  I turned around and took a couple of steps before coming to an abrupt stop. Josie was hunched down against the wind and walked straight into me.

  “What are you waiting for?” she said.

  “Hang on,” I said, heading toward the dead body in the phone booth.

  “Suzy, don’t do it,” Josie said, her voice rising.

  I ignored her warning and knelt down over the dead man. I located his wallet and pulled it out. I held the flashlight up for Josie.

  “Sure,” she said, taking the flashlight from me. “Make me an accomplice.”

  “Relax,” I said, going through the contents of the wallet. “Eat one of your cannoli.”

  “I left them in the car,” she said. “How did you know I brought some?”

  “Lucky guess,” I said, removing the man’s driver license. “Jerome Jefferson. The address is somewhere in Albany.”

  “Okay, we know his name and where he lived,” Josie said. “Let’s go before you end up committing a felony.”

  “Hang on,” I said, unfolding a piece of paper with an address written on it. “This must be someplace local.”

  I scribbled the information on my hand, folded the piece of paper and put it back in the wallet along with the man’s license. I slid the wallet back into the dead man’s pocket and stood up. My back and knees ached in protest, and my breathing was labored.

  “I so need to get to the gym,” I said, heading down the path back toward the car.

  “Maybe Santa will bring you a gym membership for Christmas,” Josie said.

  “You didn’t, did you?” I said, glancing back at her.

  Josie snorted.

  “That is not one of your better qualities,” I said, picking up my pace.

  “Probably not,” she said, laughing. “But it certainly is effective.”

  She jogged past me and easily beat me to the car.

  “C’mon, slowpoke. It’s freezing out here.”