The Case of the Caged Cockers

by B R Snow

  “What?” Fullerton said, stunned by the news. “But how? What happened to him?”

  “He was shot,” I said.

  “Where?”

  “Right in the middle of the forehead,” Josie said.

  It wasn’t one of Josie’s subtler moments, but at least it was better than telling him Jerome had caught one in the brainpan.

  “Actually,” Fullerton said, “I was referring to the actual location of where he was shot.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry about that,” Josie said. “He was shot in a small town outside of Clay Bay.”

  “Was it some sort of altercation in a bar?”

  “No, he was in a phone booth making a call,” I said.

  “A phone booth?” he said, thoroughly confused. “Who uses a phone booth these days?”

  “Our guess is that he didn’t want any trace of the call showing up on cell phone history,” I said.

  “I guess that makes sense,” Fullerton said. “Given Jerome’s fondness for all things nefarious, I can see why he might want to do that. Who was he calling?”

  I glanced at Josie, and she gave me the slightest shake of her head.

  “We don’t know. It appears Jerome may not have had time to make the call,” Josie said.

  The door opened, and the receptionist entered with coffee and a stack of chocolate chip cookies. We fixed our coffee, grabbed two cookies each, and sat quietly for a few minutes. Fullerton appeared to be completely shocked by the news.

  “We’d lost touch with Jerome recently,” Fullerton said.

  “So he did work here?” I said.

  Fullerton laughed and shook his head sadly.

  “Yes, he did. For about a month after his last release from prison,” he said. “Georgia made me hire him.”

  “Your ex-wife?” I said, glancing at Josie and nodding at the cookies.

  They were very good.

  “Jerome was Georgia’s brother,” Fullerton said. “They’d been estranged for years, but then their folks passed on, and she decided that some form of reconciliation was required.”

  “Sure, sure,” Josie said, munching on a cookie. “Family, right?”

  “Exactly,” Fullerton said. “So I agreed to take him on. Big mistake on my part.”

  “What does your company do, Mr. Fullerton?” I said.

  “Home and corporate security systems,” he said, then let loose with a snort that sounded like he was going for ironic.

  “You hired a guy with multiple convictions for breaking and entering and armed robbery to work for your security company?” I said.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t one of my finest moments,” he said. “But Georgia can be very persuasive when she wants to be. And she wouldn’t let it go.”

  “Does your ex-wife work here as well?” I said.

  “No, Georgia’s a brilliant technologist and a consultant for many of the companies in Tech Valley.”

  I’d heard of Tech Valley in the past and knew that it was a loosely-defined area that ran about 250 miles from New York City all the way to the Canadian border and included many companies that dealt with a variety of technologies and sciences I know absolutely nothing about.

  “And I’m sure you’re very familiar with all the important work many of the Tech Valley companies are doing,” he said.

  “Of course, of course,” I said, rubbing my chin.

  “Smooth,” Josie whispered.

  I punched her leg again as I continued to rub my chin sagely.

  Just call me Bodhisattva.

  “So what happened after you agreed to hire Jerome?” I said.

  “Quite a lot actually,” he said, again shaking his head. “And all of it bad.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “Not really,” he said. “But as I’ve reminded Georgia several times, it was certainly predictable.”

  “Let me guess, he started robbing the houses where you’d installed security systems?” I said.

  “Worse. Jerome started selling the access codes to other criminals. We had a rash of robberies in the area and we soon realized that they were all customers of ours. Of course, the first thing that popped into my head was that Jerome was conducting the robberies, but he always had an airtight alibi. Then I finally figured out what he was doing, and Georgia and I confronted him. I fired him on the spot, threatened to call the police, and he simply disappeared. Today is the first bit of news I’ve heard about him since then.”

  “We’re sorry we have such bad news for you,” I said.

  He shrugged and suddenly seemed to shrink in his chair.

  “What a waste of a life,” he said. “I can’t believe he and my ex-wife came out of the same gene pool. She’s so intelligent and accomplished. Jerome was a total screw up.”

  Josie nudged me with her foot. I got the message.

  “Let me ask you one more question, Mr. Fullerton,” I said.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “Did Jerome have a company-assigned cell phone when he worked for you?”

  “Yes, we give them to all our employees. It’s a nice little benefit for them, and it helps us keep a relatively close eye on our folks,” he said, noticing our reaction to his last comment. “As I’ve learned over the years, when it comes to running a security company, you can never be too careful when it comes to the people who are working for you.”

  “And that was something Jerome reconfirmed for you,” Josie said.

  “Yes. He certainly did,” Fullerton said.

  “Do you remember if you got his phone back when you fired him?” I said.

  He thought about it for several moments as if replaying a scene in his head.

  “No, I don’t think we did. After I had fired him, he stormed out of the office, and that’s the last time I saw Jerome. But the phone number would have been disconnected.”

  “It was disconnected,” I said. “Yesterday. The day after he was killed.”

  “What?” Fullerton said, his eyes wide. “But he’s been gone for months.”

  “We thought it was a bit strange,” I said.

  “It certainly is,” he said. “And it’s something I will definitely be looking into.”

  “Would it be too much to ask for you to give us a call when you figure it out? Josie and I take puppy mills very personally.”

  “No, I’ll be happy to do that,” he said. “But it makes no sense. Jerome seemed to detest most of the people he came in contact with, but he absolutely loved dogs.”

  I slid one of our business cards across the desk. Fullerton stared down at it, then looked up.

  “I’m sorry, ladies, but if you will excuse me, I have a very difficult phone call to make. Georgia is going to be devastated.”

  We stood, shook hands with him, and left him sitting at his desk. On our way out we thanked the receptionist who gave us four more cookies for the road. We climbed in the SUV and by the time we hit Route 90 West, the snow had started and was already beginning to accumulate.

  “What do you think?” I said.

  “About Fullerton?” Josie said, finishing the last cookie.

  “Yeah.”

  “He was genuinely shocked, or he’s one of the best actors I’ve ever seen,” Josie said.

  “I agree. Did you buy his my ex-wife made me do it bit about why he hired Jerome?”

  “I did,” Josie said, keeping a close eye on the emerging snowstorm. “Why else would he hire a guy with that history? Fullerton had a lot to lose and nothing to gain except getting her off his back.”

  “If mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy,” I said, laughing.

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter 8

  “Could you please change the channel?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Josie said, reaching for the radio buttons. “I’m so burned out on Christmas carols.”

  “That’s because all the stores started playing them before Halloween.”

  I squeezed the steering wheel hard and tried turning my windshield wipers
on again. The only thing the wipers did was make my visibility worse, so I turned them off. The refrain of Walking in a Winter Wonderland disappeared and was replaced by smooth jazz. People may wax poetic about walking in a winter wonderland, and it has its moments, but driving in one was another story altogether. At least a foot of snow had fallen since we’d left Albany and it looked like our three-hour drive home might double. Fortunately, the plows were out and doing a good job keeping the Thruway and Route 81 driveable. North of Syracuse, there was a stretch where the snow was particularly heavy, and we fell in behind a snowplow and followed it for the next twenty miles. By the time the plow exited the highway, the snowfall had slowed, and we headed for home at a constant speed of forty-five on the snow-covered, but relatively safe, road.

  We arrived home just before midnight to the sight of a freshly plowed driveway and shoveled sidewalks. All the lights were on at the Inn and, at first, Josie and I were concerned that something had happened. But we relaxed when we saw Jackson and Sammy smiling and waving their gloved hands at us. I pulled into the driveway, and we both headed straight for the Inn. Jackson met us on the porch.

  “What do you think?” Jackson said, gesturing at the driveway.

  “It’s great,” I said. “Who did the plowing?”

  “I did,” he said, pointing at his truck that had a snowplow attached off the front. “It’s my new toy. I’ve been driving around all night testing it out.”

  “You’re hired,” Josie said, laughing.

  “Who shoveled all the paths and sidewalk?” I said.

  “Sammy,” Jackson said.

  “We so need to give him a raise,” Josie said, glancing around and nodding her head in approval.

  We headed inside to check on the dogs. Sammy greeted us with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

  “Thanks, Sammy,” I said, accepting one of the mugs.

  The kid was really on his game tonight.

  “And great job with the shoveling. You didn’t have to do that. We have a couple of high school kids we pay to do it.”

  “No problem, Suzy,” Sammy said with a huge grin plastered on his face. “I figured that since I was already here working, what the heck. Hey, Josie.”

  “Hi, Sammy,” she said, nodding at his goofy grin. “Call me crazy, but nobody should be that happy after doing all that shoveling.”

  “No, it’s not that. C’mon, follow me. I’ve got something to show you.”

  We followed him into the back and stopped in front of the condo where the six Cocker Spaniel puppies were housed. Jill was sitting on the floor feeding two of them with baby bottles of milk. She did her best to wave hello and refocused on the puppies.

  “What did you want to show us?” I said, suddenly feeling very tired.

  “Watch,” Sammy said. He whistled softly. “Tripod. Come here, boy.”

  From the group of four Cockers that were sleeping on a plush dog bed, one of the puppies lifted its head and then stood and wobbled toward Sammy’s voice on three legs. Josie and I both started bawling on the spot. I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and watched as the puppy made its way into Sammy’s arms.

  “He’s walking,” Josie said.

  “He sure is,” Sammy said, still beaming. “About two hours ago. He’s still trying to figure everything out, but that’s a good sign, right?”

  “It certainly is,” Josie said, stroking one of Tripod’s ears.

  “How’s the rest of the litter doing, Jill?” I said when I’d regained my composure.

  “You tell me,” she said, laughing.

  She gently rolled the two puppies she was feeding over on their backs, and we couldn’t help chuckling at their chubby tummies as they kicked their little legs in the air.

  “I weighed them all earlier, and they’re still a couple pounds lighter than normal, but I’m betting they’ll catch up sometime next week. They’re all eating like a horse.”

  “Good. Keep fattening them up. How are the lab puppies doing?” Josie said.

  “They’re great,” Jill said. “And we had two more of them adopted this afternoon. That makes eight.”

  “They should be ready to go by the 24th. There’s going to be some very happy kids on Christmas morning,” Josie said.

  Jackson poked his head inside the condo area.

  “Got a minute?” he said.

  We said our goodbyes to the dogs and Sammy and Jill and gestured for Jackson to follow us up the shoveled path that led to the house. Chloe and Chef Claire greeted us at the door, and we sat down in the living room. I couldn’t help but notice some tension between Chef Claire and Jackson. But I was too tired to dwell on it. Chef Claire excused herself and went to bed. Chloe climbed up on my lap and promptly fell asleep.

  “How did it go today?” Jackson said, yawning.

  We gave him an update on our meeting with Fullerton and answered Jackson’s questions the best we could.

  “I guess it makes sense that the owner of a company wouldn’t necessarily know that a cell number hadn’t been disconnected,” Jackson said. “But it still seems odd since the guy was his brother in law, not to mention a career criminal.”

  “He said he’d call when he figured out how it happened,” I said.

  “Do you see any connection between him and the murder or the puppy mill?” he said.

  Josie and I both shook our heads.

  “Are you having any luck with the murder?” I said.

  “Not really. But I did talk to somebody who’d been drinking all day at the Outer Limit, and he thinks he might have seen Jerome there with two other guys earlier that evening.”

  “I guess that’s something to go on,” Josie said.

  “This guy has also been known to see pink elephants and alien spacecraft in his driveway,” Jackson said.

  “Ah, got it,” Josie said, laughing.

  “We’ve got nothing,” Jackson said. “And if Jerome hadn’t been able to make the call to you guys before getting shot, the way that phone booth is tucked away behind that vacant building, he could have ended up spending the whole winter there with nobody noticing.”

  “Now there’s a pleasant thought,” Josie said, scrunching up her face. “Geez, Jackson. Really?”

  “What?” Jackson said, staring at Josie. “It’s true.”

  “I’m trying to get into the Christmas spirit here,” Josie said. “Now I’m probably going to have nightmares.”

  “Well, excuse me for pointing out a simple fact,” Jackson said.

  “Guys, please. It’s too late for this,” I said. “But he did make the call. And that was after he dropped the litter of Cockers off on our doorstep. Fullerton mentioned that Jerome was a dog lover.”

  “So what was Jerome trying to do? Bust up a puppy mill?” Jackson said. “Is that enough of a reason to get shot?”

  “It would be for me,” I said. “Not to shoot Jerome who was apparently trying to shut it down. But I’d certainly think about doing it to the people operating the mill.”

  “Me too,” Josie said.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Jackson said, laughing. “But I’m not buying it. It feels light for a motive. There has to be more to it than that.”

  “Like what?” Josie said.

  “I don’t know,” Jackson said.

  “Maybe they were using the dogs as cover for something else,” I said.

  Josie and Jackson nodded and thought about my comment.

  Even in the dark of night, my ability to identify possible solutions to problems was, in my humble opinion, unparalleled.

  Then they both shrugged simultaneously.

  “Like what?” Jackson said.

  “Smuggling?” I eventually managed to mumble.

  Okay, maybe unparalleled was a bit of an overreach. But in my defense, it was late.

  “What could you smuggle in a puppy?” Josie said.

  “Not much,” I conceded.

  What a total whiff on my part. It was definitely time to go to bed.
r />   We sat in silence for several minutes before Jackson stood and pulled on his coat.

  “Look, it’s late,” he said. “Why don’t we continue this conversation over breakfast? There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about. I’ll even buy.”

  I glanced at Josie who nodded.

  “We’re in. The Café around nine work for you?” I said.

  “Perfect. See you then,” he said, heading for the door.

  “What else do you think he wants to talk to us about?” Josie said, standing up to stretch as she yawned.

  “I’m sure it’s about me.”

  We both turned and saw Chef Claire standing in her robe.

  “Did something happen between you two?” I said.

  “Kind of,” Chef Claire said. “Jackson and Freddie had a fight this afternoon. They almost came to blows.”

  “What?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, it got ugly in a hurry.”

  “They were fighting over you?”

  “No, they were fighting over which of them had the right to go out with me,” Chef Claire said, shaking her head in disgust.

  “I knew those two geniuses would figure out a way to screw things up,” Josie said.

  “I was standing right there, and it was as if I was invisible,” Chef Claire said. “It was like I didn’t have any say in who I was, or wasn’t going to, date.”

  “They know better than that,” I said.

  “Obviously not,” Josie said.

  “We’re having breakfast with Jackson,” I said. “We’ll have a word with him.”

  “Yes, I heard. But it doesn’t matter,” Chef Claire said. “Excuse the bad metaphor, but for the time being I’ve put both of them on the back burner.”

  “You should have stuck their heads in the oven,” Josie said. “What a couple of Neanderthals. And all this time I thought both of them at least knew how to walk upright.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Chef Claire,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m not very happy about it myself.”

  “You know,” Josie said. “I’ve always found that a little snack helps me work my way through problems like this.”

  Chef Claire laughed. I shook my head at Josie but had to admit that raiding the fridge sounded like a good idea.