by B R Snow
All of that information would be very helpful to us. We just had one little problem. We didn’t know any of the ID numbers of the four dogs. Without that, it was impossible for us to conduct our own search.
This was the problem we were trying to solve over pizza, salad, and wine.
Josie reached for another slice of pepperoni and mushroom. I decided to stick with the onion and sausage. Having learned the hard way about getting in our way when we were eating, Chef Claire waited patiently until we finished refilling our plates, then served herself.
“It’s pretty good pizza,” she said.
“Yeah,” Josie said. “But nothing like you’re going to be serving at the new restaurant.”
“No, it’s not,” Chef Claire said.
She stated it a simple statement of fact, delivered in a no-nonsense manner devoid of ego. It was one thing to be really good at your craft; it was something else altogether to let your work speak for itself and not feel compelled to tell the world how good you were. Chef Claire shared that trait with Josie who consistently avoided talking about her abilities as a vet, and I continued to be amazed that our small town had been able to secure the services of two people as talented as Chef Claire and Josie. The fact that they, respectively, were experts in food and dogs, the two things I had the most passion about, reinforced the fact that the life I lived was charmed.
At the moment, Josie was feeling less than an expert in her chosen field. It had taken her a while to accept my theory about the dog smuggling operation, but now that she had, she was all in and wracking her brain to figure out a way to get her hands on the four ID numbers of the Lab puppies. As she ate, she continued to stare off into space deep in thought. I decided to let her eat in peace.
“So, what’s new on the Jackson and Freddie front?” I said to Chef Claire.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Their pretty bruised at the moment and keeping their distance.”
“That’s what you wanted, right?” I said.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “But Christmas is coming, and I don’t want any bad feelings to spoil it. Regardless of how this turns out, they’re still my friends, and I want to keep it that way.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Jack and Freddie know they screwed up, and, to their credit, are willing to admit it. And they don’t hold grudges. It’s just a matter of how long you want to keep them in the penalty box.”
Chef Claire laughed and took a bite of salad.
“So which one are you most attracted to?” I said.
“I have no idea.”
“Well, you got all winter to make up your mind,” I said, glancing at Josie who was still staring off into the distance as she chewed.
“The renovations are going great,” Chef Claire said. “The kitchen equipment was delivered yesterday, and we should have it installed by the end of next week.”
“That’s great,” I said.
“And wait until you see the wood-burning pizza oven they’re building,” Chef Claire said.
“Pizza oven?” Josie said, coming out her trance. “What was that about a pizza oven?”
We both laughed.
“Earth to Josie,” I said.
“Sorry for drifting off,” she said. “But I think I have a good idea.”
“I already told you, Josie,” Chef Claire said. “You can order whatever toppings you want.”
Again we laughed, and Josie made a face at us.
“Funny,” Josie said. “I think I know how we might be able to get our hands on that information.”
She got up from her chair and left the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned carrying a stack of business cards. She sat back down, put a piece of crust in her mouth and chewed as she flipped through the cards.
“I know he gave me one of his cards,” Josie said.
“Who?” I said, grabbing a slice of the pepperoni and mushroom.
“Here it is,” she said, holding up one of the cards. “Jeffrey Cavendish. And, yes, he’s as stuffy as his name sounds. But he’s a total dog lover.”
“Who is he?”
“I met him at a conference in New York last year. He did a presentation about some Canadian animal coalition he runs in Ottawa. And one of the things his organization does is to help maintain the national dog registry database.”
“Well done,” I said.
“I only agreed to take one of his cards to get him to leave me alone,” Josie said. “Now I’m glad I did.”
“Did he come on to you?” I said.
“Yeah, but the way he did it was pretty creepy. Everywhere I went, he was always lurking.”
“So he’s a lurker?” I said.
“No, he’s not that creepy. He’s more of a hoverer,” Josie said.
“A hoverer?”
“Yeah. He’s a big time hoverer,” Josie said, grabbing her phone.
“I hate hoverers,” I said.
“Me too,” Chef Claire chimed in.
“Six o’clock on a Friday,” Josie said. “I don’t like our chances of catching him in the office. I’ll just leave him a message.”
Josie dialed the number, and to our surprise, a British-accented voice answered on the third ring. I had to admit that, despite the fact he was a hoverer, I liked his voice.
“Jeffrey Cavendish speaking.”
“Hi, Jeffrey. It’s Josie Court. You’re certainly working late on a Friday. I thought I’d get your voicemail.”
We heard silence on the other end of the line, but seconds later it became clear that the name had finally registered.
“Josie,” he gushed. “I was just on my way out, but what a nice surprise to hear from you. How are you?”
“I’m great, Jeffrey,” Josie said.
“Is this a business or pleasure call?” he said. “Not that it matters, of course.”
Sure, Jeffrey. We believe you.
“Well, let’s say it will be my pleasure to do business with you,” Josie said.
“Fair enough,” he said, laughing. “How can I help you?”
Josie spent a few minutes explaining the puppy mill we’d stumbled on, the dog smuggling, and what we were trying to do. She left out the part about Jerome getting shot in the forehead. Jeffrey might be enamored with the prospect of hooking up with Josie, but he might draw the line at somehow getting caught up in a murder case.
I thought it was a good call on her part.
“Despicable people,” he said. “What can I do?”
“I was wondering if it was possible for you to give us temporary access to your national database,” Josie said.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Josie,” he said. “That would be a breach of our policy. And since I wrote the policy…”
“Yeah, I get it,” Josie said. “I knew it was a long shot.”
“But I’m fully within my rights to do whatever searches I see fit,” he said.
“You’re so good, Jeffrey,” Josie said.
“You have no idea,” he said.
Josie glanced at both of us and shook her head in disgust.
Major whiff, Jeffrey.
“We’re trying to locate four Lab puppies that were probably chipped sometime last week. Or maybe early this week. And it sounds like they probably went to homes in Ottawa. They were sold by the Happy Family Time store downtown if that helps.”
“I’m very familiar with Happy Family Time. And I think I’ve even been in that store. This shouldn’t be too hard,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
Josie munched on a slice while we waited. He came back on the line.
“Sorry, Josie. I don’t have any Labs being registered with chips during that time period,” he said.
Josie and I exchanged frowns.
“Could you remove all the date parameters and run it again just to see if anything comes up?” she said.
“Sure,” Jeffrey said.
Again, we waited.
“Here we go,” he said. “Four Lab puppies were chipped
and registered today. Three yellows and a chocolate.”
“Today?” Josie said. “That’s odd.”
“And all four dogs have the same vet listed as the emergency contact,” Jeffrey said. “What are the odds of that?”
“I’d say they were pretty long,” Josie said. “Who’s the vet?”
“The one and only Dr. Perry Long,” Jeffrey said.
“Perry Long?” Josie said.
“The veterinarian to the stars,” he said, laughing. “At least that’s the way he describes himself.”
“He does have a bit of an ego, doesn’t he?” Josie said, laughing along. “Would it be possible for you to email me all the particulars?”
“If it might help bust up a puppy mill operation, I’m more than happy to do that. And the next time you get up to Ottawa, we simply must get together for dinner. Or even lunch.”
Josie squirmed in her chair like a fish flopping on a dock. But she was trapped, and she knew it.
“Jeffrey, I’d love to have lunch with you,” she said eventually.
“That’s great,” he said. “I know the perfect spot. They have an Indian buffet that will take your breath away.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Josie said.
They said their goodbyes and Josie put her phone away.
“Indian food. Buffet. And Jeffrey,” she said. “I guess two out of three isn’t bad.”
“He can’t be that bad,” I said, laughing.
“Let’s see if you still have the same opinion after you meet him,” Josie said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re coming with me,” Josie said.
“No way.”
“Yes, Suzy. I’m not going by myself. And you heard the man. Indian buffet. You love Indian food.”
She was right. I did.
I nodded and took a sip of wine. Josie gave me an evil grin and focused on what was left of her dinner.
“You’re going to owe me big time for this one,” I said.
“What else is new?” she said, winking at Chef Claire.
Beaten, I grabbed another slice of the sausage and onion.
The things I do around here.
Chapter 19
We had a lot of information to process, and we spent the next morning when we were making our rounds trying to make sense of it. After our conversation had circled back on itself for the third time, we decided to take a break and headed for my office. Jackson was already waiting for us and sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table reading a magazine. Josie sat down next to him while I poured coffee for all three of us then sat down behind my desk.
“I’m glad you called,” Jackson said, tossing the magazine aside. “I needed a break from the murder case.”
“What have you found out?” I said.
“I’ve got bupkus,” he said, sipping his coffee. “We know the Baxter Brothers are definitely smuggling dogs, and they’re probably the ones who were operating that puppy mill, but as far as the night of the murder goes, their alibi checks out. They were playing poker with a couple of buddies most of the night. So I’m left with no suspects, no murder weapon, and no motive.”
“The motive had to be that someone wanted to shut Jerome up for divulging the existence of the puppy mill,” I said.
“Suzy, we’ve been through this,” Jackson said, his voice rising a notch. “By calling you, we know that’s what Jerome was doing, but we don’t have a clue if anybody else knew it. He could have been killed for another reason altogether. And it might have nothing to do with the dogs.”
“What other theories do you have?” I said.
“Like I said earlier, I’ve got bupkus. But thanks for the reminder,” he snapped.
“Then until you do have something, Officer Fife, I’m going to stick with my theory if that’s okay with you,” I said, glaring at Jackson.
“Watch yourself, Suzy,” Jackson said.
“Guys, please,” Josie said. “You’re giving me another headache.”
Jackson and I continued to glare at each other before breaking eye contact and settling back into our seats.
“So what have you guys been up to?” Jackson said.
“Apparently, a lot more than you,” I said.
“Suzy, please. Dial it down,” Josie said, turning to Jackson. “We have the names of the four people who got the Lab puppies.”
“And?” Jackson said.
“They’re all upstanding citizens who live in Ottawa,” Josie said. She paused for a moment before continuing. “And they all have the same vet.”
Jackson frowned.
“Doesn’t that sound kind of strange to you?” he said.
“At first it did,” Josie said. “The vet, Dr. Perry Long, is incredibly successful and is known for taking care of the pets of rich and famous. His clients include most of the top politicians, athletes, and corporate leaders. He advertises a lot on television, writes books, and has his own agent and publicist. He’s become a celebrity in his own right and having him as your pet’s vet has become sort of a status symbol.”
“Weird,” Jackson said.
“Yeah, a little,” Josie said.
“Well, if you don’t mind,” Jackson said, patting Josie’s knee, “I think I’ll stick with the celebrity vet I already have.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” Josie said, holding out her coffee mug to toast Jackson.
“Besides, Sluggo would never forgive me if I changed vets,” he said, laughing.
“How’s my favorite Bulldog doing?” Josie said.
“He’s great.”
“Hey, guys,” I said. “How about a little focus here? The meeting of the mutual admiration society can be held later.”
“Somebody’s grumpy this morning,” Jackson said to Josie.
“You know how she gets when she can’t solve a mystery. Plus, she can’t figure out what to get her mom for Christmas,” Josie said, taking a sip of coffee. “And she’s freaking out about gaining four pounds.”
“Hey, I told you that in confidence,” I said, glaring at Josie.
“Oops,” she said, laughing.
“Really? Four pounds. Where?” Jackson said.
Josie snorted and almost spilled her coffee.
“That is absolutely none of your business, Jackson,” I snapped.
“No, I meant that I can’t imagine where you gained it. You look fantastic,” Jackson said.
“Nice save,” Josie whispered.
“So tell me a bit more about this vet,” Jackson said, anxious to change topics.
So was I, but I continued to glare at him as a reminder to stay away from that particular subject.
“Well, like I said, he’s incredibly successful and is very active on the social scene. Animal rights, the arts, all the usual suspects,” Josie said. “And he has a reputation for being a total player.”
“Has this guy ever hit on you?” Jackson said.
“Only every time he sees me,” she said, laughing. “I occasionally see him at meetings and conferences. We do our usual dance, and then he goes on his way. He’s a bit annoying, but generally harmless.”
“It still sounds suspicious that he ended up being the vet for all four of those dogs,” Jackson said.
“Yeah, it does,” Josie said. “But the owners are all heavy hitters in the corporate world or high-ranking government officials. Since they all probably travel in the same social circle, it’s plausible.”
“You mentioned a couple of the Happy Family Time stores,” Jackson said. “What’s the deal with them?”
“We think they’re definitely involved in some way,” I said. “The one in Kingston is probably a key player in the logistics of the smuggling operation. That’s probably your best leverage with the Baxter Brothers since we saw that with our own eyes.”
“That reminds me,” Josie said. “I need to take a look at your knee today.”
It was nice of her to remember. I smiled at her, then nodded and
continued.
“The Happy Family Time store in Ottawa handled the delivery of the puppies. They might have also handled the sale, but my guess is that those deals were done long before they arrived at that store,” I said.
“I still don’t understand why they need to smuggle in puppies from the States,” Jackson said. “I’m sure Canada has more dogs than they know what to do with.”
“They were pretty cute dogs,” Josie said.
“Have you ever seen a Lab puppy that wasn’t?” I said.
Josie shook her head as she reached for the candy jar on the desk.
“They have to be smuggling something in the puppies,” I said. “But what on earth could that possibly be?”
“Not to mention the question of what they could possibly smuggle inside puppies that didn’t run the risk of killing them?” Josie said. “And if we ever find out that they’ve killed some, they’re going to find themselves in a world of hurt.”
“Definitely,” I said.
“But why would they go to all that trouble to smuggle them in and run the risk the dogs might not make it through the process?” Jackson said.
“Yeah, that’s what we keep circling back to,” I said.
“It doesn’t seem to make any sense to put something in an eight-week-old puppy’s stomach,” Jackson said.
“I agree,” Josie said. “But I’ve been wracking my brain and can’t come up with anything else.”
A lightbulb went off in my head, and I stared off into the distance.
“You’ve got that look,” Josie said. “What is it?”
“We’ve been coming at it all wrong,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Jackson said.
“Hang on,” I said. “I need a minute to think this through.”
They continued to stare at me like I’d lost my mind.
I didn’t mind. I was pretty used to it by now.
“Are the Baxter Brothers out of the hospital yet?” I said.
“Yeah, they’ve been out for a while,” Jackson said.
