Case of the Pilfered Pooches

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “I sure hope so,” Vance muttered. “Anubis is a momma’s boy. There are times when I think that dog only tolerates my presence because Tori makes him. His loyalty is definitely to her and the girls, not to me.”

  “Has he ever run off like this before?” I asked as we stepped foot inside the woods. We navigated around a few trees as we checked the area for clues. “Victoria said she thought she was to blame, having thrown the ball too hard. I mean, what in the world happened? How the hell did those dognappers manage to make off with a dog the size of Anubis? I mean, he’s a German shepherd, and a highly intimidating one at that. I would have thought he’d bite anyone who tried to lay a finger on him that he didn’t personally know.”

  Vance nodded, “True story. He’s very protective of us, and a simple growl is all it typically takes to make anyone head in the other direction.”

  I felt a tug on my leash. Sherlock was pulling me over to a huge tree with thick green bushes growing completely around the trunk. Sherlock stopped at the closest bush and lowered his nose to the ground, sniffing cautiously. I glanced over at Vance. He had stopped walking and was studying the corgi intently.

  “Did you find something, boy?” Vance hopefully asked. “Is there something there?”

  Sherlock woofed softly. He promptly sat, sniffed again at the base of the bush, and turned back to us. He woofed again.

  “I’ll take that as a big 10-4,” Vance muttered. He knelt down on the ground so he could lower his head to look under the bush. With a grunt of surprise, he pulled out a brand new, nearly drool-free yellow tennis ball.

  “That couldn’t have been under there for too long,” I mused. “Look at this thing. It looks brand new. Do you think it’s the ball Anubis was chasing?”

  Vance studied the fuzzy yellow tennis ball for a few moments.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll ask when we go back. If it is, is there anything else in the area? Foot prints? Dog tracks? Sherlock, do you see anything else?”

  Sherlock had been watching Vance hold the ball. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t be given the toy, his nose dropped back to the ground. He sniffed the base of the bush, snorted, and then tugged on the leash. It looked like he wanted to check the rest of the bushes.

  “There’s nothing else here, Sherlock,” I told the corgi, once we had made a complete circuit of the tree. “What else would you like to check out?”

  We canvassed the surrounding area. Nothing attracted Sherlock’s interest. He didn’t even pause to sniff the air. Quite the contrary, it looked as though he thought I was simply taking him for a walk. As we returned to the same bush that had the ball under it, Sherlock suddenly turned to look back toward the park. His hackles raised and he started woofing.

  “What’s he doing?” Vance asked. Curious, he turned to look back the way they had come. “Is there something back that way?”

  “The park is back that way, right?”

  Vance turned to stare incredulously at me.

  “Seriously? Are you asking me what I think you’re asking? Come on, man. Your sense of direction can’t be that bad.”

  “It is, and I am.”

  “Right. Well, yes. That’s the way we came in. Why?”

  “That’s the way Sherlock wants to go,” I pointed out. “Let’s go see what’s gotten him so riled up.”

  When we made it back to the park, we were shocked to see nearly three times the amount of people present. Apparently, word had gone out that there had been yet another dognapping, and the people of Pomme Valley were appearing in droves in order to help search. The moment we arrived back on the scene, however, was the point in which pandemonium broke out.

  “Look! It’s a corgi! That must be Sherlock!”

  “Isn’t he cute?”

  “He must be looking for the missing dog! He must be friends with the missing dog!”

  “He helps solve crimes, you nincompoop. Of course he’s looking for the missing dog.”

  As it happens, Sherlock was friends with… make that is friends with Anubis. I’d better not let Vance or Tori hear me talking in the past tense like that. They’re already stressed out enough as it is.

  A surge of people pressed forward, intent on meeting Sherlock in person. I managed to look down at my dog just as I watched his ears slowly fold flat against his head. Anyone who owns a dog will know that when their ears drop like that, it’s typically not a good thing. Sherlock started growling.

  Ever the observant officer, Vance hurriedly stepped in front of me and Sherlock, held out a hand, and signaled everyone to stop.

  “Please keep your distance, people. We’re on official business. We… hey! What the hell? Zack, check it out! I can see Watson, only I don’t see Tiffany anywhere.”

  Surprised, I looked up, “She must have gotten away from her. What do you want to bet she heard Sherlock growl? Grab her leash, would you?”

  There wasn’t any need. Watson came bounding over to us, took her place by Sherlock’s side, and added her own growls to that of her packmate’s. Concerned, I looked down at the two of them before lifting my eyes to study the crowd of people. What was spooking them?

  There were faces in the crowd that I recognized. The big dude from the antique store was present. I think his name was Burt. He caught my eye and nodded in my direction. Then there was Woody and his daughter, Zoe. They both looked distressed. I could see teenagers, men and women in business attire, young mothers with children, and even a group of senior citizens all standing nervously about.

  Watson whined, and started fidgeting in place. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was nervous about something. A loud clamor had me looking up. The cause of her discomfort was easy enough to figure out. There were too many people present. All were jostling with each other, having arguments, and giving opinions, even though no one was asking for them. It was too much to bear.

  “I’m getting them out of here,” I told Vance. “I think they’re on overload at the moment.”

  “Agreed. Let me go find Tori and the girls. I need to ask about this ball. It’s the only piece of evidence we’ve got.”

  As if by magic, Tori appeared next to Vance. She quickly spotted me, noticed I was holding two leashes, and breathed a visible sigh of relief.

  “Tiffany? She’s over here! Watson found her daddy! It’s okay, sweetheart!”

  Two very sullen girls appeared. Vicki was still sniffling and now Tiffany had a crestfallen look on her face. More so than she had fifteen minutes ago, that is. I squatted down next to Tiffany and smiled at the girl.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Were you worried about Watson? The little booger does that all the time to me, too. If she can get away from me, she can certainly get away from you. She must have heard Sherlock.”

  “I’m sorry she got away from me,” her timid voice said.

  “No harm done. Vance? Do you have something you need to ask Victoria?”

  Curious, Victoria looked at her father and waited. Vance pulled out the tennis ball and held it out to her. I waited with baited breath to see what the girl’s reaction would be.

  “Is this the ball you were throwing for Anubis?” Vance asked his daughter.

  Victoria took one look at the ball and burst into tears. Vance sighed and immediately thrust the ball back into his jacket pocket. He pulled his daughter in for a hug.

  “Well, that answers that,” I quietly said.

  “Did you find anything else?” Tori asked, lowering her voice so neither of the girls could hear. “Tell me Sherlock found something.”

  I nodded, “He did, yes. He found that ball.”

  “But nothing else?” Tori pressed.

  “Nothing, I’m afraid,” I admitted. “I took him all around the area where we found the ball, but nothing attracted his interest.”

  “That’s so very disappointing,” Tori sadly said. She stifled a sob. “Do you think he’s okay?”

  “Knowing Anubis, I’m sure he’s fine,” I assured her. “I can only hope he took a chunk
out of whoever snatched him.”

  “You and me both,” Tori agreed. “Do you want to know what really concerns me?”

  I swallowed nervously. Did I want to know this?

  “Uh, sure.”

  “What if Anubis is lost in there? What if… what if he’s become hurt and can’t find his way out? This park is right up against forest land. There are any number of places for a dog to get lost.”

  “You can’t think that way, Tor,” Vance said as he released his daughter and turned to face his wife. “We checked the area where the ball was found. There were no tracks, no footprints, no nothing.”

  Tori stopped in mid sob and stared at Vance. She shook her head, sending her long red tresses tumbling about.

  “No tracks? That doesn’t make any sense. There should have been something there. Are you sure you looked everywhere?”

  “You said that the ball was thrown into the woods just over there,” I reminded Tori as I pointed at the beginning of a path. “That’s where we went into the trees, and that’s where Sherlock found the ball. He never hesitated. He went straight over to a bush and found it.”

  “That’s not where I said to go,” a small voice piped up. Vance, Tori, and I turned to look. Victoria had her hands on her hips and was frowning at us. The girl turned to point at a spot nearly thirty feet away. “The ball bounced over there.”

  “Then why did we find the ball over here?” I asked.

  “You most certainly did not,” Tori argued, at the same time as she stared at her oldest daughter. “I was here, young lady. I watched where you pointed. They went into the trees at the exact spot you had indicated.”

  “Well, maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t,” Victoria pouted. “What I meant was, the ball went in over there.”

  “Like father, like daughter,” I quietly mumbled.

  Vance frowned at me while Tori looked away with the beginnings of a smile. I gave the dogs’ leashes a gentle tug and pointed them towards the second spot. Sherlock was already headed in that direction. After a few moments of hesitation, Watson followed suit.

  “We’ll be right back,” Vance promised. “We’re going to check it out. We can’t leave any stone unturned.”

  “We’ll be here,” Tori assured us.

  “Listen, pal,” Vance told me in a hushed tone, just as soon as we were out of earshot, “I am so sorry about that. Victoria can be a little scatter-brained at times.”

  “What, are you talking about Watson? Don’t sweat it. She gets away from me all the time. So does Sherlock, for that matter.”

  “I was referring to Victoria sending us off on a wild goose chase. Tiffany was the one who was holding onto Watson.”

  I shrugged, “No worries. Sherlock found the ball, didn’t he? It wasn’t a total loss.”

  “True. I can only hope that he… Zack, look. What’s Sherlock looking at now?”

  Sherlock had dropped his nose back to the ground and was cautiously sniffing the dirt, as though he had picked up a peculiar scent.

  “I’m not sure. Sherlock? Whatcha got there, buddy?”

  Sherlock woofed once, turned to look up at me, and then returned his gaze to the ground. Vance brushed by me to squat down low, next to Sherlock. He gently ran a hand along the ground.

  “Well, well. What have we here? Good job, buddy.”

  Sherlock’s nub of a tail threatened to wiggle right off his derriere.

  “What is it?” I asked, as I squatted down next to my friend.

  “We have ourselves what looks like a tire mark.”

  I studied the single tire impression that had been pressed into the soft earth. I turned my head to follow the tracks backward, intent on seeing their origination. The tire track terminated at a huge fern.

  “What only leaves one tire mark?” I quizzically asked. “A bicycle? How do you steal a dog with a bike?”

  “You don’t,” Vance said. “Look at this track, Zack. There’s only one. It’s narrow enough to be a bike tire, but the track is so very shallow.”

  “So?”

  “That suggests a couple of possibilities. First, the bike that made this mark was incredibly light, or two, the person riding it was small, like a kid. Plus, have you ever tried to ride a bike in a straight line for an extended period of time? It’s almost impossible. There’d be variances in the impression which would indicate two tires. Look around, pal. The ground is uneven. It’s nowhere close to being level. Besides, I think this mark did not come from a bike.”

  “Then what’s it from?” I asked. “A unicycle?”

  “I’m thinking we’re looking for a wheelbarrow.”

  I groaned. Of course. What else would you use if you had a 70-80 pound dog to move? I really ought to stick to making wine. And, truth be told, I wasn’t even good at that. Caden was.

  A wheelbarrow. That meant that someone had to be holding the handles, which meant that there should be footprints on the ground. I glanced over at Vance, but he was already squatting low and scanning the earth. Clearly, he arrived at that conclusion long before I did.

  “See anything?” I hopefully asked. “Any footprints?”

  “Well, this strip of dirt is too narrow,” Vance said, as he ran his hands lightly across the breadth of the dirt trail. “I can see some depressions in the grass on either side, which suggests that someone had walked through here fairly recently.”

  “But no discernible tracks,” I guessed.

  Vance nodded, “Unfortunately not, damn it.”

  “Well, let’s see where the tracks lead. Sherlock, lead the way.”

  Sherlock sniffed the ground, turned to look up at me, shook his collar, and then proceeded to head off down the path, away from the park. As Vance and I walked deeper into the forest, we couldn’t help but notice the popularity of the path we were on. It seemed as though we were passed by joggers every couple of minutes or so. The last person to pass by was pushing one of those three-wheeled jogging strollers. As soon as the woman had disappeared down the trail, Vance shook his head.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t bother. Those tires were way too skinny. We’re still looking for a wheelbarrow.”

  “Do you really think we’ll find it?” I asked.

  Vance shook his head, “No, but I am hoping this trail will shine some light on how some asshole managed to steal my dog and get away with it.”

  Two more joggers passed by us, talking animatedly between themselves as though they were sitting in a coffee shop. I shook my head with amazement. I can pretty much guaran-damn-tee you that if I were jogging, there would be no way in hell I could carry on a conversation. Not without sounding like a chain-smoking asthmatic.

  A nagging thought occurred.

  “Shouldn’t we have someone blocking the trail so the people will stop using it? How are we supposed to follow the wheelbarrow track if we can’t see it?”

  “We lost the track several hundred feet back,” Vance nonchalantly informed me. “Right now, we’re following Sherlock. I’m willing to give it a few more minutes, but I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. I don’t think we’re going to find anything else out here. I think we would have by now.”

  “You may be right. I get the impression Sherlock thinks I’m taking him on a walk. I haven’t seen him sniff the ground in a while.”

  We heard the sound of approaching footsteps from behind us. Vance immediately turned and held out a hand, indicating he wanted the person to stop. A woman in her early twenties appeared around the bend, saw the two of us, and came to a stop. She pulled a set of earbuds from her ears and looked expectantly at us.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “Do you know where this trail goes?” Vance asked her.

  The woman nodded, “Of course. This trail is one of the more popular hiking trails. My pedometer says it’s nearly three miles long.”

  “Where’s the other end of this thing?” I asked. In case I hadn’t properly demonstrated how much of a lardass I was, I yawned.


  The girl briefly smiled, “This is the trail that will eventually end up just north of the Community Center.”

  “I’m not walking that far,” I groaned.

  “Are there any roads anywhere along the way?” Vance hopefully asked.

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

  The girl replaced her earbuds and resumed her jog.

  “I’m not really up for a three mile walk,” I told my friend. “If you’d like to give it a try, I can give you Sherlock’s leash.”

  Vance shook his head, “No, there’s no point. Look over there. Do you see that? Through the trees? That’s G Street up there. We’re close to a road. It would be fairly easy to park a car out of sight, use the wheelbarrow to move the dog, and then escape without anyone seeing them. Damn. This doesn’t bode well.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Back to the park. I want to see if any of those people saw anything.”

  We had just stepped foot outside the trees and back into the park when both dogs started growling again. The crowds were still there, but the amount of people was considerably less. What were they growling at? Had they noticed something? Should I mention it to Vance?

  Deciding I should tell him, regardless of how foolish it sounded, I tapped my detective friend on the shoulder.

  “What?”

  “There’s something you ought to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This is the second time we’ve returned to the park and Sherlock has started growling.”

  Surprised, Vance turned to regard the people milling about.

  “Is that so? Do you think he suspects something?”

  “How should I know? I don’t speak ‘dog’.”

  Vance pulled out his notebook and eyed the citizens of PV that were still loitering in the area.

  “I’m gonna go talk to them. Someone might have witnessed something, regardless of whether or not it’s pertinent.”

  “What should we do?” I asked as I looked down at the dogs.

  “Go home. I need to stay here and keep searching. I have to be able to tell the girls that I did all that I could to try and find Anubis.”

  “Then I’ll stay with you.”