My cell started ringing. Again. This time, it was Vance.
“Hold that thought, Caden. Hey, Vance. You’re not going to believe what I did today. I… what? Really? Are you serious? That’s awesome! Where is he now? Yes. Absolutely. I’m on my way.”
“What’s going on?” Caden asked.
“That was Vance. You remember those dognappings? Well, one of the dogs was just found.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s gotta be good news, right? Which one was recovered?”
“The chocolate lab.”
Caden groaned, “Oh, man. I was really hoping to be able to join the search for that dog. Did you know, the owner was going to give away a couple of collectible John Wayne rifles to anyone who returned his dog to him? Damn. I’m a huge John Wayne fan.”
“Sorry, pal. Anyway, I have to go. We’re going to talk to the owner.”
Caden grinned and headed towards his car, “No worries, Zack. I’ll head back to my place. I’ll start drawing up some plans. Dude, we’re gonna have a lot of fun with this!”
SEVEN
Half an hour later, I was sitting inside PV’s one and only police station, in interrogation room #1. Actually, I should clarify. I wasn’t in the main part of the interrogation room – since I wasn’t the one being interrogated – but the quiet, darkened room on the other side of the two-way mirror. There were two people presently occupying the main room: Vance and an older man I didn’t know. Also in the room was one very energetic chocolate lab, who apparently didn’t like to be ignored since she would let out a loud piercing bark every ten seconds or so. The owner, naturally, would scold the dog and order her to be quiet. That, unfortunately, would only last a few moments before the Labrador would resume its barking.
Sensing a disturbance coming from behind me, I turned to see the door to my room quietly opening. Captain Nelson appeared. He nodded once at me and sat down in a nearby chair.
“Did I miss anything?” the captain quietly inquired.
I shook my head no, “You’ve got great timing. Vance has been in there for about fifteen minutes, waiting for the owner and his dog to show up. They just did, maybe three or four minutes ago.”
“Good.”
Three loud, ear-drum shattering barks pierced the air. I saw Vance cringe. The dog’s owner immediately scolded the dog and again apologized for his pet’s raucous behavior.
“I’m sorry about her. She likes to play. She thinks the only reason I’ve been put on this Earth is to play ball with her.”
Vance smiled, “It’s okay. I have a German Shepherd myself. She has her own distinctive ways to get my attention, believe you me. So, who do we have here?”
“This is Chip,” the elderly man responded as he gazed proudly at his dog.
Vance looked down at the dog and stretched out a hand in an open invitation. The Labrador practically leapt off the ground and couldn’t hurry over to him fast enough. Chip’s thick tail thumped loudly on the table legs as the dog sniffed Vance’s hand.
“You’re a pretty boy,” Vance proclaimed as he gave the friendly dog a scratch on its head.
“Chip is actually a girl,” the owner corrected.
Vance’s hand paused in its scratching, “A girl? Umm, okay. Sorry. I thought Chip was a boy’s name.”
“It’s short for KoChip.”
“Ah. That’s a nice name. Now, Mr., uh…”
“McGee.”
“Mr. McGee. Please start from the beginning. How did you get your dog back earlier today?”
A look of surprise swept over my face as I turned to the captain, “He found his own dog? Really?”
Captain Nelson nodded, “Yes. As for the ‘how’ of the matter, let’s hear what he has to say, shall we?”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“I’ve searched that park every day for hours,” Mr. McGee was saying. “I took my two other girls with me, hoping they’d be able to pick up Chip’s trail. However, not once did they ever act like they could smell her.”
Vance began taking notes in his all too familiar tiny notebook, “Go on, Mr. McGee.”
“I’ll have you know that both of my girls were on leashes this time. I wasn’t about to take any chances with them. They’re all I’ve got left.”
“I understand, Mr. McGee. Please continue.”
“The three of us were headed to the same trail that we must have searched half a dozen times. Just before we stepped into the woods, I heard barking. My girls did, too, ‘cause I could see ‘em cocking their heads left and right, like they couldn’t figure out what they were hearing. I called again, only this time, who do I see jumping out of the bushes, as though she’s been hiding behind a tree this entire time, but Chip herself!”
“That must have been a relief,” Vance said, although I thought he sounded a bit disappointed.
“What are you frowning for?” Captain Nelson quietly asked from right beside me. At some point he must’ve moved, only I hadn’t noticed.
“It sounds like Vance is disappointed, like he was hoping Mr. McGee had gone into the woods and found his dog coming from a specific location.”
“Astute observation. That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
“So, I’m not sure how else we may be of help,” Mr. McGee continued. “I was going to search for my dog, but instead, she found me first. End of story.”
I frowned again.
“How long had Chip been reported missing?” I quietly asked.
Captain Nelson reached for the antique-looking microphone on the desk facing the window. He punched the big black rectangular button on its base and cleared his throat.
“How long has the dog been officially missing?”
Vance glanced up briefly at the mirror before he repeated the question.
“Nearly a week,” Chip’s owner answered. “And it had to be the most miserable week of my life. Except being married to my second wife, of course. What a piece of work she turned out to be. What kind of a person would hide my mother’s antique silverware from me in the hopes that she’d be able to sell it once I had given up trying to find it? And then there was the –”
“Let’s table that for another time, Mr. McGee,” Vance smoothly interrupted. “Back to Chip. Do you have any idea why your dog was returned to you?”
“Returned, hell. She escaped, plain and simple.”
Vance’s eyes widened with surprised, “Escaped, you say. What makes you say that?”
“Because I think that dog was an escape artist in another life. I’ve seen her get out of kennels, pens, collars, and even harnesses. I figured she worked her magic on whatever cage was holding her and as a result, she escaped. And you know what? I’m not going to complain.”
Vance stroked his chin thoughtfully as he turned to look at the window, “Interesting.”
“What is?” I asked as I turned to the captain.
“Nothing,” Captain Nelson assured me. “Whenever Detective Samuelson looks at the mirror like that it means he wants to know if I have anything to add.”
“Do you?”
The captain shrugged, “Not really, no. The owner found his dog at the park. I don’t think we can learn anything more from that. I suppose we might be able to put a bloodhound on the trail to see if we can determine where the dog came from.”
“It’s gotta be close,” I murmured, more to myself than to anyone.
“What was that?” the captain inquired.
“Oh, I was just talking to myself. I was saying that, wherever Chip escaped from, it must be close. Plus, look at his condition. A dog lover was clearly caring for him while he was gone.”
“How can you tell?”
Captain Nelson was now staring straight at me and I could see that I had his full, undivided attention. I scooted my chair a little closer to the window, prompting the captain to do the same. I pointed at Chip, who was resting by her owner’s feet.
“The answers are there, with Chip. Look at him. I mean, her.”
“What about her?” the capt
ain wanted to know.
“Look at her condition. We can rule out running wild in the woods for close to a week. If she had, then her coat would be scraggly; disheveled. Look at the food and water bowls Vance placed in the room. Chip has barely had anything to drink. Mr. McGee stated that he came straight here after he had her checked out at Harry’s office. What does that tell you?”
In case you had forgotten, Harrison Watt was the name of my best friend and, consequently, PV’s only veterinarian.
The captain grunted with surprise, “It tells me that someone has been taking care of that dog.”
“Look at the way she’s laying at her owner’s feet,” I continued. “I’ve seen traumatized dogs before. They shake, they cower, and they’ll never go to sleep in a strange environment. If I didn’t know better, then I’d say that Chip is only moments away from falling asleep. That tells me that she feels safe enough in her current surroundings to allow herself to become vulnerable. That’s a dog who I think enjoyed her time away from home.”
“Become vulnerable?” Captain Nelson repeated. He frowned as he looked through the glass at the snoozing dog. “Why do you say that?”
“Because, believe it or not, I just did some research on this very subject. Granted, Chip is not laying on her back with her legs sticking straight up, but I will point out she’s not in a fetal position, either. Dogs who are scared, and unwilling to expose any vulnerable parts of their anatomy – which are most outdoor dogs, for that matter – will always sleep in the fetal position.”
The captain rose abruptly to his feet and headed toward the door. He motioned for me to follow. Curious, I did as I was instructed. After all, I was still a paid consultant for the PVPD.
“Sir?” Vance asked, as the door into the interrogation room opened, admitting the captain and myself.
“Our consultant here has brought up some good points,” Captain Nelson began. “I’d like Mr. McGee to hear them.”
Vance shrugged and turned back to Mr. McGee.
“That’s Captain Nelson on your left, and Zachary Anderson, one of our consultants, on the right. He apparently has a few questions for you.”
“Not questions,” I contradicted, “but some observations. Mr. McGee, could you confirm that you haven’t given your dog any food or water since you’ve found him in the park earlier today?”
The elderly owner nodded, “That’s right.”
“Has Harry? Er, I mean, Dr. Watt?”
“No.”
“Do you find that suspicious?” I asked.
Mr. McGee shrugged, “Kinda. Usually Chip eats like a horse, and I haven’t seen her touch a morsel out of that food bowl yet. And trust me, she ain’t picky.”
“Suggesting…?” Vance prompted as he gave me a questioning look.
“That someone was feeding the dog,” I patiently explained. “Someone was making sure that he, er, she was getting plenty of water. Look at her coat. If I didn’t know any better, then I’d say someone actually brushed it for her.” I knelt down next to the dog and ran my fingers through her fur. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. Feel this. The coat isn’t coarse, but nice and soft. You achieve that by brushing. Do you brush your dogs, Mr. McGee?”
Mr. McGee was running a hand through his dog’s fur. Surprised, he looked up at me and then over at Vance.
“I’ll be damned. He’s right. Chip’s fur is not usually this soft. Someone brushed her?”
Vance looked at me with a puzzled look, “Wouldn’t that suggest that someone swiped the dog in the hopes that they were planning on keeping it for themselves? Maybe try to win the dog over? This may not have been a dognapping after all.”
“Or, it could mean the dognapper, or the dognapper’s apprentice, was an animal lover,” I hypothesized. “Someone clearly wanted to make sure the dog was being well cared for.”
Captain Nelson rose from his chair, walked around the table, and squatted down next to Chip. He held out an outstretched hand and waited for the Labrador to come to him. The captain stroked the silky brown fur.
“You’re right. This dog had to have been held near the park. Well, I think it’s clear what you two need to do.”
I sighed, “Check that damn park again?”
Captain Nelson nodded, “Yes. Be sure to take your two, er, assistants, with you.”
Once the captain left, Vance looked over at Mr. McGee, who had been watching us. Then we noticed Chip staring at us as though we each had a raw steak in our pocket. Vance grinned as he looked down at Chip.
“What do you say, girl? Want to go to the park again? Do you think you could get your daddy to help us out by telling us where he found you?”
“He said it was over here.”
“No, he didn’t,” Vance argued. “Jeez, Zack. Every time I think your lousy sense of direction couldn’t get any worse, you prove me wrong. Do you know what I’m gonna do? I’m going to get you one of those handheld GPS gizmos for Christmas this year. If you remember correctly, Mr. McGee said he found his dog southeast of the picnic area, furthest from the last barbecue pit you can see.”
“Right,” I argued. “That means he was talking about this pit.”
Vance pulled his phone out, tapped the screen a few times, and then showed me what was on the display.
“See? This is north, and that is south. That means southeast is thataway.”
“What app is that?” I wanted to know. The phone had a great big picture of what looked like the face of a compass, and the needle was pointing just behind my left shoulder.
“Do you know how they say there’s an app for everything? This is literally a compass app. It’s nothing fancy. Look it up. I think it’d come in handy for you. Provided you could figure it out, of course.”
“Bite me, amigo,” I grumbled.
“Besides,” Vance continued, “look at the dogs. Sherlock wants to go southeast, too. I couldn’t have asked for a clearer reason than that to head in that direction. We’re going the right way, Zack.”
“Who are you going to believe? Me, or the dog?”
“Do I have to answer that?”
I sighed and contemplated flipping Vance the bird. However, seeing how I was now on the payroll of the PVPD, I probably shouldn’t piss off one of their detectives. Besides, Vance wasn’t wrong. My sense of direction sucked rocks. I just hoped I wouldn’t forget to install that compass app on my phone later today. I absolutely hated getting lost.
“Where is Mr. McGee now?” I asked as I turned to look back towards the main part of the park. “Didn’t he say he was going to help us search?”
“He went home to get his other two dogs. He’ll be here in just a few minutes.”
Standing on the outskirts of the city park, near the border of the woods, I couldn’t help but notice we were starting to draw a crowd. People walked by, saw both Sherlock and Watson waiting patiently to be allowed inside the woods, and began chatting animatedly amongst themselves. Fingers were pointed, cell phones appeared, and pictures were snapped (and presumably shared).
By the time Mr. McGee and his three labs arrived, there was a group of about twenty people milling about in the park, just waiting to see what we were going to do.
“What the hell is going on?” Vance quietly complained. “This is starting to look like a circus.”
“Why don’t we use them?” I countered. “They’re here because they’ve no doubt heard about the dognappings, right?”
“So?”
“And, more than likely, they’re fans of Sherlock and Watson. What do you say we make their day? Let’s see if they’d be willing to help us search.”
I heard the flapping of wings and, before I knew what was happening, a small animal had perched itself on my shoulder. A soft, feathered head nuzzled the side of my face, cooing softly in my ear. I stifled a groan, which caused Vance to look my way.
“I remember your avian admirer,” Vance chuckled. “Wouldn’t that suggest your favorite fan is here?”
“Well, if it is
n’t two of my most handsome admirers!” a loud female voice said from somewhere nearby. “Hello there, big boys! How are you on this fine day?”
I groaned as I turned to look at my shoulder. A small African gray parrot was returning my gaze. As if sensing how much discomfort his owner would inevitably give me, the bird chortled, bobbed its head a few times, and then whistled.
“Give us a kiss, Precious. Give us a kiss!”
“Hello there, Ruby. How are you today?”
“Hot and bothered, Precious. Hot and bothered.”
My eyebrows shot open and a look of incredulous surprise appeared on my face. I glanced over at Vance to see him with a similar look on his face. Together, we turned to look at the bird’s owner, one Ms. Clara Hanson, owner of A Lazy Afternoon bookstore, hurrying over to us.
Clara was in her sixties, enjoyed dressing as though she were in her twenties, and acted like she was in her teens. She also had no qualms about telling everyone who would listen that she was single, and indeed, ready to mingle. Her fourth husband, from what Harry had told me months ago, had dropped dead of an apparent heart attack. I quickly told my friend that the less I heard about the cause of death, the better.
Today, Clara was dressed in dark blue jogging suit that, unfortunately, was unzipped all the way down to her navel, displaying quite of bit of her sports-bra encased chest. I looked up, got way more of an eyeful than I needed, and promptly dropped my eyes to the ground. However, I also noticed that Clara’s face was red. We’re talking beet red.
“Did you teach your bird to say that?” Vance asked.
If possible, Clara blushed even further, “No. Heavens no. I have no idea where Ruby picked that one up. We’re just out here enjoying the weather.” Clara turned beseechingly to me and leered at me much the same way a predator would when it located prey. “So, my darling Zachary, I can’t help but notice you brought your two adorable dogs with you. Your detective friend is here. Does that mean you’re working a case?”
“Umm…”
“Ms. Hanson,” Vance interjected, as he stepped up beside me, “you know full well we’re working on a case. I can still hear the police scanner you left on in your car back there.”
Case of the Pilfered Pooches Page 11
