Unleashed: Case of the Collie Flour
By Erik Schubach
Copyright © 2017 by Erik Schubach
Self publishing
P.O. Box 523
Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026
Cover Photo © 2017 Dean Drobot / ShutterStock license | Lifeonwhite / Depositphotos license
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Manufactured in the United States of America
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-9993740-2-3
Chapter 1 – Walk In The Park
Damn, what a spectacular day! I looked up and closed my eyes to soak in the sun as the breeze gently ruffled my yellow sundress while I walked up Madison Avenue here in Manhattan. I really love this town. The day I set foot in New York City, I knew I had found my new home.
I took a deep breath to savor the perfume of the city. Steam, exhaust, people, and hotdogs, mixed with the scent of freshly mowed grass, trees, and flowers blowing in from Central Park a block away. I smiled and almost skipped along to my first client of the day as I wove through the mid-morning foot traffic. Exchanging smiles and inclined heads with the few who braved eye contact with the strangers all about them, lost in a sea of anonymity.
I stepped up to the brand new 855 Building and looked up at the condos, shaking my head in wonder. One day maybe, Fin, but even the one bedroom flats in the glass and steel structure sold for almost two million, and upward of fourteen million for a three bedroom. I didn't even want to think about what the penthouse would set someone back.
As much as I love this city, it is still crazy stupid just how much it costs to live here. Where square footage is measured in the thousands of dollars as opposed to the under sixty dollars in my hometown of Liberty, New York, just a two-hour drive northwest of the city.
Imagine my shock when moving from my six hundred and fifty dollar a month two bedroom apartment to find out I couldn't even get within spitting distance of a one bedroom in the Big Apple for under two grand! That first year in the city, three years ago, I wound up with three roommates in a two bedroom second story walk up just to afford to live where I was starting my own business.
My little quirks and idiosyncrasies chased off my roommates over the years. So what if I label my food cans, and cereal, and umm... my tissue box, my sock drawer, and... ok, I may have an unhealthy relationship with my label maker, but it is the longest relationship I have ever had, so there's that.
Luckily, my business took off, and I can afford rent on my own now, but that's the key words in that sentence... on my own. I'm a social animal and need to be around people, that's why I moved to the big city. So I've cycled through a couple more roommates since the girls left. The last one toughed it out a whole year before she said that my perky and chipper attitude and my borderline obsessive-compulsive behavior was just too much for her, and she was off.
I have another listing in the want ads of the Crier and For Let, but so far no real viable candidates, a couple ladies who seemed put off by the place, but were already talking about maybe being late with rent as they pursue modeling or acting careers. Then the prerequisite number of pervs who don't know how to read “only women need apply.”
If I hear, “I respect women, I have three sisters, and you wouldn't even know I'm there,” again, I'll scream.
The early thirty-something doorman at the 855, Jamal, in his smart pressed uniform saw me coming, and the cute and always impeccably groomed black man inclined his head with a genuine smile. I've always thought he looked like he belonged in a boardroom or a talk show, but he swears he'd rather do what he does because he meets so many fascinating characters.
I grinned widely at him and said in a flirty manner, “Hey Jamaaal,” stretching out his name a bit with a little hop in my step.
His smile grew into a big grin that showed off his stark white teeth. The tall man's goatee was, as always, so neatly trimmed with not a hair out of place as he said in an equally flirty tone, “Hi, Miss May. Looking lovely today as always, Fin.”
I beamed at his compliment and gave a quick twirl for him, my sundress whirling as the clips on the leather harnesses in my hands clinked. I glanced at my sundress that hit just above the knee, and my matching butter yellow flats. Had to wear flats in my business, never knew when you might have to run.
He held the door open for me and tipped his cap as I slid in. “Thank you, kind sir.” This was our daily routine. Maybe I can tell mom I'm flirting with him, and that will keep her off my case about my dating life, or lack thereof. I mean I go out on dates. Lots of them. A lot of first dates; I looked at the leather straps in my hands, each one labeled; but for some reason, I chase them all off.
I looked at the elevator bank then the security desk and waved at Ralph. The laid-back security guard just waved from where he reclined and was watching the monitors, or possibly a sports channel.
I checked my lipstick in the mirror finish of the doors then pressed the up button as I looked up like I could see my handsome client upstairs waiting for me. I just knew Calvin was already excited, ready, and willing. I swear that big boy could go all day if I let him.
Oh, what? The leather? Clients... oh, no. No! I'm not a call girl. I guess I should introduce myself since you are patiently listening to me babble on about my story. The name's Finnegan Temperance May, dog walker extraordinaire, at your service. No really, at your service, if you have a dog in need of walking, you can book me on my website at FinneganWalks.com. I'd strike a confident pose for you if the elevator door hadn't just opened and an elderly rich couple wasn't staring at me expectantly.
I slid to the side with a smile and said to them as they walked out, “Have a spectacular day.” The grinch muffins just gave me a dour look and moved along. Whatever.
“Gleep!” The elevator doors almost closed without me. I got my arm in just in time to stop the doors, and they reopened. Lightning fast, like a ninja, that's me. You've got your skeptical face on, it's my story, and that's how I remember it. Forget the fact that I almost tripped over an air molecule, or possibly nothing as I stumbled into the elevator when said doors opened. So... not ninja. Shut up.
I looked around, embarrassed then straightened the hem of my dress and hit the button for the fourteenth floor. I looked up at the camera in the corner and thought of Ralph, I made a silly face with bunny ears to give him a chuckle if he was actually watching the monitors and not the game.
Then the door slid open to the foyer shared by the two separate residences on this level. It must be nice to have over two thousand square feet all to yourself, with spectacular views of the city.
I turned to the right and pulled my work keys out of my purse. The huge purple scrunchy ring with a couple dozen keys and key cards. All labeled quite nicely, thank you very much.
I was so lucky to have Abigail Reeves hire me. Yes, THAT Abigail Reeves. Highly popular Broadway superstar dog owners like her are very picky about who they let walk their babies.
As silly as it may sound, the dog walking industry is pretty cutthroat, and very volatile as other walkers are always trying
to undercut you and scoop high profile clients out from under you. It has taken me these three long years to build my clientele and become one of the most sought-after walkers in the city.
I tapped on the door. I don't know why since the reason the owners of my clients hire me is that they are out all day. Miss Reeves is the only one of the few dog owners in my stable who needs me twice a day to let my client, her prize purebred Border Collie, Sir Calvin Fluffytoes, out to get some exercise and do his thing.
I guess I knock because it is the polite thing to do. You never know when someone might spill some grape juice on their white pleated skirt and had to rush home in the ensuing fashion emergency. What? It happens... to some people. Whatever, it happened to me.
As expected, I got no response so I held my keyring up to the electronic keypad and the little light turned from red to green. I slipped in as quietly as I could and moved past the front entry to catch Calvin on the huge white couch where he knows he's not supposed to sleep and wait for me. To my surprise, he wasn't there.
I cocked an eyebrow and looked around. My eyes hesitated on the mess in the huge kitchen, which had stainless steel everything and transparent glass cabinet doors. It looked as if a bag of flour had exploded on the floor and nobody bothered to clean it up. There was some raspberry filling or something coloring some of the flour red.
I moved into the spacious living room, and the normally open floor to ceiling blinds were pulled, blocking out the amazing view down east 72nd where you could see a sliver of Pilgrim Hill in Central Park. The doors to the two bedrooms were closed as always, Miss Reeves didn't like Calvin sleeping on the beds while she was out.
I called out as I glanced around, “Cal? Where are you boy?”
I turned back toward the hall when I heard him whimpering. I moved down the hall. “Calvin?” The whimpering was coming from the door shared by the private laundry room and the 'entertaining restroom.'
I had to grin, had the poor little guy accidentally knocked the door closed when he went in to sample today's vintage in the toilet bowl? Eww... and I let him kiss me all the time. Not today. I opened the door, and the black and white Border Collie just about mauled me in his excitement to get out.
I giggled. “It's ok boy. I'm here, I've rescued you. We better get a move on if we are going to get the other clients for a nice stroll in the park.”
I walked all my fuzzy boys at ten and the equally as fuzzy, but much more poised and refined, girls at one. But never ever together. Ever. From what I hear, it is never a good thing when Mrs. Green or Mr. Remington are faced with the oops of their prize poodle carrying bulldog mutts. Surprise!
I wouldn't know because that was just dog walker 101 and only a fool would mix genders just to book a full gaggle.
In the early days I had to book groups of ten just to make ends meet, now that I have hit elite status and am in demand, I walk in groups of three, with individual emergency call ins to fill my free time between ferrying the fuzzy ones to vet or grooming appointments.
I generally work only six to seven-hour days five days a week unless something comes up, and I feel almost bad taking money to hang out with these fuzzy bundles of joy. Almost. A girl needs pretty shoes and dresses after all. My best friend growing up, Kerry, would disagree profusely, but hey I'm a girly girl and won't apologize.
Cal was almost frantic and paced between me and Miss Reeves' bedroom as he whined. I chuckled. “It's ok buddy. I'm here. Let's get you out of here before you have an accident. I don't want to brave that kitchen for paper towels if you have a little accident on the carpet here.”
I jangled the leashes and harnesses, and he came scampering over to me and sat like a good boy. I hooked him up in his harness. I will not clip leashes to my client's collars, I don't believe in choking them when they get a little excited out on a walk, and harnesses are much more humane and give me more control.
He immediately made a beeline for the front door, half dragging me. I giggled. “Ok, ok. Duke and Hercules are waiting, then we can hit the park.”
I paused a moment to look at the mess in the kitchen. I had to fight the impulse to go clean it up. I reminded myself that I wasn't as OCD as my roommates had insisted. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, peeking back through one squinted eye and said aloud, “This is me, moving along.”
We reached the front door, and it wasn't until we moved down the hall and entered the elevator that I was able to push the impulse down. See? Not OCD... ish.
I waved at Ralph where he sat lazily behind the desk with his feet up on the counter, as I headed to the lobby doors. He raised a chin to me with a grin before returning to his monitors... I swear I could hear the cheering of a crowd.
Then as I approached the doors with Calvin, that prime specimen of man opened the door for us with a little flourish of his hand, I flirted, “Thanks, Jamaaal.” I bit my lower lip, a nervous habit I've had all my dating life.
He said with confidence that made me blush, “The pleasure was all mine, Miss May.”
I will not titter, I will not titter. Ha! I didn't titter... power of the mind over body. Though I did put a little extra swivel in my hips to swish my skirt for him as we headed uptown a couple blocks.
Two stops later, and I had my full posse, Duke, the hyper Jack Russel Terrier, and Hercules, the poofy little Pomeranian with the manic looking wide eyes and super cute curl to his tail. Damn our group looked gooood.
The guys got so excited the moment our feet hit the grass in Central Park on Pilgrim Hill right off Terrace Drive. “Slow down boys. Let's take some time to enjoy this spectacular day before...” I sighed and dug the roll of plastic bags out of my purse to take care of the present Hercules was leaving on the lawn. “Or not. By all means, do your thing now.”
After the silly Pom was done and scratched the grass like a macho guy to make sure we knew he was a big boy, we were able to start a nice stroll and take in the sights in the nice lazy pre-lunch loll of foot traffic in the park. I turned us north and asked, “What do you guys think, the Ramble today?” Their excited whines were all the agreement I needed.
Chapter 2 – Murder
On the way back, after a leisurely stroll, we paused at the corner by Pop's Newsstand, at the plethora of boxes on the corner with all the free weeklies. “Hang on guys, wanna check out my ads.”
I fished out a For Let from its lime green box it shared with For Hire and a Crier from its signature yellow box. Then I looked around, the people passing by were lost in their own worlds, rushing to their destinations, and I quickly opened the red box and slipped a Hotline between the other two circulars in my hands. Then started whistling innocently as we started back toward Hercules' place.
What? So what if my dating life consisted of answering the personals in the Hotline and my profile on the Big Apple Connection dating website. I'm a busy professional, and I am not blushing. God, it felt like everyone around knew I was hiding a dating weekly in my hands. I don't know why I was so embarrassed.
After dropping off the other guys, it was just down to Calvin and me. I checked my cell as we turned onto Madison and weaved through the current of pedestrians flowing through the city.
Ooo, a new client inquiry contact form from my website, Tilly, a Golden Retriever. I'd have to check the location when I got home to see if the timing would work to keep my schedule. I was already full up, but sometimes it was fun to take a fourth along.
A text shared that Mrs. Taylor needed me to take Princess in to be groomed next Wednesday at three. I grinned at the fact that all my client's humans knew my walking schedule and knew to schedule any vet or grooming... or therapy appointments in the afternoon. I had them trained well.
I often wondered about canine therapy. Did they like, lay on a doggie couch and the doc asks them about their childhood, and how it makes them feel while they scribble notes on a pad? I'm not allowed in on the sessions for the privacy of the dogs, so that's how I envision them.
Oh, and a nibble on the R
oomIt app for my spare room. Jane, single female, twenty-seven, nonsmoker. I hit the thumbs up and dragged it to 6:00pm for a meet and greet. Then sighed at the three texts from people answering the ads in the circulars, nope, nope, hmmm maybe, I've never lived with a fifty-year-old. That's a little more adult-y than I usually take as roomies, maybe that will give better longevity. I quickly texted an invitation for a meeting at the apartment at 6:30pm.
My stomach gurgled and I looked down at it and chastised, “Just hang on, we have to drop Cal back at home then we can eat lunch in the park before picking up the girls. So impatient.” I patted my large shoulder bag absently and felt the Tupperware container with my lunch in it.
I slipped my cell back into my purse and then hesitated when I looked up. There were multiple marked and unmarked police cars, and an ambulance in front of the 855.
I automatically looked up, scanning the terraces for jumpers. Is it sad that that is the first thing we do here in the city? I glanced around to see others doing the same, but I smiled at the fact there wasn't anyone I could see wanting to end all it just then.
Calvin and I paused at the doors, and I blinked. Jamal wasn't there holding the door open for us with that dazzling smile of his on his face. I opened the door and poked my head inside. There was a bustle of activity over at the security desk, Ralph seemed to have his hands full with some of NYPD's finest. I hoped everyone was ok.
We got to the elevator and hit the button. I kept glancing over toward a flustered looking Ralph as we waited for the elevator car. The doors dinged and slid open. Two paramedics and a police officer stepped out, the cop giving me the heebie-jeebies the way he looked at me through eyes squinted in suspicion.
Cal and I grinned at each other when we started up to the fourteenth floor as I wondered what was going on. I'm sure it would be all over the news tonight.
Unleashed_Case of the Collie Flour Page 1
