Case of the Hot Dog

by Erik Schubach

  The car had been abandoned a half block away from Lil' Bernie's. A high-end fence who pretends to be a legitimate jeweler. Bernard Burns, the huge, bald bear of a man moved stolen merchandise through the city like water on a tide.

  I'm not sure if his nickname was meant to be ironic or if it was for reasons I didn't want to think about. But I think tomorrow morning would be a good time for me to pay Lil' Bernie a visit. He has no qualms taking in hot merchandise from any source, and makes sure to have receipts... but of course they are all cash transactions so he can pretend not to know he was given fake information by the sellers. So try as we might, we still haven't been able to make any charges stick.

  But surprisingly, the worm has a conscience and has been cooperative in the past when merchandise came from violent crimes such as murders or kidnappings. It is amazing how his memory is suddenly sharp when given a deal to remain an anonymous source and that no charges are brought against him. Remaining anonymous keeps him righteous in the eyes of his shady clientele – if they only knew. And if Oscar's collar is being moved through him, I might be able to get somewhere, and if not through him, he might know where I should look.

  This case sort of reminded me of my first case as a detective. Dan Graves was my partner back then before they promoted his ass to sergeant. He took the snot-nosed headstrong woman I had been and made a decent detective out of me. I haven't been able to keep a partner for long after I finished my probation with him. Most find me reckless and headstrong, but I close ninety-five percent of my cases. Flannery is the only one who can put up with my sorry ass, so we get paired up more frequently than not.

  Dan had shown me the tedious side of our job when a body was found in an apartment after an officer was called in to do a wellness check on an elderly woman. She had been stabbed, but there wasn't enough blood at the scene, where she lay in her bed. So the body had been moved.

  All the flat surfaces had all been meticulously wiped clean, so there were no prints. With no physical evidence, we had no place to start. And I was endlessly frustrated that the DNA testing would take weeks in the lab, it sure wasn't like on TV where they could do it in just a few minutes.

  But we caught a break in the case, after long agonizing days going through her finances and receipts, and speaking with dozens of people who had interacted with her in the weeks leading up to her death. It was something simple, which showed me that it is always in the details. We caught the scum bag, the woman's nephew.

  It had all been about money. If it isn't a crime of passion, it always comes down to three things, money, power, or revenge. It all came down to time stamps on some ATM withdrawals. The bad guys always make a mistake, and it is always in the details.

  I remember the sad satisfaction of solving my first case. And I saw Dan watching my realization that there was no celebration in me. Mrs. Klein was still dead when all was said and done, but I did take solace in the fact that we gave her family closure. I think that's when it hit me, just exactly why I did the job, and it is my drive now. I give a voice to those who can no longer speak for themselves.

  And I make sure the bad guys can't do it again.

  So there I was, not minding as I went through the steps which others find so tedious, knowing the answers were here, somewhere. I would find the killer's mistake.

  I absently listened to the May family talk about the current events in their lives like they did at their

  weekly dinners. Hearing them share their lives with each other made me wonder what my dad was up to. We never spoke anymore, not after I came out, so it was really nice being in an atmosphere of family who wasn't hung up on a person's sexuality.

  I glanced up from my work to Jess, who was hanging on their every word. I could tell she was amazed they were sharing their personal lives with a complete stranger sitting right there, and they tried including her in the conversations. They all knew what I needed to keep my mind off Fin, so they left me in my world of procedure and investigation, knowing I was content just to soak up their supporting atmosphere.

  Jess noted my attention and gave me a sad smile.

  I really missed her sometimes, and seeing her being there to lend her own support to a friend's family whom she just met, belied her bad girl facade. It sort of reminded me how she became an awkward daughter around her parents.

  That made me think of how Fin was around her family, and how accepting they were that she may be interested in a same-sex relationship with someone.

  I tried not to chuckle when Winnie caught me looking over, I swear that woman has me married off to her daughter already. And I could think of worse fates, even if it is a pipe dream. Who would have thought I'd find myself falling for such a girly girl whom I couldn't have?

  If only my dad had been as accepting.

  I gave Winnie a grin then did a double-take on the television screen behind her. I called out quickly from the kitchen table to the people gathered in the living room as I stood and started toward them,

  “Turn that up.”

  There on the local news, was a reporter in the middle of Manhattan, where dozens of long-haired dachshunds were bounding through the streets, bringing traffic to a standstill. The headline blazing on the screen was, “Canine Stampede.”

  Garrett turned it up as we all watched the bizarrely cute sight. The smiling female reporter was saying in a mock serious tone, “...here in East Harlem. Animal control and the police are trying to contain the situation. It's complete pupageddon here.”

  She crouched and lifted one of the young puppies. Both Calvin and Oscar were watching with all the yapping in the background of the report as the local anchors in the studio joked with the reporter in the field. “I've never seen so many wieners wagging freely in the streets before.” or “Someone will have a bone to chew with the owners.” Even the eye rolling but inevitable, “Hot dogs on every corner.”

  The cameraman lowered the camera to the street, and it looked like a cute and fuzzy stampede of

  excited dogs came to maul the camera. I found myself grinning at the whole situation, and everyone turned to me as I suddenly sobered and more stated than asked, “Fin?”

  It had to be Finnegan, who else could cause so much mayhem with four-footed fuzz buckets? It was too much of a coincidence they were all long-haired dachshunds like Oscar here.

  The blood drained from my face and a knot formed in my gut as I glanced back at my files. I moved quickly back and started shuffling through them. Wasn't the dog breeder that Miss Mueller got Oscar from in East Harlem?

  I realized all eyes were on me, and I glanced at everyone and held up a finger to forestall any questions. I pulled out a receipt for twenty-five hundred dollars – holy crap! It was a dog, not a used car, how could someone justify spending that much on a dog? One AKC registered long-haired dachshund, sold to Nadine Mueller from Sausage Breeders.

  The vet had said Nadine was going to confront them about Oscar not being a purebred. Was this case connected with Finnegan's disappearance?

  But how would she even know that... the papers crinkled in my fist as my eyes shot to the junk drawer. I stood in a rush, my eyes intent on the drawer as I put it all together. I moved quickly over and opened it then stared at the slot labeled 'chip scanner' as I muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

  Oh, Fin.

  She was a trouble magnet. We shouldn't even let her out of the apartment without being wrapped in bubble wrap with three GPS devices.

  I was on the phone the next moment, dialing the station, again I held up a finger to the family who was now looking at me almost accusingly. Jess was used to it and was just sitting back, watching the bratwurst mayhem on the news with one of her sculpted eyebrows arched in amusement.

  When the switchboard answered, I blurted, “Tammera, this is McLeary. I need all we got on Sausage Breeders in East Harlem. No... no, I shit you not, that's the name. Ok... I'll hold.”

  I snatched up the receipt and glanced at the address on 116th as I moved to the refrigerator
and retrieved my weapon from the cupboard above it.

  Everyone was standing, and I held a halting hand out to them, saying in an official tone, “No, everyone stays here. I think I know where Fin is.”

  Garrett started to argue, “We're coming with...”

  I said with a firm tone as Rebecca placed a hand on his arm to calm him, “No, this is police business now. Somehow, Finnegan has herself mixed up in this murder.” I winced as I said the last word. Great going Jane, you're an unfeeling, unthinking ass at times.

  I saw the wince on Winfred's face when I said the M word. Jessie diffused my bluntness by saying

  with a fond smile, “Of course she did.” There was that pang of jealousy I hated in myself, Jess had every right to be fond of Fin. It isn't like I've made a move yet. I'm a coward at times.

  I forced a smile and shot Winnie and apologetic look as Jess placed a hand on the elder May's wringing hands. “I'll call from the car.”

  Calvin limped over to me, not favoring his foot as much as before. I hesitated with my hand halfway to the doorknob. Then I sighed and chastised myself as I started harnessing him up. “Ok, boy.

  I know you're worried about her too.” I paused then put on his working bib too. I was letting a wagging tail dictate my actions, I was as bad as my mini-mite of a roommate.

  I looked up to find everyone standing around me. I sighed and said against my better judgment,

  “I'll bring her home.” Policing 101, never make promises. But I wanted to believe that everything was going to be ok, Fin may be many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. And if anyone could annoy their way out of a situation, it was her.

  God, I missed her.

  I glurked as Winnie pulled me into a quick hug, saying, “Be safe, Jane dear.” I nodded and she added in a half demand, half plea, “Bring our girl home.”

  I warmed and just nodded again. Jess opened the door for Calvin and me, saying, “Watch your six out there, Five-O.” I said almost sadly, knowing this is exactly why I had lost her, “Will do, Red,” and Cal and I were off.

  The night was cooling, but it was still in the upper eighties as we headed for the car.

  Six minutes later we were pulling out of the parking garage a block up from the apartment. My cell rang, and it was Tammera from dispatch. She shared that we didn't have much on the breeder, other than they were shut down twice in the past ten years for puppy mill ordinances. But they always cleaned up their act and got re-certified each time.

  The owner, Michael Papadopulos was squeaky clean. He was even in the neighborhood

  improvement commission for East Harlem. Hardly the type you'd expect to be involved in a murder.

  He had two employees with less than stellar records, mostly petty theft, larceny, and minor assault.

  I could picture a scenario or two where Miss Mueller went in to complain about Oscar's pedigree and the employees seeing that gaudy collar. One robbery gone wrong and...

  Hmm... I wonder how many people with dogs from Sausage Breeders have been robbed since they got their dogs. Once I found Fin, that was an avenue of investigation to pursue.

  I was just a couple blocks from the breeder on 116th when my cell started ringing. I glanced at the screen and almost didn't answer when I saw Rafiel's Canine Walkers on the screen. But then snatched it up and answered with my usual, “McLeary, speak to me.”

  Raife sounded breathless as he blurted out, “Finnegan's been spotted heading down Park Avenue toward 65th. In a white van, license BRN1365.” He was panting as he said, “Forwarding Broken Leash texts to you as they come in now.”

  Was he running?

  I said, “Raife? Are you following them? Back off, let the police take over.”

  He didn't answer. Instead he gasped out, “They just turned on 65th, heading toward the park.”

  I snapped, “Raife!”

  He panted out, “Gotta go, check your texts.” And he hung up.

  I stared at the cell. The damn fool was going to get himself hurt or worse. These were killers we were dealing with here. It was my fault getting him involved like this.

  I snagged my radio mic as I hit the lights and siren and the tires screeched as I swung the car into a skidding U-turn and headed back south, burning rubber. “This is Detective McLeary, badge number 23295, in pursuit of a kidnapping victim. Suspect vehicle, white van, license number BRN1365.

  Victim is Finnegan May, Caucasian female, mid-twenties, five foot one, brown hair, grey/green eyes.

  Wearing a white shirt, and jeans.”

  A few seconds later, an all cars sounded, and I glanced at Cal, “Hang on boy.” Then started watching the chatter from the Broken Leash network scrolling on my screen. It was like real-time updates and personal observations. If only the department were so well organized.

  I scowled, when I saw they were now heading north again up Madison, then turning back toward Park... it was like they were searching for something or; I grinned realizing this was Fin's stomping ground; or someone was leading them on a merry chase.

  I whispered with a smirk on my lips, “I get the hint, Finny, I'm coming.”

  Chapter 10 – Feeling Too Fluffy

  I don't know how long I was out, but it was really hard to think when I opened my eyes. Was I in the cage again?

  I squinted and then grinned, thinking the word squinted sounded kind of silly. What was the person to first come up with it thinking? “I floobed my eyes?” Nah, needs to be something slinkier than that.

  I know, “I squinted my eyes.” Yeah, that's the one, and it has a Q in it, so that's extra points.

  It was likely the same guy who came up with other words with Qs in them, like consequential.

  Webster's probably has a whole hall dedicated to him in their dictionary kingdom. Sir Quinton Quinn, or... huh, was the world supposed to be tilting?

  I giggled. God, what was wrong with me? My eyes kept barking every time I blinked. No wait, all the barking around me was making me blink. Oh yeah. I remember now, I'm up crap creek. I tried to focus my ire. Those men had caged me, then they drugged me! I cut back a snort of laughter. Why was it funny? I should be terrified out of my gourd.

  Wait, maybe if I thought really hard, I could float past the guys and... by the seven canine lords of Nebula B, I was stoned out of my gourd! A sliver of fear slipped through the warm buzzing in my head that was making my thoughts feel like they were slogging through slush. Drugs had always terrified me, I never wanted to be out of control of myself or my reactions to the people around me. But I couldn't seem to work up enough anger to care.

  And would someone please straighten the world? Why is it all crooked? My head lolled the other way, and the world tilted the opposite direction. Oh, it was me. I concentrated then after I realized I didn't know what I was supposed to concentrate on, I focused my unfocus on my neck and slowly lifted my head. I felt all-powerful because the world leveled out. How long had my neck had the power to tilt the world?

  I shook my head as I realized what I was thinking, did drugs make you stupid or something? God, I missed Jane. I flushed at the thought of her. Her brown eyes, her imposing height, that damn intoxicating scent of hers... all leather and lilac and... focus Fin! Parts of my body were certainly focused now that I had Jane on the brain. I snorted and went to cover my mouth, only to just about club my own head off when my arms smacked into my face with a thud.

  I know there would have been an, “Ow,” following that if I could have actually felt it. Oh no, I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't feel my ass... they took my ass! No, it's just the drugs. Focus you idiot!

  I held my arms in front of me, aw man, they taped me up again. I looked around and waited for my

  swimming vision to catch back up with me. Come on, I can swim faster than that. I wasn't in the cage again. Go me! I was in a chair, I was moving up in the world. All the poor doggies were in their jail cells, all barking at me.

  I could hear two men down the hall, arguing over the yipping, Suit was growl
ing, “You idiot, that was enough to sedate a moose, you didn't have to use the whole syringe. We just wanted to loosen her tongue a bit.”

  Brute was growling back, “How the hell and I supposed to know? She's a lot bigger than a damn Doxy.”

  Suit sounded tired as he yelled, “She's a slip of a woman, barely a hundred pounds, if that.”

  While they argued, I looked at the back wall and saw some dog doors cut in the backs of some of the cages and through the wall. I knew they led out to the outside kennels. I knew I couldn't will myself smaller to fit through one... or could I. No, that's the drugs talking Finnegan. You'd need at least to be able to float first. And I was feeling too fluffy.

  I felt a pang of fear. I hated not being able to think properly. I tried to force the drugs away, tried to grasp for clarity, but it seemed the harder I tried the more it would slip through my fingers.

  What would Jane do? Well, she'd reprimand me for getting myself into this mess. I giggled. It was true, but it didn't help.

  Then my eyes landed on the big metal door with the green exit sign above it. Exit? Who thought that word up, and with an X in it did he think he'd get his own wing too? His name was probably Xavier Xen or something. He didn't hold a candle to Quinton Quinn though.

  Ok brain, enough silliness. Let's get going. While Suit and Brute were arguing I could exit and find someone to make these drugs go away. Oh god, was I junkie now? Would there be withdrawal?

  The panic was washed away in the fuzziness.

  Ok, let's get going Fin. I stood and swayed. Then shook my head to try to clear it, and started running toward the door. Instead, I just fell forward, watching the concrete floor rush up at my face.

  With a hollow thunk, my forehead bounced off the floor.

  That one, I felt. I silently mouthed, “Ow!” then twisted on the floor to see my legs were taped together too. Just great, it would have been nice to know that little tidbit of information before all these doggies saw me face plant. I grinned at them all and whispered to save my pride, “I meant to do that.”