by Hammond, T.
We must have arrived at the area where the dad had picked up his daughter, because Red had his nose to the ground and was leading us toward the library parking lot where we had entered the park. “There is a strong male scent going toward the cars,” Red referred to the parking lot. “I'm pretty sure it’s the man we want to follow.”
I weighed telling the mom we suspected the father took her, but she was still somewhat frenzied. I decided I would wait for the police before I shared that information. A policeman would be hard enough to convince; the last thing I needed was to try to explain to a panic-stricken mother my talking dog told me her husband (ex-husband?) took her daughter.
“I'm Detective Stephens,” a voice called out from behind me. “Has your dog really caught a scent, or is he still searching?”
Boy! How do I answer this question? To Red, I asked quietly, “Is the policeman alone? Can anyone overhear us?”
“Alone. No one else close,” he replied, largely distracted by this new puzzle. “I have a smell I think is the dad's. There is a faint scent of the little girl in the area, but he hadn't put her down at this point.” Red continued forward in his search.
I took a deep breath and a leap of faith, reaching into my back pocket I pulled out one of the business cards Ken created for me on his computer. It has my name, my house and cell numbers, and an email address Ken monitors for me.
“Detective, I'm Teresa March; my dog's name is Red.” I held out the card, confident the detective would reflexively take it, and he did. “You don't know me, so this will sound really odd. But could you ask Maya's mom if it’s possible Maya's dad picked her up?”
“Do you know the family?” he asked, warily. He probably caught onto the fact I was holding back something, but he wasn't ready to take me away in leg irons. Patience—I like that in a man.
“No,” I sighed, “and yeah, I realize I'm blind so what input could I give you, right? If you could ask her, I promise, I will explain myself. I think Maya's dad took her from the park and carried her to this parking lot.”
Red barked to catch my attention. “He put her down right here. But, there is no trail, so he probably put her down to open a door and then placed her in the car.” Pretty cool! My dog has deductive reasoning skills. Smart dog!
“Red has her scent at this spot, but it doesn't go further.” I didn't add Red's theory. Parking lot... parking space... duh, this guy was a detective let him figure it out.
Detective Stevens must have had a phone or radio of some type, because he spoke softly asking his partner (my assumption) to ask Mrs. Everett if there was a Mr. Everett. Boy howdy! Did that get a reaction! When the partner replied back I could hear her raised voice, and some very colorful language in the background. Detective Stephens listened to his partner speak for a few minutes, before disconnecting the call.
“It seems Mrs. Everett called the ex-Mr. Everett at Officer Bailey's suggestion,” Detective Stephens told me. “He admitted to having the girl.” There was a questioning tone to the detective’s voice.
“I was dropping off some stuff for the volunteers at the Shop,” he continued, “so I don't normally work out of the community office. The officer on duty here will follow up with Mrs. Everett. In the meantime, I would love it if you'd accompany me across the street, so we can have a chat about the accuracy of wild guesses.”
“Yeah,” I agreed drolly, “this should be fun.”
Red led me back to our blanket. I folded everything up into the backpack, unclasping the leash so I could use the harness. The COPS Shop was directly across from the park. I remembered the building from when I had my sight. Since Janey lives close to the Shadle area, I'm familiar with the layout. I mentally grinned—we'd need to jaywalk to cross the street to the police sub-station.
Detective Stephens seated me in an area which felt pretty open. Except for the front entryway, I didn't hear any doors close to indicate we were isolated off in a room. “Detective, is there anyone else with us?”
“Some of the volunteers are at the counter in front, but it’s only us in here for now,” the nice detective informed me.
“It will be easiest to show you rather than tell you. I'm going to turn around in my chair, facing away from you. Feel free to walk around the room and point at, or pick up, random items. I'll tell you what they are, okay.”
“You’re implying you’re psychic?” Detective Stephen’s voice was disbelieving and a touch sarcastic.
“Oh, detective, it’s even more unbelievable than that,” I sighed.
“He's staring at you.” Red told me.
“Detective, this will go a lot faster if you humor the crazy woman,” I laughed. “Go ahead, randomly point at items in the room. For fun, you can just show it to Red.”
“Pencil.”
I smiled, “Pencil.”
“Picture of the detective and a female.”
I made a guess, “Family photo? You and a woman, or girl.”
“It’s a paper on the wall,” Red told me, “all words, and no picture.”
“I think you're pointing out a memo or poster, Detective. Red can't read, he can't count, and dogs have a limited range of color vision. Red only recognizes you are pointing to paper on the wall.”
“He’s staring at you again. Ah, now he’s staring at me. Shall I give him my friendly doggy grin?”
I chuckled, “Only if you want to, Red.”
Detective Stephens must have considered us for a little while longer because Red informed me all he was doing was looking back and forth between us. I employed my well-tested “silence is best” strategy.
Finally, the detective’s curiosity won out. “If he wants to do what?”
“Red told me you were staring at us. He asked me if he should smile at you. I think he wanted to put you at ease by appearing non-threatening.”
“Shit!” he exclaimed. “The damn dog grinned at me.”
“He has a beautiful smile, don’t you think?” I teased.
The good detective was a sport. He continued to point at items randomly for another minute before telling me he'd be interested to know how we were doing the performance. Yep, he actually called it a performance. He was taking it pretty well so I ended by saying, “Ask Red to go to the other room with you. Our communication limit is about thirty feet, go far enough you can whisper a secret in his ear and be sure I can't overhear it.
To prove all policemen are cynics, Detective Stephens mentioned I could have my dog wired. Yeah, sure. I come to the park with my dog wearing a wire in case a child might be kidnapped and we have an opportunity to perpetrate a huge hoax on the SPD.
Whatever.
“How about I tell him about the gun and the alcohol in the purse under the desk when we walked in?” Red's observation astonished me, but not so much the discovery, as the extent of his deductive reasoning skills. How in the heck would my dog know those two items should not be together?
“Together in the same purse?” I asked, surprised. This was a police station, so the idea of a gun was not surprising, but having alcohol in the purse with a gun? Didn't seem like the choice of a responsible gun owner to me. Was it a policeman’s purse or a volunteer’s? I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble, but if it was something innocent, like alcohol as an ingredient to perfume, then the purse owner would not have anything to worry about.
“There is a woman outside, smoking a cigarette. Her purse is on the floor under the desk when we came inside.”
“And she left her purse out in full-view, unattended?” Sometimes I really hated being blind. It would be nice to see things for myself instead of jumping to all types of conclusions.
To Detective Stephens, I said, “Red tells me there is a woman outside smoking a cigarette. Her purse is under the desk in your entry area. Red says there is a gun in the purse, and there is also something which smells like alcohol.” I thought for a moment, “I should tell you, Red might not be able to distinguish between products that contain alcohol, as he only has my roomm
ate's whiskey to use as a basis of reference. You could ask Red to bring you the purse, if you'd like.”
Detective Stephens seemed to consider this for a moment before saying, “I would consider it a favor if your companion would be so kind as to search the adjoining room for the presence of firearms.” I grinned at the phrasing, noting he tried to use language which didn’t contain traditional training terms. So suspicious. Without waiting for my reaction, or any signal from me at all, Red trotted out of the room presumably to get the purse. But, with my dog's sense of humor, who knows what he'd bring back?
Red must have returned with, presumably, the purse as I heard the detective thank Red with a, “Good boy.”
“Hey!” a voice called out from the front room. “Your dog stole my purse!”
“It’s a dog Marleen, not a cat burglar.” It appears Detective Stephens has a sense of humor; also, good to know. “The dog is going through some training exercises and it seems he has detected a firearm in your purse. Have you got a concealed weapon permit for this?”
“Ahhh.” There was a pretty long pause here.
“Marleen needs to think a little quicker on her feet, but that's merely my humble opinion.” Red clearly loved his role in the discovery.
“You didn't ask if you could search my purse,” Marleen finally, blurted out.
“The dog picked it up, and brought it to me. I can feel a gun through the fabric. So, I'll ask again, do you have a permit for this?”
“Well, no. Not yet, but I was going to get one.” Marleen's voice sounded young and whiny; what a joy she must be to work with.
“Ms. March,” Detective Stephens addressed me, “thank you for your help today, and the demonstration of your dog's tracking abilities. I have a few matters to attend to here, but I have your business card. If it's okay with you, may I contact you at a later date to possibly discuss how you and Red might be able to provide occasional service to the department?”
I'm not sure if Detective Stephens was trying to maintain the illusion Red accidentally discovered a gun in a volunteer's purse, or if he believed Red and I had an extraordinary team dynamic, but I replied in kind, “Thank you, Detective, for allowing Red and me to demonstrate some of our skills. I look forward to your call if you feel we can offer anything of value.”
Detective Stephens also earned points for not discussing the gun issue in front of us. He handled the situation very professionally. I'm not sure if there was anything we could offer to the SPD, unless it was to entertain at police office parties, but I appreciated the detective's courtesy.
Chapter Fifteen
I'm one of those people who are showered, and as dressed-up as I plan to be, within forty minutes. My date with David was no different. I was dressed and ready fifteen minutes before I expected to be picked up.
I decided I would bring Red, and was buckling him into his harness, when the doorbell rang. With a final scratch behind his ears, I opened the front door.
“Holy crap! It’s the Alpha!” Red exclaimed.
I don't know what startled me more, that Red used “crap” (Note to self: quit swearing in front of the dog, he repeats everything), or that David was the second man from dinner the other night. My thoughts narrowed and focused; the same man who Red said found me worthy? I bent over, as if giving Red a command, “You sure?” I whispered for his ears alone, completely puzzled why David hadn't mentioned it. Especially after Janey brought it up in the car. Although, I did harshly squelch the conversation.
“Of course, I'm sure,” Red, replied. Affronted I questioned his sense of smell, I suppose. He had gone on and on about his crime fighting skills ever since we'd left the police sub-station, clearly becoming a legend in his own mind.
Full of surprises, Red went totally dog on me and ran right up to David to greet him and beg for attention. Shameless if you ask me. “Good gracious Red, where's your pride?” I muttered as I listened to his nails tap on the entryway linoleum. It sounded like the crazy mutt was dancing in circles.
“Hey! I'm a dog,” he stated the obvious. “People love me when I'm all excited and doggy.” I was shaking my head as I listened to David making all the proper crooning and praising noises. “He's a nice man. He's checking my side to make sure I'm not hurt.”
I grinned at Red's antics, and was a little amused David hadn't even said hello to me yet. I stepped back from the doorway, intending to leave the two guys to bond. David managed to snag my hand before I turned away. “Hey,” I said, still smiling, “don't let me break up your bro-mance.”
He laughed and tugged gently on my hand to pull me into his arms. “Guy moment is over. Now I want a Teresa moment. Hello,” he said belatedly, resting his forehead against mine, “you look terrific.” He bussed a quick kiss on the tip of my nose, and then said, “I'm starving.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck to brace my head steadily, and then his mouth took mine in a full, carnal kiss. What was it about this man's kiss that melted me into a brainless ninny? He didn’t thrust a tongue in my mouth and try to pick a fight with my tonsils. Oh no, this guy had major talent.
David's tongue swept through my mouth and tasted me. It was like he was alternatively licking and sucking, using teeth to nibble my lower lip before tilting his head to fit our lips together again. His lips suggested this is how he would make love; slowly, savoring each flavor, leaving nothing untouched or unexplored. Oh, man! I was in big trouble.
The kiss broke off slowly, and we were both breathing audibly. “Starving,” he repeated, suggestively. Then he straightened with a deeply in-drawn breath, “and hungry too, so let’s get going before I do something which will get me in trouble.”
A smug voice in my head, “Dude! He not only finds you worthy, you seem to find him pretty interesting too.”
Dude? I thought, where did Red hear someone say Dude?
The whirlwind who is David, slipped an arm through mine leaving my left hand available to sling my purse over my shoulder and grab the dog by his harness. If you're caught-up in a tornado, I have to assume, it's best to relax and go where the wind takes you.
David took me to a new restaurant in town called Blind Seduction. It was billed as a “meal for the senses.” The diners wore blindfolds and there was no silverware; we would feed each other.
The irony is I was their “first blind girl” and the servers were gushing at the opportunity to serve us. The restaurant was divided into cozy alcoves, featuring a small round table and very comfortable chairs which sat side by side—perfect for two people. David was given a blindfold when we were seated so he could have the option of eating all, or part of his meal, without sight.
The restaurant had no menu. Although they checked with us beforehand to make sure we had no allergies, we would be served a meal of their choice. Each course had a common theme, such as cold or hot, spicy or mild. The hostess made a point to let us know nothing was too hot to touch, or too spicy or messy, as they wanted us to relax and savor the evening.
Our two servers, Megan and Lydia, began the meal by washing our hands. We were treated to a combination of a massage and cleanse with fragrant, handmade lemongrass soap. Our hands and wrists were wiped with soft and warm lemon-scented towels before they were rinsed over, what I assumed was, a deep bowl. It was very relaxing. Practical too; a nice polite way of making sure everyone had clean hands since we were feeding our partner.
While we were being pampered, the girls told us many of the couples who come to dinner take turns with the blindfolds, switching back and forth between courses. “We have a lot of couples who only do the blindfold for the dessert course. Most of the fun was had in feeding each other, not necessarily in enjoying the sensory aspects of the textures and the flavors of the food,” Megan added.
We were given long apron-like bibs, and our serving team told us the restaurant provided covering for clothes so we wouldn't get stained. The girls left us alone after letting us know there were glasses of water and jasmine tea poured and available on our
table. They mentioned practice had taught them it was best for us to handle our own liquids, as there had been more than one accident with spilled drinks.
David informed me he put his own blindfold on when we were seated, as he wanted to experience the meal on a sensory level, the same as me. Red was curled up at our feet—I'm pretty sure he was snoring. He’d likely wake up when food arrived.
The service was great. Dinner was amazing. Eating a meal with David was indescribable.
Our first course featured vegetable appetizers; the theme appeared to be cool and crisp. Crispy baby carrots with blue cheese dressing, snap peas with a dill sauce, and bite-size celery stalks with a mix of caviar and cream cheese spread into the groove. Megan described the dishes, and where all the accompanying sauces were located, when she dropped off the food. I helped David learn how food placement worked, and the best way of finding food on the plate without getting it all over your fingers, “Although, for this meal, that seems to be the point,” I laughed.
