Paw Enforcement 02 - Paw and Order

by Kelly, Diane

  Finally, I could take it no longer and stared back at him for a moment. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  “No.” He turned his gaze downward to his menu. An instant later, though, he tossed the menu onto the table and gave me a pointed look. “Who is he?”

  My first instinct was to play it coy and say Who? I don’t know who you’re talking about But I’d never been one for games. “He’s a deputy who’s been working the stock show.”

  Seth’s jaw flexed. “You’ve been seeing him?”

  “We went for drinks after our shifts last night. That’s the first time we’ve seen each other outside work.”

  The waiter came back to take our order. I ordered the Sunshine Sandwich. Seth went for the Lumberjack.

  When the waiter had gone, Seth eyed me again. “You going to see him again?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He looked past me, out the window, evidently looking at the lightpost on the sidewalk. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” Is it simply because you’re jealous? Or is it because you actually care for me?

  “’Cause it makes me want to punch something. Him, mostly.”

  A laugh escaped my mouth. I supposed Seth admitting that seeing me with another man made him want to punch something was an indirect admission that he had feelings for me. I supposed him being upset shouldn’t have made me as happy as it did, but what can I say? It was nice to know he cared.

  “What about our deal?” I said. “We’re free to see other people, remember?”

  “Maybe I want to renegotiate.”

  The conversation hung in the air, waiting for one of us to pick it up and continue. But I knew how negotiations worked. The first to speak often got the worst part of the bargain.

  Finally, Seth broke the silence. “Have you kissed him yet?”

  It wouldn’t be fair to lie to Seth. I wouldn’t want him lying to me. “Yes.”

  “He as good at it as me?”

  “No.”

  Seth exhaled loudly and sat back against the booth. “So you’re interested in him?”

  “Maybe.” I was interested in Clint, but more because he was a fun guy than because I thought he could be my soul mate. He was a little too flirty to take seriously, though he was a fun distraction. I sent an intent look Seth’s way. “I’m more interested in you, though. By a three percent margin.”

  Once he’d processed my words, his shoulders relaxed. He grinned and cocked his head. “I’ll take those odds. I bet I can work that number up to a hundred, push that deputy right out of the picture.”

  My cheeks warmed with a blush. It was nice to feel wanted, desired. And, perhaps it was wrong of me, but after the way he’d ended things before, I enjoyed having the upper hand on Seth for a change. And, now that he’d been properly motivated, I looked forward to seeing just how he planned to play those numbers.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  PARTNERS IN CRIME

  Brigit

  Blast had come over to play! Brigit was thrilled to see him. They sniffed each other’s butts and naughty bits, shared a bowl of kibble, and wrangled on the carpet for fun.

  When they ran out of things to do, Brigit led Blast to the closet. Megan had added a second sliding bolt to the door the day she’d come home with the sausage rolls and found the closet door ajar. Brigit hadn’t yet gotten to any of the shoes, which was probably a good thing. She had a feeling Megan might not have given her a sausage roll if Brigit had chewed up another pair of shoes.

  Still, those stilettos called to her like a siren, those boots beckoned. Such soft, supple leather. Really, how could she be expected to resist? You didn’t leave meth with an addict, did you? It was pure common sense. Really, if anything happened to those shoes, Megan could only blame herself.

  While Blast watched, his forehead crinkled in concentration, Brigit nudged the lower bolt upward with her nose, then over. It slid open with a click.

  The other sliding bolt would be more problematic. Megan had placed it five feet high, near the top of the door. When she stood on her hind legs, Brigit’s nose came just shy of it. She’d need Blast’s help to get it open. With the two of them taking turns leaping at it, maybe, just maybe, they could get it open.

  Then those shoes and boots will be all ours …

  THIRTY-SIX

  COLD COFFEE

  Robin Hood

  On her drive into work Monday morning, she made another stop for coffee. She parked in the lot of a business a full block down, well out of range of any security cameras the Starbucks store might have. The doughnut shop didn’t appear to have any cameras, but even if it did she doubted anyone would take the time to view the footage in an attempt to track her down. The cops didn’t have that kind of time, and, besides, they’d start with the closer businesses, the McDonald’s and the dry cleaner and the tire store.

  She waited in line a good ten minutes. Looked like everyone needed a little extra boost this Monday.

  When it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter. “I’ll have a Venti caramel latte.”

  “Name?” the young woman at the register asked, her marker poised over the cup.

  “Kate,” she said. It was the first name that came to mind, probably because she’d been reading all about Kate Middleton’s latest doings in People magazine last night. She handed the gift card to the clerk.

  The clerk ran the card through the scanner and frowned. Pushing a button on her screen, she ran the card a second time. The frown deepened. She pushed the button once more and ran the card a third time. She looked up at Robin Hood. “I’m sorry. There’s some kind of problem with this card.”

  “But it has over forty-five dollars left on it,” she protested. “See?” She pulled the receipt from her last coffee purchase from her wallet and showed the cashier.

  “Want me to call customer service?” the girl asked.

  No, she did not want the girl to call customer service. Mainly because they’d probably tell the girl the card had been reported stolen and had thus been canceled, but also because she could feel the heated glares from the long line of people behind her who wanted their coffee now. “That’s okay. I’ll just pay cash.”

  Damn.

  Coffee tastes so much better when someone else pays for it.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  BOOT CALL

  Megan

  Though I officially had Monday off, I was at work nonetheless, giving that aforementioned 110 percent.

  At 1:30 in the afternoon, I met Lisa, the earlier purse-snatching victim, on the porch of a house in the Fairmount neighborhood. Lisa was a Realtor and had planned to meet a painting crew there to let them into the house.

  While the painters tossed clear sheets of plastic over the furniture and floors in the living room and bedrooms, Lisa and I huddled at the kitchen table.

  I pulled out Cheyenne’s and Mia’s mug shots and driver’s license photos and laid them on the table in front of Lisa. “Could either of these women be the thief?”

  Lisa leaned in and took a long look at the photos. She picked up the pages and eyed them from various angles. Her brow furrowed. “I wish I could say for sure, but I can’t. Everything happened so fast.”

  “Take a look at this.” I took the pages from her and exchanged them for the printouts from the boot stores. I’d dog-eared pages depicting boots that fit the description Lisa and Dominique had given me. Black boots with a turquoise or light green upper. “Can you identify the boots the woman on crutches was wearing?”

  “Maybe.” She began to flip through the pages.

  “Did the boots have pointed, square, or round toes?” I asked, attempting to narrow down the possibilities.

  “I’m leaning toward square,” she said, flipping another page.

  Personally, I’d always thought boots with squared-off toes looked a little odd. You know, like maybe the wearer had their toes hacked off with an axe. Who the heck had toes that were all the same length?

  Afte
r a few more pages, she stopped on a pair of Justin boots, a black soft calf model with green cowhide on the upper. She put a finger on the page and looked up at me. “I can’t swear to it, but I’m pretty sure this was them.”

  I made a note on my pad.

  She flipped to another page and pointed at another pair. “If it wasn’t that first pair, this would be my second choice.” She indicated a pair sold at Cavender’s, a model identified as the Ariat Women’s Black Deertan with Turquoise Top. “Or these.” She turned back a few pages to a nearly identical pair, the only difference being the height of the shank.

  “That gives me something to go on.” I stood from the table. “Thanks.”

  She walked me to the door. “By the way, I got in touch with the woman at my office who handles the birthday collections. She was able to send me a photo of the receipt from when she bought the gift card. I called Starbucks to cancel it and get a replacement, but they told me part of it had already been used late Friday night at the store on I-35 and Western Center.”

  Another potential lead. If the boot trail ran cold, maybe the coffee lead would be hot.

  “How much had been spent?” I asked.

  “A little over five dollars.”

  Hmm. That figure was only enough to buy one large cup. What did that mean? That the girl with the crutches and cute boots wasn’t in cahoots with the purse snatcher after all? You’d think the thief would at least buy her accomplices a coffee for their help. Then again, was there any honor among thieves? Maybe the thief had decided the gift card should be all hers and to hell with her aiders and abettors.

  “Can you send the photo to my phone?” I pulled out my cell and rattled off the number so Lisa could text it to me. A few seconds later my phone bleeped with the incoming photo. “Got it.”

  Lisa walked me to the door.

  “As soon as I know anything,” I told her, “I’ll be in touch.”

  Before visiting Dominique, I headed north of the city to the Starbucks. I explained the reason for my visit to the manager. He waved me back into his small office and offered me a seat. I showed him the photo of the gift card receipt, which included the gift card’s identifying number.

  “I can use the gift card number to trace the transaction,” the manager said, turning to his computer to input the data.

  “Any chance she used the drive-through?”

  If so, all I’d have to do was take a look at the video surveillance recording, get her license plate, and bring down the hammer. BAM!

  His eyes scanned the data on the screen. “Looks like she came into the store. She bought her drink at register two at the counter.”

  So much for bringing down the hammer. Still, the lead wasn’t dead yet. “Can you tell who helped her at the counter? Which employee?”

  He took another glance at the screen. “Looks like Jason was working the register that night.” He consulted the schedule. “He’ll be back in on Wednesday. He’s scheduled to work the two-thirty to eleven-thirty shift.”

  “Great.” I’d come back then and see if Jason remembered anything about the young woman who’d used the card. “Any chance I can take a look at the surveillance tapes?”

  “Store managers aren’t authorized to show security videos without getting clearance from the corporate office first.” The manager reached into a drawer and pulled out a form. “You have to fill this out and send it to our legal department. They decide whether or not to allow it.”

  If my request were denied, I supposed I could try to get a search warrant and force the issue. But then my superiors would realize I was conducting an unofficial investigation. They might not like that. Hell, I was probably exceeding my authority simply by filling out the form. But sometimes it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, surely they’d be happy with me for catching these criminals, right?

  On the other hand, here I was, on my day off, talking to witnesses and trying to track down clues. Why was I doing this? Was I trying to prove something to my superiors at the police department? To those kids in school who’d made me feel small and stupid and ashamed? To myself? Maybe all of the above?

  Whatever my motivations, and regardless of whether they were healthy, I’d come this far. No sense stopping now.

  I handed the completed form back to the manager and thanked him for his time. As I left the store, I bought a cinnamon dolce latte with soy. No sense leaving without a warm drink, either.

  * * *

  Dominique waved me back to her office at the insurance agency and closed the door behind us. The space was decorated in pastels, pretty watercolors of lilies and poppies and irises gracing her walls. I found myself wondering how I’d decorate my office once I made detective and was assigned a space of my own. Should I go for something bright and cheerful, maybe some white bookcases and colorful printed throw pillows on the chairs? Or should I go for something more traditional and businesslike, perhaps chairs covered in faux-leather upholstery with brass studs? Oh, well. No need to decide today. I had at least three more years before office décor would be an issue.

  I handed the printout to Dominique. “I’d like you to take a look. See if you can pick out the boots you saw.”

  While she carefully looked over the pages, I sat in her comfy wing chair and helped myself to one of the foil-wrapped Lindt truffles on her desk. Between the sugary, high-calorie coffee and now this chocolate, I’d really fallen off the wagon today. Tomorrow I’d eat nothing but organic kale raised by fair-trade farmers.

  Wanting to see if she chose the same boots as Lisa, I didn’t tell her which ones her friend had picked out. But when Dominique finished, she’d chosen the first two pairs that Lisa had. “These two look about right.”

  No harm in telling her now. “Those are the same two Lisa picked out.” Not surprising, really. Although there were several other pairs with dark chocolate and turquoise or green, the ones they chose were the only models with black lowers. Clearly, the two were firm on that.

  Since she hadn’t gotten a look at the thieves, there was no point in showing her the photos of Cheyenne and Mia. I thanked her for her time and told her I’d be in touch if my investigation went anywhere.

  “I appreciate you going the extra mile,” she said as she walked me to the front door of her office. “Everyone told me the police don’t usually have time to follow up on these types of things.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s true.” Limited manpower, limited budgets. “But I had a little extra time today so I figured I’d see what I could do.”

  I stepped out of the building and headed to my car.

  She waved her hand and called after me. “Good luck!”

  * * *

  On Tuesday morning, I visited Catherine Quimby, the purse snatcher’s first victim. She was far less helpful. Then again, there were a much greater number of boots in pink-and-tan styles.

  “Oh, honey.” She shook her blond head as she turned page after page after page. “I just don’t know. They all start looking alike after a while.”

  “Were the toes pointed, rounded, or square?” I asked.

  “Round maybe? Or pointed?” The inflection in her voice made it seem as if she were asking me the questions. “I don’t think they were square.”

  “Do you recall how tall the shank was? Did they come all the way up below the knee or were they those lower ankle-type?”

  Again, she wasn’t much help. “Maybe somewhere in between?”

  When it was clear she had nothing else to offer, I gathered up the printout. “Thanks, Catherine. If I have any news, I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  I stopped by both Cheyenne’s and Mia’s homes on Tuesday and Wednesday morning but nobody answered the door. The two were probably at work, assuming they’d been able to find gainful employment given their criminal history. Likewise, there was no sign of Clint at the stock show on Tuesday or Wednesday. Curious, I inquired with one of the other deputies, a stumpy guy with a patchy mustache. He appeared to
be suffering some form of mange.

  He gave me a knowing look, amusement in his eyes. “Why is it all of the ladies are looking for Clint and none are looking for me?”

  “Do you see my uniform?” I asked, an edge in my voice.

  “Sure I do. And I bet it has nothing to do with your reasons for wanting to find Clint.”

  The jerk was right, of course. Nevertheless, it put a little twist in my panties. “If you happen to see him, tell him Officer Luz has some information about the robberies.”

  The guy rocked back on his heels, his thumbs in the front pocket of his pants. “Oh, I doubt I’ll see him. He’s been sent up to the north side. Lots of folks in town for the stock show are staying at the hotels up that way.”

  The north side was home to a number of tourist attractions. The White Elephant Saloon, where various scenes from the television show Walker, Texas Ranger had been filmed. A vintage steam train that traveled between Fort Worth and the city of Grapevine, which lay a half hour to the east. The Cowtown Cattlepen Maze, once featured on the Amazing Race television show. And, of course, Billy Bob’s, touted as the world’s largest honky-tonk. Numerous shops and restaurants were situated up that way, too. There was also a twice-daily cattle drive down the main street, a show put on for tourists in which a half-dozen longhorn cattle were herded along for a few blocks while spectators watched from behind wooden sawhorses erected for their safety. The cattle plodded along without protest, the looks of boredom on their face saying Damn, this is getting old. Why don’t you take down those sawhorses and let us chase after these people like our buddies in Pamplona get to do?

  I was disappointed to learn that Clint wouldn’t be at the stock show. Things between us had been hanging since Clint left my apartment Saturday night. I hoped he didn’t think I’d been rude. On the other hand, if I tracked Clint down, he might read something into it. The last thing I wanted to do was lead him on, especially now that Seth finally seemed to be acknowledging he had feelings for me. On the other hand, if I wasn’t yet ready or willing to devote myself only to Seth, why pass up the chance to have some fun with Clint in the meantime? I deserved to have a good time, right?