Thomas heard the gun clatter to the concrete floor.
“Can I see Nana? Can I talk with her?”
Thomas hesitated, trying to figure out what to say. Sure, lawyers are quick-witted and articulate, but he hated the popular notion that members of the bar were quick to lie. Thomas didn’t lie, not really. He wasn’t good at it. But he’d gone down this path; he had to finish it off. He had played one of the three ghosts in A Christmas Carol in grade school. He called upon those memories, deepening his voice and adding a vibrato quaver to it.
“Nana will never talk to you, not as long as you live.” He floated just a tad higher and angled his body to loom over the cowering hick. “Your only hope to see her, even after you die, is to change your ways. Make amends. Train your dogs to be kind and happy and loving, the way they were meant to be.” Thomas ignored a growing amount of noise and commotion in the direction of the crashed pick-up and concentrated on his play-acting. “Then, only then, can you possibly meet up with Nana in—”
Black Shirt suddenly appeared behind the hick, his face contorted in rage, his muscled arm bringing up a Mac 10 to bear on the form of the caged pit bull. “Screw this bull—”
Then suddenly, the angry bald head above the black shirt disappeared and a spray of crimson flew over Thomas, the hick, and the dog, though it passed through Thomas.
Dagger stood behind the falling body, his sharp talons dripping blood, as his dark eyes tracked a bald, bloody head skittering across the concrete floor. His canine nose wrinkled, as if it had smelled something distasteful, foul. Finally, he looked down at the body still flooding blood awash the floor. “You want to watch animals die? How’d you like the show, animal?” Dagger licked at his canines, then shifted his gaze to Thomas.
“Rescue’s complete. Just cleaning up. You can let Evelyn know to send the coppers and Animal Control. We’ll be gone in five.” He turned and left without waiting for Thomas to respond.
Thomas left the hick quivering in fear on the floor of the warehouse and floated at a walking pace back to Peggy. She was dented and one headlight was broken, but they made cars solid back in the day. He knew that Dagger would have her shiny and new in no time. He quickly located the cell phone jammed into the crack of the passenger seat, the line still open. He heard the sound of sighs and crying on the other end.
“It’s all right, Evelyn. Everything’s all right. Tell Phillip to send the cops. Send Animal Control right behind.”
“Thomas, is that you? You can’t imagine the sounds I’ve been hearing. Crashes and shouts and gunfire and fighting and more crashing and howls. I was seconds away from dialing, no matter what Dagger said. What happened?”
“The good guys won. Evelyn. The good guys won.”
Chapter 4.11
Evelyn picked up the newspaper from Gretchen’s desk the next morning when she came into the office after her morning run. “GANG WAR IN TENDERLOIN” read the headline. She skimmed the story about how rival gangs had gone to war when one gang had staged a dogfight in another gang’s turf. The newspaper reported eight fatalities, three by crushing, blunt force trauma, three by gunfire, one by stab-wounds from a sharp-ended cylindrical object (perhaps a tire iron?), and one by beheading. Police were searching for the murder weapon for the last, presumably some type of machete.
Truth be told, she was uneasy about how things had gone. Oh sure, her part had gone like clockwork. The police and Animal Control showed up promptly when called. The animals were captured and she hoped most of them weren’t so wounded—physically or mentally—that they couldn’t be saved. But people had died, all because she hadn’t been able to persuade Judge Knott to appoint her as guardian ad litem for Barney and his breed. She hoped that the people who had died were bad guys—really, really, really bad guys. But she didn’t know that. And, somehow, she didn’t think the newspaper or anyone else was ever going to tell her one way or another for sure.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
“Their deaths are not your fault,” she heard Thomas say, close enough behind her to whisper in her ear. “You acted in the best interests of your clients.” He floated around her, into view. “I acted in the best interests of my clients.”
She wanted to believe him, but it was hard.
“We don’t control the outcome,” he continued. “We don’t control the world. We don’t even control our clients. Sometimes things get out of anyone’s control. Sometimes bad things happen.”
“Is that what happened here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, afraid to say the words out loud. “Did someone innocent die?”
Thomas flinched. “Innocent people die all the time.”
God, how could she have asked him that? Thomas was innocent and he had died. Had innocent people died at the warehouse, too? Would she ever know? Would he tell her even if he knew? No, he would protect her. He would always protect her. Somehow, that had to be enough.
“What now?” she asked.
Thomas gave her a weary smile. “Now we finish up. Nothing’s ever over until the lawyers finish up. Deals don’t conclude on a handshake or even a closing. There’s always the post-closing items. Cases don’t finish on a judgment. There’s always an appeal or proceedings to seize assets and collect on that judgment. Even death isn’t the end.…” He grinned a bit more warmly. “Even if you don’t continue on after death, there’s an estate to settle, insurance to collect, final tax returns. Life ends, but paperwork is forever.”
Evelyn frowned. What was left? The dog-fighting ring was broken. The bad guys arrested or dead. The dogs and the OTs were freed. She had even gotten some volunteers from Bay Area Dog-lovers Responsible About Pitbulls (BAD RAP) involved to provide information about handling abused dogs.
Thomas tilted his head to one side. “What about your client?”
“Barney? Barney’s safe with Sad Sadie … Oh.”
“Until the new law goes into effect,” Thomas voiced her thoughts aloud. “We still need to save Barney by getting the law changed.”
Evelyn gave him a brief, lilting laugh. “This is California. They’ll always pass a new law, given half a chance.”
O O O
Evelyn sat quietly through the zoning session, the parks report, and an extended discussion of city employee pension matters. Finally, it was her turn. Mark Shu, the President of the eleven-member Board of Supervisors for the City and County of San Francisco, called the final item on the agenda: “Next up, public comment and consideration of a proposed amendment of Ordinance 4.8889, dealing with the prohibition of certain breeds of dogs in the environs of the city.” He looked up at Evelyn, who stood and approached the audience podium.
President Shu looked at his watch. “The hour grows late, Ms. Love. And from what I gather from my friend, Judge Knott, you are categorically opposed to Ordinance 4.8889, having gone so far as to argue before his court that it was unconstitutional. Pray tell, are you here to amend it so as to be so narrow as to be altogether ineffective?”
Evelyn reached the podium just as President Shu finished his question. “No, President Shu. Ordinance 4.8889 attempts to protect both the citizens of the City and County of San Francisco and a limited subset of canines by prohibiting such canine breeds within the confines of the City and County so as to prevent dog-fighting.”
Shu interrupted. “A terrible problem, wouldn’t you say? Especially given the headlines just recently concerning the Tenderloin turf war over dog-fighting?”
“A terrible problem,” Evelyn agreed. “But one which extends far beyond the various breeds and sub-breeds popularly associated with the term ‘pit bull’ in ordinary parlance. If you read beyond the headlines of recent events, you will see that the dog-fighting ring involved not only such dogs, but also Doberman Pinschers, German Shepherds, Rottweilers, Rhodesian Ridgebacks, and, according to the Department of Animal Control, at least thirteen other breeds or part breeds, as well as mixed breed mutts.”
Supervisor Tarden interrupted. “Well, we
can’t outlaw all dogs in the city. There would be an uproar.”
“Exactly, Supervisor Tarden,” responded Evelyn. “There’s no sense in outlawing all dogs. It’s not their fault. And the fights weren’t limited to dogs. Animal Control reports that upon arriving at the scene, they found specimens or indications of fighting chickens, badgers, wolves, and even zombies.”
“I’d outlaw badgers, wolves, and zombies in the city,” quipped Shu. “Even chickens, unless, of course, they are extra-crispy fried.”
“Now, now,” admonished Supervisor Braddock from the far end of the lengthy table at which all of the board members sat facing the audience and the cable television cameras. “A decade or so ago, you would have outlawed me if you could have.” Evelyn knew that as an openly gay man, Supervisor Braddock had been on the opposite side of many, many battles with President Shu, a traditionalist and conservative, “Let the young lady state her case.”
“Thank you, Supervisor, President Shu.” Lawyers were constantly thanking people they argued with; it was part of the job. “The problem isn’t with those forced to fight. Take away their badgers and they will force homeless people to fight each other or school children. The promoters are the enemy, not their victims. They are the ones who must be stopped.”
“And how would you do that?” asked Supervisor Braddock.
“Instead of making it a felony to own certain types of dogs, I would triple the penalties and make them apply to the trainers and promoters associated with such fights.”
“So,” said Supervisor Braddock. “You would penalize anyone who trained or fought dogs or any other mammals for sport or entertainment.”
“Why stop there?” asked Evelyn. “What about chickens? Animal Control reported evidence of cockfighting.”
Braddock nodded. “I’m amenable to outlawing fighting of animals of all sorts. Animals are sentient. They can feel pain. They can understand cruelty.”
“Let’s not stand on sentience,” replied Evelyn. “We don’t know how far it extends or when it starts or stops. There can’t be any loopholes. The people who do this are sick, depraved, cruel. They won’t think twice about lobotomizing puppies pre-fight and claiming the law doesn’t apply.”
“You’ve got a point, Ms. Love. Besides, you mentioned zombies. Unfortunate souls, if they have souls. Never asked. Terrible way to live in any event, even if they are undead. Forcing them to eat one another seems barbaric and cruel, if you ask me.” He leaned far forward to look at President Shu. “Hardly family friendly stuff, zombie fights. This ordinance should be expanded to formerly sentient creatures, alive, dead, or undead.”
“Second the motion,” shouted Supervisor Tarden.
“Call the motion,” responded Braddock.
Shu shook his head. Evelyn could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Step in front of a moving train and aggravate dog and other animal … and zombie … lovers throughout the city or just let it slide. He looked at his watch and shrugged. “Without objection?” He hesitated a split-second, apparently waiting for anyone to protest. “Provisionally passed unanimously without objection. Supervisor Braddock to submit precise language to be included in the minutes and confirmed at the next session. We are adjourned.”
Once the lights went out for the cable television feed, Thomas materialized next to Evelyn. She knew he’d been there all along. He’d come with her to the proceedings, then had simply faded to oblivion on the chair holding her coat and purse while the proceedings droned on.
“That went well, very well,” he said.
“Almost too well,” admitted Evelyn. She’d drafted alternate forms of the amended ordinance. One for dogs, one for mammals, one for animals, and, yes, one that went so far to include OTs, but she’d never really expected to get everything she asked for. And she’d never expected such helpful support from Braddock. “Why was Braddock so helpful?”
Thomas pursed his lips for a moment before responding. “I can’t say.”
“Do you think it’s because he’s gay? That he understands the discrimination the OTs must feel? That he knows that they can’t help what they are, even if it scares some people?”
Thomas remained expressionless. “I can’t say, Evelyn. I really can’t say.”
O O O
Thomas asked Evelyn to call ahead so that Gretchen could meet them down by the alley so they could all give the good news to Sad Sadie and Barney together.
When they arrived, Patrolman Lane was there already, giving Barney pieces of a baloney sandwich whenever he did a new trick. Barney had lots of new tricks. He could bark on command, stand on two hind legs, shake hands, and run in a tight circle when given a simple hand signal. It was clear that Barney liked the last trick the best. Thomas laughed when he saw that Evelyn had noticed Sad Sadie eyeballing the policeman’s sandwich herself. He couldn’t do anything, but Thomas was happy when he saw Evelyn simply reach into Phillip’s lunchbox. “I’m taking the group for Thai food later,” she simply said to Phillip as she snagged another half-sandwich and gave it to Sadie. “You’re invited. So is your girlfriend, if you’re ever going to let us all meet her.”
Phillip blushed. “Sounds good, I’ll give her a call.”
“You, too, Sadie,” said Evelyn, “if you want to come.” Thomas knew Evelyn’s invitation was genuine. Everything about Evelyn was genuine. But Thomas knew Sadie rarely left her alley and that she wouldn’t make an exception for Thai food. Sadie was too proud to ask for handouts from friends (strangers were another story). She was a straight-up panhandler: no threats; no lies about needing bus fare or losing her wallet; no Bible quotations. If you didn’t help her, she didn’t hold a grudge, but if you had a kind heart, you had hers in return.
Gretchen brought a celebratory collar for Barney, with his name engraved on a tag and a city license already affixed. Pete even tossed down a couple of beer cans to get their attention, then waved his stubby fingers at them from the roof. Thomas stood apart, watching the scene from a few steps closer to the curb, keeping an eye out for Dagger, who he’d also had Evelyn call to join them for their celebration.
Finally, he saw Peggy’s sleek lines take the corner at Haight and roll toward the intersection with the alleyway. Dagger had already repaired any sign of damage from the skirmish in the Tenderloin, and the classic Dodge Charger looked anything but old. Thomas floated closer to admire the car, when he noticed Dagger motioning him over to the driver’s side window. He muttered “Excuse me a moment,” to the assembled group and floated over to Dagger’s window.
“Not joining us for Thai?”
“Nah. Once you’ve had the real thing, Americanized Thai food leaves you kind of flat. Besides, not much for celebrations.” The detective wrinkled his nose. “Not much to celebrate anyhow.”
Thomas frowned. “Didn’t Evelyn give you all the details? Not only did the breed-specific ordinance get eliminated, Evelyn got it replaced by an ordinance that protects everyone from forced fights. Dog, cats, animals, even OTs. Supervisor Braddock was quite helpful.”
Dagger raised an eyebrow. “You have anything to do with that?”
Thomas started. Did Dagger think he had blackmailed the supervisor into supporting Evelyn’s ordinance? He would never break privilege and he certainly would never blackmail someone by threatening to break privilege. “No. Never. I would never … could never.”
Dagger nodded and waved his left hand dismissively. “No worries. Just had to be sure. Braddock’s a good guy and …” the detective smiled, “… handy in a fight. Probably thinks he’s protecting the community in his own way.”
Thomas shook his head in confusion. “You don’t agree?”
“Do I look like I need protection?” replied his friend. “Though I guess some do.”
“Then, what?”
Dagger stared straight ahead for a few seconds, then coaxed Peggy to a purr and put his hand on the gear shift. “Just don’t take to being lumped in with dogs and chickens. You might view it as a step forward for O
T rights. I just see it as another government category, a category that someday might lead to a cage. I don’t like to be labeled, to be categorized. Me, I just want to be who I am. Take it or leave it.”
With that¸ his friend, his co-worker, his comrade in battle, drove into the night alone, more alone than Sad Sadie, for all Thomas knew.
O O O
Gretchen broke away from the group and headed off Thomas as he returned. She scrunched up her nose. “Big guy complaining about his expenses again?”
Thomas shook his head. “Nah. Just wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.”
Gretchen nodded. “Werewolves can be a moody bunch from what I hear, and not just when the moon is full.”
Thomas involuntarily flew back almost a foot in shock. “What? I never said … We have an obligation to maintain client confidences … How do you know? I mean, what makes you think—”
“Relax, Thomas. I’m fond of canines. Remember? That’s how we got into this case.”
“But, how?”
Gretchen harrumphed. “Didn’t get to be this old not paying attention to what’s going on right under my nose. Don’t you ever look at those bills for expenses you approve? The man goes through more clothes … and shoes … than any guy I’ve ever met. He ain’t that metrosexual, so I gotta figure he’s ripping ’em out at the seams when he wolfs out.”
Thomas didn’t know what to say. Even his receptionist solved mysteries, it appeared.
“Besides,” she continued. “Dagger doing a job pro bono? That’s gotta mean it’s personal. Since the man’s got no family I ever heard of, that means puppies are family.”
Thomas nodded. “So, that’s why you came over to speak privately. You wanted me to know you knew?”
Gretchen shook her head. “Nah. Got a phone message just before I came outside to meet you guys to chat with Sadie.”
“Business can wait a bit, can’t it?”
“Not this. It was Nika Rondik. You promised to take her calls promptly.”
The Love-Haight Case Files Page 33
