Canine Cupids for Cops

by Deirdre O'Dare

  Dan didn’t go code three. For a stolen dog it hardly seemed necessary. Maybe not even a stolen car. Well, whatever. When he pulled into the parking lot he saw the man pacing beside the gas pumps, clearly not a local and obviously agitated to near hysteria.

  Even before he stepped out of the patrol car, the guy began to demand action. “The dirty bastard stole my dog. I went inside when my card wouldn’t work, and the next thing I know, he’s taken off with Commando.”

  “Where was your dog? Did you tie him up and go in to get a soda or something?”

  “He’s in the fucking car. I left the keys in the gas cap, right on the rear deck, and when my card wouldn’t read, I went inside so the clerk could turn the pump on.”

  Dan shook his head. Dumb California or Texas city boy, thinking Alamo was too sleepy and slow for any danger. “What kind of car? You know the license number?” He expected it might be a rental. The answer jolted him.

  “Fifty-nine Plymouth Fury, red with white and chrome. Tennessee TSY-967.”

  Dan sucked in a fast breath. That must be one rare auto, and the guy was going nuts about a dog? “What kind of dog?”

  “Commando’s a rescue. Pitty. One of those they rescued from that drug baron’s dogfighting operation. He was just a puppy, though. He’s a perfect angel, the best dog I ever had. I want that dog back—now. Let’s go after them. He couldn’t have gone far. I was almost out of gas.”

  “Pity the dog is a rescue? I don’t get it.”

  The man gave a snort of irritation. “Pit Bull. We call ‘em pitties. They have a totally undeserved reputation. Commando wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  Dan sighed. For a moment his rednecked cousin’s taunts and sneers flashed across his mind. Bubba had no use for “flamin’ queers,” and had an act that got most of the family in stitches, pretending to carry a pocket-size pooch in one hand and waving the other while he cried, “Oh, bowsie wowsie” in a falsetto voice.

  He’d made Dan’s life hell once he came out. This guy did not use a falsetto voice, and a Pit Bull was no bowsie wowsie, but some of his words and gestures hinted to Dan that he just might also be gay.

  Although the car sounded much more important to Dan than even the best dog, he sprang into action. Grabbed the mike through the open window, he put out an ATL on the Fury. He mentioned the dog, as well.

  He then turned to the stranger. “Come on. Get in. I’ll go down this road to where it gets back on the interstate. Maybe we’ll spot him. If not, I’ll drop you at a motel. I suppose you have your wallet and stuff?”

  The man huffed. “Of course.” Then as if he realized he needed to chill out, he held out a hand. “Trek DuHamel. I appreciate your help. I just pray we can catch up before that creep does anything to my dog, like throw him out on the highway.”

  Dan accepted the hand shake. “Officer Dan Winstead. Let’s see what we can do.”

  He jumped back into the unit and started off while Trek was still fastening his seat belt. A red Fury should not be hard to spot.

  It wasn’t. They found it sitting at the foot of the on-ramp back to the interstate, neatly folded around a light pole. Trek bailed out before the unit’s tires quit turning and ran toward the car.

  The driver waved wildly out the open window with his left hand and seemed to be bouncing around in the front seat. He also screamed in frantic tones. “Oh my God, get this fucking dog off me. He’s got hold of my ear, and he won’t let go. Help me. I’m bleeding all over the place. Get this man-eating dog away from me.”

  “Commando, let go. Come to Daddy now, like a good dog.” An instant later, the fawn-colored pooch bounded out the window and ran straight to his master. Kneeling, Trek hugged and petted him.

  “Hey, Officer—Dan—can you hang onto him while I get a leash out of the car? He’s all upset and he might take off.”

  “Is he gonna go for my ear?”

  Trek looked aggrieved. “No! He knows good guys from bad buys. He just didn’t want to get too far from me, and he wasn’t going to let this ignorant ape get on the freeway.”

  Dan grabbed the dog’s collar, careful to hold the animal at arm’s length. While he wasn’t scared of dogs, he knew how a bite felt, and it wasn’t fun. Meanwhile the would-be car thief spilled out, one hand clapped to the right side of his head, still cussing and blubbering. With his free hand, Dan drew his pistol and ordered the man to face the car and put both hands on the roof.

  “I’m bleeding, goddammit. Call the EMTs. Feels like my ear is torn half off.”

  Growing irritated with the theatrics, Dan snorted. “Do what I said, or I’ll finish the job.”

  By then Trek came back with the leash and took charge of the dog. Dan read the guy his rights, cuffed him, and put him in the squad car. He’d bleed all over the seat, but that could be cleaned up later. Trek still waited, holding Commando’s leash and not seeming a bit impatient. Although he did glance at the Fury with a wry expression, otherwise he seemed calm about the situation. He had his dog back, and maybe that really was his main concern.

  Certainly the car was not going anywhere for a while except onto a tow. The grill and radiator were practically in the front seat, and the hood looked like a beer can a horse had stepped on. Dan shook his head. “I’ll call a tow for you. The car’ll have to be held as evidence for a few days. It’ll take that long to get repair parts in, I expect.”

  Trek nodded. “I may just have it sent home and let the shop that did the restoration handle the repairs. As soon as it’s released, that is. I don’t want a half-assed job done. Will you hold it at the police yard or what?”

  “It’ll go to the county sheriff’s substation, actually. The local PD doesn’t have space. I can probably get it released tomorrow if push comes to shove but no guarantees.”

  They waited until the tow truck arrived. Dan knew the operator, having met him very early in his tenure with the local police department.

  Mickey Guinn shook his head. “Oh man, what a bummer. That pretty car, all fucked-up. What happened?”

  “Some doofus tried to steal it, didn’t see the owner’s dog inside. I guess the dog didn’t want to go riding with a stranger. Bit the guy’s ear until he crashed.”

  Slapping his greasy leg, Mickey laughed. “Craziest thing I ever heard.” Then he sobered. “Where do you want me to take the car?”

  “Sheriff’s lot for now. Here, you may as well meet the owner.”

  Trek ambled over, leading Commando. “While it’s too late to say be careful with her, I’d be grateful if she suffers no more damage. I’m Trek DuHamel, formerly of Memphis, Tennessee. I was on my way to California when I stopped for gas. Big mistake.”

  Mickey grinned. “I’ll handle your baby with kid gloves, mister. I respect a good old-fashioned muscle car. Had a few myself.”

  After that Dan drove Trek and his pooch to the Sierra Inn, back toward the center of town. “Check with me in the morning. Meanwhile I’ll see how soon I can get your car released. There’s a rental agency just down the block too. The desk clerk can give you their number. That way you can get back on the road if you need to.”

  “Thank you for your help, Officer Winstead. Can I call you Dan?”

  Dan shrugged. “Sure, why not? We aren’t too formal out here in New Mexico, at least anywhere outside Albuquerque and Santa Fe.”

  After Trek went into the motel lobby, Dan finally took the still whimpering would-be car thief down to the ER at Alamo Medical Center. A couple of stitches, a tetanus shot, an antibiotic shot, and a bandage later, they went on to the jail where Dan booked the guy for grand theft auto. For a PM shift in AJ, it had been a pretty good adventure. He chuckled frequently for the rest of the time he was on duty.

  Chapter 2

  As Trek took the paper to sign in, the guy who came to the desk at the motel looked askance at Commando.

  “That one of them Pit Bulls? I don’t know if I can let you keep a dog like that here.”

  Trek bit back his aggravation. “He’s a very
well-behaved dog. Even though we’ve had a traumatic couple of hours, I’ll vouch for his behavior. I’ll even put up a damage deposit if you need one.”

  The guy shuffled his feet, a worried frown on his face. “Well, all right, then. We allow small pets, one to a room. If you can guarantee he won’t bite anybody—and don’t even think about leaving him in the room.”

  “Of course I won’t leave him! He goes everywhere I go, and from now on, I’ll be even more careful. I almost lost him when some idiot took off in my car from the Spee-Dee Stop at the other end of town. Thank goodness Commando knew something was wrong. He scared the guy bad enough that he freaked out and crashed.”

  The stranger’s eyebrows shot up. “You had your car stolen? Gee, that must have made you real mad. Just now?”

  “A couple of hours ago. The nice cop dropped me off here. He said there’s a car rental place nearby?”

  The clerk nodded. “Yeah, Ron’s Rent-A-Ride. He’ll be closed now. He opens pretty early, though. I guess your car was messed up bad?”

  “You could say that. Front end smashed, fan into the radiator into the engine. I hope the frame wasn’t damaged, at least.”

  “What kinda car?”

  Trek could almost see the guy wondering, probably visualizing something like a Merc or a Beemer. After all, not too many locals wore the kind of clothes he had on or used a Diamond Grade credit card to check in. “Nineteen fifty-nine Plymouth Fury,” he said.

  The other man’s jaw dropped. “You’re shittin’ me. Really? Restored?”

  “Completely, from the ground up,” Trek replied. “I do hope it’s repairable. I’ll probably send it home, though, back to the mechanics who did the original work. “

  He picked up the key card, grabbed his computer and ditty bag, and headed down the hall to find his room. All at once he felt a need to relax in a cool, quiet place for a while. Yes, it had been a traumatic couple of hours. Commando padded along at his side, apparently none the worse for wear.

  Trek looked down at him fondly. “Stupid doofus. If he hadn’t struggled you would never have drawn blood, would you? You’re such a good dog. You just didn’t want to leave Daddy.”

  Then a new worry hit. Dog bites usually had to be reported to authorities, and there’d likely be quarantine. Shit! Double shit and fuck too! Was he going to be trapped in this dirty little desert town for days, even weeks? The only faintly bright spot was that cop—a good-looking guy and seemed to be simpatico as well. Maybe Trek could arrange to see him again.

  * * * *

  In spite of not getting to bed until about two o’clock, Dan awoke early. Although he didn’t actually have to hurry, he got busy on the loose ends for his biggest case of the previous night. First, he checked on Trek’s car. No, it was not going to be held impounded, he learned. A photograph or two of the car and the damage it sustained would be all the direct evidence needed. The owner could reclaim it at any time and do with it what he chose.

  However, there was another issue Dan had not even thought of. Although they might not insist on impounding the dog involved, due to the circumstances, the fact remained an animal of currently unknown medical history had bitten someone. The other fact the injured party was a criminal had little bearing. The dog’s owner would have to come up with proof of rabies vaccination and probably keep the dog in the local jurisdiction for two weeks where it could be monitored for health. Dan shook his head. Trek was not going to be pleased with that!

  Might as well let him know on both issues, he decided. He picked up the visitor’s card and his own mobile phone, paying little attention to the hour. After the third ring he glanced at his watch. Damn, it was only eight; not everyone rose at the crack of dawn as he frequently did. Oh well, kind of late to change it now. Maybe it would go to voice mail. About then, a gruff voice said, “Hello. DuHamel here.”

  “E-er, I hope I didn’t wake you. Sorry. I tend to be an early bird. This is Trek, isn’t it?”

  “Officer Winstead—er, Dan? No, I wasn’t asleep. In fact I was about to go find some breakfast. I was just wondering what to do with Commando. Not many cafes appreciate canines, but I’m not about to leave him behind.”

  Dan thought fast. “Well, I have some news for you, part good and part not so much. What if I come by and pick you up? Then the dog can wait in my truck while we eat, and I’ll let you know what’s going on. He does okay in a vehicle, doesn’t he?”

  Trek sounded slightly aggrieved. “I told you he’s very well behaved. I mean while dogjacking was a bit of a shock to him, he normally sits quietly as long as I expect him to. I appreciate your offer, by the way. I was a bit concerned.”

  “No problem. Be there in about ten minutes.”

  When Dan pulled up at the motel’s entrance, he found Trek waiting, Commando sitting quietly at his side. At Trek’s brisk “mount up,” the dog jumped into the cab, gave Dan a cursory sniff, and then hopped into the space behind the seats. Trek got in and fastened his seatbelt first thing, even before he turned to smile at Dan.

  A swift wash of relief made Dan relax. He hadn’t been sure how Commando would react to him. It appeared Trek knew his dog, and the animal was indeed well behaved—at least normally. Dan preferred to keep his ears intact, but there seemed to be little danger.

  He returned Trek’s smile. “Hope you slept well. I guess you had a bit more excitement yesterday than you ordinarily do, right?”

  Trek nodded. “That’s true. You mentioned good news and some not so good…”

  Having reached the café most of the local law enforcement people frequented, Dan pulled in and found a place to park on the shady side before he responded. Then he realized they really shouldn’t leave the dog, even in the shade. “We can eat on the patio if you think your dog will behave.”

  Trek sniffed. “Of course.” He clipped a short leash onto Commando’s collar and got out to follow Dan.

  Dan found a table off to one side and greeted his regular waitress. “Good morning, Sherry. Anything special today?”

  “As if you’d have anything except the regular breakfast burrito. I know your habits, Dan! But I see you have company.” She turned a rather flirtatious glance at Trek. “And what would you like, sir?” She glanced down at the dog, then chose not to say anything. Commando lay under Trek’s chair, so still he almost looked artificial.

  “Goodness, you have lovely nails, my dear.” Trek waited until she stopped simpering while Dan watched with a smile, wondering if the girl would catch on.

  He could see Trek debating and guessed he had some favorites he doubted he’d find in a struggling little New Mexico town. “I’ll have the same,” he said after a beat, “and lots of black coffee. Oh, and a glass of grapefruit juice on the side if I may.”

  While they waited for their meal, Dan explained what he had learned. “So you can take your car any time or arrange to have it shipped off for repair. I think you said you’d send it back to Tennessee?”

  Trek nodded, his thoughts already elsewhere. “Um, yeah, I’ll take care of that later. You’re saying I can’t take Commando out of town for as long as two weeks?”

  “That’s the animal control rules. If you’ll guarantee to keep him here and with you at all times, and be sure he doesn’t bite anyone else, they prob’ly won’t impound him. Or you can leave him and come back once the quarantine is lifted. The small boarding fee shouldn’t break your budget. I’m sure you have papers, and of course he’s chipped, right?”

  “There’s no way I’d leave my dog, not here or anywhere. But two weeks? My God, this is crazy! He didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t attack anyone or…Hell, the idiot was stealing my car with my dog in it. Of course Commando wasn’t going to let him get away!”

  Dan could see Trek struggled not to erupt like a new volcano. When he put himself in the other man’s shoes, he understood. It didn’t seem right, it really didn’t. Still, laws, rules, and regulations existed, mostly for valid reasons, and part of his job was to uphold and enforce them.
He picked up the burrito and took a big bite, using the chewing time to figure out what to say or do next.

  The potato chunks were still almost white hot. Dan opened his mouth to gasp and reached for the glass of water. “Watch out,” he managed as he saw Trek pick up his burrito. “It’s really hot and the potatoes hold the temp forever.” Two big swallows dulled the burn.

  “Hot spicy or hot from cooking?”

  “Mostly cooking. They serve for gringo tourist tastes so no jalapenos.”

  Clearly deciding against any outburst over Commando’s case, Trek nodded. “I can deal with spice. Have you ever eaten East Indian or Indonesian curry?”

  “No, although I hear it makes Latino cuisine seem mild.”

  They both concentrated on eating until their plates were clean, and then Dan refilled their coffee from the carafe Sherry had left. Trek put an ice cube in it from his water and took a sip. He twitched one shoulder in an irritated little shrug. Otherwise his tone and expression seemed very bland.

  “What do you recommend I do, Dan? Seriously, do I really have to stay here for two weeks if I don’t intend to leave my dog behind?”

  “I don’t know. Do you need to be somewhere, wherever you were heading, like, today?”

  “Not really. I’m a travel writer, do features on all sorts of locales, events, and such for a number of magazines and now web sites and my own blog. Although I was going to cover a wine and garlic festival in California, I wasn’t terribly excited about it. Fortunately my computer and tablet were not damaged, although I would have been up the creek if that nitwit had really gotten away with my car.”

  Dan’s spirits lifted a bit as an idea popped into his mind. “Hey, maybe you can do a few features on this area, then. Even though Alamo Junction might not look like much, I can point you to some local attractions, and the big Borderlands Rock and Gem Show’s coming off in a couple of weeks.”

  Trek arched one eyebrow with more than a trace of skepticism in his expression, .Still, he didn’t scoff aloud. “That’s possible,” he allowed after a breath. “I’ll need to rent a vehicle and get the Fury off to begin its repairs. Then you can give me some more details.”