Case of the Gold Retriever

by Erik Schubach

  This just got Calvin excited, and he barked back, his tail threatening to cut me off at the knees it was wagging so fast. Then just like that, the other dog dashed back off, without so much as a howdy-do. I blinked at the dog already receding in the distance and then the bag. Was he giving me something he found in exchange for the treats? What a sweetheart.

  I reached down to grab the bag as I looked around for a trash can to throw whatever garbage it was away. I was surprised that the plastic bag had some heft to it, weighing maybe two or three pounds. Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the thick, black plastic bag which had a ziplock style seal, only much more heavy duty, then froze.

  I looked at Calvin who was cocking his head at me like he was wondering if it were something to eat, then back into the bag as I looked quickly around before pulling out one of the bundles of hundred-dollar bills that were in the bag.

  What the ever-loving fuzzy heck? I glanced back to where the Goldie had run, then the bag. I felt suddenly very exposed. There had to be tens of thousands of dollars in the bag. This was likely someone's life savings, and they had apparently lost it in the park somehow. The dirt that was sloughing off the plastic indicated it had been here a long time.

  I jammed the bills back into the bag, sealed it then dusted it off quickly before putting it into my shoulder bag as I looked around to make sure people hadn't seen me holding that bundle of bills. How could I possibly find out who it belonged to and get it back to them? I'm sure they had panicked when they realized that they had lost it.

  I looked toward the northeast instinctively. Yes, the police station. They'd be able to get it back to its rightful owner. I'm sure someone filed a report. I smiled. I'd be able to visit Jane after I turned the money in. Win win. Though dinner would be late tonight, I know my detective would understand.

  With that thought, I exhaled, giving Cal a silly grin as I turned us back into the park... again. I almost giggled, it seemed we'd never get out of Central Park today. Not that that is a bad thing.

  Twenty minutes later we were walking into the 19th precinct. My eyes darted to the stairs, knowing that Detective Jane McLeary was up there, looking all kinds of capable, dangerous, and sexy.

  Huh, the silver-haired uniformed sergeant at the desk was new. I'd never seen him before, must have been a new transfer.

  I smiled at him through the plexiglass divider as I stepped up. “Hi, I found this...” I dug the plastic bag out, “...bag of money in the Park and hoped you could reunite it with its owner. I think it may be someone's life savings.”

  I slid the bag through the half circle opening at the base of the divider. The man looked bored as he searched for a form, then slid it to me with a pen as he took the bag and started to go through it. “Fill out the form, if the owner doesn't claim it within thirty days, you can come back and claim it yourself. Make sure to sign...” He trailed off as his eyebrows tried to eat his hairline when he saw the money.

  I sighed as I started filling out the form. I didn't want to claim the money myself. I wanted whoever lost it to get it back. I could imagine some sweet old lady bringing it to a bank and losing it instead. It had probably been devastating to her.

  The man stacked the bundles of crisp hundred-dollar bills and said absently, “There's a hundred grand here.”

  A hundred thousand dollars? By the swishing tail and lolling tongue!

  His brows were furrowed as he looked at one of the bundles closely as he typed something on the computer. Then his eye widened a bit, and he looked over to the two officers at the metal detectors and made a motion with his hand.

  The next thing I knew, I was being cuffed as the man informed them, “This is the cash from the Sullivan burglary eight years ago.” He looked smug as the men made appreciative sounds.

  Whaaaa? I was being arrested? Again? Noooo! I blurted as they started leading me down the hall toward booking, Calvin trotting along beside me in his working dog bib thinking this was all great fun, “Call Detective McLeary! She's my...” What was she? My girlfriend? Oh yes, please. I finished, “My roommate.”

  The two uniforms hesitated at that, and I could see the apprehension in their eyes. That's right, the woman I loved was a ballbuster, and nobody in the station wanted to cross her. One of the men asked as we slowed to a stop, “Wait, you're that Finnegan May girl? The dog walker?”

  I just nodded emphatically, I'm surprised my brain didn't fall out from the motion. He looked back to the desk sergeant, “Umm... Sarge, maybe you should call McLeary.”

  The Sargent looked put out that the men weren't doing as they were told, but he must have seen the apprehension coloring the uniform's face. He hesitantly looked at the form I had half filled out and then the phone before he picked it up and hit a few buttons.

  I didn't catch what he said, but he was nodding a few seconds later and hanging up. He motioned to the chairs in the lobby, and the men brought me over and sat me down and stood on either side of me. Calvin rubbed up against their legs. Traitor.

  A moment later Jane came walking quickly down the stairs, her shit-kicking combat boots clunking on each tread. She looked tall dark and ominous in her cargo pants and tight black tee that showed off her toned form. The shoulder holster and the badge clipped on her hip just completed the look. She'd look at home in any supernatural cop thriller flick.

  She inclined her head at the desk Sergeant as she stalked past and into the lobby, her eyes cold. I stood up as she approached and the uniforms seemed sheepish. One shifted on his feet. She walked right up to me and put a finger on my chin to make me stand and tilt my head up, and she gave me a smiling kiss. “Hi, Finny, what mess have you gotten yourself into today?”

  I was blushing from head to toe, in a happy haze of arousal when she stepped back, dropped a hand to absently rub Calvin's ears, and took my elbow. “I'll take it from here boys.” She started leading me toward the stairs as she told the sergeant, “Check that in as evidence and send it up.”

  I shook off the bliss from our kiss and grumped out as we started up the stairs to her office, “What about the cuffs?”

  She whispered hotly in my ear, “But it seems to be your natural state.”

  I growled out, “Jerk.”

  She chuckled as she unlocked the cuffs as we walked. “Fine.”

  I said loudly, “Fine!”

  She gave me her signature smirk as she mirrored my tone, “Fine!”

  Then she asked like she wasn't having fun at my expense again, a touch of worry coloring her tone, “They weren't too tight were they?”

  I smiled at her. No matter how big a hard ass she wanted everyone to think she was, she was really just a big softie... and I loved that about her. She was my hard ass.

  She smirked as we walked, catching me looking at her hard ass. When we reached her cubical and sat, Calvin ran around loose to get greetings from the other detectives. He has sort of become the mascot here. “Sooo... you're downgrading from murder to burglary are ya Finny?”

  I mumbled out in a pout, “See if you get dinner tonight.”

  She smiled, then that fierce protectiveness of hers changed her bearing and I closed my eyes leaned into the heat of her hand as she cupped my cheek. I opened my eyes and smiled after she kissed the tip of my nose and sat back.

  She bit the tip of her pen then asked as she flipped her notebook to a clean page. “Start from the beginning, shrimp.”

  I exhaled and nodded, then smiled at the old label I had made her that she had stuck over her nameplate on her desk, “Jerk Cop.” Yup, dinner was going to be late.

  Chapter – 2 Broadway Cat

  It turns out the cash had been from a series of famous burglaries that spanned four decades, culminating in the Grant Sullivan break in on the nineteenth floor of Tate Tower on Broadway eight years ago.

  The press had taken to calling the perpetrator of the serial thieveries, the Broadway Cat Burglar. All of the incidents had things in common. They were all
on upper floors of older buildings, with no signs of forced entry. The thief never showed up on building security cameras in the halls. They never left behind any forensic evidence, not a single hair or fingerprint, and in place of whatever they stole was always a card that read “Thank you.” The type of generic card you could buy anywhere.

  Over the decades, the Broadway Cat had made away with tens of millions of dollars worth of cash, bonds, and jewelry.

  See? Yet another reason for me to chose dogs over cats. Hey, it was funny, don't look at me like that.

  The Sullivan cash being buried somewhere in Central Park made sense, it was highly publicized that Grant Sullivan had the serial numbers of the bills recorded, so this made the cash worthless to the thief until the statute of limitations expired.

  In New York, that was six years after the felony, unless the perpetrator went into hiding, then three years was tacked on. So the Cat wouldn't be able to use the money until sometime next year when the statute expired, but the Golden Retriever had just put a crimp into that plan.

  To my dismay, Jane had called animal control to start scouring Central Park and the surrounding area for the poor, hungry guy. I didn't want him going to doggy jail. There were also officers searching north of where I had first seen the dog for the location he had dug the bag up from.

  Then to be funny, with the teasing, smug look I have come to associate with her she asked, “Where were you on the night of Tuesday, September eighteenth, eight years ago?”

  I squinted an eye and said through a cheesy smile, “With surety, I can guarantee that I was in bed, as I was in my senior year of high school at the time and it was a school night.”

  She winked in fun and nodded. “If the new desk sergeant had taken a moment to think about that, he wouldn't have been overzealous and had you arrested. I'll... have a talk with him.”

  Then she said with genuine gratitude, “Thanks for the help, Finnegan.”

  I swallowed at the heat in her tone which was reflected in her eyes. By the lord of the lolling tongue did I want to be her squeaky toy, but she moved so glacially slow, telling me the seduction made it that much sweeter when we gave in. She hasn't moved past a really frustrating second base with me, flirting solidly with third base as we shared my bed now. But I was a sexually frustrated mess all the time now and wished she'd just go for the goal, or touchdown, or whatever the sports-y metaphor was. I'm positive I'm going to spontaneously combust if she doesn't take me soon.

  Wha? Too much information? Sorry, I told you I was frustrated.

  Then she said, sounding like Detective Flannery, her sometimes partner, “Don't leave the city, Miss May, until we get this case straightened out.”

  I poked her solid abs and played along. “But I'm heading to Liberty in two days, copper, mom is making your favorite.” I couldn't resist, and my poke turned into a caress of those same muscles at her belly which I wanted to... umm... Concentrate Fin!

  She leaned over me, her shoulder length black hair brushing my shoulders, the tickling sensation sending a thrill of a tingle racing across my skin, her hot breath on my neck making me think inappropriate thoughts for a police station as she purred out, “Then you'll need a police escort.”

  I was nodding. “Yes please.” The wicked smile on her face showcased the hints of Asian ancestry ion her genes.

  Then she was gone, chuckling and looking far too smug as she sat back into her chair. The... the jerk. I panted and swallowed. “I'm going to tell her that you get no pie for teasing me.”

  She almost snorted at the word pie. What was so funny about that? Her wiggling eyebrows were annoying me just then.

  Then I squeaked in distress when I got the implication. My girl was naughty! I smiled in embarrassment as certain parts of me heated.

  I looked at the clock above her desk on the wall and sighed at the time. It was five already. “Sorry, no meatloaf tonight unless you want to eat really late. Monday?”

  All her smugness was gone in an instant, replaced with a shy vulnerability she seemed only to ever show me as she cupped my cheek. I inhaled her scent. Lilacs, leather, and gun oil. It was almost as intoxicating as her other distinct scent of lilacs, leather, and soap that did so many pleasant things to me now.

  She leaned in and whispered, “You spoil me, Fin. Monday is fine.”

  I liked spoiling her, and stolen moments of honesty like this made it infinitely worthwhile. She left a whisper of a kiss on my lips that had me tingling and wondering if our lips had even touched.

  The, “Awww,” which sounded throughout the sea of cubicles from the other detectives, brought us back to reality.

  She growled and tossed her stapler crossways at Flannery, and she growled out to the men as he caught it deftly, “Stow it, assholes, or you'll find your testicles stapled to your chairs.” This pulled a chuckle from the group and a smile from my detective.

  She glanced at the clock then sighed and said to me, “It's almost shift change. Let me file this report, and I'll give you two a ride home.”

  I nodded with a grin, my mind absently reshuffling the food schedule for the next three weeks to absorb this anomaly. Maybe something simple tonight like... Jane loves my chili. Hey, I'm not obsessives compulsive – ish. Go away.

  I stood and rubbed her shoulders for her as she transcribed her notes to the computer. Most of the officers and detectives used tablets to take their notes, so they didn't have this step. But my Detective McLeary preferred to write on her little notepads instead. Something about it being committed to memory better if you physically have to write out the words instead of typing.

  Feeling her relaxing under my hands, I was happy I could get some of that tenseness that was always knotting her shoulders to loosen, if just for a moment. As annoying and overbearing and arrogant and frustrating as the woman was, she was also one of the most dedicated and driven woman I have ever met, but the burden she heaped onto herself took its toll whether she realized it or not.

  Jones, a couple cubicles away, called out, “What about us? We'd like a shoulder rub too Finnegan.”

  I grinned over my shoulder. I have always been a little flirty with men, the prettier, the better, but I was finding that trait of mine had been taking on a more universal tone as I didn't feel uncomfortable doing the same with women now. I found myself questioning my sexuality the day I met Jane but have found I had always been pretty pansexual my whole life without really noticing since it was expected that I date men. And I dated, a lot. Usually not making it past the first date because of my little... quirks.

  Teasing, I said, “When I have an opening for a new girlfriend, I'll keep you in mind.” This brought us a round of chuckles that had Calvin bounding around, his tail swishing as he picked up on the jovial mood. Some of the others were teasing the grinning man about him wearing high heels on his next bust.

  I had to grin at the fake shocked expression on Jane's face as she looked back at me. All my confidence left me as I found myself blushing and I looked down, feeling bashful under her amused gaze. She liked that I was accepted by all her cop friends. She teased once that since I got arrested so much, they were all getting to know me.

  Then before I knew it, she was grabbing Cal's leash and holding a hand out. A warm rush of excitement went through me as I took her hand. She hated others seeing her being anything short of a badass, especially at the station, but she was taking steps like this, showing the softer, more human side of robocop lately. Almost daring the others to say something about it.

  I smiled up at her and opened my mouth, but she interrupted, “You have the right to remain silent, pipsqueak. Use it.”

  I grumped out with a smile ticking at the corners of my lips, “Fine.”

  She echoed, “Fine.”

  Waving at the guys awkwardly, my girlfriend led me out. I have a girlfriend you know. I curled my toes and walked with a spring in my step beside her. Taking the opportunity to cross my leg behind me to kick her butt.r />
  I thought about that poor Goldie on the way home.

  We pulled into the parking spot I owned in the underground parking garage, located a block from our place. Jane showed her cop intuition, which illustrated just how transparent I really was to her as she said, “Once animal control has him, if the owner can't be found, we can always spring him and bring him to Central Park Tails.”

  I smiled at that. He'd be much better cared for at my dog rescue like that than at doggie jail.

  We first headed back into the park so Cal could do his thing for the night before heading to our place. A four-story block building on west 57th, across the bricked patio courtyard from the old fifties style Brooklyn Diner and the 57th Street subway station.

  I would have my apartment paid off soon, then I would own it outright. I've gone through a few roommates since I first arrived in New York to strike my fortune as a dog walker. None hung around very long, and certainly none until Jane had shared my bed.

  I found it almost surreal how much property I was amassing in the city. It had never been my intent to ever own anything but my apartment, but now I owned not only it, but a prime parking spot, another apartment at the 855 Building, and Central Park Tails animal rescue. Most of the later due to Calvin's inheritance from his first mom's untimely death.

  That's me, Finnegan Temperance May, Big Apple real estate magnate. I'd strike a confident pose, but a devastatingly sexy woman was currently leading me home.