Dog Days of Summer
by
Bob Spear
Dog Days of Summer
Copyright 2010 Bob Spear
Published by Spear's Mint Editions at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to our bookstore dogs: the late Flint and sweet Tucker, Yellow Labs both.
Chapter 1
An Execution
Leavenworth, Kansas, sometimes known as Prison City, USA, has seen more than its share of executions in the past. Today’s was like no other. The crowd of witnesses was so large, that it was being held in a huge tent down by the Missouri River’s park on the Kansas side.
The Head Executioner, dressed all in black, was standing alone, patiently waiting for the three licensed representatives. The witnesses were a motley crowd of media, civilian, and military interests eagerly awaiting the death knells. The three men due for execution had been tortured unmercifully and even now were being so treated, albeit quite subtly.
These prisoners were dressed exactly alike in special uniforms purposely designed differently from everyone else’s around the area. To insure their misery was finely focused on what was about to happen to them, each wore a choke collar of scratchy material and too tight dimensions. They all had been severely poisoned the night before to insure they would experience the maximum pain possible. This had a most disorienting effect on their bodies and their minds.
The temperature outside was uncomfortably hot. The prisoners’ outfits were made of heavy, stiff materials, greatly magnifying the effects of the poisons, the torture, and the blast furnace temperatures. All three individually considered more than once to make a break for freedom before it was too late, but they all felt too debilitated to do that.
A hideous caterwauling of weird organ music commenced, and one could see the witnesses perking up in anticipation of the looming spectacle. The prisoners didn’t stand a chance. The music swelled and then segued into a theme familiar to the large crowd of witnesses. Some of them realized this was finally it. There was no turning back—no reprieve. Dogs in the audience howled. Many of the women in the crowd began weeping, totally losing control of their emotions. Their men tried to put a brave face on the experience, but some began sniffing suspiciously as if they were about to break into tears.
The three representatives were escorted down to the front and placed by the immobile prisoners, close enough to prevent them escaping, should they be so foolhardy as to try.
The solemn executioner stepped forward in front of all and raised his arms. This action magnified his presence and drew every eye in the quickly developing situation onto his face. The crowd hushed. The sniffles were quelled. Total silence reigned supreme. The old but stately executioner, who was just about to end life as the prisoners knew it, rumbled forth the fatal proclamation,: “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together to join these three men and three women together in holy matrimony….”
Chapter 2
Reality Dreaming
Late evening time, Friday—LTC (ret) Enos Hobson lay next to his newest and dearest wife, Emily, in their queen-sized bed with the special foam mattress that conformed to their bodies. He felt cradled in the arms of love, as the song went. It didn't seem possible that the three-way wedding of his daughter Samantha to Fire Marshal Tom Borden, his PI partner Isaac to his beloved (and very pregnant) Brenda, and Enos to Emily had only been a month ago in mid-June. He could hear his new step-daughter Kelsey's voice as she sang to Sheba and her pup, Sampson, out in the living room. His ruminations were interrupted by Emily's question, “What's a three letter word for extreme happiness?”
“That's easy, it's what I have with you and Kelsey—joy.”
Emily ran her hand down his thigh, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Emily rolled a little ways toward him, the foam holding her back a little. “You lovely, honorable man. I am so glad we waited and so glad we found one another.” She kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth and then rolled back to jot “joy” into the crossword's three empty boxes at 7-across. “That fits with 9-down's word for umber as “yellow.”
Enos looked forward to sharing the morning paper's puzzle every night with this pragmatic, capable woman he had been so fortunate to meet. She had come along just in time to assume responsibility for her identical twin sister Emma's daughter, Kelsey, and their estate after the Firebug had murdered Emma for figuring out his identity (see book two Firebug). Enos had begun to fall for Emma, only to be emotionally devastated by her death. The murder certainly didn't help his PTSD nightmares, compliments of the first Gulf War. Emily quickly made a judgment, based partly on Kelsey's worship of him as a father figure, with whom she wanted to replace her dead daddy airline pilot she'd lost five years before. Emily was also impressed with Enos’ daughter, Samantha, who had turned out to be a bright and loving young lady who was just starting out in a TV commentator career. Other than the PTSD episodes, an absolute terror of committing to a meaningful relationship, and the fact that he didn't share her Mormon religion, Enos was a perfect potential husband. He'd come a long way. His nightmares were fewer; he was firmly committed to her and Kelsey; and she was slowly bringing him around to understanding her spiritual perspectives.
They enjoyed the mutual teamwork and mental challenge, and Enos considered it one way to teach Emily to improve an analytical mind for her new role in his and Isaac's private investigation company. In fact, she's the one who came up with its new name, knowing their military fondness for acronyms—INCIDA or the Intelligence and Criminal Investigation Detective Agency. Enos had served a career as an Army officer in Military Intelligence and Isaac was a retired Sergeant First Class Criminal Investigation Detective. Lately, Enos and she had solved a murder case (see Book 3 Border Wars) involving a murdered Army officer from India and a wrongfully accused Pakistani Army officer, who had been his neighbor and Command and General Staff College (CGSC) classmate. At the same time, Isaac took down an outlaw biker gang’s meth operation for the KBI and FBI by going undercover, which had scared the hell out of Brenda.
Sam and Tom and Enos and Emily decided to make it a double wedding until Isaac learned Brenda was going to have his child. With all five other participants, he didn't stand a chance when it was recommended they make it a triple ceremony. Isaac loved Brenda and he understood the slogan, “Cooperate to graduate.” Actually, he was rather relieved to have a good excuse to ask her, since he'd been afraid of being rejected. As Maude Brown-Green would say, “All men are idgits!”
Kelsey quietly knocked on the open door to announce herself and came in. “I'm tired. Can we have family prayers?”
Enos still wasn't totally comfortable with the spiritual world, so he always held back while Emily and Kelsey got down on their knees and each said a heartfelt prayer in turn. Kelsey was second this night. She spoke earnestly with her arms folded and her eyes squeezed shut, “Dear Heavenly Father, thank thee for our new daddy. Please help him to learn and grow in the Gospel so we can all be together in the Celestial Kingdom when we die. I ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Emily echoed the amen, and they both got up to kiss Enos goodnight. Kelsey had made a complete emotional transference, as witnessed when she said, “Good night Daddy. Good night Mommy.”
After Kelsey had shut the door and gone to her room, which had once been Sam's, Enos asked, “Do you think that's healthy for her to call us Mommy and Daddy?”
Emily paused a moment to consider, as she often did when approached with potentially weighty matters. “I think so, yes. After all, she had her real daddy taken from her when she was five. Then Emma was taken when she was ten. I think she has accepted the concept of, 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.' I, who look like her mother, and you, the father of her step-sister Samantha, whom she adores, pretty much look like Heavenly gifts to her—the Lord's giving back in spades.
“OK, that makes sense. She just blows my mind with her maturity and comfort with all this.”
“She is her mother's daughter. Emma really focused on the spiritual side after her husband lost his life in that senseless airliner crash. If only the First Officer hadn't been drunk.”
“I guess you're right, but this is all strange territory for me.”
“I know, Enos. Only you can develop a testimony of the divinity of our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ and the sacrifice he made for us with his atonement. Kelsey has done that, despite her young age. When you're ready to take a few steps in that direction, I'll be there, along with a lot of other good people, to help you take baby steps until you're running and leaping on your own. I understand the importance of readiness. After all, although Emma was always the 'good' twin, I kicked against the pricks all my early life. All I had to show for it was a bunch of thorns and briars to remind me of how silly I'd been. I always had to learn everything the hard way. That's why I now consider myself the 'sadder but wiser' twin. I lost a lot of developmental time rebelling and experimenting, but I now totally understand the importance of living a good spiritual life. You will, too, once you find yourself ready. No one is going to force you. You're going to want to do it because you'll finally realize it's the right thing to do. As honorable as you are, I don't expect that will be too long a wait.”
“You're usually right about these things. I certainly appreciate your patience.” Enos leaned over to turn out the light and turned back to cuddle Emily's sweet body into his embrace as they both sought solace in each other's warmth.
***
Early the next morning, the whole family, including the dogs, went for a speed walk up and down the hills of 20th Street. Enos insisted they adopt the hip-swiveling, skate-like gait that provided plenty of aerobic exercise while decreasing the amount of stress on their knees and ankles they would have experienced had they been jogging or running. Kelsey giggled a lot whenever she fell back behind the adults—she couldn't get over the funny hip action. Sheba and Sampson, on their retractable leashes, ran out and back sedately, although they were fully capable of running the humans into the ground.
On return to the driveway up to their odd, blue-colored triple-dome house, Kelsey gave the newspaper to Sheba to carry, as was her right as the alpha female. Although the Rhodesian Ridgeback hound was his mother, she could still run Sampson ragged. She was a hound, bred to protect Boer homesteads and hunt African lions in packs, and could run all day. Sampson came from a Yellow Lab father, Ike, Maude Brown-Green's retriever. She also owned Sampson's sister litter-mate, whom they felt compelled to name Mamie. As on a farm, the feeding and watering of the animals came next, before taking care of themselves.
After hitting the showers and getting dressed for the day, they all pitched in to produce breakfast and ate with the usual banter and teasing back and forth, with Kelsey giving as good as she got. They shared in the cleanup as well. While Kelsey went to watch a nature show on local TV, Enos and Emily went into the family room to read and trade newspaper sections back and forth. Enos looked up from the local Kansas City section, “Another one went missing.”
“Huh?”
“Another prostitute went missing last night. Her friends reported it to the cops as soon as she didn't show up at her usual corner.”
“Any luck finding her?”
“Nope, she disappeared into thin air. No one saw anything.”
“Isn't that the way it always is?”
“Not any more. The street people hang together. Think of it as a homeless neighborhood watch. They are talking to the police on a regular basis because so many of the ladies have turned up missing. Yet, it's strange there's been no witnesses or sightings. If someone is murdering the ladies, they're sure covering it up well.”
“I wonder if there is any way we could assist on a contract basis?”
“That's my girl! Never miss a business opportunity. You, my sweet, are definitely a glass half full personality type. Where others see tragedy, you see opportunity. No wonder INCIDA is growing so fast.”
Emily dimpled, “Somebody has to make sure we have enough business to provide a living to our burgeoning staff.”
“Yep, and you're really good at it, Emily. Hiring you and Brenda was the smartest thing Isaac and I ever did.”
“That's because we're idgit-proof.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. So, what do you think has been happening?”
“So many have disappeared in the past two months, ten now I believe, I've got to think someone is killing them and hiding the bodies.”
“There you go. Hidden bodies have got to stink. I think Sampson is almost ready for his debut.”
“Yes, I think you're right. Give Kelsey another couple of weeks of training him, and he should be ready.”
“I'm just glad it's Kelsey doing the training and not you. You'd never be able to deal with the smell.”
“You're right there. If I had to smell the dead cadaver smell all the time, I'd never be able to function.”
“Well, it'll be worth all Kelsey's work to have a trained cadaver tracking dog, with the murder rate the way it is down in the city.”
“Hey, it's almost as bad in the rural county and even in town here. I've never seen anything like it.”
Suddenly, the phone rang.
Chapter 3
Training
Enos went to the office and picked up the phone. “Hey Isaac, what’s happening?”
“Potential business, I believe—lots of unsolved prostitute disappearances lately.”
“Great minds and all that—Emily and I were just talking about that situation. We’re thinking it’s time to offer Sampson’s skills as a cadaver dog.”
“Oh, is his training to that point?”
“We think so. Kelsey has done a wonderful job with him. Give her another couple of weeks, and he’ll be ready.”
“How’s he performing?”
“It’s uncanny. He has a very sensitive nose and a real work ethic. It’s a joy to watch him work, and he really enjoys what he’s doing. The Lab/Ridgeback combination pairs up two pleasant working breeds that identify closely with humans. I’m so glad Ike nailed Sheba last year. I couldn’t have planned it any better.”
“So, I guess I should use my KBI and FBI contacts to good effect. With the same MO cropping up on both sides of the state line, it won’t be long before the FBI becomes officially involved. I’ll let them know we’re standing by if they need us. How does Kelsey like dog training?”
“Isaac, you know how eager to please she is. I think she personally identifies with Sampson. They have a strong bond. She takes instruction well. I’ve started teaching her the games I invented for Samantha back in the day.”
“Ah, the ones that program good reactions?”
‘Right, I’ve been using the crash drill with her and Emily.”
“The one where they have to compete for the best time?”
“Yep, we’ll be driving down the street, and I’ll randomly yell out ‘Crash!’ Then we see who was able to bend forward below the window line and grab their legs in a braced position. She’s really proud; she always beats Emily.”
“Is Emily taking it seriously?”
“Yes, you know what a jock she is, but still Kelsey beats her into position. I hope we never have to use it, but if we do, their reactions will be automatic. We’re also playing the Red Light game.”
“You mean your variation on hide and seek?”
“Yes, whenever Emily, Kelsey, or I yell ‘Red Light!’ everyone immediately goes to their pre-selected hiding places at home, in case bad guys attempt to enter the house.”
“Anything else?”
“Emily has this thing called ‘Family Home Evening.’ They do a bunch of praying and singing, and then they play a game or have a fun activity, followed by a yummy snack. Last week, I supplied the activity. We made a letter bomb.”
“WHAT?”
“No, not a real one—a training aid. I took play clay and rolled it out in a thin sheet, like I would with C-4 or Semtex plastic explosives. I eased that into a large envelope which I had sloppily addressed. I put in a couple lengths of wire and the plastic lid from a film canister to represent a firing device. Then I sealed the envelope and used a little oil to splotch the envelope just like when plastic explosives sweat oil. Now Kelsey and Emily know what not to touch and to come tell me about it.”
“Very smart, mon colonel You’re bad-guy proofing them without scaring them half to death. I like it. In fact, I’m going to start doing the same with Brenda.”
“Speaking of which, how’s little Isaac coming along?”
“Well, it’s definitely an it. Haven’t been able to see the sex, but Brenda’s passed the sonogram and the amniosyntithis test with flying colors.”
“Wonderful, Isaac. I guess you still had a few good shots left in you.”
“Watch it, Enos, or I’ll make fun of you when Emily gets knocked up.”
“Ouch, let’s not go into that possibility just yet. I’m still trying to get used to living with an instant family, much less dealing with squalling babies at my age.”
They traded insults back and forth a few more times and then hung up. Emily ghosted around the corner into the office. “Instant family…squalling babies, huh?” Emily stuck her tongue out at Enos and grabbed his head to give him a noogie. He began tickling her back in self-defense, and Emily began shrieking. Kelsey and the two dogs came rushing in to play ‘Hop on Pop,’ and a writhing mass of humanity and canines spread over the office floor.
The horseplay wound down and all gave up in order to catch their breaths. Kelsey was the first to turn serious. “Daddy, when are you going to give Mommy a baby?”
Enos actually blushed and stammered until Emily came to his rescue, “Whenever Heavenly Father feels it’s time for a new little spirit to come to earth for her or his body, it will happen.”
“I am so looking forward to a little brother or sister.”
“I know, and by watching you work with Sampson, I know you will be a wonderful big sister. Just be patient. It will happen.”
“I know. That’s why I shut your door at night.”
It was Emily’s turn to blush. Enos just sat there, not daring to react to any of this interchange. Kelsey just smirked and called the dogs to her to go play outside before it got too hot. Emily shut the bedroom door.
***
Later in the evening after it began to cool off a little, Kelsey took Sampson out for a training session. Sheba was kept inside so she wouldn’t be a distraction to her pup. Sampson was nine months old, still in his adolescent time. Occasionally, he would act out, pretending to not hear or understand, but Kelsey wouldn’t let him get away with that for very long. She used his name as an attention getter and worked through basic obedience commands such as sit, down, stay, and come to bring him back into the obedience mood. If that didn’t work, she would ignore him and go back inside, coming out later when he might be ready to be more obedient.
Today, she had gone out ahead of time and created a group of search items—there was a hammer, a pot, a plastic spatula, a pair of Kelsey’s jeans, a book, a coffee can, and a glass salt shaker with the holes open to let out the scent of a rotting cadaver given off by a small piece of human flesh obtained from a cooperative funeral home. She spread these items over an area about five by ten feet.
When they came out to train, Kelsey first ran Sampson through all his obedience commands, giving appropriate encouragement for each success. Now they were ready for cadaver sniffing training. This would be the last time he would have to find only one cadaver scent. Tomorrow he would have to find two and on to even more over a wider area later on. She kept him on lead and led him over to the items. Natural curiosity encouraged him to sniff at several until he came to the salt shaker. He pawed it, barked, and sat down immediately.
“Good boy, Sampson, good boy!” She hugged him and gave him a short strip of beef jerky, which he adored. He definitely knew he had done well.
Enos watched from the house with an approving eye. He didn’t dare get close enough to catch a whiff of the cadaver bait. When his Military Intelligence Battalion crossed over into Iraq during the first Gulf War, they came upon large enemy units that had been bombed and shelled unmercifully for the two weeks prior. Their command and control and logistics chains had been severed. In addition to starving and thirsty Iraqi soldiers, there were also dead and wounded ones lying about the area from the two weeks of battlefield preparation fires. The stench and amount of human suffering was horrific. The enemy soldiers didn’t want to fight; they wanted to surrender and be saved.
It was this set of conditions that eventually got to Enos, creating his post traumatic shock that resulted in him freezing and going into a fugue or mental state that blocked out everything else while he focused on bad memories. The smell of death could also affect his sleep at night with terrible nightmares. This had gotten better since his marriage to Emily a month before; however, it wasn’t totally cured.
Before Kelsey came in from the training session, she sealed the cadaver bait into a plastic bag. It would be placed in the refrigerator until it was needed again the next day. The training schedule over the next two weeks would make finding the bait more and more challenging. First would come the use of multiple baits. Then would come spreading them over a wider area, and finally hiding them under sheet rock and plywood and in a pile of rocks to replicate realistic field conditions.
Unlike a rescue dog, Sampson would be looking for dead bodies for which rescue would be too late. Cadaver dogs were useful for searching out murder victims and natural catastrophe victims whose bodies had begun to decompose. One of the lessons learned from 9/11 was for these dogs to wear tough protective booties over their feet to keep them getting cut by broken glass and jagged metal such as torn siding or nails and wooden splinters. Kelsey had worked with Emily to design and make strong leather foot coverings. Next week, she would add their use for Sampson to become accustomed to. He’d be ready in two weeks for the real deal.
Chapter 4
Forewarnings
Isaac hung up the phone and turned to Brenda, who shook her head and smiled. “Maude’s right; you men are such idgits. You’ll love your child, and you know it.”
Isaac looked sheepish; an expression he was using more and more lately. “You’re right, Sweetie. It’s just so hard for me to consider fatherhood after a life of bachelorhood. I’m scared I’m going to do something wrong or….”
Brenda came over beside him and hugged his head against her ever growing stomach. There, there, Sweetie. You’re going to do just fine as a father. You’re a kind, gentle man, when you need to be and a wildcat when you don’t. I can’t wait to see you changing his diapers.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait for that,” he said sarcastically. He paused, “Enos and Emily read the same article we did in the Star. All these missing prostitutes may mean more business for us.”
“That’s good. Isaac, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you guys giving me an office job. It’s something I always wanted to do, but everyone thought I was too stupid. I mean…who would want some tattooed biker babe running an office?”
We do! You’re a very fast learner, and you really pay attention to details and routine. You’re getting the office organized for a change.”
“Yeah, but I’m not smart like Emily. My God, her mind goes a mile a minute.”
“You’re right, and how lucky we are to have both of you ladies. You provide a firm foundation to the office, admin wise, and yes, Emily is very bright and quick with seeing patterns and such. She’s the perfect help mate for Enos, Just as you are mine. All of us are a team. Different skills are needed for the different roles that we must play to make it a successful business. We can’t all be quarterbacks, Brenda. Did you ever see what happens to a quarterback if the center doesn’t do his job well?”
“Nooo,” Brenda said uncertainly.
“He gets creamed. All the facts, figures, and analysis in the world won’t do much for us if we don’t have someone to keep them all straight and easy to find. You’re the center, Brenda. You’re the one who gets things started every day and keeps all the solicitors and other time wasters away. The office would collapse without you.”
Brenda was beaming now, “Ya think?”
“I think, Sweetie. Now, to prove you aren’t as dumb as you think you are, what’s your take on these missing prostitutes?”
Brenda had been a biker babe and ran with a rough street crowd for a long time before she and Isaac met when he took a vacation to the West Coast. She had made more than her share of wrong choices, especially when it came to men. She was the classic woman who ran with the wolves, which is why it was so ironic she had fallen for Isaac. She thought he was much badder than he really was. He had turned out to be such a pussy cat down deep. On the other hand, his years surviving dangerous undercover assignments proved he had what it takes when it came to putting on his game face. Brenda had watched Isaac kick the asses of six bikers in a huge bar fight once and knew what he was capable of. She felt very safe with him, both from others and himself.
Her street smarts were as good as her schooling experience was meager. “Isaac, I think some very twisted dude is capturing and killing those working women. I don’t see where it could be anything else. I’ve seen guys like that back in California. Maybe a whore has done him wrong in the past in some way, so he decides all whores are bad and starts taking his feelings out on them. I’d be willing to bet that since nobody’s caught him, he’ll be doing it more and more often until he screws up in some way or an investigator gets lucky.”
Isaac’s eyebrows rose, “Damn, girl, you make sense like some FBI profiler. You’re amazing.”
Now it was Brenda’s turn to blush with pleasure. She wasn’t accustomed to getting compliments on her mind from men—only her body.
“See what I mean, Sweetie? You’ve just given me a great angle to work with the Feebs when I talk with them. Thank you!”
Isaac hugged her, and she felt like crying, she was so happy. Sniffling a little, she hugged him back. They headed for the bedroom. It was time for daddy to say hello to sonny for a few times.
Chapter 5
Forget It
It began when Maude noticed the speed of their car slowing down. She looked over at her husband, the Reverend William Green, and saw a puzzled look on his face. “What’s wrong?” The Reverend’s grimace was highlighted in the dark by the dash lights.
“Where are we?”
“About five miles north of I-70.”
“No, I mean where are we?”
“On Highway 7.”
“Oh, and where are we going?”
“Home, dearest.”
“Oh?…oh yeah.” He began to increase the car’s speed again.
“Did you forget, Bill?”
“Uh…yeah. I suddenly didn’t know where I was. I’m OK now”
But Maude wasn’t. She didn’t know what to think. In her late fifties, Bill was in his late sixties. “Are you feeling OK?”
“Yes, I just lost track of where I was. That’s easy to do when it’s dark.”
“Hmmm, has this happened before?”
“Yes, but it’s a first when you were in the car with me. Sometimes it takes me several moments to get reoriented. It’s becoming more common at night.”
“And this doesn’t concern you?”
“I have to admit; the first few times it was pretty scary. I guess I’ve come to expect it now.”
“Shouldn’t we mention this to a doctor?”
“Oh, I’m just getting old. That’s all.”
“When did all this start?”
Maybe six months ago? I don’t know for sure. It’s especially bothersome at home when I go into a room and I can’t remember why. Sometimes I have to come back out to remember what I needed. Even then, I can’t always remember.”
“I had no idea. This concerns me.”
“I’m just getting old, Maude. Ain’t no big thing.”
***
The next day, Maude was listening to Bill play piano, as she often loved to do while she worked chores around the house. There was always so much work required of her dairy and meat goat operation. Her rabbits kept her busy as well, what with the new mothers getting nervous and trying to eat their young. She focused back in on the piano when she heard some clunker notes and a soft curse from her religious husband. Maud put down the milk jar she’d been washing, dried her hands on her apron, and almost rushed into the parlor where Bill had been playing.
He sat there, rubbing his hands and grimacing with pain.
“What’s wrong, dearest?”
Bill Green shook his head, “This danged arthritis! My hands and wrists hurt so much, I can’t make my fingers grab the chords anymore like I used to do. That’s why I’m hitting so many wrong notes. Seems like the over-the-counter meds aren’t strong enough any more. I’m so tired of hurtin’.”
“That’s it, dearest. I’m calling for an appointment for you right now.”
“Now Maude, there’s nothing they can do….”
“You listen to me, you old, beautiful idgit. There are way too many things falling apart on you at the same time. I know you used to be a great Army corpsman, but I want a real doctor’s opinion.”
***
Reverend Bill Green and Maude Brown-Green sat in the small examination room. The door opened and the younger doctor bustled in. “I’ve got good news and bad news. First, you’re not dying any quicker than you normally would.”
Bill smiled at Maude, “I told you I’m just getting older.”
“The bad news is, you have early Alzheimer's and your arthritis is definitely debilitating.”
Maude spoke up, “Which means?”
“I can give him a prescription for a stronger pain med, but he’s still going to get clumsier. It’s going to get worse. On the memory side, that will be getting worse as well; however, we have some meds that will slow down the progress of the Alzheimer's and maybe even improve it.”
Maude sat there stunned, suddenly seeing years of care giving ahead for her. “Is there anything I can do to make life easier for both of us?”
Well, if you have a few thousand dollars, I would recommend a well trained helper dog—one that will pick up dropped items and go fetch things for Bill.”
Bill got tired of everyone talking like he wasn’t even there. “Helper dog? What kind of helper dog?”
“A breed that is a working breed: smart, patient, and loving. A Yellow Lab or a Golden Retriever would be good examples.”
“Could we do the training?”
“I suppose so, if you had ongoing advice from someone who knows what they’re doing around dogs. Why?”
We already own a male Yellow Lab that is about four years old. And we own a nine-month-old female that’s half Lab and half Rhodesian Ridgeback. Would either of them work?”
“Yes, either could do the job, but I would focus on the pup, since you’d get more lifetime out of her. You could find a good deal of information and even training tips on the internet.”
Maude and Bill looked at one another and smiled.
***
As soon as they came home and Maude had helped Bill into the house, she got on the internet to search for sites dedicated to service and assistance dogs. “Hey Bill, it says a good candidate for assistance dog training must be pleasant, agreeable, and malleable to service and training. Does that sound like Mamie?”
“To a tee, I’d say.”
“Let me call Kelsey.”
“Why?”
“To hear what she has to say about dog training.”
Maude’s call to the Hobsons went from Emily to Kelsey. Emily went into the kitchen for a drink of water. When she came back to the dining room, Kelsey was just hanging up, “…I’ll be right over, Mrs. Green.” Kelsey carefully set the phone receiver back in its cradle and began to jump up and down. “YES! YES! YES! Mrs. Green wants to ‘consult with me’ about training Mamie to be an assistance dog for Reverend Green. That is so cool!”
“Assistance dog? Why on earth does Reverend Green an need assistance dog?”
“I don’t know, but I bet I will know as soon as I get over there to ‘consult’. I’ll let you know when I come home.”
“Actually, I’m rather curious. I think I’ll go with you to hear what they have to say.” And watch over your consulting while I’m there.
Aunt and niece walked across the side yard to the gate between the two properties, carefully shutting it after passing through. Maude met them at the door. “Hi Emily, hi Kelsey. Come on in and take a load off.”
The ladies, representing three generations of female astuteness, passed into the kitchen and Maude brought out a loaf of freshly baked banana nut bread. She quickly sliced it up and brought a block of creamed cheese to spread on it and fresh milk to drink. Once the social amenities were out of the way, Maude got down to business.
“We’ve just received some bad news. Bill is in the early stages of Alzheimer's.”
Both Hobson ladies’ faces became concerned, and Emily exclaimed, ”Oh no! What can we do to help?”
“I guess there’s nothing much any of us can do about that except make sure he takes the meds they prescribed to slow down its progress. The more immediate problem is his arthritis, which has gotten worse lately. Bill drops a lot of things and he has a hard time bending over to pick things up off the floor. It’s also getting more difficult for him to get around to fetch and carry things he wants and needs. That becomes a frustrating task for me. The doctor suggested we obtain a helper or assistance dog. We think maybe Mamie could be trained to do things like that. Kelsey, do you think you could help me train her and make sure I don’t do anything stupid while I’m working with her?”
“Oh yes, I would love to work with you and Mamie.”
“I’d be pleased to pay you for your time.”
At this point, Emily entered into the conversation, “Maude, Kelsey won’t need any money for her time; however, maybe she could learn some homesteading skills from you. She was just telling me the other day how she’d like to learn about herbs and how to use and store them. Perhaps something might be worked out along those lines.”
Kelsey’s eyes were getting bigger as she realized what Emily was setting up and could hardly contain her excitement. She also knew she’d better play this low key, so she didn’t let on about how excited this made her.
Maude’s eyes crinkled as she realized she’d be gaining an apprentice—someone to carry on her earth knowledge. “That would be perfectly acceptable to me. Would that suit you, Kelsey?”
Clearing her throat to pitch her voice deeper like an adult, Kelsey replied, “I would like that very much.”
And so, the flag of important self-reliance knowledge would be passed to a younger generation in the manner of time honored and proven tradition—by example and practical learning, from mistress to apprentice. Maude felt the earth move under her feet and smiled, for she understood what had just happened.
“So, Kelsey, where would we start?”
“I think with the basic obedience commands—sit, down, stay, come, heel, away, retrieve. Then, we should move on to seek, pick-it-up, go-get-it, and any other things Reverend Green would need Mamie to do. I would also suggest you get Mamie a light but strong working vest with pockets in which she could carry items he might need at hand. The vest also becomes a signal that it’s time to work. We could work with her in the mornings before it gets too hot.”
“And, you and I could work in the afternoons when I can show you the differences between cooking and medicinal herbs and how to use and store them. Would that be OK, Kelsey?” Maude had cocked an eyebrow at Emily each time she asked Kelsey’s opinion to let her know she was including the adult in the conversation. Emily smiled and nodded behind Kelsey’s back.
***
The next two weeks were busy indeed. Once basis obedience commands became locked in, Reverend Green joined the training sessions so Mamie could become accustomed to his voice when hearing the helper commands. Training sessions with Mamie became intense with three people participating. Kelsey explained and demonstrated how to teach a command. Then, Maude would teach and reinforce the training with practice and rewards. Finally, the Reverend took a turn after having watched the young and old lady closely when they worked the pup. Once training was finished, the work vest came off and all three humans played with Mamie.
There was another observer as well—one whom the humans had forgotten about. Ike watched as Mamie got more and more working and playing attention while he was essentially ignored. Soon there were indications that all was not well at Maude’s. Urine puddles began to appear inside the house. More solid gifts began to show up in awkward places, such as outside the bedroom door in the hallway where it could be easily stepped in.
Maude, who was becoming more and more exasperated because of all the unexpected clean up work said to Kelsey, “I don’t think it’s Mamie. Some of these pee puddles look like they ran down the wall before collecting on the floor. Female dogs don’t have the equipment necessary to pee that high.”
“If it’s Ike, he’s trying to tell you something. He is obviously upset. Has anything in his routine changed recently?”
“Well, we haven’t been able to pay much attention to him lately because of all the time we’re spending with Mamie.”
“That’s probably it. He’s seeking attention. If he can’t get it by being good, he’ll get it by being bad. You’ll need to spend more positive time with Ike.”
“Kelsey, You’re right. Animals can be just like children. As a teacher, I used to see the same kind of behavior from my students who felt like they needed to act out to get my attention in class. We’ll include him in the training from now on and spend more play time with him.”
“That should do the trick.”
“Now if only he’ll do the good tricks and not the bad.”
Chapter 6
Looming Retirements
In early July, Police Chief Dahlquist strolled out of the entryway into the Police Department in the Justice Center and crossed the foyer and through the door into the Sheriff’s domain. Sheriff Dye’s pleasant Administrative Assistant looked up and motioned him into the sheriff’s office. Dale knocked on the door jamb out of courtesy and warning and walked in. Dye looked up and smiled, Come on in and have a seat, Dale. Do ya need any coffee?”
Thanks, Hank, no, I’m practically floating in it already.”
“What brings you down here, Dale?”
By law, the sheriff of a county is the lead law enforcement officer in that county. Many large cities neglected to acknowledge that, but Dahlquist and Dye had come to a good working accommodation and were respective of each other’s role and territory. They had become friends as well as colleagues.
“Hank, I’ve decided to hang it up. I’ve enjoyed as much as I can. It’s time to retire.”
“Really?” Dye began to snicker and then laugh out loud.
“It isn’t that funny, Hank.”
Dye withdrew his handkerchief from out of his pocket to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dale, it’s just that you saved me a walk to your place with the same message about myself by about ten minutes.”
With that, Chief Dahlquist began laughing, which kicked off another round of laughter from Dye. Soon they were howling. Out in the entreroom, Detective Fred Sheets had also invaded county territory to hit on Dye’s Administrative Assistant. They heard the hilarity and both crept to the door into Dye’s office and listened in.
The two men finally quieted down, and Hank spoke first, “Dale, I know just how you feel. We’re not getting any younger, and we’re both maxed out for our retirement annuities. It’s definitely time.”
It had taken Hank Dye more than a year to recover from the wounds he had received in Viet Nam as a young Marine grunt. He had joined the Sheriff’s Department shortly after that, capitalizing on his disabled vet status to get the necessary points for consideration, despite not having any college education. He had obtained those later the hard way by taking classes during his off-shift time. After making it through the challenging police academy out in Hutchison, Kansas, he began working his way up the Deputy ranks. Finally, after serving under a very corrupt, political grandstanding sheriff for several years, he took a significant risk and resigned to run for the office. Ironically, in the Primaries, a retired Military Police Lieutenant Colonel beat out the corrupt sheriff and Hank ran unopposed in his party. He won quite handily against the retired military cop in the main election that fall. He was welcomed back with applause and began to weed out the dead wood. In short order, he had a well-run, totally honest department. After thirty-five years, it was time to hang up his spurs.
Dale Dahlquist had risen through the ranks in a different manner. He had transferred from department to department in other communities every time he sought greater responsibilities. This had exposed him to many different ways of law enforcement. Of the two, he was more scientific and more management oriented, while Hank depended more on the ‘good old boy’ network. Dale had been hired by the town to clean up a corrupt Police Department, which he had quickly done. Both men had been highly effective lawmen in their respective approaches.
“So Dale, have you given any thought to whom you’ll recommend as your replacement?”
At this, Fred Sheets moved his ear to the door as closely as he dared.
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately and haven’t made up my mind whether I should recommend one of my own or an outsider like I had been. Do you have anyone in mind?”
Sheets sighed in frustration and continued to listen in on the conversation
“Yes, and like you, I’m going outside my department.”
Sheets strained to hear.
“I’m going to try to talk Isaac Curtis into running for Sheriff.”
Sheets, who didn’t care much for Isaac or Enos, seeing them as interlopers, started with incredulity.
“Excellent choice, Hank! He has a wealth of undercover experience, personally knows all the biker crowd around here and has a mean motor scooter reputation among them. Plus, he has the military, KBI, and FBI contacts to make him invaluable. I’ll back him wholeheartedly and will pass the word amongst the city hierarchy as soon as you give me the word.”
“Super! When and how are you going to announce?”
“I’m not sure,” then Dahlquist got a devilish look on his face. “Why don’t we hold a joint press conference and announce our retirements together?”
Dye matched Dale’s grin, “Ohhh, that would really jab a stick in the Leavenworth political hornets’ nest. Let’s.”
Sheets moved away from the door, placing a finger on the assistant’s lips, and quietly exiting the outer office. Periodic chuckles and guffaws could still be heard for a while from Dye’s office. Sheets left buoyed by hope and dreams of power and higher salary levels.
Dahlquist left shortly thereafter and walked back to his office. Elly, his Administrative Assistant was quite different from Sheriff Dye's. Her voice was a grating growl from the cigarettes and whiskey she was accustomed to using in large portions. An older woman, she had the language of a seaman and used it freely. She protected Dahlquist like a Rotweiler dog protected German cattle drovers coming home from market with their money wrapped in red kerchiefs tied around their necks. Nobody messed with Elly, except for Isaac Curtis, who pulled her chain unmercifully. She gave as good as she got and loved him for it. She often thought of him as the only man with real balls who ever came to visit. It was too bad he'd gone and gotten himself married, although the word on the street was his wife was no one to mess with, and Elly expected nothing less out of Isaac. They were two of a kind, as far as she was concerned.
Dahlquist paused at Elly's desk. Rather than ask for messages, he said something totally out of left field. “Elly, what would you think of Isaac Curtis running for Sheriff this year?”
“Is Dye stepping down?”
“Yeah.”
“Then that would be a very good thing for Leavenworth County if he won. He's rougher around the edges than Hank, but with all the drugs getting made and sold out of here, he'd be exactly what's needed right now.”
“I thought you'd might say that. Good minds think alike. It's Hank's idea.”
“So Isaac doesn't know anything about this yet?”
“Nope.”
Elly began to snicker and then produced a series of hacking coughs until she finally got her breath back. Dahlquist smiled, “I thought that might be your reaction. Don't you dare say a word to him. Let Hank spring it on him.”
“God, I wish I could see his face when Hank asks him. He'll be 50% horrified and 50% greedy for the opportunity to do everything his way for once. Oh to be a fly on that wall.”
A few minutes after the Chief went into his office, Fred Sheets slinked in. “What chu need, Detective Sheets?”
Elly always made Fred feel uncomfortable. “Uh...have you heard the Chief's getting ready to retire?”
Elly wasn't totally shocked. She'd been expecting it for some time. “No, and you haven't either, if ya know what's good for ya.”
“I have it on the best of authority that he is. Who do you think he'll recommend as his successor?”
“If he is, I don't know, and I certainly wouldn't say. I have no idea who he'd ask to replace him.”
“I'm thinkin' it might be me, seein' that I'm his senior detective and all.”
Elly couldn't hold it in, “You?” She commenced to snark through her nose and then to cough her lungs out. Sheets stood there, watching her in dismay. “Uh...you OK there, Elly?”
She finally got her breath back. “Go away, Detective Sheets, before ya throw me into a conniption fit.” She shooed him away with her hands. Sheets backed out of her office thinking, Does that mean she doesn't think so? Surely not!
Elly shook her head as the little redneck backed out, Lord, what a picture that brings to mind. He's lucky the Chief hasn't put a contract out on him with the bikers. They'd never fulfill it, since the man is so incredibly stupid. Why wish for smart enemies?
That is an interesting rumor though, especially after hearing about Sheriff Dye. I wonder who Chief Dahlquist would recommend? Now that makes for some interesting speculation.
Just then the Chief called on the intercom, “Elly, touch base with the Sheriff's office to set up an important joint press conference.”
“Yes sir.” Joint press conference? What on earth for? Wait a minute! No, they wouldn't really do that...retire at the same time? Oh God, yes they would. What a way to thumb their noses at the system and nothing can be done about it. The County and the city Commissioners will be going absolutely nuts. Go for it, Chief! She commenced belly laughing, which through her into a paroxysm of coughing. Now, if I can live long enough to see the new regime into power.
What no one but she knew, Elly was dying of lung and esophageal cancer. She'd turned down chemo and radiation, knowing she was dead anyway. Why make herself any more miserable during her last days? No, she would continue to self-medicate with the whiskey to see her through each day. Now she was supplementing with pain meds in the evening and at night. The days she gutted through with just enough sneaked nips to carry her along till she got safely home and off the streets.
The Chief suspected, but was too much a gentleman to let on. He knew her so well. As long as the work got done and she was happy, he was happy for her. Dahlquist had watched his mother go through mastectomies twice, radiation, chemo therapy, gut wrenching nausea, the indignity of hair loss, and constant, deep, severe pain. If Elly wanted it this way, he'd damn well accommodate her. He wouldn't wish what his mother went through on anybody, especially on this tough, loyal gate keeper who protected his domain with her dying breath—literally.
There had been way too many cigarettes (which she still smoked almost incessantly) coupled with severe acid reflux brought on by an almost constant supply of black coffee of battery acid strength, which had gone unmedicated for years. She used to joke about how she'd never get cancer, because no cancer cell could possibly live in the poisonous environment of her body. She looked at it as her own version of preventative chemo therapy. Evidently it hadn't worked the way she'd hoped. Elly would have gotten along just fine in the frontier days. She was made of stern stuff. She would be greatly missed when her time finally ran out. If beauty was measured by courage, Elly would be Miss Universe® material.
***
That night, Isaac and Brenda were enjoying their air conditioning and watching a movie when a knock came at the door. Ever since Isaac’s two Chow guard dogs had been killed by a biker, folks had been able to come up to his door. Before, they would have had to call from the gate.
Isaac got up and crossed to the door, looking through its spy hole. He then quickly opened it to Sheriff Dye. “Hank! What brings you out in this heat and humidity?”
“You are, Isaac. Do ya have time to talk for a while?”
“Sure, come on in.”
Brenda turned off the movie and scurried to the kitchen to get cold beers. Isaac offered an easy chair across from the sofa when he and Brenda had been cuddling. She brought in three cold, sweaty bottles of beer and passed them around. Once all had opened and sipped their drinks, Isaac asked, “What’s up, Hank?”
“Hopefully, you are, Isaac.”
Isaac got a quizzical look on his face.
“Isaac, I’m retiring and so is Chief Dahlquist.”
“No shit? Congratulations, but what does that have to do with me?”
“I’m recommending to my local political party that they draft you to run as my replacement. The primary election is only a month away, but you’ll be running unopposed for that one. The tough one will be this fall when you’ll probably be up against my number two guy in the department.”
Isaac picked up his lower jaw from off the floor. “Whoa, whoa! Dag nab it, what are you smoking, Hank?” Brenda just sat on the sofa looking stunned.
“I’m dead serious, Isaac. The department needs new blood. There’s too much complacency. Those bikers should never have been able to build such an elaborate meth setup as they did without us getting wind of it. My folks were not paying attention to their territory closely enough. They need you to do some major ass kicking. I’m getting too old to want to bother.”
“But Hank, me?…SHERIFF?”
“You’re the man, Isaac. You’ve got extensive military MP experience for a military town. You’ve got impeccable investigation experience, and you’re mature, responsible, and you know where every bad guy in the area hangs out.”
Brenda looked stricken as she finally connected all the dots. “But that would make Isaac ‘The MAN!’”
“Yes, he’d be the top lawman in the county.
“When I met Isaac, I just thought he was the nicest biker I’d ever met. I didn’t know he was the law until much later. This means I’ll have to make some major mental gear shifts. I’m so used to being fearful of the law.”
“We all have to decide to grow up sometime, Brenda.”
“I guess it would be better for little Isaac to look up to a sheriff for a daddy than a big, bad, biker dude.”
“Little Isaac?”
Brenda blushed and looked downward as she nodded.
“Then, that shines an even brighter light of importance, Isaac. A new young one is going to need security and stability. You need this career step as much as the community needs you.”
“But what about my PI company with Enos?”
“You’ll need to take a leave of absence and put your shares in a blind trust to avoid any conflict of interest, but it could end up being a very good thing for them as well. I can explain all that some other time.”
“Seriously? You think people might actually vote for me?”
“Once the party begins telling your career’s story, you can bet on it.”
“That’s exactly what you’re asking me to do—bet my life on it.”
“Isaac, you know that it sometimes takes a little risk taking to get ahead in life. You’re certainly no stranger to taking risks.”
“Yeah, but that was when I was on my own and only answerable to myself. Now I have a wife and a son or daughter on the way—a lot more responsibility.”
“OK, let’s look at the downside. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I could lose the election.”
“OK, so there you are, a part owner of a thriving detective agency, which can only be helped by all the free publicity, and the retirement annuity for an E-7, which won’t make anyone rich but does provide some medical security. What the hell do ya have to lose?”
Brenda had quietly been following the conversation and suddenly spoke out, “He’s right, Sweetie. We’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
“How so, Brenda?”
“Here you’ve been worried about what the biker gangs might do to us. If you become Sheriff, you’ll have your own gang to protect us, and they’re on the right side of the law. I say go for it, Sweetie!”
Isaac looked up at Dye, “Now you know why I married her, other than the fantastic sex that is. OOOF! (An elbow made contact with his short ribs). She has a way of cutting to the chase. OK, you’re both right, but I swear, I never saw this comin’. I’ll run, but you’re goin’ ta have ta take me by the hand and walk me through this political minefield. I ain’t never been involved in anything like this before.”
“That’s why I’m here, brother. That’s why I’m here.”
Their conversation went late into the night, and Brenda took detailed notes the whole time.
***
The next day, Chief Dahlquist was heading to his office, reviewing in his mind what he would say in the soon to be announced press conference. Fred Sheets quickly scurried out to meet him. “Chief, Chief, wait a minute.”
“What’s on your mind, Fred?” I wonder what’s got my little redneck so excited?
“Chief, I just wanted you to know that if anything important happens in the next few days…well, you can depend on me.”
The creepy little ass kisser. “Ah…thank you very much, Detective Sheets. That certainly is a relief to hear that.”
Sheets preened like a peacock and rose to the toes of his platform shoes, “I got your back, Chief.”
Yeah, right, all the better to stab it. “Thank you, detective.”
Sheets left as quickly as he came. Dahlquist watched him as he strutted off. He knows, and I know Elly didn’t tell him. The leak’s got to be in Hank’s office. That pretty much clinches it. I’m going to recommend Detective James be promoted to Chief. She’s female, smart, black, caring, married to a Hispanic lawyer—that’s as politically correct as it gets, plus she’s the best qualified for the job. God, Sheets is going to go absolutely ballistic. Maybe he’ll even retire—I hope!