Unleashed: Case of the Poodle Doodle
By
Erik Schubach
Copyright © 2019 by Erik Schubach
Published by Erik Schubach on Smashwords
P.O. Box 523
Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026
Cover Photo © 2019 Vadymvdrobot & Vitcom / Depositphotos licenses
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Manufactured in the United States of America
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 9780463180105
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Paint
Chapter 2 – Lunch
Chapter 3 – Dog
Chapter 4 – Doodles
Chapter 5 – Video Conference
Chapter 6 – Arrest
Chapter 7 – Happy Jess-Day
Chapter 8 – Darryl Beckett
Chapter 9 – Sergeant Higgs
Chapter 10 – Debrief
Chapter 11 – Life-Changing Decision
Chapter 12 – Would It Be Ok?
Chapter 13 – Uptown Gallery
Epilogue
Chapter 1 – Paint
Damn, I'm good! I stood back and cocked my head, taking in the paint strokes I had just added to the overall visual appeal of the entire job. I looked for discrepancies, and sighed, shaking my head as I dabbed the brush in the paint again, and painstakingly adjusted an area where the sun and shadow were casting an uneven light on my work.
Exhaling, I shook my head and moved over to clean the brush, I think some paint may have dried and clumped a little, causing an uneven deposit of paint across the bristles. I needed an even dispersion of color, and it had to be right. This job was far too important to rush to completion.
I looked over to my curators, they had tired, yet patient looks on their faces, but what did they know? I looked at my apprentice who was intently watching everything I did. I smiled at him. He understood.
After I cleaned and blotted my brush, I loaded it with paint one last time to even out the last bit of pigment on the... wha? An artist? No, no, no. I got a failing grade in finger-painting because it looked so messy I didn't want to get paint on me. I guess I should introduce myself, the name is Finnegan Temperance McLeary-May, dog walker extraordinaire, at your service. No really, at your service, you can hire me online in the Manhattan area at FinneganWalks.com. Though there is a substantial waiting list.
I turned back to see the peanut gallery, all looking at me expectantly. My wife, and pain in my fuzzy buttocks, Jane, had an eyebrow cocked in question, a bit of lilac paint on her cheek, making me smile. My best friend, Jess, who looked to be almost ready to explode, in her farmer style coveralls that she still somehow made look sexy and dangerous. The painter's cap on her head, which she had tucked her rich red locks up into, she had drawn an emoji with Xs for eyes. It didn't phase me, except for the bit of paint on the brim that made me want to tear it off her head and run to the sink to wash up.
Then my childhood best friend and Jessie's wife, Kerry was shooting me that, “Poor Finnegan,” look she had perfected when we were growing up.
I looked down to Calvin, my black and white border collie, who was the only civilized one of the lot as he cocked his head seeing my attention on him, and his tongue lolled out cutely, and his tail swished along the paint drop-cloth once. “What do you think, boy?”
I turned from him to the wall I had been painting. “Hmm... you're right, Cal. Just needs a little touch up at the door trim and...”
Ker blurted out, “Oh for fuck's sake, Tempe. It looks fine!”
I spun, an eyebrow cocked. The motion sending my long loose curls into my face. I blew one out of my mouth and regarded her as Jess said dramatically, “Ooo, you're in troublllle.”
Jane looked amused as she said, “Here it comes.”
I huffed out a breath and said, “Fine? It looks fine? Do you understand how important it is for everything to be perfect, Ker-Bear? This is the room of Jane and my future child. We have to have a space of their own prepared in a stable home environment with a good support system. Fine doesn't cut it if the home inspections don't go well. It has to be perfect.”
Her lips quirked as she tried to suppress her trademark confident smirk. “Tempe... Fin, you could ask one hundred people if this room was painted perfectly in neutral colors to accommodate a boy or a girl, and the ninety-nine who were not Finnegan would say yes. And they aren't going to be looking at brush strokes when they do the inspections.”
My eyes widened. “That, right there. I wasn't really thinking it until you just said it. What if that one person who is a Finnegan notices? What if she's the one doing the home inspections. By the swishing tail and lolling tongue... we need to start all over and make sure...”
In an instant, my rising panic was quelled when I found my wife's lips on mine. The jerk cop learned long ago it was an easy way to stop my rants. I beamed at her and bounced on my toes when she pulled back with a grin. I told her in an officious tone, “One day that won't work, lady.”
She shrugged. “But today's not that day.”
I sighed at the gorgeous woman, her dark hair tied back in a severe ponytail, her dark eyes, which showed a hint of Asian heritage, twinkled in amusement as I repeated, “But today's not that day.”
She said patiently, “We should call it quits for today. Look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow. I'm sure once the paint dries it will get the Finnegan stamp of approval. Besides, we have to start thinking about moving in some furniture to...”
My eyes widened in excitement. “Ooo, furniture.”
I looked at the other two evil amazons, then down at Cal. He was laid back and was good with anything, it was the ladies who were a lot of work. Well fine, maybe it's me that's a lot of work. I set the container of paint down and sealed it. Jess looking to the ceiling and groaning out, “Oh thank God.”
Ker echoed her relief. “I'm starving.”
When I started to leave the new room across from our master suite, to go to the sink to clean off the brush. Jane stopped me, pried the brush from my fingers and set it down on top of the paint can. I squeaked at that. “That'll get paint on...”
She nodded. “I know, on the can, which we are going to be throwing out anyway, now that it is empty. We can clean up later, the girls and I are beyond hungry. Let's get out to lunch. Your mother is waiting for our call.”
Clean up later? Are we savages? I exhaled loudly then thought about it. It made me feel like a rebel just leaving the brush there like that. I nodded and started peeling out of the disposable Tyvek painter's coveralls. And started to fold them after checking to make sure there were no rogue paint droplets on it. Jess grabbed it from me and blurted, “They're disposable, walker-girl! Come on, Calvin is starting to look tasty here, let's go.”
She hugged me to her, lifting me off the floor, lowered my feet on top of hers and started walking me backward as she kissed the top of my head while she started tickling me in the hug. I squealed and squirmed, calling out for Jane to rescue me. I'm like, terminally ticklish. Calvin barked once and spun a
round, almost prancing as he wondered what new game we were playing.
Jane chuckled out, “Red, you better stop. If she pees her pants, you'll never hear the end of it.” Jessie made a distressed sound and released me. That's right... wait... grr.
I gave them my Fin look. They weren't impressed, so I struck a silly pose for my girl as she shook her head, looking overly amused. I said as I moved through the new rec-room that was between the new bedroom and our master suite, “Ok, let me change, and I'll see you downstairs.”
Jane looped her arm in mine. “You look fine, Finny. I'm not going to be the one to explain to Winnie why we are even later than we are now.”
I looked down at the oversize black tee that Jess had brought me from the City Kitty Alternative Boutique where she was the manager when I asked if she had an old shirt I could use to paint in, so I didn't get paint all over one of the few I had.
I had to tie it in a knot at my waist, or it would have hung to my knees. Luckily this obscured the faded, edgy lettering a bit, which read “One hot biotch!” This was her idea of work clothes. It took all three of them to convince me to wear it because “Nobody would see it.” Yet here they were, suggesting I go out for everyone to see it.
My jeans, of which I had two pairs now, were ok, I guess. I really prefer wearing one of my multitudes of sundresses that filled my closet from edge to edge, but they weren't practical for painting in. And jeans seemed to be my sexy detective's personal kryptonite, Jess even called me “Jane candy” when I wore them. So I donned them sparingly, whenever I was feeling frisky. Don't look at me like that, you have your own quirks too.
I took one last look at the new rooms as they all led me to the circular staircase down to the main level of the apartment on the second floor of the building. Jane and I had decided to adopt when I shared that I wanted children. Not an easy accomplishment for a lesbian couple logistically speaking, so adoption was a good option. One of the major things we needed to do was to make sure we had space for our future child to call their own.
We had a spare room on the main level of the apartment, which our best friends lived in, and I sure as heck wasn't going to kick them out. I loved having them here, they were family as sure as blood. So the only logical thing we could do was to partition off part of our master suite as another bedroom, or buy the little studio apartment beside our master suite and expand our apartment even more.
I'm not going to tell you the pain of a negotiation that was with the owner of the building, or the occupant of the studio. The man, Mr. Santos, agreed to move into the apartment that would be vacated a couple weeks later, on the other side of the hall for twenty thousand dollars. He called it moving costs and pain and suffering. By the sacred tug rope, it was extortion, but we paid it.
Mr. DiAngelo was a harder nut to crack. If he were to sell to us, we would own almost one-third of the building, as I have been chipping away at his square footage as I continually expand my... well, our apartment. I pay a disproportionate amount for upkeep and maintenance in the building as it is, but Jane and I found ourselves paying for renovations to the entry hall of the building that sits between the businesses on street level, and to refurbish the freight elevator in exchange for this deal.
I let the man think he got the better end of the deal when we finally shook on it and got the ball rolling on all the paperwork, but one thing I am good at is dickering with the Brooklyn transplant. I was willing to pay almost eighty thousand more for the studio than the price we settled on, and the renovations would only cost three-quarters of that.
It was a win, win, for both parties, as his building got some needed updates, increasing the value to future renters, and we got the space we needed for our future child.
Now the studio had been basically split in half, a large recreation slash family room taking up half the space, and a bedroom with a private bathroom the other half. We painted the walls ourselves because the cost of having the contractors do it was just silly. We picked gender neutral colors like purple and green so it would be appropriate for any child.
I bounced on my toes as we headed down the stairs, Calvin flowing like liquid canine ahead of us. I had to smile as I took one last look at our growing space. Once the paint dried, it was done. We just needed to get some furniture to fill the space.
My mood was looking up, so I almost skipped to the door to put on the leather coat I had stolen from Jane when we had first met. There was still a bit of a chill in the spring air. I probably looked silly in a jacket too big for me, with the sleeves all bunched up on my arms... but it smelled like Jane. Lilacs, leather, and gun oil. I have her wear it from time to time to give the scents a recharge.
Jane was harnessing and leashing our fuzzy boy as I glanced back at the terrible twosome. I sighed, realizing this must be what having children was like as I chastised, “Do you two mind playing grab ass later, in private in your room?”
They broke the kiss, their hands still full of each other's asses. See? They were literally playing grab ass. Jess smiled, her lips inches from Kerry's. “Hear that, fly-girl? We're supposed to play grab ass later.”
When the combat helicopter pilot almost purred, I was squeaking out, “That's not what I meant, and you know it... Mable.” Jessie's smile dropped when I used her first name. She stuck her tongue out at me, and I chuckled and crinkled my nose at her.
She shook her head as I opened the door to head out. “How do you survive with her wielding cute like a weapon, Five-O?”
My girl chuckled as they all filed out, Calvin leading the way, dragging his leash. “Who says I can survive it, Red?”
I blew the chuckling bunch a raspberry as I locked the door, three or four times to make sure it was locked, then tried to open it just to make sure as Jessie said, “We can take my car, I have it up front.”
I bustled past them, saying, “Can you control your woman Ker?”
She looked overly amused at me, and I looked back at them all as I flounced down the stairs. “Oh, and... shotgun.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Damn it.”
I grinned smugly at myself, then promptly tripped on a whole lot of nothing as I passed the bank of old inset brass mailboxes in the entry hall. I stumbled and then caught myself and went to straighten the hem of the dress I wasn't wearing while I muttered back to the snickers behind me, “I meant to do that.”
Chapter 2 – Lunch
My shotgun victory lap didn't last very long. To Jess' protestations, I finished picking up all the fast food wrappers, and organizing the parking tickets strewn about the dash of her techno violet BMW E36 convertible sports coupe, as we pulled up to my dog rescue... well fine, it is technically Calvin's since it is his inheritance we used to fund it. That is a whole other story that still brings me to tears, when Cal's original owner, Abigail Reeves, yes the Broadway superstar, had been killed, she willed the bulk of her holdings to her dog, Sir Calvin Cornelius Fluffytoes, and his caretaker and power of attorney... me.
Central Park Tails was sort of becoming one of the innumerable tourist attractions in the city by proxy, being next to the park. People were going in and out of the place to visit the pups at all hours while it was open now. And when mom had moved to the big city from our hometown of Liberty, I had convinced her to take one of the apartments above CPT.
We figured that if we were going to pay so much for rent, it would be smart for us to pay a mortgage instead of rent, and we purchased the whole building, and rent out the apartments mostly to the dog walkers of the city at an affordable rate. We use that money to pay most of the mortgage costs, so our monthly stipend from the trust fund is more than adequate to pay the rest with most of it left over.
The operational costs of the rescue are paid mostly by donations, and the bulk of any funding surpluses go to other charitable non-profits like the Callahan Foundation, who gets dogs from us on occasion to train as emotional support dogs to bring around to the local children's hospita
ls. A small amount is put into an emergency contingency fund for CPT.
When we pulled up, I just had to grin at the most amazing mom ever. Winfred May was a force unto herself. She looked phenomenal for a lady in her early fifties and kept herself in great shape. I hoped I looked half as great as she did when I reached that age.
She strode out of the doors of the building, and I hopped out and opened the car door and pulled the seat forward, then groaned as Jane and Kerry snickered at me when mom cocked an eyebrow imperiously at me.
Jessie, who had a not so secret crush on mom, prompted me, “Back seat walker-girl, Winnie has shotgun in perpetuity.” She called out to mom, “You're looking fine today, Mrs. May.”
I grumped as I slid into the very crowded back seat of the car, with Jane, Ker, and Cal. “This is why we should have walked or taken the SUV.” My grumpy face turned into a smile when Calvin took the opportunity to slurp my cheek from Jane's lap.
Then I added as mom slipped into the front seat with a satisfied, 'neener neener' look back at me, “And eww... she's my mom, you Red Riding Hood wannabe.”
Mom said, “Now Temperance, you can't fault your best friend for having impeccable taste.” She winked at Jessie.
By the swishing tail and lolling tongue, she was encouraging the girl, my mom had no shame.
Then just to make me throw my hands up in surrender, Ker-Bear pointed out to me, “You mom is hot, Tempe.”
Eww, eww, eww... I pushed a mass of loose curls from my face back over my shoulder, then started to worry at the knot of the shirt at my waist, until my nervous habits bled away when my wife slipped a hand into mine. She always had that effect on me, even when I was on the verge of a panic attack and having to go into a cleaning frenzy to keep it together, just a touch from her made me feel safe, protected.
I looked over at her and smiled bashfully. I still marveled over the fact that, out of all the women out there who would kill to be with her, she chose me. It was always a toss-up whether I wanted to kill her or kiss her. The kissing always won. She was an aggravating, and stubborn, bullheaded, loving, attentive, and kind jerk cop, and she was mine.
Case of the Poodle Doodle Page 1