Case of the Poodle Doodle

by Erik Schubach

  I took a deep breath and asked with a hopeful smile, “The reason we wished to speak with you...” I looked up at Jane and took her hand and held on for dear life, “Is to see if you'd like us to pursue you becoming our daughter.”

  Mom made a restrained squeak of an aborted squeal while Luce just stared at the screen, wide-eyed. Then she was rubbing her cheek over and over as her eyes teared up. Then... she ran... leaving me blinking at the screen as she started pulling hard at her hair as she left the room, just about falling as she avoided the touch of Mrs. Doyle's reaching hand at the door.

  I was blinking dumbly as we heard her yelling somewhere down the hall, “I thought they were different.”

  I started to hyperventilate as Mrs. Doyle came into view again. I turned to look up at Jane and pleaded, “What just happened? Is she... did I...”

  Mrs. Doyle was quick to assure us as she looked back at the door, obviously wanting to follow the distraught girl, “It's ok, ladies, she's just a bit confused. I can...”

  Then the young brunette stepped into the doorway and said, “I can go to her, Mrs. Doyle... I know where she'll be.”

  I was blinking as the girl vanished down the hall in the direction Luce took. I whispered to nobody in particular, “She'll hide under her bed.”

  I squeaked again, “What's going on?”

  I was getting a little light headed. Jane placed a hand on my cheek, “Fin, listen to me. Calm down, breathe slower. You're hyperventilating.”

  Mrs. Doyle looked suddenly worried our way as I worked on calming myself. Calvin whimpering at my ear had me absently reaching up to scratch his ears. Between the two of them, I was pulling myself under control.

  The relief on Mrs. Doyle's face was palpable. She assured us, “I don't think she believed you. She doesn't always process visual and emotional cues correctly sometimes. She kept looking at the door. “I need to...”

  I nodded and said, “Bring us with you.”

  She looked confused as I dialed her cell via FaceTime on mine. She smiled and answered, then signed off on the computer. Then she was moving. I asked her, “Activate your front-facing camera, please?” She paused in the hall and was looking at her phone and started muttering about technology... I tried not to smile under such dire circumstances.

  I talked her through it, then we saw what she saw, with her up in the corner of my cell's screen.

  She furrowed her brow. “Well, that wasn't as complex as I thought. Miss O'Conner usually sets up all the devices for us here in the home.”

  I tried not to chuckle.

  She brought us down the hall, past a few little girls and another worried woman in a smart business suit, then turned into a room that had six beds in it with six nightstands. It was a typical room of little girls, messy and chaotic while still being organized in a rudimentary manner. Except for a space in the corner which was impeccably tidy, almost antiseptically so. The sight of it calmed my heartbeat more than my wife and dog had, it was almost zen.

  Jess said with humor, “I wonder which is Luce's.”

  I looked back to find I had the entire room crowded around behind me, looking over my shoulder at my screen, making me feel claustrophobic. I huffed and tapped a couple things on the phone, and all their cells started ringing, they all looked, and I heard chuckles as the first one then the other women started being added to the call, their faces blooming around the perimeter of the main call.

  They dispersed to sit around the kitchen table as Mrs. Doyle stopped at the bed. Two legs were sticking out from under it. She tapped them, and the brunette scrambled out a bit, her arm still stretched under. “Is she there, Bri?”

  Bri? This was the seventeen-year-old from the girl's home. Did prospective parents overlook her because of her injury? She seemed to be very empathetic toward Luce. The girl just nodded, then poked her head back under the bedspread and said, “It's ok, Luce. It's Mrs. Doyle.”

  Jane looked at me and whispered, “How did you know she'd be under her bed.”

  I whispered back, “It's the only safe place to hide from the chaos.”

  Kerry's face creased in the corner of my cell.

  I looked up and toward her.

  She gave me a single nod. She knew where my safe place was. She rescued me from it many times when we were kids.

  I called out, “Bri?”

  The girl looked back up, and I asked, “Can you bring me to her?”

  She looked almost defiant for a moment, but then looked back at the bed then nodded slowly. Her milky white eye, partially obscured by her chestnut hair, seemed to stare through me. Mrs. Doyle passed the phone to the girl, and the screen blurred from all the motion as she scrambled back under the bed. I could see Luce in a fetal position, wrapped around Bri's arm, as she rubbed the back of her hand angrily across her cheek in a repetitive motion.

  I called out, “Luce. It's Finnegan.”

  She stopped rubbing her face for a moment then glared toward us. She blinked as her eyes seemed to go around the screen. I realized she was seeing all the silent watchers. She whispered as she took the cell and brought it too close to her face to focus, “The joke is on me. I hope you all had a good laugh. You were supposed to be different. You didn't care that I'm not like other girls.”

  I asked her, “What do you mean, Luce? We think you're simply delightful. We really want to take the next steps. If you will have us.”

  Jane added, “You've enamored yourself to us, Luce.”

  The girls were nodding and mom... well, mom was holding her breath, tears brimming.

  She stared at us long and hard.

  Bri was saying, “They want to be your moms, Luce-Goose. I told you it would happen one day.”

  She pulled the phone to a respectable distance, her eyes were brimming with tears, and I prompted, “Would it be ok?”

  Her voice was rough and raspy, “You're not just being cruel?”

  I shook my head.

  Then she said, “I'd like that.” Then she crowded the camera again and whispered, “Would I have my own room? The girls here are so disorganized. I try to teach them, but it's like herding cats.”

  Bri called out, “Hey!”

  She looked over her shoulder to her friend whose arm she still had in a death grip. “This one's not so bad, she lets me tidy her space every once in a while.”

  The brunette blinked and defended, “Well I love you too you cantankerous wretch. See if I bring you more books next time they let me into town.”

  I smiled at the interaction then looked over to Kerry again, whose eyes were as watery as mom's. There is always that one person as we grow up who can understand us and pull us from the brink. Bri was Luce's lifeline.

  Luce let go of Bri then set the phone on the carpet, the larger portion blurred and went blank as the front-facing camera was obscured. Then she fanned out her hands and made a little square with her fingers as she squinted. I realized she was blocking out the faces on the screen as she leaned in to whisper again, “Why are so many people watching me?”

  I chuckled and told her, “They were all excited to hear your reaction to our question.”

  She whispered, “It could have gone better, I suppose, I may have reacted contrary to what was expected of me. I apologize, I'm such a spaz.”

  I snapped out sternly as the rest of the people gathered here did, “Don't say that!” I calmed and gave everyone dirty looks then said, “Don't ever denigrate yourself like that. You are a beautiful, wonderful, unique person... don't ever let anyone tell you differently, especially yourself.”

  She glanced down, looking chastised. “Yes, ma'am.” Then she whispered, “So now they've seen me. Can I talk with you and Jane alone now?”

  A chuckle went around the room, and Jessie said, “Good night, Luce.”

  “Good night, Jessie.”

  Ker chimed out, “G'night, little spitfire.”

  “Good night, Kerry.”

  Then mom sa
id, “You are a true delight, little one. You remind me so much of my Temperance. Have sweet dreams tonight. Hopefully, someday soon, you can call me grandma?”

  The girl nodded and said thoughtfully, “I think I may like that. You produced an intelligent daughter who understands the importance of the organization of both house and mind.”

  Mom chuckled. “Oh, lord, now you sound like her.”

  “Good night, Mrs. May.”

  Then all the additional faces blipped off the screen one at a time. Then it went blurry in motion as she crawled out from under her bed. She looked up, and we could see Mrs. Doyle in the front camera as Luce said, “I suppose I owe you an apology too? Don't let it give you a big head, you're still a busy body always poking your nose...”

  “Luce!”

  “Sorry.”

  Mrs. Doyle simply said as Luce turned off the front camera, “I'm happy for you, Miss. O'Conner.” She hesitated. “I should monitor this, but why don't you take some time to speak with the McLeary-Mays alone.”

  Bri offered, “I can stay. I know all the procedures.”

  “Of course you do. Thank you, Miss Fitzgerald.”

  Then I saw Bri in the background, sit almost primly on the end of Luce's bed as Luce went around her impeccably organized space, describing her system and showing off things like her modest little book collection. And explaining why she had one stuffed animal, a fluffy dog. She assured us she wasn't a baby, but that it was a gift from the women of the girl's home when they found out her fascination with canis lupus familiaris after she kept having dreams that had a wolfhound which accompanied her mother's lullaby.

  I nodded in understanding and shared, “I've a collection of stuffed animals. All gifts.”

  She nodded back sagely again and supplied, “You can't give them back, because they are gifts. It is an unspoken social contract.”

  I giggled, and Jane asked, “What's its name?”

  She gave us the most childlike smile I have seen on her face as she crinkled her nose and crowded the camera again to whisper, “Lily. I really love it, but don't tell anyone.”

  I put a finger to my lips.

  Then we had a pleasant few minutes just talking to her about New York and our apartment. I had to fight off tears and aborted sobs more than once. But I was happy. Am I broken in some way? Jane pulled me to her into a hug as she brought Luce on a tour of the apartment. The closeness and love I felt flowing from my wife told me that maybe I wasn't broken after all.

  I looked about to all the smiling faces around us, my family. How had I gotten to be so very lucky?

  Chapter 13 – Uptown Gallery

  The rest of the week sped by in the blink of an eye. My fear was building as plans were made. We were going to fly out next week to complete the next phase of the adoption process. The supervised and unsupervised days out with Luce.

  Just thinking of riding in an airplane was enough to make my heart beat so fast in my chest, I thought I might die. What sane person got on a multi-ton plane that hurtled through the sky, suspended by only air and velocity? We could take a boat, but then I would be away too long from my clients. I hated putting them in the care of my ex, Raife, for more than a week.

  I had come to terms that this was just too important, that I had to put my fears aside so that Jane and I could have a chance of a family of our own. Luce was worth the risk. Now if I could just convince the sheer terror that was making me shake at the thought of the flight to leave me be.

  Here it was, Friday, Jane said she would be late, to not hold up dinner for her since she would be staking out the Uptown Gallery once her shift was over, just in case I was right about Higgs.

  I had told her, “I'm right.”

  “We'll see.”

  “I'm right.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine!”

  “Fine! Love you, pipsqueak.”

  I had sighed as I blushed, then flipped off the other ladies who were trying to gag themselves with their fingers.

  Jess giggled. “You two are sickeningly sweet.”

  I muttered, “Zip it, Mable. You two are just as bad, just in a more... pornographic way.” Why did Kerry look so proud of that remark? Savages, they're just a couple of savages.

  Ok fine, I was grinning. Now shush, do you want me to finish the story or not?

  Jane warned me, “Keep away from the Uptown Gallery!” Then she exhaled and looked at Calvin, “You're the only one with any sense. Keep her away from the gallery, boy.”

  He swished his tail at her attention on him. Traitor.

  I pouted, “I'm not going anywhere near the gallery.” Then my eyes widened, “Oh, almost forgot.” I ran back to the kitchen and brought over three containers of fresh baked cookies, croissants, and apple turnovers I made for the precinct and loaded her up.

  She chuckled. “You're bound and determined to fatten us all up.”

  I beamed at her, then she asked, “Snickerdoodles?”

  I nodded. “Of course, I expect you to get some to Jorge and Kennedy. They are their favorites.”

  She nodded, and Jess whined, “What about...”

  I pushed her lunch bag into her hands as I assured her, “Check inside. But you can't have them until after you finished lunch.” I shoved Kerry's into her hands. “You too.”

  They droned out like they had practiced it, “Yes, mom.”

  I growled out as I tried to kick their butts as they hurried out the door, “Jerks!” Then I was grinning when Jane stole a kiss from me before heading out with them. After locking and re-locking the door, I stood with my back leaning against it as I sighed. Her kisses always feel like the first one.

  Then Calvin and I got into our morning routine and then geared up for battle. He looked so handsome in his working bib. The ladies of Manhattan didn't stand a chance against his charm.

  After a successful outing with the boys, Calvin and I sat in Central Park on a bench by the Balto statue. I was absently going through local news stories on my cell when I hesitated on one on the events page.

  I narrowed my eyes at it then sighed and read the article announcing the premiere art show at the Uptown Gallery, of an up and coming painter, Darryl Beckett. I wouldn't have stopped to read the whole thing if the first paragraph hadn't mentioned that he was a recent transplant to New York.

  He was a Portland, Oregon native who had come to Manhattan two years ago to finish his art degree at the Art Academy. And that proved to me that as I already believed, the art he was passing off as his, couldn't possibly be his. I had seen murals all around the city that had been there long before I had arrived in Manhattan myself.

  I got an idea and said, “What do you say we do some sightseeing after we walk the girls, Cal?” He agreed with a tentative tail wag, I assured him, “We aren't going looking for trouble, just some additional information to help Jane out in her investigation.” I'm pretty sure his cocked head meant he was dubious. I ignored his judging, doggy eyes.

  Then after we walked the girls and returned them to the homes of their owners, we went off on an information gathering mission all around the core, camera phone in hand.

  We visited all of the sites I could remember seeing one of Higgs murals on. One, the Lancaster building in Harlem lent more credence to my theory, as it had been torn down seven years ago to make room for multi-family dwellings, but the funding had fallen through. Part of a mural was still visible on a half-collapsed wall. Then after a ride on the subway, the one that was preserved as a work of street art in the Bronx.

  This could help lend credibility to Sergeant Higgs story, and show that Beckett was perpetrating fraud by appropriating someone else's art to pass off as his own. I looked at the time and hissed. Noting some missed texts on my cell from Jess and Kerry, asking why I wasn't home when they got there. I didn't even remember turning the ringer off, and this side project had taken way longer than I had anticipated. For the first time in New York City, I thought that ma
ybe a car would be good for things like this.

  The gallery opening was going to start in a half hour, and I was at least forty-five minutes out by foot. I shot a text to the girls, letting them know to fend for themselves for dinner, that I was going to see Jane at the Uptown Gallery before coming home.

  Ker shot back, “Oh for fuck's sake, Tempe, what have you done now?”

  I shot back an emoji that was sticking out its tongue. “Jerk. I didn't do anything. See you at home in a bit.” Then I stepped to the curb, raised one hand in the air, and brought two fingers to my lips and whistled shrilly. A cab pulled up, and I grinned. It's been quite some time since I've taken a cab. Cal and I hopped in.

  Eleven minutes later, I was paying the man, and we got out to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Uptown Gallery, where art patrons were already lining up outside the doors in elegant attire. Calvin and I stepped right past the line and up to the doorman who was keeping people in line. I smiled at the aging Latino man in his regal doorman uniform. “Hi, Angelo.”

  The man tipped his cap to me, “Miss May.” I knew quite a few of the doormen in the vicinity of the park. They were in the service industry just like me, and like the dog walkers, most people didn't pay them much mind, as we are all just the background noise of the city. But if you take the time to get to know these people who run the infrastructure of the living Metropolis, you can move mountains.

  I wiggled my hand at him with the wedding band on my finger, “Mrs. McLeary-May now.”

  “Congratulations. Jamal hadn't mentioned you had tied the knot.”

  I beamed at the man, then asked, “Mind if I go in, my wife, Detective Jane McLeary is in there, and I have some information for her.” Truth in point, I wasn't sure if she was inside or outside of the building as she watched for Higgs to arrive.

  To the grumbling of people in line, he tipped his cap, “Of course, Mrs. McLeary-May. You have a wonderful night now.” He held the door open for Calvin and me to slip in.