Case of the Great Danish

by Erik Schubach

  It took us twice as long to get to Times Square as normal, trudging through the snow, and I was afraid we wouldn't get there before five, but we did. And I had to smile at what I saw. This is New York, and there is no place like it in the world. Would a little thing like a blizzard stop people from celebrating? No!

  The place was packed. The walls of neon flashing and scrolling, cast rainbow swaths of light through the falling snow, people were everywhere, and there even seemed to be a full-fledged war being raged on Broadway. Two paramilitary factions were bombarding each other with projectiles. Fine whatever, it was a huge snowball fight that passersby, tourists, and street vendors were randomly participating in. It looked like a lot of fun. Only New Yorker's would be out in a blizzard having a blast.

  We braved the slaughter. It is entirely possible that I was squealing as we hustled through the crossfire, causing more packed white balls of destruction to be aimed our way. I was hit, but not mortally wounded, as my fluffy armor took the impact. My brave lieutenant took another shot aimed at me, diving and twisting in the air to chomp the lobbed spherical projectile with his teeth. I may or may not have been giggling as we left the frontlines behind us.

  I looked down at Calvin who was all hyped up after that, and about to fall over he was swishing his tail from side to side so excitedly. “Sorry boy, can't play. We've someplace to be.”

  We turned onto West 44th Street and paused. There it was, Gulliver's Gate. They really had some prime real estate for the exhibit. Just around the corner from the Bubba Gump Shrimp company and the Hard Rock Cafe.

  I admit I was hoping I was wrong because then I could enjoy the exhibit. It looked so incredible just in the flyers and the television spot. I could only imagine having the creative ability that these artisans have. To be able to build an entire world in miniature. That was just so amazing and awe-inspiring to me.

  Then again, if I was wrong, I needed to get back home before Jane, or her cop radar would get all squiggy and she'd give me that damn impassive stare until I caved and admitted to everything I've ever done, including sneaking that second piece of apple pie into my room when I was six.

  Wait, what? No, I was kidding, that never happened.

  Shut up. It was good pie.

  I tried to act nonchalant as we entered, but thinking about acting normal made me realize I didn't know what I normally did with my hands. I had the urge to smooth out the dress I wasn't wearing. By the seven canine lords of Nebula B, I was even walking awkwardly because I was trying not to draw attention, wasn't I? How do people normally walk?

  I said to the attendant at the ticket counter as I looked beyond the turnstiles at the crowded place, “One please.” What were all these people doing here on a holiday? Didn't they have... wait, I was here too, scratch the internal rant.

  The man was looking me over, and I almost snorted. All he could see was my face with its no doubt rosy cheeks from the arctic air outside. The rest of me was reminiscent of a short Stay Puft marshmallow man, wrapped in my cold weather gear. It said something about the man that he was still trying to determine if I were worth a flirt or not.

  “That'll be twenty-one dollars, miss.” Holy tourist trap Batman!

  I pulled off my mittens, scarf, and earmuffs, stuffing them into my bag and unzipped my toasty jacket, wishing I had my leather jacket instead, it made me feel safer. I pulled out my debit card and handed it over. Now his roving eye saw what it liked now. I felt on display. If he weren't so overt about it, I would have given him one of my silly smiles.

  He handed me my ticket, and I scurried off to the turnstiles as he furrowed his brow at Cal. My boy had his service vest on so the man couldn't say anything about him accompanying me.

  The girl at the turnstile was a shy one, as she took my ticket and then beamed down at Calvin. “Oh, he's so cute.” This young lady, I liked, she had good taste, and she was a cutie too.

  I gave her a beaming smile and said, “Thanks.” Then told my fuzzy minion needlessly, “Come on Calvin, let's go see a tiny world.” I understood her awkward phase, and I sincerely hoped she outgrew it, then she could tell me how to get out of my own awkward phase.

  Now, if I were an Eiffel Tower, where would I be hiding?

  France.

  Ok Einstein, where is France in here? Ah-ha! A table full of literature including a map of the exhibits. Take that smart ass inner monologue, you zero, Finnegan one.

  I hesitated and started straightening up the stacks, they were all messed up, some were mixed with others, and some were wrinkled or on the floor, where melty snow was on the rubberized carpet. I threw away the less than pristine fliers and pamphlets and maps.

  Then I went about organizing the rest in a way that made them flow from most impulsive like the maps, to more informational ones which described the construction of each exhibit. Unfortunately, those would be grabbed last, if at all, with all the instant information at our fingertips now, we have become a society with a short attention span

  Only those who truly loved learning interesting facts... like me; I put one of each in my bag; would grab the latter. This would streamline the movement of people during busy times and keep the influx of people moving.

  I thought about the portable mini labeler in my bag that Ker got me as a gag gift, and was contemplating making labels for their table in front of each stack. But that would be a little obsessive wouldn't it?

  I pulled out two wilted daisies from the vase at the end of the table and threw them out. Ok, now I could go see if anyone suspicious was by the... “Eeep!” I ran into a young man's chest when I turned.

  “Oh thank god you're here. Why aren't you in uniform? I needed to be relived like twenty minutes ago, they said my replacement would be here, my parent's are going to be livid if I miss Christmas Dinner.”

  I stepped back a half step to look up at a boy with shaggy blonde locks and an earnest, but reprimanding look on his face. He was a tall and gangly one, who sort of reminded me of the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. I just had to smile at him, which washed away the tinge of impatience I was vibing from him as he smiled back.

  I glanced at his nametag and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Greg. Just a tourist.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked between me and the uber-organized information table. I supplied as I scrunched my head to my shoulders in embarrassment and supplied, “I've been told I can be a tad bit obsessive compulsive at times.” I held out a hand to him. “Finnegan.”

  And bless him if he didn't look twice as earnest, trying to alleviate my awkwardness as he shook my hand. “Hey, that's ok Finnegan. You did awesome though. If you're ever looking for a job.”

  This boy was going to go far, and he was going to be a heartbreaker when he started filling out after his teen years. I nodded once in thanks. “Thank you, Greg.” I glanced at the map I had already memorized. “Now I'm off to the Eiffel Tower.”

  He beamed and offered graciously. “I can escort you if you like.”

  I shook my head and winked. “Just past New York City and the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy, and off to the left.”

  He squinted one eye and prompted, “You sure you don't work here?”

  I chuckled, laying a hand on his arm on my way past and shared with humor, “Pretty sure. I hope you get home for dinner on time.” He nodded, again in earnest as Cal and I made our way through an amazing miniature world.

  Chapter 8 – Gilbert Kennels

  Being as normal as I could act, we moved across from Paris, trying not to look at everyone's faces, and stopped in front of the Tower Bridge in the London replica. It was amazing really.

  The incredible detail of the... That isn't why we're here, Fin, now focus!

  Focus, focus, act normal. What is normal?

  I felt like I must have looked the most suspicious person in the place as I faked looking at the exhibit when my attention was on Paris. I kept looking at the working clock in Big Ben. It was a
couple minutes to five when a young man in a New York Yankee's coat and stocking cap walked right up to Paris and turned his back to it and started looking around at the people milling all about.

  He couldn't have been more than eighteen, with the wispy facial hair some boys tried to grow, but couldn't quite pull off. He took off his gloves, stuffed them in his pockets, and blew into his hands. I slowly moved along the London exhibit, glancing over my shoulder to see that indeed, he wasn't looking at any exhibits, just standing there, looking hopefully at each person who passed by.

  I was sure after watching the boy for a few minutes that he had to be the one that was supposed to pick up that drop money, and he had no clue who he was meeting or why. The way he kept checking the time on his cell and kept looking hopefully at every person who even came near.

  I realized that I was watching a Harlem Patty Cake going down.

  Where some unsavory character hires someone off the street to pick up or deliver a package without asking any questions, for a large sum of money for their time. It insulated the criminal from the delivery and left the unsuspecting person they hired to be the patsy if anything went south. This poor kid would be on the hook for manslaughter and accepting the payment for... as Jane put it, stolen property. Though I call it what it is, ransom.

  With ninety-nine percent surety, this kid could lead us to the perp. Heh, I got to say perp. That's what the police called them right? Or is it just suspect until they prove he was the perpetrator in court? My Jerk Cop only smirks at me when I try to use the vernacular on the procedural police dramas on TV.

  Time to call the Cavalry. I knew she was going to be so mad at me for doing exactly what she told me not to, but she's in the wrong place, and it would take fifteen or twenty minutes to get here from where she is in this storm. Ten minutes on a good day.

  But that is why I waited until I was sure. At least we can try to save poor Tinkerbell. And since the boy was here, that told me the person behind the dognapping hasn't heard the news that Mrs. Havermail is dead yet.

  Just as I was unlocking my iPhone, the boy made an exasperated sound, looking dejected as he checked the time again then started back toward the main door. Damn! I jammed my phone in my bag and hustled after the boy, my trusty sidekick by my side. I'm pretty sure Calvin thinks I'm his sidekick though. We were going to have to settle it at a later time.

  I was getting back into battle mode on our way to the door. I waited a five-count before exiting after him and could barely see him hustling across the street in the driving snow. We followed, and when we got to the other snow-covered sidewalk, he was gone. What the fuzzy heck?

  We moved along the walk, and as we passed Shubert Alley, I saw the outline of someone by a van that was parked there. I glanced at Cal and put a finger to my lips as I flipped the fuzzy hood of my coat over my rapidly wetting hair.

  We moved up behind the van, and I saw the boy at the driver's door, arguing with someone inside. “Dude, there was nobody there. I waited for ten minutes. You promised me fifty.”

  The van had a kennel logo painted on it, Gilbert Kennels. My eyes widened, Mortimer Gilbert was the owner of Fifi, the toy poodle who won second in show behind Tinkerbell. He was the person behind this?

  I peeked around from the back of the van to see the boy still arguing with the driver. Then I stood on my tip toes and almost giggled when I came eye to eye with a big goofy Great Dane on the other side of the window, who cocked her head at me.

  I don't apologize for the absurdity of a Great Dane in a van getting me into a Scooby mindset as I whispered to Cal, “Jinkies, she's here!”

  I slowly reached for the latch on the dual backdoors and gently tried it, it started to move. It was unlocked! “Zoinks!” The driver grumbled something and handed some bills out the window, and the boy ran off. Just as the van started, I panicked. I opened the back door as fast as I could, and I grabbed the collar of the huge dog-muffin as I squeaked out, “Ruun!”

  The big dog bounded out, looking at me curiously with a super cute doggy grin, tail wagging as she looked from me to Calvin. Holy big puppy Batman, she was a beast, at almost three feet tall, she came up to my chest!

  The man in the van shut it off as he was yelling, “Hey! Stop!” He scrambled out of the van and started running after us as I moved Calvin's leash from him to the clip on the big, wide, heart imbued collar on Tinkerbell. I was relieved that she was content to lope after Calvin because there is no way I could steer the monster, she had to out-mass me by twenty pounds.

  As we approached the mouth of the alley I glanced back, the man was almost on us. “Rhu-oh!” I was fumbling one handed with my cell, attempting to call Jane. Then I was oofing as the man slammed into me, grasping for the leash, and pinning me against the wall. My phone tumbled from my hands and disappeared into a little snowbank.

  The detached portion of my mind which wasn't terrified that Mortimer Gilbert had me pinned against a wall, thought I should get stock in Apple since I went through their phones like water. It also informed me that Mortimer looked sort of like a bulldog with droopy jowls, and that where Tinkerbell may out mass me by twenty pounds, this little five foot two balding man only had about ten pounds on me.

  I grinned at the fact that the man couldn't get the leash out of my hand as he growled like the bulldog I pictured, “Grahh... let go of the leash, and I won't hurt you, girl!”

  My smugness left with my breath as the man actually punched me in the gut. I doubled over but grasped the leash even harder in defiance. I gasped out, “Calvin... attack.”

  Calvin... attacked.

  He dove on Mortimer, fangs flashing and snapping at his arm and the man actually squealed and pulled me between Calvin and him. Cal curled back his lips and paced to the side, circling as he showed his needle-sharp fangs, issuing a low throaty growl.

  The man loosened his grip on the leash and me when someone called out through the snow, “Finnegan? Is that you? Are you ok?”

  Greg!

  I twisted from Mortimer and went running past the young man, he must have seen the fear in my eyes as I passed, because he got a determined look on his face and said, “Hey!” as he blocked Mortimer from following. God bless the young man.

  I would have stopped when I looked back to see ol' Morty hesitate, seeing the boy was bigger than him, and he started running to his van... but unfortunately, Calvin was running down the walk, leading me. And Tinkerbell? Well, the big goofy girl was all about the wonderful game that was being played, and she chased after him, dragging me along, almost causing me to stumble.

  “Ah-ahh-ahh-ahhhhhah!”

  We closed in on Broadway, and I finally caught my breath from the punch. “Calvin, heel.” He instantly circled back to my left side and sat. Tink wasn't as graceful as her huge feet flapped like saucers as she turned to do an about face, I ran smack dab into her and chuckled as I landed on my butt. She was much bigger than me like that, and I looked up at her. “Hi.”

  She doggy slobber super slurped me. Eww! But it was so sweet, who could complain? I grinned at her as she and Cal started the introduction dance, sniffing each other's rears as I pulled out a spare leash to clip onto Calvin's harness.

  I stood in victory. “Rescue accomplished, now to get ahold of Jane.” I was celebrating too early, I should have known better than to celebrate prematurely. The kennel van came slipping and sliding down the road, headlights barely cutting through the snow. I could hear the engine revving over the wind.

  Well crap, we had to get inside. We ran, this time at a more Finnegan-ish pace since I had Cal leashed, and straight through the perpetual snowball fight that was still going full force. I yelled out as I was pummeled by snowy projectiles from all sides, “The man in the van hates New York City!”

  The two factions ceased fire and turned their New Yorker gaze upon the new enemy who dared look down his nose upon their city. With yells and shouts, some creative curses I'd have to write down for Jess to use later,
they all opened fire as one at the slipping and sliding van as it fishtailed onto Broadway.

  I grinned as I looked back, his wipers couldn't keep up with the barrage, and his windshield was a snowy mess, but he maintained his speed and got through the crossfire before he fishtailed again and wound up nosediving the van directly into a snowbank.

  Ok, now we could slow down a little.

  Stupid, Fin, really stupid! What did you just learn about jinxing it?

  Sporty Morty jumped out of the van and started running toward us. Oh, come on. He has to know we know who he is now, I mean his van advertised it, he was no mental giant. What did he hope to accomplish getting Tinkerbell back now?

  So... we ran.

  Chapter 9 – I'm Coming Fin

  Detective Sean Flannery, my sometimes partner, radioed from inside, while I stood outside, leaning against a newspaper box in the blizzard, just keeping the front doors to the Paris Suites in view. Visibility was down to maybe ten feet now. “You sure this guy is showing, McLeary? Maybe he heard about Havermail's and ghosted.”

  I shivered as a gust of wind curled around me, and I was inundated by blowing snow. I admitted to him, “I'm just playing a hunch here, Sean. I don't think he's been tipped off since this is a holiday and the press isn't even aware of the death yet. 5:00 at the Eiffel is all we have to go on so far.”

  He grumped like a little bitch. “Yeah, a holiday. The dirtbag is probably home with his family.”

  I smiled idly. Sean was a good egg, and I did feel like a complete ass calling him to help me out with this. I could have asked one of the few detectives who were working cases like me on the holiday, but Flannery, for all his complaining, has my back. He's the closest thing to a partner I had on the force, most others they tried to assign to me say I'm too intense and driven, and it puts them in the line of fire.