He wondered where Katie Ziegler lived inside the trailer. She had a younger brother, but he was pretty sure the place would have three bedrooms.
Junior took a moment to fantasize about what she would be wearing at this moment. He’d like it to be young, preppy, and not too slutty.
This sparse, shitty trailer park was only on the left side of the road. The right side of the road was scrub brush and canals. It’d been Katie’s address for the last four years. Two years before Pops went up the river. So this guy smoking by the mailbox was a squatter. He must’ve moved in on the mom while Dad did his six-year stint for possession with intent.
Junior considered this for a moment. Was there a way to slip past this guy, grab Katie right from her room, and do what he needed to do to calm the thunder in his head? He liked to think bold even if he rarely acted boldly.
Could tonight be the night?
How would he be able to remain anonymous?
What if there were no witnesses?
A smile crept over his face.
* * *
Hallett stepped forward with Rocky close by his side as he called out, “Hey, fellas, what’s going on?”
The man closest to him was startled and immediately stepped toward the bed of the big truck. Any poacher would have a shotgun or rifle in there.
Hallett used his best official police voice to shout, “Don’t reach into that bed.” He knew that even though he wasn’t in uniform, these creeps had to figure they were cops. Then Hallett added, “You two on the other side of the truck, come around to this side and keep your hands where I can see them.”
The other two solemnly stomped around the truck while the heaviest of the three, the one already facing Hallett, said, “We ain’t breaking no laws. People fish back here all the time.” The man’s belly made the plaid shirt drape off his stomach like an awning. His crew cut was uneven around his ears, and the soiled baseball cap was a size too small and sat on the top of his head like a clown hat.
“Let me have a look at your fishing poles.”
That brought the man up short. Then he said, “You got any ID? You could be rent-a-cops or some kinda community aide, like that fella in Central Florida that shot that kid. I like to know who I’m talking with.” He had a heavy southern accent, and Hallett didn’t recognize him. This was no Belle Glade crew.
Hallett considered the request and what he’d like to do to these jackasses, then decided he’d rather not be identified for the moment. It was obvious Claire and Darren agreed, as they joined him with their dogs at their sides but no badges came out.
The three men approached them, with the young driver, obviously terrified, standing by the open door to the pickup. The fat guy, who’d been doing the talking and appeared to be a hired guide, looked at Darren and laughed. “Look, it’s an actual Seminole. And he’s got a cute little puppy with him.”
Hallett knew the crack about Brutus would bother Darren more than the racial slur. Brutus didn’t help the fact by wagging his tail furiously and straining to reach the man so he could jump and lick.
To his right, Hallett heard Smarty unleash a sinister growl. He was glad the dog was on his side.
Claire said, “Those your hunting dogs?” The two dogs were clearly visible now on the edge of the seat. They were ungroomed poodles and continued to jump around and yap.
Sometimes gator poachers staked out dogs like these on the side of a canal to attract the large alligators they’d come to shoot. They usually didn’t care what happened to the dogs. As far as Hallett was concerned, there wasn’t a prison sentence long enough for behavior like that.
Claire said, “Where did you get the dogs?”
The fat guy said, “Where’d you get the Seminole?”
Claire had a hard edge to her voice as she said, “You think this is a game?”
“I think this is some kind of shakedown and we don’t have to put up with it.” Now the big man had some confidence. “Look at the cute puppy with the Indian. I think I’m gonna give that puppy some love.” He stepped forward and started to bend over.
Now all Darren said was, “Don’t do it, redneck.”
The fat man straightened like a man ready for a bar room brawl.
Hallett stepped forward. “Hang on, Tubby, before you say something that’ll get you punched.”
“Do you know who you’re talkin’ to, boy?”
“Ralphie May’s father? No, wait a second, Orson Welles’s son?”
“What? What the hell are you talkin’ about? Are you crazy?”
“I gave you references that should cover two generations. You didn’t get either of them? You see, they’re both famous fat guys. Maybe I should’ve stuck with Louie Anderson.”
“You don’t talk like no cop I ever met. You must be crazy.”
Now Hallett got in the man’s face. “I’m not crazy, I’m pissed. I’m pissed that assholes like you abuse little dogs for a few thrills.”
“And some good money. We ain’t bothering no one. Leave us alone.”
Hallett glanced down at Rocky as the dog looked to his right at Smarty. Rocky winked. Hallett was certain he saw it this time. Rocky was letting his partner in on what they were going to do. At almost the exact same time both dogs leaped up, straining at their leads, snapping at the fat man, pushing him backward. Hallett decided to see what would happen. He let go of the lead. Claire did the same.
He could see the herding instincts at work in both the dogs. They never came too close to the man, simply barked and herded him back to his friends and then pinned them all against the side of the truck.
All three of them had lost their bravado, and the fat man started whimpering, “Okay, okay, you win. Call them off.”
* * *
Junior had driven his car past the trailer and parked on the other side, down the dusty road. Whoever had been by the mailbox walked back into the trailer, and now Junior was trying to psych himself up. It made him think of his father yelling at him to act like a man. He hated to think how much his father had done to mold him into the man that he was today.
He had the Beretta slipped out of his belt line and sitting on his lap. The sleek black weapon made him feel like God. He’d almost used it once, back in Indiana. After one of his first attempts at a date. He was very young and it was clumsy. The girl’s older brother came out, not realizing how serious he had been about taking the girl. The brother, a big farm boy, had used a buck knife to threaten him. The idea of putting a bullet between Farm Boy’s eyes appealed to Junior. But then he thought about the consequences and somehow rational thought kicked in.
Now he calculated the consequences of doing the same thing. Only this time he wouldn’t be caught.
He felt an incredible thrill rush through him at the idea. He considered the practical aspects, like the noise from the pistol and the attention it would draw from the other trailers, but the two trailers closest to Katie Ziegler’s house were dark with no vehicles in the driveway. People that lived here were used to gunfire, and a few shots wouldn’t draw any attention.
Junior would have to take Katie to a secluded area because he couldn’t waste time here after he had caused a commotion. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he might be capable of pulling it off.
6
Hallett suppressed a smile as he noticed the bloom of a urine stain on the fat man’s pants; the guy could no longer hold his bladder in the face of a snarling Belgian Malinois. They had herded the men to one end of the pickup and, sure enough, found a rifle in the bed of the truck, along with ropes and heavy knives and a meat cleaver, all used in dressing a dead alligator.
Hallett turned his attention to the two men who’d paid the fat guide to bring them gator hunting. The older man, about fifty and lean, with a smoker’s voice, said with a thick Brooklyn accent, “Give us a good reason to keep hassling us or leave us alone. We paid to have some fun and we’re going to have some fun.”
Hallett knew these types. Moved down from New Yo
rk and thought they understood how to work the system and intimidate people. They were a minority and a stereotype, but they were all the same. Hallett thought about dogs being used as bait and something snapped. He kicked the rear door so hard it crinkled around his foot. There was no turning back now. He’d ruined any chance he had of making a criminal case. But it had certainly gotten these morons’ attention.
He said in a very low voice, “I don’t think you guys want to say too much right now. Our friends down here don’t like it when people abuse animals.” All three men looked at the dogs.
Hallett pressed his knee against Rocky’s shoulder—their secret cue for the dog to growl—then rubbed the knee down slightly so that Rocky snapped at the men, making them scatter a few feet. This dog was 100 percent pure ham. He loved to play-act.
Claire was talking to the teenage driver at the front of the truck, and Hallett heard him admit to what they were doing. His father was the fishing guide from the town of Moore Haven on the north side of Lake Okeechobee and had promised that these jerk-offs could catch an alligator.
Claire said, “Who did they steal the dogs from?”
The young man said, “He didn’t steal them, he bought them. There’s an old lady in Clewiston who sells them for a hundred dollars apiece.”
That really pissed Hallett off. Now he had the immediate problem of teaching these asswipes a lesson.
Hallett said, “We have two ways we can deal with the situation.”
The guide knew he was in over his head. All he said was, “Yes, sir, what are our options?”
“Dump all your poaching equipment in the canal, including the rifle. Give me your word you’ll never do anything like this again and be out of our sight by the time I count thirty.”
The New Yorker said, “Or else what happens?”
“I let my hairy friend loose and see if three against one is a fair fight. Chances are only one of you will lose your testicles and the other two will just have severe lacerations that require stitches.”
The second customer, the one who hadn’t said anything, immediately grabbed the rifle by the barrel, along with two gaffs, and tossed them hard toward the middle of the canal.
The guide said, “Hey, wait a minute.” But then he looked at Rocky and didn’t say a word. He scooped up some coiled rope and a long chain with a nasty-looking meat hook on the end and tossed them.
Then the men just stared at Hallett until he said, “One. Two.”
All three men scrambled to get back in the truck.
Claire had calmed down the young driver, who casually stepped toward the open driver’s door.
Hallett said, “Leave the poodles.”
“Say what?” said the guide.
This time he had his own growl in his voice. “I said, leave the goddamn poodles here.”
The fishing guide said, “I paid a hundred bucks apiece for them.”
Hallett dug in his pocket and pulled out his meager wad of cash and threw it in the car. “There’s forty-three bucks. I think you’re getting a bargain.” To emphasize the point, Rocky gave him another snarl.
The guide tossed the small poodles out of the truck onto the damp ground. They started running around in circles with the rope leashes trailing behind them, yapping at the bigger dogs.
Hallett felt a sincere wave of satisfaction as he watched the taillights of the truck disappear down the shell-rock road.
Claire said, “We let them off easy.”
Hallett smiled. “Joke’s on them. I only had thirty-three bucks in my pocket.”
* * *
Junior had just about convinced himself to leave the safety of his father’s Oldsmobile and take action when, in the calm night air, he felt a vibration and heard a low rumble. At first he thought it was thunder, but the sky was clear. Then, at the far end of the road in the direction of the highway, he caught a glimpse of a headlight.
Maybe it was just a neighbor coming home. With any luck they lived at the far end of the park. Then Junior noticed a second and third light. What the hell? It didn’t take long for him to realize the lights belonged to at least five motorcycles, and the motorcycles had to be Harleys, judging by the noise they were throwing off.
He almost could have predicted they would pull into the driveway of Katie Ziegler’s trailer. Junior could clearly see the burly men dismount from their motorcycles. They all had on vests, but he couldn’t see which club they belonged to. Then the light came on and all he saw was the word OUTLAWS. Essentially the most feared motorcycle gang in the country.
Common sense finally overwhelmed his urge. Junior headed home with enough guilt and shame built up in him to do something really nasty, really soon.
7
Hallett carefully set the cardboard box he had the two little poodles in on the backseat. As he closed up the tailgate to his Tahoe, Darren stretched and said, “Gotta get home, too. I’m having breakfast with my parents and have to come up with a lie about my future. They’ll demand to see my transcript from this semester if I appear too irresponsible. Living up to a stereotype is tough.”
Hallett laughed and patted his buddy on the shoulder, saying, “You really care about police work. That should be enough for them.”
“I’ve tried to explain it’s about duty and answering the call, whatever the call may be.” He leaned down and scratched Brutus’s back. “Brutus and I are ready as long as the call involves a tennis ball or Frisbee.”
That earned another laugh. Hallett said, “Rocky and I need to check on the animals.”
Hallett watched as Rocky and Brutus silently sniffed around each other, then stood almost nose-to-nose. It looked like a good-bye from Hallett’s perspective.
Darren said, “I’ll trade you my trailer behind the Baptist school for your trailer behind the nondenominational school.” He kept his face emotionless, as if they were playing poker, and Hallett couldn’t tell if he was joking.
Hallett smiled. “What difference does it make? They’re both free and pay utilities. All we have to do is keep an eye on the place at night.”
“The Baptists are tough. They don’t want me drinking or bringing women by the trailer. Your people don’t even check on you and let you keep that zoo right there.”
“It’s not exactly a zoo. It’s just a few animals, and one of the teachers uses them with the kids.”
“A few animals! You got a goddamn boa constrictor. Not to mention the llama and how many cats?”
Hallett looked down at Rocky, who was anxious to leave, his farewell to Brutus complete. “It’s not a llama, it’s an alpaca. The exact count on the cats is in dispute. And, for your information, the school is not crazy about the cats. Now there’s so many of them running around, the school administrators worry it might be a health hazard.”
Darren said, “You still got a better deal than I have with the Baptists.”
Finally, Hallett said, “I’ve got the morning to spend with Josh, so I better get some sleep.” He patted his friend on the shoulder, turned, and followed Rocky out to the Tahoe. That was one of the reasons he was anxious to leave; he could sense Rocky wanting to head home for the night.
* * *
Rocky could hardly contain himself, he was so excited about the new additions to the family. All he wanted to do was play with the odd-looking little dogs. They reminded him of when he was little and had so many other puppies to play with on the wide, open fields. Except now he would have to be the mother to these dogs. They were small, and funny-looking, but they had interesting scents. They also yapped a lot, but he understood they were just scared and this was a new place to them. He couldn’t wait till they saw the animals in the cages. No dog could be used to all those different kinds of animals.
Earlier in the evening, Rocky had sensed how angry Tim had been with the men who had the little dogs. He was about to boil over he was so mad. It made Rocky want to bite those men, but Tim wouldn’t let him. Now Tim was back to his usual self. Fun, light, friendly. And Rocky liked the w
ay he chuckled every time he looked down at the new little dogs.
Every night he and Tim always explored the property. First Rocky would run along the fence line as Tim jiggled the gates to make sure they wouldn’t open. Rocky knew to make sure there were no predators on the property, but he sometimes got distracted by the cats or rabbits that wandered past the fence. After they were done with that, he would walk with Tim through the area that held all the strange animals. He knew a few of the names of the animals from hearing Tim or Josh say them over and over again. The white fluffy things with long ears were rabbits. The things that walked around freely and never seemed to be in a good mood of any kind were cats. Turtles had hard shells, and some of them tried to bite him. After that, Rocky just knew if animals were big or small, dangerous or not. The most interesting animal to him was white with a long neck and the sour smell. It was not ever friendly, but it was still his responsibility to keep it safe.
As they walked back toward the house, Rocky saw a chance to play a game that always seemed to make Tim happy. Tim called it “tag.” It was a simple game where he nipped at Tim and then Tim tried to catch him. It got his heart racing, and he liked seeing Tim happy. It took a while for Rocky to understand that Tim showed his happiness by baring his teeth. He was learning new things about his man every day, and that was fine with Rocky. All he wanted to do was make Tim happy.
* * *
The Belle Glade Christian School where Hallett lived in a trailer had twenty acres of open fields, buildings, and long perimeter. He lived rent-free in exchange for keeping an eye on the sprawling complex. Every time they arrived on the school grounds, Hallett and Rocky conducted the customary survey of the area before heading to the double-wide. He never found anything wrong, but it was the least he could do considering they provided him with a place to live and paid his utilities.
Tonight, Hallett and Rocky stopped at the trailer before moving to the rest of the property. Hallett fumbled with the box he’d retrieved from the backseat of his Tahoe. Rocky had carefully walked along beside him and was anxious as Hallett set the box on the ground. Rocky poked his head over the edge of the cardboard that contained the two poodles.
Scent of Murder Page 5