by Donna Ball
As he spoke he slipped his hand under Cisco’s collar, moving mine aside. His eyes met mine briefly, and I let go of Cisco, straightening up.
Nick said, “I don’t think he can be here without a warrant. I think I studied that in civics class.”
“What, the dog? He’s just along for the ride. He’s a good old dog, aren’t you Cisco? You want to say hello to Nick?”
He released Cisco’s collar and Nick shouted, “Hey!” as Cisco took off like a shot—just as I knew he would—for the kennel where the female Golden was caged.
I said, “Damn it, Buck!” and started after Cisco, but Buck put out his hand in a staying gesture. He was watching Nick carefully.
Melanie said, “I’m going to tell my dad about your language.” But her eyes were bright with excitement. “Is this a drug bust? Are you going to call the S.W.A.T. team? Wait until my mom hears about this!”
I muttered, “Oh Lord, just kill me now.”
I knew what Buck was trying to do, but he had no right to use Cisco without my permission, and I wasn’t about to lose to my dog just so he could make a teenage boy sweat over a couple of ounces of pot. Particularly when I was responsible for a minor child who already had enough dirt on me to make sure that she—and, in most likelihood, her father as well—was never alone with me again.
Nick said, “I’m going to call my dad.”
“Sure,” Buck agreed easily. “You do whatever you have to. And don’t worry about the dog. I’ll follow him around, make sure he doesn’t get into anything.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I exploded under my breath, and I stalked off to reclaim my dog.
Cisco is in training. I remind myself of that every day. This is why, even though he regularly astonishes me on the tracking field, in the agility ring and yes, occasionally even with obedience exercises, I try never to make the mistake of expecting him to do what I ask every single time I ask it. My rule of thumb is that I never give a command until I’m ninety percent sure my dog will obey it. That’s why I didn’t try to call him away from his communion with the other golden retriever. Instead I chose to go and get him.
Usually when he saw me he would wag his tail and bound over to me. But whether it was the crisp winter air and his unexpected freedom in a strange place or he was just trying to show off for the other dog, as soon as I got within about ten feet of him he did a spin, a butt-tuck and took off like a mad thing across the yard. I stood stock still, fuming but trying not to show it, while he raced like a greyhound around the detached garage, across the back porch, over a flat-bed trailer, and into the barn. Melanie came up beside me.
“Doesn’t look like much of a drug dog to me,” she observed skeptically.
“Go back to the car,” I told her, pronouncing each word carefully, “and get me a leash from the back. Right now.”
She actually turned for the car, which gave me hope that Cisco might be as obedient.
I was halfway to the barn when Cisco came trotting out. He was carrying something the size of a child’s toy in his mouth, and his tail was swishing with pride. I quickened my step and dug into my pocket for a dog biscuit. There were all sorts of things in a barn that dogs should never put in their mouths, and about a dozen of them were racing through my head at the moment. I commanded, “Cisco, here!” and made sure he saw the dog biscuit in my hand.
He pranced right to me, sat beautifully, and dropped the object at my feet. I gave him the dog biscuit, hooked his collar with one hand, and picked up the object he had dropped with the other.
“Well, well,” Buck said behind me. “What have we here?”
I handed it over to him. It was a plastic baby Jesus, the kind that had been disappearing from Nativity scenes all over the county.
____________
TEN
Come on, Sheriff, it was just a prank.” Nick’s voice sounded a little desperate as he gazed into the box filled with purloined replicas of the Christ child that ranged from thumb-sized to the full-grown doll that had been stolen from the town Nativity only yesterday. Cisco, the famous drug dog, was now securely belted in the back seat of my car, but Melanie refused to be moved and was avidly taking in every word.
“It was Dave Harper; he's the one that dared me to do it. Said I couldn't get a hundred before Christmas, you know,” Nick went on, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean no harm. It was just a prank.”
“Actually, it’s theft by taking,” said Buck, writing in his pad. “That’s Dusty Harper’s boy, over on Gap Creek?”
Nick nodded miserably. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“You and your daddy are going to have to come down to the office as soon as he gets back,” Buck said. “You’ll be charged, and you’ll get a court date.”
“He’s gonna kill me,” Nick said.
“Probably not. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a strip out of your hide. I would if you were mine. What were you going to do with all of these things, anyway? ”
Nick looked blank. Clearly he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Seeing the boy’s wretchedness, Buck’s face softened. “Look,” he said, “I’m guessing there’s probably under a thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise here. That’s petty theft, and that means no jail time if the judge is in a good mood. But you’d better make sure you’re clean as a whistle before you go in front of the bench so if there’s anything you’re keeping to yourself, now would be the time to tell me.”
Nick shifted his gaze away. I could see him chewing the inside of his cheek. Melanie, who had been watching the entire proceeding with great interest, piped up helpfully, “What about throwing those puppies away on the side of the road? That’s a crime, isn’t it?”
Nick stared at her, and Buck looked quizzically at me. “Someone dumped a box of golden-mix puppies at the end of my driveway,” I explained. “And your dog just had a litter.”
Nick scowled fiercely. “The old man said he was going to drown them. I thought I was doing a good thing. Now I guess I’m going to jail for that too.”
I sighed. “No, they don’t put you in jail for that.” Though I privately thought they should. “But I would like to talk to your dad about it.”
Buck said, “Looks like you’re going to have to stand in line, Rainey.”
Nick blurted, “Look, you came here asking about Ashleigh and I told you what I know. I can’t do any more than that. I’m sorry about the puppies and I’m sorry about the stupid baby Jesuses but I can’t go to jail, I just can’t!” He looked up at Buck, eyes pleading. “Can’t you help me out with my dad?”
Buck looked at me, and I looked at Buck, and we both were frowning. I gave a small jerk of my head and walked a little bit away. Buck came with me.
“I was at school yesterday with Cisco and I heard Ashleigh on the phone with Nick,” I told Buck in a low tone. “I didn’t put it together until now, but he’s not telling the whole truth. She was practically hysterical on the phone. She said something terrible had happened and begged Nick to help her. Do you suppose she witnessed the murder?”
“Could be.” Buck looked grim. “Or committed it.”
I stared at him. “But—What about Camo Man?”
“Yeah, we tracked him down early this morning at home.” A corner of his lips turned down dryly. “He’d been wilderness camping the past five days, snagged himself a five-pointer, dressed it out in the woods and took it to Leland Brown for processing. It all checks out. He claims some girl lost the ring when he gave her a ride to town yesterday afternoon.”
“Ashleigh,” I said, and he nodded.
“He picked her up at the Dairy Queen on Burdock Road last night and let her off at the town square. He saw her drop the ring and claims he tried to call her back, but she was in too much of a hurry to leave. So he picked it up and put it in his pocket. That must have been right before you saw him in the diner. The reason he was short on money was that he had just realized his wallet was missing.”
“She stole his wallet?
”
“That’s the theory. He said she insisted on sitting in the back of the camper, and he thought she was just being cautious about getting in front with a strange man. Later he realized he’d left his jacket in the back with his wallet in it.”
I felt a little defensive. “Well, he could be lying, you know.”
“He could,” agreed Buck. “But it doesn’t seem likely. The members of his congregation speak very highly of him.”
I smothered a groan. “He’s a minister?”
“Bullard First Methodist. We found his wallet in one of the trashcans downtown. No cash.”
I sighed. “So much for my detective instincts.” Then I frowned. “Do you have a time of death yet?”
“It’s looking like sometime between 11:00 Wednesday night, when the neighbors heard him peeling out of his driveway, and Thursday noon. Here’s something else. Apparently he had a loud argument with one of his drinking buddies, Dusty Harper, Wednesday night, which would make Harper one of the last people to see him alive—besides Ashleigh, that is.”
“Is that the same Harper--?”
Buck nodded. “The father of Dave Harper, Nick’s partner in crime. We’ve pulled that kid in a few times for possession, and the apple didn’t fall far from that tree if you know what I mean. There’s a connection here, I just haven’t figured it out yet. So I hope you don’t mind me using Cisco to sweat Nick a little.”
I shook my head absently. “Did you ever find the murder weapon?”
"No. We found the missing knife in the dishwasher, like you said, but it didn't match the knife wound."
"Her dad's been missing since Wednesday night," I murmured, "and it wasn't until after school on Friday that she decided to run away. I wonder why she waited so long.” I murmured.
“Maybe she had some cleaning up to do.”
I grimaced. “She didn’t exactly finish, did she? She left all those bloody sheets in the bathtub. And she went to school like normal. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Murder and teenagers,” Buck replied sagely, “rarely do. We’ll put out an all-points on her. If she’s in town, somebody knows where. If she’s not, somebody saw her leave.”
“I wonder how she got to the Dairy Queen. Burdock Road is nowhere near here, or her house, or her school.”
“Whoever picked her up in the green car must’ve taken her. Your friend Camo Guy said she was still carrying the duffle bag.”
“You need to find that green car,” I said.
A corner of his lips turned down dryly. “We’re on it, babe.” He nodded his head, without turning, toward Nick. “Meanwhile, thanks for the tip. I figured the kid was holding something back, and now I have leverage. We still make a pretty good team, huh?”
I went all warm inside at that, and meeting the smile in his eyes was like coming home. We had always made a good team.
He glanced over his shoulder to where Melanie was sorting through the box of evidence—the Nativity figurines—with the absorption of a forensics technician. Good thing Buck wasn’t planning to dust for fingerprints. “So how long are you babysitting? Are you going to make it to the Department party tonight?”
I was a little taken aback. The Sheriff’s Department Christmas Party was something of a family tradition, and I had been worrying about whether or not to attend for weeks now. My little voice told me the best thing to do would be to bow out gracefully, but earlier in the year, when it actually looked as though Buck and I might be getting back together, I had picked up this absolutely gorgeous little red dress on sale at the mall that would be perfect for the party. It seemed a shame to waste it, and where else would I get a chance to wear it around here?
When Buck and I had been broken up before I had always gone as Uncle Roe’s guest, but now that he was no longer sheriff my claim to a seat at the table wasn’t quite as clear. He and Aunt Mart were planning to go, of course, and I knew they probably expected me to join them, but the whole thing seemed a little awkward to me. On the other hand, that dress made me look like a size two, which I wasn’t, and how often did that happen?
I shrugged uncomfortably. “Oh, I don’t know. I really don’t belong there.”
He grinned. “Give me a break. You and Cisco have solved enough crimes this year alone to qualify for your honorary junior detective badge—including the case of the missing baby Jesuses just today. Besides, it’s going to be kind of a tribute to Roe this year, since we didn’t get to give him a retirement party. Some of the guys are doing a skit and everything. He’ll be disappointed if you’re not there.”
I smiled reluctantly. “Well, I would miss that cherry ham you boys order every year. Maybe I’ll try to make it down.”
“Good for you.” He turned and started back to Nick and Melanie. “Whatcha doing there, princess?”
Melanie examined a figurine, frowned a little, and put it back in the box. “I saw a movie once where the bad guys used these Virgin Mary statues to hide drugs.”
Buck looked impressed. “Any luck?”
“Nah. I think these yokels are too dumb to figure out how to do that.”
Nick glared at her and Buck suppressed a chuckle. “I wouldn’t doubt you’re right. However…” He turned to Nick and held out his hand. “You can turn over that joint you’ve got in your pocket now and save yourself a lot of grief later.”
So that was why Nick had been so worried about drug dogs. I watched appreciatively as Nick, looking utterly dejected, fumbled in his jeans pocket and drew out a half-smoked marijuana cigarette. Melanie’s jaw dropped in amazement and delight, and Buck winked at her. “That’s why they pay me the big money, princess.”
Lester Stokes arrived a few minutes later, and I hurried Melanie to the car before she heard some language worth reporting to her father. My phone started ringing as I was fastening my seat belt. I snatched it up.
“Miles, I am so sorry—”
“Is Melanie okay?” he demanded.
“Yes, she’s right here—”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, of course, I just—”
“Meet me at your house,” he said, and disconnected. He did not sound happy.
He wasn’t. He was leaning against the driver’s door of his black Lexus when I drove up, his arms folded across his chest, his face tight. Melanie grabbed her iPad and had her door open almost before the car stopped.
“Hey, Dad, guess what?” she cried, running up to him. “We rescued puppies from the highway! Then we went on a drug bust and interrogated witnesses and examined evidence!”
She was as animated as I had ever seen her, and I thought that might have earned me a few points with her father. But no. He spared a smile for her and ruffled her hair as he said, “Oh, yeah? You can tell me all about it on the way to Far Heights. We’re going to have lunch at the lodge and then hit the slopes, how does that sound?”
“Cool!” She climbed in the car and added just before she slammed the door, “And I met Sheriff Buck!”
That did nothing to improve Miles’s disposition, and I approached him cautiously. “Miles, I’m sorry we’re late. We had a few stops, and I would have called but—“
“But clearly you don’t know how to dial a phone, any more than you know how to answer one.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.” I bristled. “You could have called Melanie. And I told her to call you, more than once.”
His eyes were cold. “I trusted you with my daughter,” he said, “and you showed her less respect than I show your damn dogs. Don’t ever do anything like this again.” He got inside the car and slammed the door.
I was so astonished that he had started the engine and was backing up before I could think to shout, “Watch your language! She’ll turn you in!”
Not my finest moment. And he drove away without even looking back.
I got Cisco out of the car and trudged up the front steps, feeling about as Scrooge-like as I had ever felt this close to Christmas. I opened the door and stopped dead in my trac
ks, staring in astonishment. Cisco came to a halt beside me. I’d like to think it was because he was that well trained, or because he was as amazed as I was. In fact it was because neither one of us could have taken a step forward without becoming entangled in an elaborate spider web of glittering Christmas ribbon.
It stretched from the staircase to the mantel to the coat rack to the end table, around the sofa and over the easy chair, through the rails of the banister and around a floor lamp. It encircled a dog crate twice, wrapped around the draperies, looped over another table, and made a beeline for the kitchen. My entire house had been wrapped up like one great big Christmas present.
I gingerly lifted a length of the ribbon and ducked under, then stepped over, and urged Cisco to do the same. Feeling a little like Tom Cruise breaking into a museum, weaving my way in and out of the network of criss-crossing lines, I made my way to the kitchen with Cisco at my side. I wished I had had a camera. The video would have gone viral on YouTube.
Crouched under the kitchen table with her head on her paws—and a length of ribbon twisted around one of them—gazing at me with an expression that was part sheepish and part proud, was Mischief. This is why I have dogs. I stood there, hands planted on hips, and I burst into laughter. My mood wasn’t nearly as foul as it had been when I walked in. Sometimes the Christmas spirit sneaks in on four paws.
I freed Mischief from the ribbon tangled around her paw and she scampered off to find her sister, who was, of course, obediently waiting in her crate where she belonged. Yes, I know. The average person would wonder why I didn’t find some kind of lock for Mischief’s crate that she couldn’t master or why I even bothered to put her in her crate at all. I asked myself the same thing now and then, but the truth is, she had me pretty well trained. I was starting to enjoy her exploits as much as she was.