Tammy broke the thought. “Besides, Merrill isn’t going to do a damn thing but laugh at some screwy story about big-time gamblers and dogfighting coming to Jefferson. Especially from a two-bit squaw like me.”
“What do you mean ‘coming to Jefferson’?”
Tammy looked at Aubrey and waved weakly toward the kitchen. “My cigarettes are on the counter. How about you grab me one?”
As Aubrey left, Tammy said to Kent in a voice just loud enough for Aubrey to hear, “I always wanted to be waited on. Never figured it would be by a hotsy-totsy Hollywood actress.” She coughed when she laughed.
Kent was relieved that Aubrey showed no response.
Aubrey returned, tapping out a smoke. Her eyes cut to Kent as she dutifully held a match.
Tammy filled her lungs, rocked her head back, and let the smoke emerge from her open mouth at its own pace as she figured how to tell the whole story.
“All right. Here’s how it goes. A couple of years ago, May-May and a few of his pals went big-game hunting down in Texas. What do they have down there—wild boars? Something like that. Naturally, the hunt was a bust because they spent most of the time passed-out drunk. But somehow they stumbled onto a dogfight. Well, May-May is sometimes a big talker, if you haven’t noticed, and he starts shooting his mouth off about how he used to fight dogs up in New York and got busted for it. Paints this picture of himself as a big-time hoodlum.” Tammy interrupted herself to take another drag on her cigarette.
“So anyway, he ends up buying a couple of pit bulls from these guys, and presto, he’s back in business. Only this time it’s strictly for money, and he’s got his connection to the big league.”
“He’s been building up a pack of dogs ever since,” Kent said.
“He’s buying and selling all over the country.”
“Who’s he work with around here?”
“No partners. Just got one guy helps him out. A real dumb black guy named Bo something. Yeah. May-May’s playing it real cool.” She struck imaginary quotation marks in the air. “If you’d wandered down into the woods you’d have seen his whole setup. He’s got a couple of kennels’ worth of bitches and pups. Let’s see, he’s got a treadmill and several crates of little dogs and cats he picked up from who knows where for training.”
“That explains all the missing pets.”
“Yep. I’m sure he’s going through a lot of them. He’s even got a practice pit.”
Tammy pointed at an empty tuna can on the windowsill. Aubrey handed it to her. She tapped off her ash. “He’s heavily into getting ready for this big fight they’ve got planned.”
“When is it supposed to happen?”
“No one knows exactly. Not yet anyway. That’s the way they work it. Sometime in the next few weeks though.”
“Right here in Jefferson?”
She took one last pull on her cigarette, so deep it made tiny popping sounds, and then butted it in the tuna can.
“That’s what May-May says. My big-mouth diplomat husband managed to convince the hotshots that they ought to hold their national championship in the east so they can promote their sport here.” Her voice hissed with contempt. “This area could use more dogfighters, you know.”
“Like hell.”
“These guys are really serious, Kent. It’s no joke.” Tammy paused, debating whether to put all her cards on the table. Finally, almost inaudibly, she said, “That’s why they burned up Copithorn.”
Aubrey, who had stayed at the periphery, snapped to attention.
“What?” she and Kent said in unison.
Tammy leaned back nervously. “That’s why they torched the cosmetics factory and left the little white dog in there so the police would find it.”
“Why?” Kent could not believe he was actually hearing what he had desperately wanted to hear. He gave Aubrey a look of relief. “It wasn’t FOAM that started the fire.”
Aubrey’s expression said, Of course not.
“For a distraction. Call it a smokescreen,” Tammy said with a dismal chuckle and pointed at Aubrey. “They had the good luck of having these idiotic animal rights Californians stumble into town.”
“I don’t get it,” Kent said.
“I guess May-May and his buddies got wind that some other humane group is snooping around about dogfighting, so May-May decided to give them something else to think about.”
Kent held up his hand. “What did you just say?”
“I’m telling you, and I could get killed for this.” She spoke slowly, exaggerating her enunciation of each word. “May-May and company started the fire at Copithorn to get these other guys going after FOAM and away from the dogfighters.”
“There is someone else investigating dogfights around here?”
“Yep.”
He massaged his brow, letting this new information sink in. “We’ve got two animal rights groups hanging around town?”
“That’s what I said,” Tammy said. “I can’t remember the name of it, but May-May had a magazine they put out. That’s what caught my eye in the first place. He was actually reading something besides Penthouse. When I asked him about it, he said he wanted to know his enemy.” She laughed. “A regular General Patton, wouldn’t you say?”
Kent and Aubrey didn’t laugh.
“Pretty ballsy move for old May-May. I’d be proud of him if it weren’t for the fact that he’s into killing animals.”
“He’s going to get himself killed.”
Tammy shook another cigarette out of the pack Aubrey had left on the bed. Lit it. “Well, the ball’s in your court now.” She turned to the wall and closed her eyes. Smoked in silence.
“I’d feel better if you’d let us drive you to see a doctor,” Kent said.
Tammy did not respond. Aubrey said, “I can help you find a safe place to stay.”
Tammy still didn’t answer.
Kent nodded toward the door, and they slipped quietly back to his truck. On the road he asked, “Am I supposed to feel like crap because of what May-May’s doing with the dogs and how he hurt Tammy, or am I supposed to feel good because we’ve got a witness who can testify that FOAM didn’t start the Copithorn fire?”
Aubrey shrugged. “I’m going for the ‘feel good’ option myself.”
Chapter 16
Merrill pivoted in his gray steel desk chair…slowly, back and forth, like an oscillating fan, but he sure as hell wasn’t blowing a cool breeze. The tiny office was stifling. He touched an electronic box and ordered the duty officer, Janet, to hold his calls.
“Okay, Kent. We’re all here, as you asked. It’s your show. Take it away.”
Kent looked left and right at Aubrey and Stef and then back to Merrill. Both women were glistening. Merrill seemed oblivious to the dead air. “I figured I’d have to talk to all three of you about this, so I might as well do it at one time. Then maybe we can formulate a plan.”
“A plan for what?” Merrill asked.
Kent held his course. “You questioned May-May about the fire, didn’t you, Chief?”
“For what it was worth, yes.”
“Where?”
Merrill pointed. “I was in this seat. He was about where Stef is.”
“You didn’t go out to his farm?”
“No.”
“You should have. He’s got a bunch of pit bulls and fighting equipment out there.”
Merrill’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing at May-May’s farm?”
“Snooping around. Tammy tipped me that he was up to something. So I…” he glanced at Aubrey again, “we went to see what we could find out.”
“You two went out to May-May’s farm together. Alone. Sweet Jesus!”
“I already told you on the phone, I was out there. That’s where we found Tammy—all beat up. She told us all about a big fight coming to Je
fferson. She called it the national championship. And this time May-May’s not in it just for a little something to do. He’s got himself mixed up with some real high rollers. They want to promote dogfighting in the east.”
Merrill’s face twisted into a look of disbelief. “Come on, Kent. Is this Maylon Mays, a.k.a. May-May, ne’er-do-well of Jefferson, we’re talking about here? May-May who got busted years back for the same game? He couldn’t pull it off back then, even small time. No way could he do what you are saying. Think about it.”
“He’s doing it, all right,” Kent said. “Tammy had too many details. He’s got some big money backers and he’s doing it.”
“Details like what?”
“Like he burned Copithorn.”.
Stef spun her head from a resting stare to fix on Kent. “May-May started the fire?”
“And they planted Bear, Maureen Philips’s dog, inside to discredit Copithorn.”
“Why?”
“To get attention away from themselves. Apparently, there is some other humane group on their tail.”
“Did Tammy say anything about other missing pets? Besides Bear Philips, I mean?” Stef’s voice held the terror of a mother asking about a missing child. “Anything about Armani?”
“Nothing specifically,” Kent answered as gently as possible. He knew he had to tell her. She would settle for nothing but the truth. “A dognapping ring usually accompanies dogfighters because they use dogs—and cats—for training.”
“I don’t get it. For training?”
Kent turned to Aubrey. “Remember that spoke-wheel thing that looked like a modern-art helicopter behind May-May’s? That’s a—”
“Cat mill,” Merrill said. “He’s got a cat mill?”
“Yes. Along with a lot of other training stuff.”
Merrill shook his head and said, “So Armani is probably—”
Kent sucked in a loud breath and glared at his brother, interrupting Merrill’s comment.
Stef clenched the arms of her chair so hard her nails made a blackboard noise. “What the hell are you guys talking about? A cat mill? What’s that got to do with Armani?”
Kent gave Merrill a you-jerk look.
“The chief is going off half-cocked, as usual. We don’t know what happened to Armani yet. He’s just speculating because a cat mill is a machine used to exercise fighting dogs. It’s like a horizontal wheel with spokes about five feet long and maybe this high off the ground.” Kent gestured to just below desktop height. “What they do is leash a fighting dog at the end of one spoke and then dangle a cat just out of reach on the spoke in front of him. A pit bull will run himself in circles for hours trying to get that cat.”
“What happens to the cat?”
Kent swallowed hard. “In the end, they give the cat to the dog as a reward. But we don’t know that happened to Armani.”
“Oh, Armani,” Stef whispered.
Aubrey reached over and took her hand.
Kent caught Aubrey’s eye. “FOAM ever go after dogfighters before?”
“I thought that stuff died out years ago.”
“Well, if you want a cause—a real anticruelty cause—forget what you’re doing now and go after the dog men.”
“ I can’t believe that stuff still goes on,” Aubrey said, amazed at her own ignorance.
“They’ve gone underground. And with good reason. It’s a sickening sport. What these crazies do is take perfectly normal Staffordshire terriers and train them to be maniacal killing machines.”
“Using things like the cat mill,” Stef said.
“Right. But that’s not the half of it. Tell them, Merrill.”
The chief squirmed again as visions of the hideous sport came to mind. “It all starts as pups,” he said. “They look for what they call gameyness. Really what it means is aggressiveness. Then they encourage it and develop it. They teach the pups to attack and fight by killing rabbits, then kittens, and then small dogs…and so on. What’s the word for it, Kent?”
“Blooded.”
“That’s it. Blooded. By the time the dogs are two years old, their natural gameyness has become a drive to wage war even in the face of annihilation.”
“These people should be castrated,” Stef said.
Aubrey nodded. “That’s one thing we agree on.”
Merrill stood and slowly crossed his office to a water cooler. He poured himself a cup and returned to his seat without offering any to the others. “The trainer leads a dog up to twenty miles a day with his arm out the window of a pickup truck, the poor animal trotting alongside on a leash.”
Stef’s neck drew down into her shoulders as a chill of revulsion skittered up her spine. “You’re kidding! Twenty miles? A day?”
“Yep. And then these guys will make their dogs hang by their teeth from a piece of hose or inner tube to build up their jaws.”
“That was the rope with the inner tube attached we saw at May-May’s,” Aubrey said.
“Uh-huh.”
“God. The whole thing makes me nauseated.”
“All right. Let’s go on to the next thing. What are we going to do about it?” Kent knew Merrill would respond first.
“You know, folks, what I said originally still holds true,” Merrill said. “Sure, this whole thing sounds mysterious, diabolical, exciting, what-have-you, but in the end it’s probably just hearsay bullshit. Just May-May—and Tammy—blowing smoke. Personally, I find the odds of this really happening to be one in a million. Think about what we’re saying here. A scofflaw from the hills out by the reservation puts together a clandestine national championship criminal activity? And then he torches a major business as part of his plan? I mean, it all sounds intriguing, I’ll admit, but when you boil it all down, it’s pretty far-fetched. Wouldn’t you say?”
“You didn’t hear Tammy tell it. You’d believe it,” Kent said.
Merrill crumpled his paper cup. Tossed it under his desk, presumably into a wastebasket. “Probably should forget it, but probably shouldn’t, either. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You three give me a day or two. I’ll find Tammy and get what I can out of her. Then I’ll tell you what way we ought to go with this. That make sense to you?”
“See if you can find out anything about Armani too, please, Merrill,” Stef said.
“Agreed.”
Kent walked a few strides behind Stef and Aubrey as they left the station. He studied the two women. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but for the first time, their body language was that of friends, comrades. Tammy was right, he did like being the middleman between these two beautiful women.
He and Aubrey stood together, watching Stef drive away.
“Stef asked if you and I would have dinner with her tonight,” Aubrey said, keeping her eyes on Stef’s taillights.
“You and me? As if she considers us a couple? Where?”
“At her place. I don’t know about the couple part.” Aubrey wove her arm into the crook of his elbow and walked close. “She said I can bring Barry, but you can’t bring Lucinda.”
“Isn’t that kind of discriminatory? I’ll have to find Lucinda a sitter.”
“I think I’ll find something for Barry to do too. He’s bored with adult dinners.”
“Hey. Let’s be practical here. How about we let the two of them entertain each other?
“You’ll have to give her a bath.”
He held the truck door for her. “A bath! She doesn’t need a bath.”
Aubrey turned a sappy, coy look on him, fluttering her lashes.
He let out a sigh of defeat. “If you insist,” he said, and headed his truck back to the hotel.
Kent walked Aubrey into the Red Horse lobby just as Barry and Nathan crossed the room dribbling skateboards with one foot. They ignored the desk clerk’s severe look. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dr. Stephens…er, Doc
,” Barry said. “Nathan’s going to show me some new moves in the parking lot. Recess. You know?”
Aubrey hooked his arm, brought him to a stop. “You get your schoolwork done?”
“Most of it,” Barry said, flipping the board up with his toe, catching it clean. “Nathan, this is my mom.”
Aubrey let her son go, extended her hand to Nathan. “So you’re the other coon hunter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nathan smiled wider than Kent had ever seen.
Barry waved over his shoulder as they pushed through the lobby door.
“Your mom is pretty,” Kent heard Nathan say as the door closed behind them. Then Barry opened it again. “Nice to see you two together. I thought you might have had a wicked fight.” He disappeared, smiling.
“Great kid,” Kent said. “But that’s all I’ll say for fear of getting your hackles up again. I enjoyed your company this afternoon.”
Aubrey led him toward the stairs to her room. “Don’t leave so quickly,” she said. Her eyes met his. “You already have my hackles up again.”
Her room had vintage furnishings that he did not even notice. Slowly, purposefully, she triple-locked the door. She moved to the window and drew the blind without taking her eyes off him. His heart began sending pulses to his brain like waves crashing on a beach. He rubbed his fingers against his palms, feeling the moisture. It had been so long. She was such a beautiful creature.
Aubrey stepped to him and brought her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her, covering his mouth with her lips. She writhed her breasts across his chest in a slow sway. She nudged him toward the bed. Slowly, she teased her sweater over her head and shook black curls onto her shoulders. Then she pressed her weight against him and they melted onto the bed.
Years of self-denial gave way as Kent made love to this woman who moved like a doe in a misty morning meadow. When they were finished, he sank back into the covers, only to have his desire restored as she rolled against him stroking and nudging. After a second time, they lay together awestruck by the power of passion to transcend their differences.
Taking On Lucinda Page 14