Bark M for Murder

by An Anthology

  “Yes, ma’am. Duke, up.”

  Needing no encouragement, Duke was in the attic in two seconds flat.

  A.J. couldn’t afford to watch as Jake climbed the ladder; she had to focus on the lower floor. She knew, however, that the sound of his breathing and grunts of pain would be a part of her nightmares for a long time to come. When she finally heard “I’m here,” she wondered if her hair had turned white. It had taken him ages.

  “Before you come up, open the drawer of the nightstand on this side of the bed. There’s a small flashlight just inside. Then feel around for a box and bring it. No point in not being able to reload.”

  Chagrined, A.J. wondered what kind of cop she was not to have thought of that herself. She closed the French doors, jammed a toe against a leg of the bed, but found the flashlight and ammunition and climbed the steps.

  Once in the attic with the stairway secured, A.J. promised herself that no matter how much it might cost a month, she would leave a light burning in every room wherever she lived from this night on. She was beginning to feel like a bat. “How’re you doing?” she asked.

  “All feeling’s gone, which I suspect is bad news. Use the flashlight and take a fast look around before we uncover the windows. Not much up here but no sense tripping over what there is.”

  The beam from the miniature Maglite revealed boxes and trunks in the corners, fortunately only one under the window on the front. She shoved it out of the way. Duke busied himself sniffing at all the new scents, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

  “How about I watch the front?” A.J. tried to tread carefully. She didn’t want him to think she was taking over. “If you’re at the back and we have to make a fast exit, you’ll be right there.”

  “Stop trying to be diplomatic,” Jake grumbled. “It doesn’t suit you. Hand me the light. I’ll keep it pointed toward the floor until you’ve opened the shutters. The windows push out from the bottom.”

  “No screens?”

  “Only on the sides. I never got around to… Never mind.”

  He was right; it didn’t matter. The screens were on the inside but wouldn’t impede what little vision she had. After cranking open the first window, however, she saw what they would impede. The glass panes protruded at an angle but the opening wasn’t that large. She and Duke might be able to squeeze through them. With or without the use of one arm, Jake would never be able to get out. There was too much of him, especially across the shoulders. And he must have known that. Duke followed her from one window to the next, poking his head out as she opened each one, as if testing to see which side of the cabin had the most interesting scents from so high up.

  Jake waited until she had finished with the windows before speaking again. “I know you’re wondering why I bothered to come up here when you can see now that this is a dead end for me. What got me was finding my granddad. That’s where he died, in that chair downstairs, with his crossword puzzle in his lap and his Chesterfields on the table beside him. I want to go out fighting.”

  She was circling the attic, taking a fast glance out of each window. “Chesterfields?” she echoed, stopping in her tracks.

  “Cigarettes. I don’t even know if they sell the brand any more. But I didn’t want to die down there. At least up here I can help you and Duke out.” That said, he rolled awkwardly to his feet and, stooping slightly to avoid hitting the beams overhead, went to the back window and sat down.

  “Chesterfields,” A.J. said softly, the last piece of the puzzle easing into place. “Fields.” She had been set up. Jake, too. But why?

  Duke sounded as if he’d found something of interest outside, soft, whuffing sounds emanating from his throat, toenails clicking. She scooted across to him, found him with his muzzle stuck out of the front window, tail whipping the air. He gave a yip, began to prance with excitement. It was a sound both familiar and puzzling.

  “What’s he doing?” Jake asked softly.

  A.J. scuttled to him. “Jake, I think whoever’s out there is someone he knows. He’s acting like he did downstairs, the same way my Buster used to if a friend was at the door. If it was a stranger, he stood still, alert, and waiting to protect and defend. Duke’s tail is wagging and he’s doing a happy-dog dance. I don’t see anything, but obviously he does.”

  “Maybe Rory, but he always stands out there and bellows for me. Besides, he knows how to get in the side door.”

  A.J. returned to the dog and slid an arm around his neck. “Who’s out there, boy? A friend?”

  His response left no doubt. The tail beating against her calf was answer enough.

  “Okay, but quiet, Duke.” Trying to reconstruct what she knew and how it might dovetail into the night’s events, there was only one conclusion that might make sense. “Shhh,” she cautioned the dog, and crossed back to Jake.

  “I’ve got a question for you. Do you know a cop named Fields? Six feet, around one-ninety, black and brown, big ears?”

  “Doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”

  “That’s who told me I’d find you here. I came up to look for my cousin—”

  “Alicia Jerome.”

  “You do know her!” A.J. plopped onto the floor. “Where is she? We haven’t heard from her in a month. Her folks are going crazy with worry.”

  “She’s fine. What’s Big Ears got to do with this?” Something, perhaps caution, gave an edge to his voice. “Make it fast, A.J. If it is someone Duke knows, I may know him too. Where did you meet him?”

  “At a women’s shelter. Running away seems to be Alicia’s favorite hobby, but she always phones to let her family know she’s okay. And she’s never gone more than a week.”

  “Jesus, that’s insane. How old is she, really?”

  “That’s the problem; she’s nineteen but can look thirteen when she wants. This last time she called from Washington, D.C., twice. The first one was typical Alicia, giggly, having a ball, meeting all kinds of new people. Her second call scared Uncle Billy, mostly because she sounded scared. She was at the bus station in D.C., said she only had enough money to get to Richmond and asked if they’d come pick her up. They live in Portsmouth. She was about to tell them what time she’d arrive when Uncle Billy says she gave a little shriek and the phone went dead. You say she’s all right? Where is she?”

  “In protective custody.” Jake groaned and shifted position. “One of those ‘new people’ she met is part of a group of scumbags who befriends runaways, drugs them so they can’t remember squat for a while, gives them false ID’s since some of them are underage, and farms them out to Johns who prefer them young.”

  A.J. sagged. “Oh, God.”

  “Her groomer was the one who caught her on the phone but she managed to get away from him, literally ran into me outside the bus station. I was undercover, but I’d seen her on the streets before and had read her the riot act and walked her to a shelter. I guess that’s why she trusted me when she saw me again. I hid her under a blanket on a grate until her groomer gave up looking for her.”

  “Oh, Jake, thank you.” She wanted to hug him but was afraid she might hurt him. “Fields heard me asking about her at the shelter, the third one I’d tried. The purse is hers. He gave it to me. He said someone had told him they’d seen her with you and you’d know where she was but wouldn’t tell me unless I paid you. He and the other guy—”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Wait a minute. Let me check to see if any thing’s happening out there.”

  Duke was still at the front window. She could hear the crackling of wood below and quiet grunts of effort. The barely visible outline of a figure wrestling with the limbs of the tree blocking the door presented a tempting target, but if she missed or did only minor damage, she would have given their location away for nothing.

  She returned to Jake and described what was going on out front. “If you pin him in the beam of the flashlight, I can pop him. I came in second in my class on the target range, so I won’t miss. I just want to be sure he’l
l be in no shape to fire back.”

  “Help me up.” On his feet, he followed her to the front window and peered out. “What the hell’s he doing, trying to rip the tree apart with his bare hands? No cleaver?”

  A.J. let that pass, since from all appearances, that’s what the figure appeared to be doing, and muttering under his breath. Duke wriggled between them, his nose stuck out of the window.

  A.J. leaned close and whispered in Jake’s ear. “If he’s going to keep this up, I can go out the window, get to my cell phone, and call for a police helicopter for him and a medical helicopter for you.”

  She felt his hand around her forearm holding her fast. “Too risky,” he whispered back. “We don’t know where the second guy is.”

  “Maybe he drove the Taurus and fell in the creek. I could swear there’s only been one shooter. Or maybe the other man isn’t armed.”

  Duke squirmed his way out from between them and faded into the darkness.

  “What makes you so sure this Fields was a cop?” Jake asked.

  “He said he was. I didn’t get cop vibes from the other guy, which I thought was curious. And they never mentioned that you were a cop, only that you had this place where you ‘broke in fresh meat.” They even had pictures of you and this place. Inside, I mean, the great room, your bedroom.“

  “Pictures? That’s impossible. The only person who’s ever been here… No. Couldn’t be.”

  “Couldn’t be who?”

  Jake eased an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “This cop with the big ears. Does he have a scar on one of his lobes?”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  He sighed so deeply it seemed to last for a full fifteen seconds. “His name isn’t Fields, it’s Fielding. I brought him up here a good ten years ago. He loved the place, took Polaroids inside and out. He’s the only cop who’s ever been here. But I can’t see how he figures in all this.”

  “He’s the one who told me that even if Alicia wasn’t here, you would know where she’d gone. I invaded my savings to pay you for the information—”

  “Shhh!” Jake leaned closer to the window. “He’s talking to someone. Listen.”

  “—gotta get help, man.” The voice was hoarse, faint. “Forget the lighter, I’m dyin‘ here. I can’t hold out much longer. Get Jake.”

  “That’s Fielding, all right,” Jake whispered.

  “And tell him what?” a second voice demanded quietly. “That we just happened to be in the neighborhood? He knows everything by now. He’s gotta go down, her too. The place is as tight as Fort Knox so I’ll let the fire do the job.”

  “You’ll need help, Hub. We can set it together.”

  A.J. clapped a hand over her mouth in astonishment. “One of them’s pinned under the tree! Why didn’t I see him when I opened the door?”

  “Porch light’s out, remember? And he’s pretty far back. That’s Fielding under there. The other dude’s his brother-in-law, Hub Marsden, a real scumbag. Shhh.”

  “This would have been easier if you hadn’t come to.” The man standing dropped on all fours, tearing limbs off and tossing them behind. “And this is what I get for letting you talk me into quitting smoking. Otherwise I’d have my own lighter. Now shut up. The county cops will probably be here any minute, and I don’t plan to be around when they arrive. Which pocket? The right?”

  “You can’t just leave me.” Desperation added a note of pleading to Fielding’s voice. “Haven’t I always looked out for you, covered for you? What’s Sandra going to say if you come back without me?”

  Jake’s hand tightened around her arm. “You’re going to have to kill Marsden, A.J. Fielding may be a rogue cop but he’s still a cop and I can’t sit up here and watch Marsden shoot him.”

  A.J. reflected that Jake had an annoying habit of being right. Marsden had no choice but to kill Fielding. There was no way he could get the tree off him and no way we could afford to leave him alive either. Behind them, she heard Duke scratching, then a muted thump but was too distracted by what she’d have to do to wonder what Duke was up to. She had never fired at anything other than an outline on a target. This time the outline would be real.

  Jake got to his knees. “Looks like he’s on his belly trying to get to Fielding’s pocket. That’ll make it easy. I’ll point the flashlight between his shoulder blades. Don’t think about it, A.J., just aim and fire. On three. Take the position.”

  A.J. could swear she was having an out of body experience, watching from somewhere else as she, too, rose to her knees, braced her hands on the windowsill, and aimed downward.

  “One. Two.” A.J. inhaled, calmed her mind and spirit. Just as Jake started to say “three,” all hell broke loose below them. Out of the lake of darkness at the right corner of the house, something hurdled toward the man on his belly and landed squarely on his back. When it began to snarl and his quarry began to yell, A.J. realized what was happening. The retort of a weapon blasted through the night.

  “Duke! Oh, my God, oh, my God,” she said, falling away from the window. A second later and she would have shot the shepherd. Instead, apparently Marsden had. “Gotta get down there,” she panted and made a quick decision. The folding stairs were slow to unfold. She’d make better time using the same route Duke had.

  “Go! I’ll do what I can. Freeze, Marsden!” Jake bellowed. “You’re in my sights!”

  A.J. was already half out of the window, head first, her arms long enough to support her on the roof of the shed while she pried her bottom half out. She rolled to the edge, lowered herself to the ground, then took off running.

  “Move and I’ll take your head off!” Jake yelled as she rounded the corner.

  The scene hadn’t changed appreciably. If the dog had been hit, he showed no signs of it. Duke was still firmly attached to Marsden’s back, his jaws full of Marsden’s coat and shirt collars, tugging for all he was worth and inadvertently throttling him in the process. A.J. felt no sympathy for him, her primary concern, the location of his firearm. Jake was apparently reading her mind again, the focused beam of the Mini-Maglite scanning the area around Marsden’s body. She didn’t see the gun and wasn’t sure what to do next. She had no cuffs. But she’d used a belt once tonight. She’d use one again.

  She knelt beside him and jammed Jake’s Sig Sauer against his ear. “Hands behind your back, Marsden. Under the dog, if necessary. Move, Duke. Off,” she added, hoping he understood the commands, since she wasn’t sure what he’d been trained to hear. Marsden stopped gurgling, and she straddled him, settling her weight on his buttocks.

  He screamed. “Get off, get off! I’m hit!”

  A.J. knew genuine pain when she heard it. “Where?”

  “My—my privates! Call an ambulance!”

  A chuckle from the depths of the tree diverted her, but only for a second. The chuckle escalated, became howls of laughter. “You’re such a loser, Hub. Wait till Sandy hears that her little brother shot his own wee-wee off! Good! You were going to plug me to shut me up and leave me here to rot.”

  “So now you’ll rot behind bars,” Jake yelled down. “All things considered, it’s probably a better deal. A.J., I’m coming down. Watch them, Duke.”

  It took Jake awhile, with A.J. feeling more anxiety about his trying to make his way down two flights of stairs and past the Brillo bush unassisted than about either of the two men on the ground. She kept herself busy until he finally arrived, relieving Marsden of his belt and fashioning an awkward knot around his wrists. She rolled him over far enough to retrieve his weapon, which was wedged under his midsection.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked Fielding. He was so completely buried under the tree that all A.J. could see of him was a patch or two of his light-colored shirt.

  It was a moment before he responded. “I can’t feel anything from the waist down,” he said softly. “Guess I’m paying for my sins. What’s that noise?”

  It was Jake, breathing so hard he could be heard as soon as he opened the side door. He stag
gered around the corner and made it as far as the porch before he sat down, seeming to fold in on himself. Duke pranced over to him, clearly proud of his part in the night’s activities.

  “Good boy, good boy,” Jake managed. He was in really bad shape. “I’ll cover them, A.J. Better get your cell phone and make those calls fast. Please. Time for this nightmare to end.”

  Chapter 8

  Ten days later, A.J. opened the passenger door of her Honda and watched, her heart in her throat, as Jake walked slowly from the main entrance of the Washington Hospital Center. He seemed thinner, his hair indecently long, in fact, much like in the photo she had seen of him. He wore a sling, the bulky bandage barely visible under his coat. An incredibly wide grin lit his face, but A.J. had no illusions that it had anything to do with her.