Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery)

by C. A. Newsome

  “You think we’ll need it?”

  “No telling where she’s been.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Max was in no hurry to get anywhere. She moseyed, she meandered, she sniffed for clues and displayed no indication that she was headed for a particular destination. She dragged them through the underbrush, leaving Peter and Lia with a variety of scratches on their exposed skin despite Peter’s vigorous use of the machete. Max descended the ravine behind the park, crossed the creek, headed upstream and eventually cut up the far side. She made her way over a couple more rises.

  Peter didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he was not upset to have an excuse to dump the bottle bomb interviews off onto Brent for the time being. But hang it all, if that dog wasn’t a royal pain in the ass, and becoming more of one with every passing minute. He was ready to suggest giving up. Yet, the thought of searching the entire forest with cadaver dogs kept him hoping Max would return to her find. Just a few more minutes–

  The leash tugged like an impatient child. Max was straining, whining. There was nothing he could see that would draw Max’s attention, except a pile of downed trees in the bottom of their current gully, the remains of a storm back in ’93.

  Max jerked on the leash, pulling Lia off balance. She fell to her knees and would have tumbled down the slope if Peter hadn’t grabbed her arm. Max was a shrinking blur torpedoing downhill, her leash whipping behind her.

  Lia got her feet back under her. She swiped her palms on her jeans. “Go after her. I’ll follow. I’ll be okay.”

  Peter handed her the machete, then moved quickly down the slope, momentum carrying him into a hard run on the uneven ground. He stumbled to a halt several yards after he made the bottom.

  Panting, he leaned over with his hands braced on his thighs and wished he’d thought to bring water. Peter inhaled deeply and caught the scent of putrefaction, sweetish and sickening, heavy in the air. Underlying was the odor of urine. He steeled himself for a mess and wished he had his Vick’s with him.

  He rounded the end of the pile of logs and spotted Max pawing in a pile of decaying vegetation. Years of dead leaves had been disturbed, exposing the earth and the insects that liked to grub in the dark.

  He took care now, examining each piece of ground before he stepped, moving quietly behind Max and planting his foot firmly on her leash. He bent over and picked up the tether. Max, intently focused on something, didn’t notice him.

  He moved closer, then pulled Max’s head away from the ground. Max had been nosing at a hip bone.

  “Lia! Don’t come any closer!” He scanned the ground at the bottom of the gully, spotting random splashes of white. His eyes began to differentiate shapes in the crazy quilt of leaves and dead wood, picking out bits of blue and red. A skull materialized, perching on top of a rock. Bits of flesh and fine, white hair clung to the scalp. Peter was surrounded by a grisly expanse of bones and clothing.

  He’d never seen anything like it.

  Peter carefully made his way back to Lia, who was now sitting on a downed tree. She took Max’s lead, wrapped it around a young tree, and clipped it to itself with her carabiner.

  Her face was stoic. “What did you find?”

  “More bones. Not sure what else is here.” He pulled out his phone, called up an app and took a GPS reading. This he called in to the station. He tapped “end” and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  “They’re going to bring out the crime scene folks and a cadaver dog. I’ve got to stay here to secure the scene. Can you find your way back?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “If I give you my key, can you walk Viola and take her home with you today?”

  She nodded. She looked exhausted. He knew the hike wasn’t responsible. He tipped up her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  “I’ll call later. If I get out of here in time for dinner, I’ll bring pizza.” He gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “You done good, Babe.”

  “Babe,” she muttered into his armpit, “is still a pig.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Lia had a hard time concentrating. She rescheduled her appointment with Renee and spent the day puttering around her apartment, catching up on neglected chores while she worried about the bones they’d found in the park. Her artist’s imagination had her conjuring gruesome scenarios. Cannibal bar-b-que. Satanic sacrifice. The newest installment of Twilight. The bone Max found seemed, for want of a better word, ‘fresh.’ Thinking about it made her shudder violently.

  The phone rang with increasing frequency as the news spread. Lia briefly considered changing her outgoing message: “Yes, Max found bones at Mount Airy. No, I don’t know anything else. Don’t bother to leave a message. If you’re my friend, I’ll see you soon enough. If you aren’t, I don’t want to talk to you.” The thought made her smile as she dutifully answered each call.

  She removed calcium deposits from her bathroom plumbing, scrubbed the grout and washed windows. She repotted root-bound plants. She was eyeing Chewy’s overgrown coat and reaching for her scissors when the phone rang again.

  “Lia, it’s me.”

  “Thank God, Peter. What’s happening?”

  “We’re wrapping up here. Do you still want me to come over? I figure I can stop by Dewey’s and be there in an hour. I’ll tell you about it then.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Viola started barking shortly before 9:30. The others joined in, howling. A minute later, Lia heard a car door slam. She opened the door as a freshly showered and shaved Peter came up the walk carrying a pizza box from Dewey’s with a bag on top. Frantic, Viola jumped on him and whimpered. He handed dinner to Lia, then stooped to pet Viola.

  “What’s in the bag?” Lia asked.

  “Salad.”

  “Good man.”

  “I’m learning.”

  “Yes, you are.” She leaned in, lingered over her ‘hello’ kiss. “Let’s get you fed. Then I’ll pry information out of you.”

  ~

  Peter leaned back on the sofa, propped his stocking feet up on the coffee table and tipped back a bottle of Beck’s. Having stuffed themselves on pizza crust, the dogs were spread out on the floor, napping.

  “That was excellent,” Peter said.

  “I do agree. So, out with it. What happened after I left?”

  “You can’t share. Just the stuff that’s public.”

  “Cross my heart,” Lia said solemnly while she made the required swipes with her index finger.

  “It looks like one skeleton, scattered around in pieces. Chris brought Boo to scent the area for other remains, but they didn’t come up with anything.”

  “How do you think he died?”

  “Brent found a crossbow bolt, so it’s possible it was a deer hunting accident. I found a hunter’s deer blind in one of the trees, something someone built out of scrap lumber. Permanent tree stands are illegal on public hunting grounds, so fat chance finding out who it belongs to. We think the shot came from there.

  “Whoever he was, he died there. Boo found the spot where he bled out. It was recent. Not all the bones were clean.”

  Lia grimaced at the thought.

  “What’s really strange,” Peter continued, “the area stank to high Heaven, like a corpse that has been kept in an oil drum for six months. We didn’t find anything that would account for that. Then there’s the question of why bones were scattered all over the place.”

  “How can you accidentally shoot someone and then not help them or call the police?”

  “That’s what we’ve got to figure out. We found the remains of clothing and something thick and plush, like a blanket. Could be he was asleep on the ground and the hunter didn’t see him.”

  “Sounds unlikely, and it doesn’t explain why there was nothing left but scattered bones.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Brent and I think.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  “The coroner’s office should have a description and a time of death for
the deceased by tomorrow. We’ll check that against any local missing persons cases and see if we have a match. If we do, we get dental records and make a comparison. If not, we’ll have to do a facial reconstruction and send it to the media. Meanwhile, we’re pulling the names of all the bow hunters licensed for the current session of the deer cull at Mount Airy. Shouldn’t be more than about thirty. If we don’t get any joy there, we’ll look at all licensed bow hunters in Cincinnati.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance it wasn’t a bow hunter?”

  “There always is, but until we get evidence that suggests otherwise, we’re looking for horses, not zebras.”

  “What do I get to tell everyone at the park? They know we found a human bone.”

  “We found a body and we’re trying to identify it. The trails are closed to everyone, including hunters, until further notice.”

  “The hunters won’t like being kept out of the woods.”

  “Nope, they sure won’t.”

  Day 2

  Thursday, October 10

  Lia steeled herself for grilling as she strode up the park drive the next morning. She had all four dogs in tow, having agreed to keep Viola for a few days. Peter would be working long hours until headway was made on the case and would have little time for his dog.

  The service road ended at a brick picnic shelter separating two fenced enclosures, one for large dogs and one for small. Lia noticed a middle-aged woman sitting at one of the tables, a polite expression on her face. She was of medium height and plump, dressed nicer than the usual dog park patron in tan knit pants and a green tunic topped with a heavy gold necklace that couldn’t possibly be real. The conservative, chin-length bob of graying hair had clearly been styled at a salon. Lia thought she looked familiar, but couldn’t place her.

  Viola, who approached very few people, walked up to the woman, tugging on her leash. She sniffed at her, then lifted her head for a pet. The woman held her hand out for approval. Viola gave it a quick flick of her tongue. The woman stroked the top of Viola’s head. Satisfied, Viola returned to her pack.

  “Good morning,” Lia said. “We don’t normally get people without dogs.”

  The woman looked flustered. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

  “Who is it? I know most people who come here.”

  “I doubt you know him, but thank you.” The woman angled away, signaling the end of their conversation.

  Whatever, Lia thought.

  She passed through the picnic shelter to the corral, released all the dogs except Max and headed for her favorite picnic table. Jim sat there, playing Draw Something on his Kindle. Fleece and Chester lolled beside him on the table top.

  Lia seated herself on the table. Max settled on the ground. Viola jumped up, curling behind Lia. Honey and Chewy had abandoned her, hoping to find slow squirrels and evidence of deer incursions.

  Lia peered over Jim’s shoulder. “You ought to draw bigger. What are you trying to make?”

  “It’s a teapot. Think she’ll get it?”

  “That’s a coffee pot.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Teapots are short, round, and have a long spout. Coffee pots are tall and have a short, triangular spout.”

  He held out the tablet. “Here, you draw it.”

  “You really want me to?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  Lia handed Jim Max’s leash, swapping it for the tablet and erasing the drawing. She started over, first laying down a background color of light tan, then a pale blue table cloth overlaid with thin, lavender stripes. Next, she selected the eraser and drew the belly of the pot, a sinuous spout and a curved handle in white. She drew a small knob on top. Then she selected a rose hue and decorated the pot with little flowers. Last, she switched back to the eraser and pulled wisps of steam coming out of the spout. She passed it to Jim.

  “There you go.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a terrific artist. Bonnie won’t know what to think.” He hit the send button.

  “When do we get to meet this mysterious Bonnie?”

  “One of these days.”

  Chester waddled across the table top and sat up on his hind legs by Lia. She turned to him and bent her face down so he could kiss her. Chester obliged, then tried to sneak his tongue up her nose. Jealous, Viola snapped at Chester.

  “Eeeew. Stop it, Chester! Viola, Be nice!” She straightened up and looked back at the picnic shelter.

  “That woman is still just sitting there. How long has she been here?”

  “She was here when I arrived. I think that Nissan Altima in the parking lot is hers. I saw an Avis folder in the front seat. Guess she’s from out of town.”

  “Or else her car is wrecked. Insurance will pay for a rental.”

  “True,” Jim considered.

  “She looks familiar.”

  “She’s been hiking in the woods. I saw her head back there with someone last week. I can’t remember who.”

  “In those clothes?” Lia raised her eyebrows.

  “Takes all kinds.”

  “Hail, good people.” Terry walked up with Bailey. Jackson, Nappa and Kita chased circles around the picnic table, barely dodging their owners while Chester barked from his perch. “What’s the story? Enquiring minds want to know. The news said your man found bones in the woods. Do we have a killing ground?”

  “I don’t know much,” Lia responded. “It was just one body. They don’t know who it is.”

  “And they found disarticulated bones? Not an intact skeleton? Terry asked.

  “You don’t need to be so happy about it,” Bailey grumbled at Terry.

  “I don't know anything about that,” Lia evaded.

  “There are many methods of removing flesh from bones. Dermestid beetles are the preferred method. They leave the skeleton in pristine condition. Unless someone cut most of the muscle mass away, it would take a significant amount of time to complete the process.”

  Lia looked at Bailey, whose throat was making tiny convulsive motions.

  “Maceration also works. It requires containing the body in an enclosed space, preferably with water and enzymes of some sort. It’s unpleasantly aromatic. Unlikely in this instance, since I’m assuming the bones were unarticulated, and you’d have to wonder why someone went to the trouble to move the bones to the woods.

  “Boiling is the quickest method, but it makes for a brittle final product . . .”

  Bailey’s face was turning green.

  “ . . . and all of these processes presume that most of the flesh has been stripped from the skeleton by some mechanical means first. I wonder, did they find any tool marks? That would indicate dismembering. If the bones have teeth marks instead . . .”

  Bailey backed away from the group with her hand over her mouth. Lia looked at Jim, who was drawing a werewolf that looked like a collie on his Kindle. She looked back up at Terry.

  “Scavengers must have gotten to it. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Terry concluded.

  “That’s very . . . informative, Terry. It’s like watching CSI. I’ve got to walk Max.” Lia stood up, and Max stood with her, stretching and yawning, then wagged her tail. Viola jumped down from the table and ran ahead. She looked back over her shoulder and barked. “Yes, Princess, I’m coming.” A firm grip on the leash, she headed for the back of the park, where Bailey was tossing a ball for Kita, Honey and Chewy.

  “You abandoned me,” Lia accused.

  “Sorry, it’s my delicate sensibilities. I’m going to be off my feed for the next three days after that. How are you holding up?” Bailey asked.

  “Once I got over the idea that I had a fresh, human bone in the back seat of my car, I was okay. Peter’s the one who has to deal with it. Thank God, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Peter closed out the web page when he heard the distinctive clip of his partner’s Ferragamo knockoffs entering the bullpen. He swung around in his swivel chair and
leaned back, playing innocent.

  “You may be fast, Brother, but your reflexes are no match for my eagle eyes. I must say, I cannot believe what I just saw.” Brent Davis had blond good looks that were diligently maintained through grooming, wardrobe and exercise. The Atlanta transplant’s magnolia-laced voice affected most women in an embarrassing way that had his fellow detectives shaking their heads when they weren’t making bets. Peter found his courtly manners useful during interrogations.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you saw nothing.”

  Brent ignored the threat. “And on the people’s dime, too. For shame. Does Lia know about this?”

  “No, and she’s not going to.”

  “She has to find out eventually.”

  “When I’m ready.”

  “Man, you must be dreaming. I don’t think you’ll ever be ready for the way she’s going to react.”

  “I’ve got a workaround in mind.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to give it to her for her birthday.”

  “Nope.” Peter leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

  “You gonna slip it on her finger while she’s asleep? Tell her it’s just an odd skin growth? How will you explain the minister?”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “The usual way of these things is you let her pick out the ring after you’ve broached the topic of matrimony. That way you’re not stuck with three K in dissed diamonds when she says, ‘no.’”

  “That is totally lacking in romance. In case you haven’t noticed, Lia’s not into the usual way of things.”

  “I have noticed. So why are you looking at the usual sort of ring?”

  “Just getting a baseline. Anything wrong with that?”

  Peter’s phone rang. He grabbed the receiver. “Dourson. . . Yeah. . . We’ll be right down.” He hung up. “That was Jeffers. Time to go see a doctor about a corpse. You up for a ride to the University?” He headed down the hall, Brent behind him.