“I want you to find out who told your mother this. I told no one. You told no one. I did it after hours, so no one can possibly have seen me making copies. I was careful to make sure no one saw me, because I didn’t want to have to answer any questions about it. So how did she find out?”
“Read the puppy mill files, read your file, spy on my mom. Got it. Anything else?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I know that you think I’m being tough on you, but you could be so much more than you allow yourself to be. I wish you could see that.”
She leaned in close, so close that I could smell the pepperoni on her breath. Not minty but still tasty. Her eyes closed as her mouth pressed lightly against mine. There was no pressure for more. Our lips pressed together and hers fit mine nicely. We stood like that for a minute before I pulled away.
She didn’t say a word. She took her jacket off the back of the chair and headed out the door with a wave. Green had once told me that I’d be cute if I cleaned up, but here I was still the same messy guy, and she’d kissed me anyway. Of course, this case had nothing to do with Toledo or its immediate environs, so she was free to put her mouth where she wished, but I was still stunned.
I could still feel her lips against mine as I cleaned up the leftovers, fed the dogs and went to bed that night.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I decided to do the last thing first. I still wasn’t up for the massive amounts of paper I’d collected from Zook, so I decided to do a little snooping on my mother. I hadn’t talked to her since she’d called so many times. By my calculation, the package should have already arrived, so she’d be placated.
I’d been right in my calculations, because I saw it on her dining room table as soon as I entered the house. It had been opened, and the contents lay on top of the envelope.
My mother gave me a peck on the cheek and smiled. “What brings you here?”
“I just stopped by to check on you. You seemed rather upset the last time we talked.” At least my honesty had gotten me this far.
“I don’t like the thought of anyone reliving that past. I don’t see what good comes of it.” Her eyes told me nothing. We could have been discussing any topic, not just the most tender spot for everyone in the Fitzpatrick family. We’d all made a life of reliving the past; I wasn’t sure what she was talking about here. Did she not see our family for what we’d become?
“I understand. That’s why I sent it to you.”
I changed the subject after that. I told her about the puppy mill and the little girl Corgi who had come home with me. We debated names for a while. She’d offered me tea, and we sat and chatted while discussing appropriate names for the dog.
One thing that I knew about my mother with certainty from all the late nights and tea sessions was that she had a two-cup limit. After two cups, she had to use the restroom. True to form, I poured her a third cup, and she excused herself to the restroom.
Her purse was on the table, and I fished out her cellphone. She had an iPhone, which I was impressed with. Go Mom. Who knew that someone who lived their life inside the home needed such an upscale phone? I scrolled through the call list and found what I wanted. In between calls to me and calls to other family members was one number that I didn’t recognize. The number had not been in her contact list, so it was just a series of digits. I grabbed a pen and wrote the number on my palm. I threw the phone back in her purse just as she came back out from the restroom.
I made my excuses and left. I wanted to get out of there before she noticed the numbers on my palm. I didn’t know if she would recognize them as the phone number or not, but I didn’t want to take any chances with that. I’d written notes to myself before, but I didn’t want her to think anything was up. I wanted no suspicions.
I walked outside the family home and took a walk down the street. Things hadn’t changed much in the years since I’d been gone. It was odd the way that this neighborhood felt trapped in amber, forever preserved how it had been at the time of my sister’s disappearance. The feeling made me think about the past even more.
When I’d made it down to the end of the street, I called the number on my palm. A man answered, “CPD, Sergeant Siever speaking.”
My mouth went dry. Siever had been one of the detectives on the case with my sister’s disappearance. I hadn’t heard that name in years, but I was immediately able to pull up his face in my mind. He’d been kind to my family in the days after the disappearance and for quite some time, he’d called to update my parents on the status of the case. Usually these updates would be followed by my mother’s withdrawal into herself and another bout of my father’s drinking. I had grown to dislike the status calls, and at times, I’d actually “forgotten” to give my parents the message that he’d called.
Now he’d involved himself in the situation with the police file. I wasn’t sure how he would know about it, but he did. I would check with Green to find out, but not quite yet. I was still a bit shaken from our encounter, and I needed some time to think about what had happened between us with that kiss and what might happen. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that. Part of me wanted to have a relationship, but at the same time, letting people get too close opened the door to pain and suffering.
Having accomplished my first mission, I went back home to the mountain of paper. Given the number of entries and the type of information, I opted for a spreadsheet and began typing in client names, phone numbers and the type of breed they were interested in.
A few people switched breeds constantly, but most people liked to stay inside of their comfort zone, and they chose the same type of dog repeatedly. Since these records went back 10 years, I was able to see that there were repeat customers after 8 to 10 years. This likely meant that the original animal had passed away, and they’d purchased another one like it.
Two of the names bought a second animal after only a short time. This could mean that the original dog had passed away quickly, or the family wanted another dog to keep it company.
I skipped dinner and kept typing. I grabbed a cup of coffee after I got to the Ms. I made another pot of coffee after the Ss were done. After I finished the files, I decided to sort by the number of purchases made. Only two names had purchased more than three dogs. None of the breeds were those associated with racing or fighting, so there had to be a different reason for getting so many dogs. I just needed to find out what that reason was.
One was the lady who had purchased the Afghan Hound in Green Springs. Her appearance just as I was looking around for a source of information seemed overly fortuitous. She might have known who I was and wanted to thwart my efforts. So I decided to wait until later to talk to her. She’d purchased three hounds and two Chihuahuas, which seemed like a very odd combination of dogs. The two little dogs had only been born in March, so she’d only had them a little more than four months. The three hounds were all older with the youngest one being six.
The other name was Anthony Wayne, who had purchased seven Pekingese in four years. Those purchases didn’t make any sense either, since they were only good for dusting the floor and showing. I couldn’t imagine what a filthy Pekingese would look like besides an old dust mop.
Wayne lived just outside of the city, and I decided to give him a call. There was no answer on the phone number that had been in the files, but I left him a message. I’m not good at waiting, so I decided to work on the police file regarding Susan’s disappearance.
The next three pages of information were still nothing I hadn’t already known. I recalled all of this from the original investigation. Part of me wanted to read faster, so that I could learn whatever secret the files held, but at the same time, I didn’t want to read so fast that I missed that piece of information. From what I could infer from Green, the evidence was there, but it couldn’t be too clear to me. Otherwise, the police would have solved the crime many years ago.
I’d gone through about seven pages when the phone rang. “Hello,” I said distrac
tedly.
“You’d called early. My name is Wayne.”
I snapped out of my walk in the past and sat up straight. “Yes, Mr. Wayne. How are you? I was calling about your dealings with the Zook farm.”
There was a long pause on the other end. I could hear him breathing, but he wasn’t saying a word. “What are you talking about? Zook?”
“The Zook farm. Where you buy your dogs.” I was straightforward and to the point. I didn’t want this to sound like anything other than a routine call.
“Oh,” he said, the mood suddenly lightened. “You mean Fred. Yeah, I get my dogs there. What about it? Does he have another one for me? Why isn’t he calling? Is he out of town again?”
I was surprised at the rapid shift in his tone. “No, there aren’t any more dogs now. He’s been shut down. People found out about the dogs, and the police shut down his business.”
He cleared his throat. “I see. Do you know what became of the two Pekingese that he had on-site? I might be interested in them.”
I gave him the name of the rescue organizations that I knew of. I also told him to be quick about it because someone was adopting as many of his dogs as he could. I remember Allison saying that she was going to stall, but I didn’t know how long that would be.
“So if you don’t have any dogs and Fred’s out of business, why did you call?” His voice now was wary and nervous.
“I was hoping that we could meet and talk. I’d like to find out why you got so many dogs from Fred. What happened to them all?”
“No-nothing,” he said. I think that the accusation had startled him. “How could you even suggest that?”
“I just –”
“Tell you what. Come over now and I’ll show you what I do with the dogs.” He gave me an address in the farm land in Lucas County, outside of Toledo. It would take me about 45 minutes to get there, but at least I was getting information about the case. It felt more productive than just sorting a file of names in MS Excel.
When I pulled into the driveway, I knew that my thoughts about Wayne were all wrong. I’d expected something shady, perhaps dark or hidden. Zook’s farm had been that way, and I was expecting his associates to be the same. However, the house I was looking at as I drove down the long winding driveway was anything but shady. The house was grand by most measures with a multi-car garage, a barn, and a house that resembled a small hotel. I let out a low whistle.
A man came out to greet me. He waited while I pulled up to be even with him and shut off the car. “I thought this would be better if you saw it for yourself, rather than just take my word for it. The effect isn’t the same.”
I nodded, not knowing exactly what I was supposed to be looking at. The man definitely had money, but many rich people committed murders. I didn’t know the stats on how many dumped the corpses in a pit under a stack of dog crates, but I figured I could get that information if I wanted it.
He led me at a quick pace to the barn. He threw the doors open wide. I had half-expected another puppy mill, but instead the floor was concrete, and the walls were whitewashed to a near brilliance. Along the wall on the right, there were glass cases that reached above my head. I walked over to them, thinking that this was what I was expected to see.
The cases were filled with ribbons and trophies for dog shows. Apparently Wayne had one of the top Pekingese in the state as well as two or three other dogs that performed well at the shows. Snowball was definitely the champion, since there were trophies to her all over. Pepper and Sugarplum were the other two who won regularly.
After several minutes, I turned around and looked at him. “You show dogs. Did you get these dogs from Zook?”
He nodded. “I buy all my Pekes from that man. Look. I know it looks like a shithole there, and he treats the animals poorly, but he consistently delivers a quality animal from an exceptional bloodline.”
I thought back to the dogs that I’d seen him purchase. None had gone for more than $700. “And of course, it’s all the better because you aren’t paying championship prices for the dogs too, right?”
Wayne made a face. “Well, that certainly helped. I just told him that I came from a large family and that we all loved Pekes. Who was he to argue?”
“So you didn’t have any arguments with Zook? No fights?” I was quickly feeling that this discussion was circling the toilet. If Zook had been providing high quality dogs at a low price, then Wayne had no reason to want to kill anyone. He was happy.
I tried to think of a motive involving another person. “Was there anyone else who was jealous of your success? Someone who could have told Zook what you were doing?”
Wayne waved away the notion with a hand. “Look, it was business. Of course people were jealous. I won practically every show I entered. That makes for some bad feelings. But nobody would shut Zook down just for that. Why not just offer more for another Peke from the same lineage? You’d have a good chance of getting a winner yourself.”
He had a point. With that, my only possible motives for his involvement disappeared. I had a person who knew about the puppy mill, but actually wanted to encourage it, not shut it down. I just didn’t see how Wayne could have put a body there without Zook’s involvement. Even with the dogs silent, Zook would be there to see anyone approach the barn.
However, something else crossed my mind. “But you might want to shut down a lineage if you’re afraid of competition? Did you make the anonymous call about the dogs?”
He tugged nervously at his collar. “Perhaps we should go inside? It would be more comfortable to talk there.”
I nodded. “How did you know about the body? Did you know that Fred had killed someone there?”
He took a deep breath. “You’re not going to even let me get to the house before you ask questions. The truth is that the last time I was at Fred’s farm, he was talking to one of the other show people. They were arranging the sale of a Peke!”
“So you decided to close things down?”
“I had seven dogs of my own. I could show one or more of them at any time and likely come home with two or possibly three ribbons out of the show. It would be years if not decades before I needed Fred again.” He indicated a path that led to the house. Bright red bushes lined the walk, and for a moment, I realized that they hid the walk from the road, which meant I was unseen to the world. I quickened my pace.
“And the body?”
“I haven’t told anyone this, because no one would believe me. However, when I was there the last time, there was a woman’s pink gym shoe under the bottom crate in the last column of crates. I thought at the time that in a mystery, that there would be a woman’s body attached to it. So when I decided to call the police, I embellished the story about the puppy mill to include that dead body. I never expected the story to be true.”
“So you had no idea about the body, but apparently you actually saw someone when you were there last?”
He nodded. “That would have been last month. It took me a while to get my nerve up to call the police. It was such a final thing to do, because I knew Fred would be out of work after that.”
I paused. “Didn’t you say something about Zook being out of town? Leaving the dogs? Was that before or after your last visit?”
He nodded. “Before. About seven months ago. I was interested in finding out when the next litter of Pekes was going to be available. I called and some woman answered the phone. She said that Zook was out of town for a few days. She took my number and a few days later, he called back. Nothing mysterious about that. Just good secretarial help.”
I thought back over the layout of the farm. He had no room for secretarial help. I’d only seen one phone in the kitchen of the farmhouse and none in the barn. It seemed very unlikely that a hidden business like Zook’s could have existed with an office staff. Too many people would know what went on.
“Could you pinpoint the date for me? It might be important,” I asked. If someone had known about the puppy mill seven months ago and Zook
was gone, that might provide some suspects who had motive and opportunity to do away with the mystery corpse.
Wayne excused himself for a few minutes. I occupied my time by playing with the Pekes, all of whom could smell other dogs on me. I didn’t kid myself that they were fascinated by my sparkling personality. They just wanted to examine and mark something in their domain that didn’t smell like them.
In about five minutes, Wayne came back with a small piece of paper. He handed it to me without a word.
The paper had a date and time for a phone call that I now recognized as the Zook farm. It had been in May of this year in the early evening as dusk would have been falling early. That meant the woman who answered would only have had a short time to wait after the call to bury a body without any prying eyes.
I thanked Wayne for his help and left with three Pekes following me to the door. I suspected that they wanted to go for a ride in my car, but the life of a show dog was more grooming than sticking your head out the window.
I looked to the barn again and back at Wayne. “Now that Zook is out of business, you’re the one who has been requesting all of the dogs in the rescue groups, aren’t you? All that new construction in the barn would allow you to house quite a few more dogs, wouldn’t it?”
He sighed again. “Remind me never to invite anyone else out to the house. Yes, now that he’s out of business, I’m trying to get as many of the dogs as I can. Some of the dogs were priceless, but Zook treated them like any other farm animal. It always amazed me. You can’t get a Sealyham pup for under $1700, and he routinely had litters of five to seven pups. Anyone would die to have seven pedigree Sealyhams.”
I knew the story about Sealyhams and their rarity these days. I also knew that Agatha Christie had proudly owned Sealyhams, which made them something of a patron saint for amateur detectives like me. “So you called Allison about the dogs?”
“Yes, and you can tell her that I know she’s stalling. It sounds lovely to tell me all these stories, but I recognize a stall when I see one. Perhaps now you can vouch for me?”
Puppy Mills, Puppy Kills (Animal Instincts Book 3) Page 5