Unleashed_Case of the Collie Flour

by Erik Schubach

  Then the elevator doors opened into chaos. Jamal was there with three officers, looking shaken, his eyes widened a little when he saw Calvin and me, and he motioned his chin toward me, looking relieved, “Here she is, this is her, she's ok.”

  We stepped out of the elevator as the officers moved toward me and I sort of freaked out a bit because one put his hand on the grip of his gun in its holster at his hip. Calvin picked up on my sudden spike of anxiety and started whining then growling when one of them reached out for me to guide me away from the elevator.

  My eyes were darting everywhere. Miss Reeves half of the hall was taped off with that yellow crime scene tape you see on TV. There were plainclothes officers with notepads and two uniformed officers there. Two men with 'coroner' printed on their jackets in big white letters were wheeling out a gurney, and my legs about gave out, and my stomach did flip flops, no longer hungry. There was a black body bag on the gurney which seemed to be occupied at the time. My mouth went as dry as the Sahara just then.

  Calvin's insistent growl brought me back to the immediate situation. The officer with the gun pulled the gun halfway out of its holster, and he said in a dangerous tone, “Miss, control your dog.”

  I blinked, the other man who was reaching for me had pulled his arm back, and he was stepping back from Calvin as the third officer moved blatantly to block me from the elevator.

  Oh.

  I looked down at Cal who was valiantly protecting me, his lips pulled back to show an impressive amount of fang for a mid-sized dog. I crouched slowly as not to alarm the trigger-happy officer. And I hugged Calvin. “It's ok Cal. I'm fine, just sit, and we can find out what is going on.”

  He responded to the command and calmed as he sat.

  Then my eyes widened as I stood and I shot a frightened look from the body bag to Jamal. “Amy?”

  He shook his head, and I exhaled in relief. Amy was the elderly maid that Miss Reeves had come in around this time twice a week. She was such a sweet old woman who always had a kind word to say and even gave me a little cupcake with a candle in it on my last birthday.

  The officer took my arm insistently. “Miss come this way, we have some questions for you.”

  I nodded and let him and the others lead me and Cal farther down the hall away from the body and... I realized farther from the elevator and stairs. What was going on?

  I asked my friend who was looking concerned as I was pulled away, “Are you ok Jamal?”

  His worried face split into his winning smile as he said, “I'm fine, Fin, thanks for asking,” as Mr. Trigger Happy led him to the elevator. The coroners joined him with the gurney as I wondered just who had died. Abigail Reeves was at the Palace Theater going over her lines for the play tonight.

  My stomach was aching now. I've never seen a dead person before. Well, I guess I still hadn't since they were zipped up in that black bag. I probably would have lost my breakfast all over the marble floors here if I had seen the actual body. I was just so monumentally sad for the family and loved ones of whoever that was.

  Calvin was whimpering now and pulling at his harness, trying to get back down the hall. I said absently to him, “Sit, Calvin.” He grudgingly listened.

  I looked at the officer who was cocking his head as he studied my face. God, I probably looked like an emotional wreck. I blurted out, “Who was that? What happened here? What's going on?”

  The officer held a hand up to me to stop my babbling, the look on his face wasn't as hard as when they first approached me, and I noted his stance relaxed a little as he asked, “Finnegan May?”

  I nodded, and he prompted, “Can I see your ID?”

  I started to reach for my bag, and he held his hand up again, “Is it in the bag?” I nodded, and he just held his hand out. I handed it to him, and he opened it and looked in. He rummaged for a second like he was looking for something else before pulling out my wallet. Was he looking for a weapon or something?

  He handed me my shoulder bag back as he opened my wallet to look at my ID, slid it out of its window, then handed the wallet back to me as he instructed, “Please wait right here, ma'am. The detectives have some questions for you.”

  I just nodded and asked, “What's going on here?”

  The man just stepped away to lean against the wall without answering. The gun happy officer moved beside him, his eyes boring into me with laser focus. What the ever loving flip was his problem?

  I mourned the spectacular mood I had been in all day as I waited. I felt like I was in trouble back in school again waiting at the principal's office to explain why I got unruly with Mr. Abner when he wouldn't let me reorganize the band room equipment when I was supposed to be playing my violin.

  What? They had the instruments all out of order and disorganized. I mean, who puts woodwinds in with percussion anyway? I mean really. Hey, don't look at me like that, so I have a couple quirks, you do too. I may be odd, but I have great fashion sense.

  A couple minutes later a woman dressed like an extra from a paranormal cop thriller moved to the doorway. She was tall and had an athletic build, her bobbed straight black hair, and almond-shaped eyes gave a hint of Asian heritage that was a counterpoint to her height. She looked like she was ready to kick some serious ass in her all-black outfit complete with shit-kicking boots and well-worn light leather jacket.

  She glanced my way then her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I felt like sinking back into the wall under the weight of that look. I felt like a little bunny who had been spotted by the big bad wolf. She started moving my way with purposeful strides, her eyes locked on me with intent. A man lifted the crime scene tape for her to walk under, and I swallowed.

  Without taking her eyes off me, she stopped in front of the uniforms guarding me. The one man handed her my ID, and she finally looked away from me and to my driver's license. She said out loud, “Finnegan T. May.”

  The officer nodded. “The dog walker.”

  She turned back toward me and cocked her head, regarding me as she said, “Hello Finnegan T. May, I'm Detective McLeary and we have some questions for you.”

  I hated the way she said my name and that ignited my courage again. I hadn't even realized it had abandoned me, but hey, dead body and all. I snapped at her standing there with that annoying smug look on her face, “Why won't anyone tell me just what the ever loving fuzzy heck is going on? Calvin here is getting anxious.”

  She cocked an eyebrow, her dark brown eyes looking amused, “Everloving fuzzy heck? Strong words.”

  I looked at her and the elevator where the coroners had left, then hissed, “You're mocking me when someone just died here?” My eyes went wide. “Crap, someone just died here, I need to call Miss Reeves.” I started rummaging through my bag for my cell.

  The detective held out a hand palm out. “Miss May.”

  I looked up from where I was pulling out my phone. Her eyes were narrowed like she was seeking something as she said plainly, “That was Abigail Reeves.”

  I just stared at her, the words not registering because they made no sense. I mumbled, “But... she's at the theater, rehearsing...”

  The woman said bluntly with no emotion at all, “No. She's been killed, and I need you to verify you were in her apartment just over an hour ago. Don't bother trying to deny it, the security office here can pull the keycard records.”

  I was still trying to process this, Abigail Reeves was dead? But what about... Calvin? Then my eyes widened as her words sank in and I glared up at the tall woman. “What? Why would I lie? Of course I was, I had to take my client, Calvin here, out on his morning constitutional. Are you accusing me of something here?” She cocked her head expectantly like she was waiting for me to add two plus two. I squeaked out in anger. “You are!”

  Then my blood ran cold as I looked down the hall then back at her, was that why Calvin had been whining at the bedroom door? Oh god... was Miss Reeves dead in there? Then I felt bile rising in my throat as I realized the red stains in the flour on the
kitchen floor were probably not raspberry filling.

  I covered my mouth, eyes wide, and then spewed, moving my hand just in time to avoid the vomit that landed on the detective's boots as she scrambled back. Everyone was looking at me with sour faces as the tears came as I wiped my mouth on the back of my arm. I whispered in a pleading tone, hoping she wouldn't confirm it, “Was she... in there?”

  Then I looked at her when she started wiping her boots off with a plastic bag which a grinning officer handed to her. She looked at me like I were detestable and said, “Right then. I'm going to need you to come down to the station to answer some questions, Miss May.”

  Wha? I felt like I was in some sort of disorienting dream fog. Calvin's mom was... I crouched and gave the poor boy a big hug. He had tried to tell me. What if... what if she was still alive and needing help in there when we left?

  I muttered, “How did it happen?” Then my strained voice asked an even more heartbreaking question, “What... what about Calvin? His mom is...” I couldn't say the word.

  The detective finished for me, “Dead. Yes. The dog will go to animal control until the decedent's next of kin can be informed.”

  I looked down at him, being so very patient, not knowing the reality of what was happening. I shook my head. “No, he doesn't need to go into a cage. Cal stays with me, I have power of attorney for my clients for wellbeing and medical decisions while I'm out with them.”

  She said as she grabbed my upper arm more gently than her agitated mood would have indicated and started moving me toward the elevator as she tried taking the leash from my hand, “Your client is dead.”

  Ok, I was getting sick of her tone, I blurted out, “I don't like your condescending tone! Miss Reeves is not my client, Calvin is. Miss Reeves is just his mom. I want my lawyer and Abigail Reeves' lawyer, Calvin isn't going to dog jail!”

  Then I muttered in realization, “I can't go to the station, I have to go walk my girls in an hour. It's lunchtime... I... they... need me.”

  Calvin was now growling menacingly at the detective, seeing my distress at her trying to take his leash. The woman had the good sense to hesitate, keeping an eye on him. I hissed, “You're scaring him!”

  She let go of me and held her hands up in a placating gesture and asked like I didn't know, “You realize someone died here today? The dogs can wait.” I just stared at her like she had just slapped me. My tears were flowing again, and I hated that everyone saw it, I was an ugly crier. The girls had to suffer too? Calvin was going to be devastated when he realizes his mom was not coming back.

  The woman looked conflicted for the first time, and she looked almost like she was debating consoling me. She exhaled loudly then said, “Fine, the dog can come with you, but if he bites anyone...”

  I nodded over and over, wiping my tears. Then started walking when she made an ushering motion. I said with the last bit of defiance I had for this rude and insensitive detective as we waited for the elevator, “I have to make some calls to make arrangements for the girls to be brought out. They don't need to suffer too.”

  When she didn't protest, I took out my cell again and opened it, then stared at my contact list and grimaced and squinted one eye in pain as I tapped the skull and crossbones. I wanted to puke again when my ex and arch nemesis answered on the first ring. “Rafiel's Canine Walkers, how may I help you today?”

  I growled out, “Cut the crap, Raife. I need your help.”

  He chuckled. “Come to our senses have we?”

  I sputtered. “No! I'm not joining your crew. Dog walking isn't a commodity service, it is a privilege that requires a personal touch and connection with your clients.”

  Then I cut off whatever dig he was about to follow up with, “Miss Reeves is dead...”

  There was silence on the line, even his smartassery had its boundaries it seems. Then he asked, all the mockery out of his voice, “What do you need Fin?”

  I looked up to the ceiling as we moved into the elevator car, why did I need to go crawling to him? I said quietly, “I have three girls in need of walking in an hour. I can text you their info, and I can contact their apartment managers to have someone let you in. Don't bunch them in a gaggle with others.”

  His smarmy tone was back as he said, “You got it, I'll get one of my people on it. It's going to cost you.” He hmmed then said, “Twice the going rate.”

  I squeaked, “A woman is dead!”

  His reply was devoid of emotion. “Fine, regular rate... YOUR regular rate. I still don't know how you can charge so much. But you owe me one.”

  I sighed and nodded dumbly as I affirmed, “I do. And Raife, thank you.”

  He muttered just to save face, “Yeah yeah.” Then he added in a softer tone, “Call me.”

  I looked at my cell when the line went dead. I still don't know what I saw in him. Other than he looked like an Italian god. Well, that and he likes dogs. Well, he used to until he lost sight of what was important and commercialized what we do.

  I had dated him all of three weeks a couple years back until I saw where he was going with his dog walking business. When you lose sight of your clients, you lose sight of your own humanity and compassion. I smiled internally at the fact that the biggest shame was how good the man was between the sheets.

  Now Rafiel has swallowed up almost two-thirds of the independent walkers like me and is creating a virtual monopoly in the city. But there are still some elite owners who require that personal touch that only someone like me can give their fuzzy four-legged babies. That's something Raife just doesn't get. And it is why I can charge such extravagant sums for my services. What's the old adage? You get what you pay for.

  I gave Jamal a sheepish look as he opened the door for us down in the lobby. He looked like he wanted to say something, then asked, “Will I see you again Fin?”

  Oh god, I hadn't thought of that. With Calvin's mom dead, I wouldn't be coming here every day anymore. I wouldn't see Cal anymore either. I shrugged, refusing to cry again. “I don't know. Take care, Jamal.”

  The man gave me his winning smile, being kind not to notice my tearstained cheeks. He winked and assured me, “Everything is going to work out, Finnegan May, life has a funny way of doing that.”

  That would have turned my legs to jelly if I wasn't already emotionally overwhelmed. Instead, I just gave him a sad smile and then let Detective McLeary lead me to an unmarked police SUV as I sent the promised texts.

  I just held Calvin the whole way to the police station.

  Chapter 3 – Questions

  When we arrived at the station, I was led up to a room that looked like a small conference room with a table and six chairs around it. Calvin was getting nervous. There wasn't a mirror or anything, but there was a camera in one corner.

  Was I... I asked as she indicated for me to take a seat, “Am I under arrest?”

  As I sat, she blinked at me blandly. “I should arrest you for throwing up on my boots, but no.” Then she cocked an eyebrow. “Why? Should you be under arrest?”

  I barked out, “Lawyer. I watch TV, I know you gotta let me talk to a lawyer.”

  She chuckled. “Again, not under arrest. We just need to ask you a few questions about this morning.” Then she motioned to the water carafe, and some glasses on a tray. “Thirsty? Need to wash the taste of your breakfast out of your mouth?”

  I covered my mouth to stop a repeat performance at the thought of it, and I hid a grin when she took a step back. That's right detective, serial vomiter here. My job won't be done until you are either covered or joining me. I watched as she regained her composure, if she weren't a cold-hearted jerk, she'd actually be quite stunning in an 'I can kick your ass and look good doing it' kind of way.

  Eeek, she's studying me again with those damn deep brown eyes of hers.

  I muttered to her, “You just want me to touch a glass so you can get my fingerprints like I'm some sort of criminal.”

  She surprised me by barking out a laugh and covering her mouth t
o hide a smile, it was sort of becoming on her. I was mad at her, she shouldn't be allowed to be cute like that. She chuckled. “You watch too much television, Miss May, we already have your prints on file.”

  On cue, a big bear of a good-looking middle-aged man in uniform opened the door, causing Calvin to stand from where he had laid down at my feet. The man could have played for the Giants, with a physique like that and his silvering buzz cut, and broad chest. What? I likes me a good specimen of manhood, though he was likely almost twice my age. He handed a file to Detective McLeary then ducked back out the door when she thanked him.

  She settled in to flip through the file as Cal resettled. She put the file on the table so I could see what she was looking at. I blanched at the top paper that had my mugshot. Oh dear lord, I was going to die of embarrassment. She grinned and asked in amusement, “Did you really break into a research lab at Columbia University and free the lab animals? It says here you were picked up screaming, 'You're free now!' as you ran from the premises.”

  I growled out, half in embarrassment half in aggravation over her smug look, “Lawyer.”

  She cocked an eyebrow and reiterated, “Again, not under arrest... do you even have a lawyer? I mean, being a dog walker and all?”

  I sat up straighter, my hackles were now raised. “My lawyer is with Stockton and Heinz, one of the best firms in Manhattan, thank you very much. And I'll thank you not to disparage my profession, what I do is important, and I'm quite sure it pays better than your detective salary, McLeary.”

  Again, she cocked an eyebrow, that's right, weren't expecting that were you copper? She looked back down at the file. “Misdemeanor trespassing. The felony vandalism charges were dropped by the university... thirty days of community service.”

  I defended myself, “I was young and stupid.”

  She stopped reading and looked up, confusion painting her face. “It was this spring.”

  I pointed out, “I'm still young and stupid, sue me.”

  She sat back in her chair, sagging back in a relaxed manner as she regarded me again like she was trying to puzzle me out, then she just asked, “I don't understand your hostility. I just have some questions for you. A woman has died.”