Unleashed_Case of the Collie Flour

by Erik Schubach

  Becky started a low chuckle that was half amused giggle half laugh as Gar shared a sheepish shrug with me in the mirror. “She's got your number, babe.”

  He shot her a cute chastising look, then admitted, “We were going to tell her tonight when we announced our engagement. We sort of hoped you'd tell mom why you loved the city so much, to soften the blow. Remember how she freaked out when you moved away?”

  I nodded, thinking about the hours and hours of arguments I had with mom, and Garrett too, about me moving to Manhattan. I knew if I didn't, I would be stuck in Liberty, never moving forward... stagnant because of my fear of everything.

  I finally convinced them it was something I had to at least try or I'd never be able to live with myself otherwise. It was the scariest and most exciting thing I had ever done. It was – bold... a term that would never have been applied to me, and never would if I had stayed.

  I exhaled and shared what I told myself three years ago, “Staying is easy, it's striking out to find yourself that's hard.”

  I know they had expected me to come running back, screaming at the top of my lungs in a few weeks. They had never expected me to actually find myself.

  The car was quiet a moment, and Calvin whined. I started petting him again, and Becky looked at my brother. “I really like your sister.”

  I blushed as he nodded. “Me too. She's the strongest person I know.”

  I wanted the attention off of me, so I supplied, “Fine, next weekend I'll hold your widdle hand when you tell mom.” He was nothing but a cheesy grin at that. So I added, “Wimp,” to Becky's explosive laugh again.

  Then I offered, “If you need help organizing for your move...” Which got Garrett laughing too. Typical.

  Jane wasn't home when we arrived just after ten. They just dropped me at the door, declining my offer to come up. It would be around midnight by the time they got home as it was. I waved as they drove off, then looked at the apartment, then at Cal. “Let's get a quick walk in or you'll be crossing your legs by morning.”

  He just looked up at me with his doggy eyes. I know the only thing he caught of that was 'walk', and I smiled down at him and started toward the park. What? Walking through Manhattan and Central Park in the dark? No, I'm not crazy.

  It isn't like it was in the 90's, Central Park is one of the safest places to be at night now. The paths are lit brightly, and there are extra mounted and foot patrols, not to mention all of us out in the park at night sort of have each other's backs. And muggers and rapists as a general rule don't go after someone with a dog. Especially dogs as big as Calvin or bigger.

  On a typical night like this, when I was first starting out and taking night walks since I wasn't at elite status yet, I'd cross paths with about twenty or more pet owners or other dog walkers getting the last walk of the night in.

  It sort of brought back memories of a couple of years ago for me as Calvin and I crossed over into the park. It is like a whole secret society, those of us with fuzzy friends. An unspoken kinship and camaraderie. With acknowledging head bobs and friendly smiles. Then the occasional meet and greet where we allow the dogs to introduce each other as we usually just silently stood to enjoy the night as they did their sniffing, before exchanging nods and smiles again and continuing on our way.

  We had a few encounters like that as we saw some familiar faces and some not so familiar, then we headed home. Once we were in and I locked the door a few times, I saw that Jane hadn't been home yet, so she must have driven straight to the 19th street station. Who knew how late she'd be. I bet she'll be hungry.

  As Calvin yawned and headed to the couch, I settled in and prepared an easy meal for Jane that she could nuke in the microwave when she got home. I labeled it neatly with instructions, then yawned myself. What an awesome day this had turned out to be.

  I lazily scratched my left butt cheek and headed to my bedroom... shut up, you do it too, and you know it. I mumbled, “Come on Calvin, bedtime.”

  You didn't have to tell him twice. He was already lying on the bed by the time I was in my cat pajamas. I slid under the covers, pushing my feet under my dog for his industrial-strength toasty warmth on my toes.

  I had a dog.

  ***

  The next morning, we woke up to find Jane had been here sometime during the night. The food was gone, and a sticky note was in its place. It read, “Thanks for dinner, I forgot to eat. You're the best Fin. Just a few leads to run down, back early P.M.”

  I smiled, it was considerate of her to leave the note. I liked that she hand wrote it instead of just texting or emailing me. That reminded me, I had a letter from mom to read.

  I prepared breakfast, then kicked back on the couch with my boy to eat as I read my mom's letter. I had to smile, it was just the normal stuff that goes on day to day that you would normally text or email about, but like mom said, you can feel the emotion and love in a handwritten letter. It seemed so much more personal. I glanced back at the kitchen and smiled.

  Then I giggled at how flowery her writing got when she shared that she thought Garrett was close to popping the question. Yup, she had known, that mom sense that is always tingling for her. Again, I wish I had been around to see the budding romance. All I got was the past few Saturdays at moms listening to Garrett go on and on about Rebecca.

  I took a bite of bagel then looked up from the letter at a knock at the door. Calvin was off to it like a shot, his tail wagging. I licked the cream cheese off my fingers and stood, making my way there. Had Jane forgotten her keys?

  I unlocked the door and opened it then froze, it was Jessie. Her smile faded to be replaced with slight disappointment and curiosity as she looked above my head into the apartment. “Hi, Finnegan was it? Is Jane around? I was just in the neighborhood as wanted to see if she wanted to talk over coffee at the diner next door.”

  I pulled the door open the rest of the way, and she stepped in as I said, “No, she was gone when I woke up. She left a note saying she had some leads to follow.”

  Calvin, unaware of the odd jealousy I couldn't explain inside me, was excitedly wiggling at her feet and she smiled at him and crouched to give him some good ear lovin'. She was so pretty and dressed immaculately. Oh lord, I still had bed head, Sunday was my lazy day.

  She just nodded up at me, a shadow which looked like it had a permanent place showed in her eyes to belie her smile, “Yeah, she does that. A lot. That's the main reason things didn't work out for us. I can't take the anxiety not knowing if today would be the day she didn't come home.”

  By the fluffy foot feathers of the canine savior, now she had me thinking about it.

  Then she blanched when she looked at me and quickly said, “I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I should really just go.”

  I shook my head. I thought she was so mean when we first met, then she was nice when I was in distress. Now she was just being sweet. I didn't know if I was supposed to like her or not since she was Jane's ex. Aren't exes supposed to be like mean and vindictive? Like Raife?

  I offered, “I could call her if you want Jessie. Would you like breakfast while I do? I have bagels.”

  She quickly held up a hand. “No no, don't call. You're sweet. But I really don't know why I came. I just guess I don't know how to be alone...” She paused, “...aaaand I don't know why I'm telling you.” She gave a sheepish smile, and I was starting to see what Jane saw in her.

  I shrugged and said from experience, “Breakups are hard. First, you're two, then you're one, living alone with a dog.” I pointed at Calvin who gave a huff and a doggy grin.

  The woman gave a genuinely amused smile and chuckled. “Maybe I need a dog. Thanks, Finnegan. I should be going. Tell Jane I dropped by?”

  Then her eyes widened in panic. “Or better yet don't, I don't want to seem pathetic.”

  I feigned innocence. “Jessie who?”

  This got another chuckle, and she said as she inclined her head in thanks. “I judged you all wrong at first. You're ok. I can see w
hy Jane likes you.”

  I blushed and found myself weakly defending, “She's just my roommate.”

  She whispered with a wink, “Keep telling yourself that short stuff.” Then she stepped back out the door, and I snapped to call Calvin back to me when he tried to follow, and he sat on my left. “See you around.”

  Why was I so embarrassed? I gave her a squeaky, “Ok, see you around Jessie.” I shut the door and looked at Calvin. “What was that all about.”

  Then added in a sadder tone, “She seems lost.” I knew lost.

  I went to get ready for the day and cleaned up my mess in the living room, then kicked back for a lazy day with Calvin. Discussing ideas for new paint on the two walls in the living room that wern't brick. He was no help at all.

  By the time dinner rolled around, I had about given up on Jane joining us when I heard the keys rattling in the lock as I stepped into the kitchen. My smile bloomed as a tired looking badass in her light leather jacket stepped in, Calvin about turning himself inside out at her feet.

  She smiled tiredly at him, scrubbed his ears, and took her boots off as she said, “Hi boy.” She looked my way as she stood and slid her boots against the wall with a toe as she took off her jacket to hang on the peg. “Oh, Luuuucy, I'm home.”

  I blinked at her. I'm sure it was some sort of movie quote or pop reference I didn't get. I asked as she came to join me, “Who's Lucy?”

  She sighed heavily. “You're kidding, right? Don't tell me you've never seen I Love Lucy.”

  I rolled my eyes at her and prompted as I turned to get supplies for dinner out of the fridge, “Not all of us are into that Star Wars thing with the Klingons and Cylons and junk.”

  Then I froze when her body heat was on my back as she stretched over me to put her gun in the upper cupboard above the fridge. When she stepped away, I started breathing again, taking in her scent which seemed to calm and relax me, she said in an affronted tone, “There are just so many things wrong with what you just said.”

  I turned with the bounty I had pulled from the refrigerator as she explained, “One, Star Wars is not a thing, it is an entire SciFi fantasy of epic proportions. Well, all except the prequel movies. And I think you mixed up like three distinct universes there. But most importantly, we have to introduce you to comedy goddess that is Lucille Ball... it is almost sacrilege to confuse her with anything SciFi.”

  Ok, why did all her babbling just make me feel five degrees of embarrassed? I grumped out at the Jerk Cop, “You want dinner or not?”

  Her smirk faltered a bit, and her tone softened as she said, “You don't have to keep feeding me like this, you're spoiling me.” She opened a cupboard to grab out two coffee mugs and paused, and the humor returned to her voice as she added, “And who labels their spice rack, 'spice rack'?” Her chuckle would have been almost cute if it hadn't been teasing me.

  I muttered, “Dog food it is.”

  She grinned and started a pot of coffee and turned to the cabinets as I started chopping tomatoes and peppers. I cocked an eyebrow at her as she pulled out Cal's food and filled his dish and returning the bag. That was considerate of her.

  Then she tilted her head at me as I opened a can of kidney beans and black beans. I explained, “I like cooking, it is relaxing and... and I'm good at it.”

  She nodded as she expertly pulled the pot from the coffeemaker, and slid her cup to fill with barely a drop sizzling on the hotplate below. Must be a cop thing. “You are. Your mom teach you?”

  I nodded and smiled at the memories. “I spent many an hour in the kitchen with her.” I set the small stock pot on the big burner and turned it on, then I put some water into it then started dumping ingredients in.

  She watched me, fascinated as I went to my spice rack – labeled thank you very much – and started adding spices. I said, “Chili.”

  She nodded, well I guess it was obvious. She prompted, “Memorized the recipe?”

  I shook my head. “No, mom doesn't use any recipes, you just sort of get a feel for it.”

  She looked surprised and then swapped her cup for the coffee pot again and took a sip, looking over the rim of her cup. Her eyes were the same rich brown as the coffee she was drinking, the steam playing with her lashes as it rose to dissipate to nothing.

  She set her cup down and started to reach for a mixing spoon, and I snatched it before she could and slapped her fingers with it and pointed to the living room to get her out of my way.

  She shook her head, looking amused then took her coffee, heading toward the living room as Calvin chomped happily on his food. “That's an awful lot for two people.”

  I smiled and explained as I pulled out some beef to brown, “Chili keeps and freezes well. It's great for lunches and other meals. If you don't have time to cook, you can pull a portion from the freezer and nuke it quickly in the microwave.”

  She snorted. “You're not going to Suzy Homemaker out on me are you?”

  I growled. She was amused. I sighed. No winning with her. I changed the topic. “Any luck on the case.”

  She turned the TV on with the remote as she flopped on the sofa. “You know, I'm still not supposed to be talking about an ongoing case with you. But as some of it is already all over the news, then yes and no.”

  She sank into the sofa, looking exhausted as she said, “After checking with Abigail's insurance company, it seems that some of her jewelry besides the Princess Anne collection on loan from Valentine's is missing. She had a few pieces of her own that were appraised at over one and a half million. They weren't in her jewelry chest, but none of the other jewelry was missing. We think the murderer left them to make it to look like nothing was missing.”

  I looked over as I dropped a couple pinches of black pepper into the pot then started browning the beef in a skillet. I scrunched up my face in confusion. “Why? They had stolen the Princess Anne collection, and if Abigail hadn't come home early and surprised them, she would have found it missing when she got home.”

  She responded in the affirmative, “People don't always think when they panic. We followed up on the key card after Flannery, and some uniforms seemed to be getting nowhere interviewing the employees of McKnight Catering, and Tanya McKnight was in the wind.”

  I blinked at that. Tanya McKnight? Why would she be running? She was the most successful caterer for the rich and famous in the city. Robbery? Murder? It didn't make sense. She was so glamorous and famous in her own right.

  I think Jane took my confused silence as an invitation to continue. She said in a more hushed tone, “What the press doesn't know is that after she skipped out, I did a little research and found two similar cases spanning sixteen years. The first, sixteen years ago in Boston. After a socialite party, the then Mayor of Boston found that their rooms had been robbed. Over eight million dollars worth of jewels came up missing.”

  She muted the news and turned in her seat as I used the spatula to scrape the meat into the stock pot then started stirring. “The person of interest was a Tanya Porter, a server working for the caterer for the party. She was never located.”

  I saw where this was going and it was still unbelievable that someone, as refined as Tanya McKnight, could do that, let alone murder.

  “Then ten years ago, in Denver, the Princess of Monaco had a necklace valued at over three million vanish while attending a party in her honor at a senator's mansion where she and her entourage were staying. There were no signs of forced entry, so it was thought to be an inside job.”

  She chuckled. “The catering company for the party was being looked at, and one of their servers had gone missing. A Tammy Porter. They connected the two robberies and the press a decade ago had taken to calling them the Socialite Cat Robberies.”

  Then she put a bow on the whole thing nicely as I joined her on the couch with my coffee. “I searched all the records and can't find anything about Tanya McKnight prior to ten years ago. When she showed up in New York and started an elite catering company with cash.”
r />   I whispered, “Tanya McKnight is Tanya Porter, the Socialite Cat?”

  Then I furrowed my brow and squinted one eye. “But she's so successful, not hurting for money, why throw all that away now and steal again?”

  The look of profound sadness and resignation on Jane's face told the whole story before she offered, “Criminals do a thing for one of three reasons, for power, for money, or for the thrill of it. It is like an addiction, that's why there are so few reformed criminals out there.”

  I murmured, “She didn't need money nor power.”

  She finished for me, “That leaves the thrill. It may have started out sixteen years ago for money, but we believe the Princess Anne collection was too much of a temptation, she wanted to feel that thrill again of stealing it and getting away with it once again.”

  I whispered, “But Abigail came home early...”

  She nodded and repeated, “But Abigail Reeves came home early. I don't think it was ever her intent to kill anyone, it was just a robbery gone wrong.”

  I shook my head. “This whole thing is just so sad, and so unnecessary.” Calvin jumped up on the couch on my other side and curled in.

  She said in a tone that tried to hide the pain and futility of it, “Welcome to my world.” Then she went all cop on me. “We believe she brought baking supplies to stock up for the party as her cover, at a time she knew Abigail wouldn't be home. Using the staff stairs where she knew there weren't any cameras.” She left it at that then she shrugged.

  I nodded. The flour.

  I started petting poor Calvin. He was alone because of something so pointless had occurred. His mom just came home for her notes on the script. No, he isn't alone. I leaned over and hugged the silly boy as his tail went into overdrive over the attention. He has me. And Jane.

  She chuckled, “Didn't mean to be a Debbie Downer. I don't know why I'm even telling you, it's against protocol.”

  I nodded and changed the subject, breaking my word from this morning because I felt she needed to know. “Jessie dropped by this morning, wanted to talk and have coffee with you next door.” She had perked up a little at that, and I could see that no matter how aloof she tried to act about their breakup, it was hard on her.