Bishop's Run

by B. D. Gates

  "Okay, so the Captain has given permission for you to take a vehicle from the impound lot. We'll need to sign it out with the motor pool." She tapped a few keys on her computer, spent a good minute or two looking at the screen, then stood up. I stood up, ready to follow her, when her phone rang.

  "Hayes," answered Tess. A pause, followed by a "when?" Another pause, then, "same M.O.?" Tess pulled a notepad toward her and clicked her pen. "Okay, got it," as she scribbled an address. She punched the 'end' button and dropped the phone in her pocket.

  "What?" I asked, curious.

  "Another break-in. This time it was the storeroom on the carport of a house belonging to an elderly couple."

  "Getting bolder," I remarked.

  "Yes, and I was afraid of that," replied Tess. "The fact that the couple is elderly bothers me, too."

  "Probably means he's casing his marks, focusing on older people who may not hear well, go to bed early, have an established routine."

  Tess looked at me for a long second. I quickly offered up an explanation.

  "Uhm, well, that's what they would say on "12th Precinct."

  Tess just stared, then nodded, blinking, as if to agree, before she called across the room. "Hey, guys, I just caught another break-in, the dispatcher has the address, I'm going to check it out," as Whyte and Fowler both looked up at her, Fowler giving her a quick nod. She turned back to me. "I'll take you out to the impound lot before I head out, and you and the officer covering it today can find a car," she said.

  We went back out the way we came in, walking through the Town Hall parking lot to a fenced-in compound where I then met and was left with Everett, head of the Motor Pool, while Tess headed to her crime scene. Everett was tall and lanky, kept a military-crew haircut, and wore his khakis sharp, with the sleeves rolled up in perfect boxes above his elbows. Marine, and proud of it. I liked him immediately.

  "Well, so we need to get you some wheels, huh? I think I may have a couple junkers that were abandoned and are being held until we hold an auction. Let's go check'em out." He grabbed a couple sets of keys off the pegboard behind his desk and headed out the door, me on his heels. We made our way to the back row of the impound lot.

  Junkers was right. I suspect the majority of the cars were impounded because their owners had abandoned them on the side of the road, leaving them where they died, much like a wagon-train horse that couldn't take another step. It was kinda sad.

  I turned and looked around the lot as Everett unlocked a nondescript puddle-jumper of a sedan and folded his lanky frame behind the wheel. He turned the key and the engine sputtered, then sparked to life. As I turned back to watch him drive the car into the lane, my eyes caught the familiar round headlight of a vehicle parked in the back corner of the lot. Now, I'm really not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and the use of a police department impound vehicle was certainly that, but I just had to ask. The worst that could happen was that the answer would be 'no.'

  I walked over to the driver's side of the sedan, and Everett rolled down the window. "Hey, Everett, what about that one in the back? The Jeep?"

  Everett smiled. "Hah, well, she's been through it, that's for sure, body's kinda beat up, but," and this is where his smile became a grin, "she runs like new." He was especially proud of that fact.

  "You rebuilt it?" I knew the answer, I just wanted to give him the pleasure of telling me about it.

  "From the block up," he replied. "I'll tell ya, it was pure pleasure, too. I can rebuild a Jeep in my sleep, in fact, I have, after a night out with the fellas while I was stationed in the Philippines." He reached into his pants pocket and sorted through the second set of keys, pulling one off the ring and handing it to me.

  "Really, Everett, I can use the Jeep? It's okay?" I asked as we walked towards the back corner.

  Everett gave a dismissive wave. "I run this motor pool, and the captain said to get you some wheels. So I got you some wheels." He grinned again. "I'd love to see that old horse running again. Can you drive stick?"

  My turn to grin. "I learned to drive on an old Dodge with the shift on the steering column, so I'd say that's an affirmative, Chief." I climbed into the driver's seat and cranked the engine. It caught immediately and ran as if it was brand new. Everett smiled again, then backed away and waved me off the lot.

  6

  So now I had a job and a Jeep (with a half tank of gas, I might add), and what I really needed was a map. I had a vague idea of where I was, but I wasn't exactly certain. I figured I'd ride up Main Street to the Pharmacy that I'd been to during my Ortho appointment and backtrack from there.

  Turning left at the light by City Hall, I headed uptown. The Jeep, while no beauty, ran like a top, the clutch firm and the gears moving smoothly in the gearbox. I passed the town commons and realized I would be coming up on my turn for the carriage house before I got to the Pharmacy. I slowed down and started checking the side streets. That's when I saw the little white dog running loose on the sidewalk.

  I turned the Jeep at the last second and headed down the street after the little vagabond. It seemed to know where it was going but that is something that lost dogs will do. Considering the condition of its coat, I could only believe that it had been wandering for a while. I passed it and pulled over, hoping to catch it and check for a collar with tags. The little white dog stopped dead in its tracks when I stepped onto the sidewalk.

  "Hey, baby, come'ere, come on, here baby," I practically whispered. I didn't want to scare it. "Come on, baby, time to go home," I whispered as I began inching closer. The dog stood stock-still, tongue hanging out, looking at me, then at the street, then back at me again. I sat down on the sidewalk and patted my lap.

  "C'mon, baby, be good, com'ere," I whispered, hoping to persuade it to come to me. About that time, a beater of a truck, reddish-orange in color, came around the corner, driving slowly down the block. I looked up as the truck stopped when the driver apparently spotted the dog. Then me. Sitting down, I couldn't see into the cab. If I stood up, I risked scaring the dog. I didn't have to decide. The driver gave the engine gas and it loudly responded as the truck took off. I watched it disappear down the block and turn left at the next intersection. When I turned back to look at the dog, it was sitting directly in front of me.

  "Well, hello baby," I said quietly. The little rag mop stepped up into my lap and sat down. I ran my hand around its neck, checking for a collar, and came up empty. "Sweetheart, we need to find out who you belong to." I gathered the little dog to my chest and stood up. Cradling it like a baby, I checked its bottom. "So, you're a little girl," I said, turning her back over as I headed for the Jeep.

  I put her down on the passenger floor board, walked over to the driver's side, and got in. When I started the engine, the little girl jumped up on the passenger seat and placed her paws on the dash. "Oh, so you like to ride, do you," I remarked, taking the left turn as gently as possible. She looked over at me, and, if a dog can grin, well, she was grinning.

  Finding Maggie's house on the next corner, I turned right, then looked in as I passed the carriage house. All appeared well, and I headed on to Dr. Bigg's office, parking the Jeep on the lot just a few minutes later. As I carried the little vagabond toward the office, she began to wiggle. I barely got inside before she jumped out of my arms and began running around the reception area, turning in circles and bouncing on her front paws, her whole body waggling as she barked her hello.

  "Who have you got there?" asked Madeleine, as she stood up from behind the reception counter, exclaiming "Well, I'll be..." when she saw the messy little white dog. Dr. Biggs stepped out from the lab area and the pup nearly swooned when she saw her. Paws scrabbling on the linoleum, the little dog skittered across the floor to the vet's feet and immediately rolled over for a belly rub, still waggling and barking.

  "You guys know who she is?" I asked, even though it was evident that they did.

  "As a matter of fact, we do," said Dr. Biggs, smiling. I liked her smile; it was genu
ine. I smiled just seeing her smile.

  "This is Miz Dottie," said Madeleine, introducing me to the little dog. "Miz Dottie was stolen during a break-in at her owner's house a few months ago. The Jeffersons have been brokenhearted, especially Annie, their little girl. Dottie was her birthday present when Annie turned five, and they had been inseparable until Dottie disappeared. From what I've heard, the little girl has been absolutely despondent since she's been gone."

  "Well, then," said Dr. Biggs. "Let's make a little girl happy today! But first, Miz Dottie needs a bath and a trim, and an exam to make sure she's in good health after her adventure!" Dr. Biggs picked up the wriggling little dog and carried her toward the back. "Just where have you been, baby-girl? Huh?" Then, "Lisa, if you want to come watch the process, it will give you a start on your orientation."

  I stood watching them go. Still grinning, I turned and looked at Madeleine, who was now looking at me with raised eyebrows. I jumped with a start at the realization that Dr. Biggs had made the suggestion that I, Lisa, come watch, which sounded more like a politely-phrased order, so I couldn't object and not be thought of as a slacker. I quickly followed Dr. Biggs to the grooming area, feeling that I had left Madeleine shaking her head at the new hire.

  Damn.

  I have got to get better at this.

  I caught up with Dr. Biggs and we made our way past the kennels to the sinks. The young girl who'd been trimming the Llaso Apsa on my tour was standing with her back against the sink, texting on her phone. "Tracey, look who we've got," called out Dr. Biggs, as she carried the dog towards the sink.

  "Oh my god, is that who I think it is? That's Miz Dottie, isn't it! Wow, what a mess...this is going to take a while, she's going to need the works!" Tracey took the little dog from Dr. Biggs and ran her hands through the pup's matted coat. "A wash and dry, and a close cut should put her right," she said, as she started the water in the sink. "Did her family bring her in?"

  "No, I did," I spoke up. Tracey turned and looked at me. "I saw her running along the street just off Main, and she looked lost."

  "More like stolen," replied Tracey. "She was taken during a break-in at her family's house. I'd like to catch the bastard who took her! I'd teach him about stealing, especially from little girls. I guess he got tired of her, dropping her off on the street like that. She could have been hit by a car and hurt, or killed!" The water now warm, Tracey began bathing Miz Dottie. "Poor little girl, don't you worry, you'll be home with Annie soon," she cooed. Dr. Biggs, who'd left the kennels, was now back with a chip reader.

  "Just to be absolutely sure," she remarked as she scanned the back of the little dog's neck. The beep was quick and showed that she was, indeed, Miz Dottie. "Well, Lisa, you're going to be a real hero to a little girl by the end of the day." Her smile lit the room, and I felt the warmth of it, or maybe it was just a little embarrassment for the attention. Either way, I gave a quick smile back.

  Tracey began lathering the little dog, who settled in quickly under the warm tap. She was definitely enjoying it.

  Shortly thereafter, Miz Dottie was placed in the warm drying kennel, and Dr. Biggs and I went up to the front office. Madeleine was behind the counter, sorting out a delivery of products on the shelves.

  "Madge, could you please call the Jeffersons and tell them the good news, let them know that she'll be ready for pick-up by closing this evening?" Dr. Biggs didn't wait for an answer, turning on her heel and heading back into the lab area. "Lisa, c'mon in here for a minute, would you please?" I reversed and followed the vet into the lab.

  "Yes, ma'am?" I asked.

  "Do you play ball?"

  "Uh, softball? Well, I used to, I mean, it's been a while." I replied.

  Oh, my god, really? She was really building a softball team?

  Dr. Biggs confirmed that. "I'm putting together a team for the upcoming season. I've had one for the past four years. We play other teams around the tri-county area, and, of course, there's a championship to play for. I was hoping you'd say yes, not just because I can use you, but because I think it would be a good way for you to meet people and 'make friends'."

  The emphasis was obvious and I took it to mean that there were a number of women who love women to 'make friends' with. I smiled shyly, nodded my head.

  A small town in the Bible Belt will have as many churches as fried chicken joints, but very few have a gay bar or hangout to speak of. A town like that, miles from a major city, is not a likely place to meet 'the girl of your dreams.' Obviously, the girls are there, but finding them on your own would be difficult, since there's no one place they can gather. Most of the girls meet in school, or in league sports, like bowling or softball. Frankly, not half of those girls are of the 'gay persuasion' but there's enough that joining a league of any sort will help you make some friends of all kinds. And all kinds of friends are always good.

  So, I gladly agreed to play for Dr. Biggs' team, known as the Tenley Pride, then we went on with the business of making Miz Dottie presentable.

  Over the course of the next few days, I was introduced to the rest of the staff and spent my days taking care of cats and dogs, an occasional bird, one boa constrictor, a few rabbits, whether they were sick or surgical, injured, or just needing a good 'sprucing up.' To be honest, it wasn't a bad way to spend time getting back up to speed. I really hadn't realized how out of shape I was, having spent nearly a week in a hospital bed and another four weeks housebound, recovering from my injuries.

  A hard beating and a gunshot wound really do slow you down.

  7

  Tess had taken to stopping by every other day or so to check on her Witness Protection Program participant, making sure that I was keeping the windows locked and the cell phone charged. That was the premise, anyway. I really think it was because she had nothing else to do.

  On one such evening, I was in the backyard flying the helicopter and buzzing the girls as they tried to catch it. After her inspection, she joined us for a while, watching and laughing, shaking her head at the insanity. On another, the girls were playing with their ball and she sat on the steps with me, putting it back in play when it landed in a flower bed or the garden. I enjoyed her company and, even though I teased her as often as possible, she took what I dished out and sometimes gave it back in the same doses, laughing as she cut me with her words.

  She seemed lonely.

  After two weeks or so, I talked her into joining us for dinner. I'd gotten a paycheck by then, and had run by Smith's, picking up some steaks, a small grill and charcoal. The coals were hot and ready when Tess arrived for her inspection.

  I threw the steaks on the grill while she did her walk-around. The girls were in the backyard, keeping watch over me while I watched over the steak. Smokey sat on the rail, overseeing all the activity, his tail swishing back and forth when the wind blew the smoke in his direction. Tess came out the back door and stood on the porch, satisfied with her findings.

  "So, Detective, I seem to remember a recent morning when you cooked breakfast for me."

  She stood at the top of the steps. There was short pause as she narrowed her eyes at me, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "As I recall about that particular day, Bishop, you then proceeded to give me a very hard time at the doctor's office."

  I used that to my advantage. "Yeah. Yeah, Detective, I did. So, because of that, I would like to say that I'm sorry, and ask you to join me for a lovely steak dinner with all the trimmings."

  Tess stood still for a minute. I waited a beat or two, then glanced up at her, catching a glimpse of her apparent struggle. I really don't know why she hesitated. It should have been an easy answer.

  I wafted the grill smoke in her direction with the spatula.

  "Come on, Detective, it's just dinner," I grinned at her. "It's not like we haven't done this before, ya know."

  She looked down at me with a small smile. "Well," she began, her face taking on a look of uncertainty.

  "Detective, what are you afraid of?"
I asked.

  "Me? Nothing," she replied with a little laugh.

  "That's right. Nothing. Not a thing. Certainly not me. And you're armed, right? So, what's the problem?" I asked.

  She laughed.

  I won.

  I invited Tess to have a seat at the table on the porch while I finished cooking the steaks. The girls had become fast friends with her, and they ran up on to the porch and welcomed her with tail wagging and Rosie grumbling her hello as Corgis are inclined to do. Even Smokey joined in, leaning over for a neck rub, but just for a second, then he resumed his position looking out at the grill.

  I took up the steaks and went inside, added baked potatoes and small servings of tossed salad, then carried the plates out to the detective. I returned with silverware and napkins, then lit the candle I'd also bought at Smith's. I'd found a small electric heater in the bedroom closet and I'd plugged it into the tap on the porch, turned it on when Tess sat down, providing a steady warmth against the chill in the air.

  "You've thought of everything," said Tess.

  "Nearly everything. Do you drink, Detective? Because I have a nice red that would go really well with this..." I let the offer hang there.

  "I am off-duty," Tess replied. "I don't usually drink, but this is a special occasion."

  "Special occasion?"

  "You apologized. That's special to me, anyway."

  "Yes, ma'am, it is, you're right, special occasion. I'll be right back."

  I had popped the cork on the Merlot when I'd put the steaks on the grill. I swirled it as I poured, hoping that I had allowed it to breathe enough to be not just good, but very, very good, then carried the glasses out to the porch.

  Tess had waited to start until I got back. I passed her a glass and sat down.

  "To the Detective," I said, as I lifted my glass. "May all your busts be righteous and may all your perps go down."

  Tess laughed. It was sweet and light, and her laugh made me laugh. We clinked glasses.