Canine Cupids for Cops

by Deirdre O'Dare

  Boz had always played the hand he was dealt, but “cool hand” was his middle name. Many people had told him his dark eyes could be as opaque as anthracite, and he knew he had his poker face down to a fine science. He could and would work with Jake and anyone else he needed to, but he’d keep his personal distance. Most of the time he believed survival demanded it.

  * * * *

  Jake’s spontaneous invitation surprised him as much as it had apparently startled Boz. The impulsive words settled in his gut with a thud as he caught the shutters sliding closed in Boz’s dark eyes. An expressionless calm settled over the other man’s face.

  Damn, maybe that was a stupid move on my part. Well, shit, we do need to plan this thing a little more than we have so far, anyway.

  He wasn’t sure whether he was sorry or relieved when Boz agreed to the meeting. It seemed like a long time and also like no time at all until he slid into the cracked bench seat opposite Boz in a corner booth at the homey café. In contrast to the first response to his invitation, Jake saw Boz now appeared completely at ease. He smiled as Jake approached. A trace of sardonic humor lit his ebony gaze.

  “Took you long enough,” he quipped. “I figured maybe you’d stood me up.”

  Jake shook his head. “No, Snick got a little ornery about me leaving, though, and I had to talk him out of a snit.”

  Boz chuckled. “You and that damned dog. How’d you ever luck onto a contrary scrap of fur and meanness like him?”

  “Damned if I know. Still, we suit each other, don’t you think? I could say the same about you and Athena, but in that case, I’d wonder how she took up with the likes of you.”

  Boz’s smile held a trace of melancholy. “In that case, the luck was all mine. She’s an incredible dog. I can’t say I deserve her, though I thank the gods she found me.”

  They ordered, then sipped bottles of Tecate while they waited for the meal. Jake found himself studying the other man’s striking face. Boz looked more like an artist or even a monk than a detective. Jake could not see anything southwestern about the smaller man nor could he hear it in his accent, which was really no accent at all. He spoke almost as if English was a well-learned second language, close to textbook perfect.

  “How’d you get into the cop business?” After he asked, he realized the other man might consider the question intrusive. He really did want to know, though. He sensed there was a story there.

  Boz hesitated a beat. “Family tradition, mostly. My dad and three uncles were all on the force in Boston. We’re Irish…well, more the black Irish variety—probably a trace of that Spanish blood from the wreck of the armada back in sixteen-whatever. Boys in our family either went into the church or on the police force. I wasn’t cut out to be a priest, so what else could I do?”

  “You’re a long way from Boston. I’d never have guessed that was your home, either. Most exiles still have the accent…sound like the Kennedys, you know?”

  Boz quirked an eyebrow. “No fuckin’ way, man. I thought about going into the theater as a kid, and the first thing I did was lose that accent. Never got it back and don’t plan to. I had a couple of good speech and elocution teachers in school who helped me develop a regionless speech pattern. It’s been handy at times. I’ve picked up a fair bit of Spanish the last few years, at least the border variety, and that works here. It’s not the Latin I had to study back then—parochial school, of course. Anyway, that background helped my learning curve.”

  Jake found himself nodding. “Yeah, I’m getting some of that Tex-Mex or whatever too. Almost have to if I want to communicate with half the crew these days.” He shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong because I don’t begrudge them a job. Hell, my old man was a citizen of Sweden, and he married a Greek. They did become Americans once they settled here, but they were foreigners.”

  “Swedish and Greek? That’s a hell of a mixture. How’d that ever happen?”

  “Dad was a sailor…merchant marine. He was all over the world for a number of years, then decided to settle down after he met Mom when his ship landed in Greece. They were the odd couple for sure, yet it worked until he died five years ago. Raised six of us mismatched kids. Mom calls San Diego home now, and the other kids are all in SoCal. I’ve just got an itchy foot, probably inherited from Dad.”

  They concentrated on the meal for a few moments and then switched to the ostensible reason for the meeting.

  “So what do you think we need to do to catch the thieves? Any ideas about who they might be?”

  Boz’s question should not have surprised Jake. He wasn’t sure why it did. Maybe he figured the detective would take the lead here. He was flattered to be asked anyway. He hesitated, scratching his jaw.

  “I’m not sure. Probably hide out at the site for a few nights and try to see what’s happening, if anything. They have to come back when nobody’s around and no work’s going on. It’d be pretty obvious, pulling wire and removing control modules and stuff, if they did it in broad daylight. I’d hate to think it’s anyone on my crew, although I guess it could be. But, hell, they’re good men, hard workers, and I’ve trusted them.”

  Boz looked thoughtful. “That’s how it happens a lot of times. People can be deceptive, show one face to you, hiding the real person behind a facade. Some of them really do lead a double life, one honest and one crooked as a sidewinder. I’m thinking it’d almost take someone in the business to know what was the most valuable, and you said this morning that the most expensive components are disappearing along with lots of wire. Copper is up there these days on the metals markets.”

  Shaking his head, Jake pondered on that. “Never had anything like this happen before on a job. This is my first as crew chief. I was assistant on two others before this one, but not the head honcho. I never heard of this kind of thievery on jobs I’ve been on, and word tends to get out. Hell, it’s hard to hide having to redo a bunch of work when stuff disappears. “

  “I like your idea of going back and laying low, watching for a few hours, We could do it tonight since tomorrow’s Sunday if you’re up to it, or pick another night, tomorrow or whenever works for you. I’m never off duty, not really, when there’s a case to work. They don’t pay me by the hour.”

  Jake didn’t hesitate. “It can’t get resolved too soon. Management is having fits. I know it’s costing them through the nose. The sooner we get this thing nipped, the better. I guess we aren’t quite going ninja, are we? I expect dark clothes and a quiet, unobtrusive approach would be called for.”

  “I wear black a lot,” Boz admitted, “and sometimes a little camo face paint in stakeouts. This isn’t quite like some of the drug surveillances. Close, though. Let’s go home and grab a quick nap, then say we meet at the northwest corner of the site about midnight.”

  Jake readily agreed, a quiver of excitement tickling behind his belly button. He hadn’t had a real adventure for some time, and this promised to be one. Although it could be completely dull and boring, a hunch told him it wouldn’t be.

  “I’ll be there,” he said. “No bells.”

  Chapter 3

  Because she was used to Boz’s odd hours, Athena did not fuss when he got up at eleven thirty and dressed. Even though her eyes held a shadow of reproach at the prospect of having to stay home alone yet again, she remained curled up on her cushiony bed at the foot of his. Before he walked out, he stooped to scratch her ears and rummaged in the “dog cupboard” in the hall closet for one of her favorite treats, a new hoof chew.

  “There, girl, that’ll keep you occupied for a while. I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

  He slipped quietly out the back door and walked down the alley, soft-footed as a cat in the dark. He thought about driving, however, decided walking would be less obtrusive and wouldn’t take a whole lot longer. The evening air held a hint of coolness. Summer was definitely over.

  He walked briskly once he reached the street, crossing through a corner of old town to reach the site of the new medical complex. He spott
ed Jake heading toward him about a block away and paused on the corner to wait for the big man.

  Jake wore dark clothes, probably a newer pair of jeans and a bulky shirt. A cap covered most of his hair and he’d put some camo stuff on his face to dull any shine.

  “All set?”

  Jake nodded. “Ready as I’m going to be. What’s the game plan?”

  “Let’s go together to the front entrance, then split up. Just work our way slowly around the whole complex and plan to meet back at the super’s trailer in about forty-five minutes.”

  Jake agreed. They crossed the quiet street together, went in through a gate Boz thought should have been locked. It wasn’t. Then they headed straight for what would be the main entrance of the new complex once finished. Although most windows and doors were not yet installed, the bulk of the structure was in place. Interior walls were going in as the crews completed the wiring and plumbing, and other interior work was well underway.

  They parted just inside and went off down the main corridor in opposite directions. Boz noted Jake wore athletic shoes instead of his usual work boots and the big man moved quietly, in spite of his size. Good, he’s got some smarts in that big head of his. I’m not surprised. The guy has his shit together.

  The site was quiet. No one seemed to be stirring, nor did anything else seem to be amiss. Boz slipped from one hallway to another, in and out of rooms and areas, stopping often to listen and probe with his senses. If anyone was around, he was pretty sure he’d pick up some hint of it.

  After he’d toured a good part of the complex and started back downstairs from the second floor, Boz pushed back his sleeve to glance at the luminous face of his watch. It was about time to head out to meet Jake.

  Just then, he caught a vague noise. He didn’t think it was a voice—no words anyway—it really sounded more like a muffled grunt or even an animal’s sound.

  Something about it disturbed him. It was out of place. Not a sound made by the wind or the building itself, but the sound of some living creature. A frisson of worry skittered down his spine. Though still quiet, he moved now with greater purpose and urgency, for the appointed meeting place. He needed to know Jake was okay.

  * * * *

  Jake grinned to himself as he headed off in the opposite direction from Boz. This is fun. I haven’t played cops and robbers or cowboys and Indians in about twenty years. By God, it’s still a good game. This game was dead serious, though, and he didn’t lose sight of that fact in his pleasure.

  Whoever was ripping off the company was not in it for fun. They were making a pile of illegal profit and probably wouldn’t hesitate to do anything they had to in order to keep their scheme working. Even including murder if it came to that. He had no illusions about the type of people they were looking for. These were desperate and amoral criminals, used to breaking laws with impunity and getting away with it. Although he wasn’t afraid, he would be cautious.

  He headed for the section that would be the testing and diagnostic center, where some very sophisticated electronic machinery was going in. That’s where the latest thefts had occurred. They’d reinstalled, so now there was valuable gear there to be stolen—again. By now, his eyes had adjusted well to the dark and even the little light coming through unglazed windows and open doors was enough for him to find his way. Besides, he knew these halls and rooms pretty well after days of working in this section.

  The sound was so faint he could hardly call it a sound. A step? A muffled grunt, as if someone bumped into something? He wasn’t sure, yet an inner sense told him it was not natural or right. He edged closer to the nearest wall and inched toward the next doorway, through which he thought the barely audible noise had come.

  As he stuck his head around just far enough to see, he spotted a man’s shape silhouetted against the window on the far side of the room. He opened his mouth to say, “Hold it.” Before the words emerged, a blow on the back of his head dropped him to his knees.

  His last thought was angry. Damn it, I never heard anyone behind me. How…When he grabbed at the doorjamb, his fingers found nothing to break his fall. A black vacuum swallowed him.

  * * * *

  Jake wasn’t at the meeting place. Boz checked his watch again. He was maybe five minutes ahead of time. For a split second, he debated. Wait or go looking? His concern won out. He hesitated just long enough to orient himself as he remembered the tour Jake had given him that morning. The diagnostic center was upstairs and to the left. That was where some of the most valuable stuff was.

  Moving fast now, with less caution, he raced back into the building, up the stairs and down the corridor. When he caught a whiff of disturbed air, the scent of sweat and something else, he didn’t slow down. No one was here now he was sure, but someone had been, just moments before. Not Jake; someone else. It wasn’t Jake’s scent.

  He saw the dark blur on the floor in the doorway before he reached it, a man-shape, a big man. Oh, God, be all right. Please be all right. The thought surprised him only in its intensity. This investigation was his job. If the other man had been hurt or killed, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself. Jake was not trained in the crazy survival tricks of a vice detective. He was too honest and open, too trusting and even naive.

  Boz dropped into a crouch, reaching to touch Jake’s shoulder. From there his hand slid to the other man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. Okay, he’s not dead or dying, at least not yet.

  Jake groaned and stirred. The big man shook his head like a poll-axed steer as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

  “Sonuvabitch! Whoever hit me packed a mean wallop. Snuck up behind me too. I’d heard something and was trying to get a quick look through the door. I saw someone, standing there in front of the window. The next thing I knew, bam, felt like a sledgehammer bashed me from behind. Now the bastards got away. Shit.”

  “Are you okay?” Boz had to ask, even if it was an inane question. “Give yourself a minute before you try to get up. A concussion is nothing to mess with. Where did they hit you?”

  Jake raised a hand and ran it gingerly down the back of his head. “Here, just at the base of the skull, I think. That’s the tender spot anyway. At the time it felt like a steel plate had hit the whole back of my head, like a truck had hit me.”

  “Well, we know someone was here. I’ll call my backup and get a fingerprint kit out here. We’ll dust the room and see if we can pick up anything. And you can check to see if anything’s missing. I figure we’re safe to use a light now. They’re gone, and they know we’re after them.”

  Jake growled an incoherent mumble of rage that finally shaped into words. “Fuckin’ lousy bastards. I shoulda had eyes in the back of my head. Whoever got me didn’t make a sound. I was listening, paying attention, or I thought I was. I guess I was too focused on the guy in the room, though.”

  Boz chuckled, relieved it hadn’t been any worse. “Good thing you have a Swede’s hard head.”

  He started to rise at the same instant Jake began to struggle to his feet. Somehow, they wound up grabbing at one another in an effort to find their balance. What happened next was completely unplanned, unexpected, and unbelievable. They ended up wrapped in each other’s arms, bodies straining together, as their mouths melded in a heated and urgent kiss.

  Danger is the master aphrodisiac. Shit, I was not going to let this happen. Well, it’s too late now. God, but it feels so good, so right, so necessary…

  They broke apart only when they heard the sounds of Boz’s backup and the other cops’ booted feet and muffled voices. Even though the bunch was speaking quietly enough, they still sounded very loud in the echoing depths of the unfinished building. The advance warning gave Boz and Jake enough time to turn away from each other, tame burgeoning erections, and calm pounding hearts and gasping breath. Yet the words hung between them as if spoken, This isn’t finished yet. The awareness triggered both dread and anticipation in Boz.

  On the heels of that tho
ught came another. Oh, man, I’m glad they didn’t sneak up on us. Boz neither flaunted nor hid his sexual preferences. Still he was pretty sure only a few of his fellow officers knew. A few more might suspect, though most of them would probably be shocked or dismayed if they found out, especially in such a way. He’d made it a rule to keep business and pleasure totally separate, in boxes as far apart as they could be. To a degree, it was the only way to survive in the cruel world of the undercover vice cop.

  By the time the others reached the room, Boz had himself totally under control again. He explained the situation as tersely as possible and then directed the fingerprinting effort. He could not let the opportunity slip away, even if it would likely give them little in the way of sound leads. They went over the room carefully for prints and any other clues. The crew picked up a few things that might or might not be evidence.

  Finally, there was no more to do. Boz glanced at Jake. He’d stayed patiently out of the way while the crime scene team worked, answered a few questions, and now looked weary yet still quizzical when Boz met his gaze.

  Boz answered the unspoken query. “Yeah, we’re done here. Not much more we can do tonight anyway, what’s left of it.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’ve got the mother of all headaches coming on, and it’s only three hours before time to come to work. I just wish I could’ve got my hands on one of those guys.”

  “We’ll catch them. They’ll probably be more cautious now, knowing we’re onto them. I doubt they’ll quit, though—too much easy money to tempt them. Since it’s Sunday, no work today, is there?” He looked at Jake a bit more keenly, concerned by this small memory slip. “Say, you look a little rough. Shouldn’t you get checked for a concussion?”