The Case of the Jaded Jack Russell

by B R Snow

  “I have no idea where you got that tidbit, but you seem to be full of surprises. For the record, they were tanking because Joshua was constantly sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. One day he’d be telling all of the franchise owners to do something stupid, the next it would be a completely different directive. Usually, something even dumber.”

  “Just to make you look bad and take you out of the picture?” I said, popping one of the bite-sized.

  “That was part of it,” he said. “He was worried that I might start chatting with the wrong people about what he was doing. And he definitely had a plan to take me out. But mostly, Josh was losing his grip. And when CEO’s start losing it, one of the things they usually aren’t shy about doing is taking out other people they see as a threat. You know, eliminate any and all logical successors to the throne.”

  “Sure, sure. Like on Game of Thrones, right?”

  “Well, in Josh’s case, it was more like Caligula,” Rollins said. “But he had Wendell on the board to handle the politics, and as long as the stock didn’t fall off a cliff, he was pretty much untouchable. And if he hadn’t been killed, I probably would have been gone in a couple of months.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, then corrected myself. “Actually, I’ll go as far as interesting.”

  He laughed into the phone. Then I heard the sound of liquid being poured over ice. I heard him swallow, then he rattled his ice and cleared his throat.

  “You punched him in the ballroom because of what he did to Wilma, didn’t you?”

  “It was certainly on my list of reasons. It was a disgusting thing to do.”

  “Yes, it was. But she kinda set herself up for it, right?”

  “Maybe,” he said, after a long pause.

  “She’s sitting right next to you, isn’t she?” I said, chuckling.

  “Yup,” he said, laughing.

  “Okay, new topic.”

  “Let’s talk about how you think you can help me get the CEO job. Not that I think you can.”

  “Oh, I just thought that if you were able to bring a new deal to the table, potentially a very big deal, that might help your chances.”

  “I suppose it could,” Rollins said. “Our revenue model is pretty static, and we’re getting close to being maxed out on new franchise locations.”

  “How many franchises do you guys have?”

  “Just under fifteen hundred.”

  “Wow. I like that number a lot,” I said, my neurons colliding all over the place.

  “I have no idea why it would make any difference to you,” he said. “But why do I feel like you’re about to drop something on me?”

  “Oh, I am, Victor,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief as the rain finally began to soften. “What would you say to the exclusive, North American distribution rights to a new product line that has the potential to be the biggest thing since Beanie Babies?”

  “Beanie Babies? Now there’s a blast from the past,” he said. “I used to collect them when I was a kid.”

  “A lot of us did,” I said. “And we think the idea is ripe for a comeback. But with a dog twist.”

  “You lost me.”

  “You remember my question about the dog toys?”

  “The idea that Middleton was trying to steal?” Rollins said.

  “Yeah. But I’m sure Wendell was also involved.”

  “Then it must be a good one,” he said. I heard the sound of his glass being set down on a wood surface. I assumed that was his signal I had his undivided attention. “What’s your involvement with this thing?”

  “It’s a startup, and I’m one of the owners. But don’t worry, Victor, my role will be more of a silent partner.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “Funny,” I said, then turned serious. “And trust me on this one, Victor. We won’t be losing a hundred grand a year on it.”

  “All right, go ahead and give me the short version.”

  I spent the next five minutes outlining the basics of Bobbie’s idea. He asked a few clarification questions, but mostly let me prattle on without interruption. When I finished, I sat back in my seat and waited out another long silence.

  “I like it,” he said, eventually. “Have you considered offering the toys as part of an online subscription service?”

  “We have,” I said. “And we’ve decided to keep that side of the business in-house and run it ourselves. But the only other place people will be able to find the toys would be at your stores.”

  “You got a business plan?”

  “We’ve got everything in place.”

  “Copyrights, patents?”

  “I just said we have everything in place.”

  “Okay, there’s no need to get snarky.”

  “And there’s no need for you to assume we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  “Got it,” he said softly. “I apologize. Why are you bringing this deal to me?”

  “A couple of reasons. You’re the biggest player in the industry, and we always like to deal with the fewest number of business partners possible. We’ve found that it makes everyone’s life a lot simpler. And because you’ve got an incredible market footprint, you can move a lot of product in a hurry.”

  “Yes, we’re very good at that when we get behind something,” he said.

  “I also thought that since you’re a known entity to us, and we have some semblance of a relationship, strained as it is, bringing the deal to you might shorten our time to market. You know, avoid all that wining and dining crap.”

  He laughed.

  “Wining and dining crap?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m very familiar with it.”

  “And as soon as I started putting together some of the things that Middleton was up to, I actually started to feel a bit sorry for you.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, it’s true. You’re a total pain in the neck, but you seem to be somebody who’s overdue to catch a break. And if we’re able to help you get the job, that has to help our position, right? I’m not sure it would give us any real leverage, but my guess is that it would provide us with a bit of leeway with you should we ever need it.”

  “Interesting take. Is there anything else?”

  “There’s just one more thing,” I said. “I thought you’d appreciate the rather ironic symmetry associated with the deal.”

  “Ironic symmetry,” he said, chuckling as he rattled his ice cubes. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s it like living with your brain?”

  “It’s sort of like having family members as houseguests who don’t know when it’s time to leave,” I said, laughing. “The past couple of days have been pretty chaotic inside my head.”

  “Did you put this together by yourself?”

  “No, I had lots of help,” I said, deflecting. “And the business plan came from our CEO.”

  “I’d like to meet him.”

  “Her.”

  “Oh. Sorry for the assumption,” he said, quietly. “Look, it’s a great idea, but I’m not sure Wendell is going to warm up to it. And he certainly wouldn’t agree to anything that might help me get the CEO slot. Our relationship is pretty strained, and he’s got a lot of juice with the board.”

  “You should give him a call,” I said. “I think you might find him quite amenable to the idea.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because he’s about to loan us three million bucks to get the thing off the ground,” I said, grinning at myself in the rearview mirror.

  “You got three million out of Wendell? Well done.”

  “At first, he didn’t like the idea very much. And then we had a little chat about some of the things he and Middleton were up to.”

  “Playing a little hardball again, huh?” he said, laughing. “I’ll need to watch my step around you.”

  “Ah, don’t worry about that,” I said. “Yo
u’ll barely know I’m there.”

  “Again, I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “I need to run, Victor. The rain has stopped, and I still have a couple of things to take care of. I’m going to have Bobbie, our CEO, get in touch with you. And in the meantime, you should give Wendell a call.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said, giving his ice cubes one final rattle close to the phone.

  “You did that just for my benefit, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, you caught that?” he said, laughing. “I’m glad you called, Suzy. This day has definitely taken a very weird turn for the better.”

  “Weird’s the word for it. Later, Victor.”

  I ended the call and immediately placed another. As I waited for it to connect, I turned my wipers on to clear away the final remnants of the deluge. There was still no sign of the sun, but the temperature was holding steady. The fact that it looked like I’d be able to drive home later without having to worry about ice-covered roads was consoling, but my mood still turned sullen as I realized that the fun part of my day was officially over.

  “Detective Billet speaking,” said the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, Shirley. It’s Suzy Chandler. You got a minute to chat?”

  Chapter 20

  Bill and Shirley, the lovebird cops who’d been assigned the Middleton investigation, a politically-sensitive and media-friendly murder case that was undoubtedly putting a serious dent in their alone time, reluctantly agreed to leave the warm, dry comfort of the police station only after I was able to convince them that the Slushie-storm had stopped. My offer to buy them a late lunch sealed the deal, and I pulled into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant they’d suggested not far from where they worked. They were already sitting next to each other at a table set for four when I arrived. I greeted them with a small wave and sat down across from them. I glanced back and forth and frowned when I noticed their stares.

  “What? Do I have chocolate on me?” I said, looking down and wiping my mouth with a napkin.

  “What on earth are you wearing?” Shirley said, squinting at my ensemble.

  “Oh, that,” I said, waving it off. “I purposely dressed down for my appointment this morning.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” I said, reaching for a menu. “My mother called it colonial-schoolmarm.”

  “She was being kind,” Bill said, laughing. “It’s more like early Russian peasant. Did your strategy work? You know, the dressing down part.”

  “Like a charm,” I said. “He hated me at first sight. It was beautiful.”

  Our waitress arrived to take our orders. I went along with their suggestion to have the baked ziti, and I sat back and relaxed for the first time in hours. Now that the business portion of my day was over, I felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline begin to work its way through my system.

  “Over the phone, you said something about Middleton stealing business ideas,” Shirley said.

  “Yeah, it was a despicable business practice,” I said. “And the banker he was partnered with is up to his neck in it.”

  “And you want us to arrest him?” Bill said, frowning.

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I want Wendell right where he is for the moment. Other people will sort him out in due time.”

  “He didn’t have anything to do with Middleton’s murder?” Shirley said.

  “No, I’m sure he didn’t,” I said, leaning forward and going for sage-cop. “The guy is a major white-collar scumbucket who should have been deep-sixed a long time ago, but any connection between him and whoever dirt-napped Middleton would have to be considered tangential.”

  They were both taking a drink of water but paused mid-sip. Like a pair of synchronized swimmers, they set their glasses down, blinked at me, then sat back in their chairs and stared across the table.

  “Sorry,” I said, giving them an embarrassed tight-lipped smile as I beat back a rush of adrenaline. “Bad habit. I was binge watching old cop shows last night.

  “Okay, Kojak, as much as we appreciate your fluency in TV-cop, I think we’re probably going to need a bit more,” Bill said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table.

  I launched into a lengthy overview of what Middleton and Wendell had been up to then told them about our plans for the dog toy company. When I finished, they seemed entertained by my story but confused about how it connected to their open murder case.

  “While we’re delighted to get a free lunch, Suzy,” Shirley said. “I’m not sure I understand why you were so insistent we get together.”

  “That’s where the tangential part comes in,” I said, grinning.

  “Well, thanks for clearing that up,” Shirley said, glancing over at Bill.

  They were holding hands between their plates, and I noticed the wedding ring was now gone from Bill’s hand. I decided not to pry, considered it a sign of personal growth, and turned my attention to the warm Italian bread the waitress had placed in front of us. I grabbed a piece, dredged it in olive oil, and beamed as I chewed.

  “Good, huh?” Bill said, reaching for the bread basket and offering it to Shirley.

  “Amazing,” I said, trying to wait patiently for Shirley to remove her hand from the basket before I went back for a second piece. “Did you bring the case file?”

  “I did,” Bill said, reaching into his bag and sliding the thick file across the table. “What do you expect to find in there?”

  “I have a nagging thought that is driving me crazy,” I said, opening the file.

  “Only one?” Bill said, laughing. “Consider yourself lucky.”

  I flipped through the section that contained all the fingerprints they’d collected. I located mine, glanced at my thumb, and compared it with the black swirls on the page. I frowned and looked at my thumb again.

  “What’s the matter?” Bill said.

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s just that I’ve never seen my fingerprints before. It’s hard to believe they’re all unique.”

  “If they weren’t, our jobs would be a whole lot harder,” Shirley said.

  “You got that right,” Bill said. “Unless we weren’t worried about arresting the right guy.”

  They both laughed hard. Cop humor, I decided, then laughed along with them. I continued to flip through the thick section that contained all the fingerprints.

  “Still nothing on the prints, huh?” I said.

  “No,” Bill said, shaking his head. “Just Middleton’s on the can of drain cleaner.”

  “And you got everyone’s who was around that night?”

  “If we missed anybody, I have no idea who they are,” Shirley said.

  “You got all the serving staff who were working that night?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yup,” Bill said, bored with my line of questioning.

  “All the kitchen staff?”

  “Yup.”

  “And did anything come back when you ran the prints through the computer?” I said, mindlessly flipping through the pages.

  “Sure, lots of stuff,” Shirley said. “You can’t run five hundred sets of prints through the system and not get any hits. But it was all small stuff. Nothing that would raise a red-flag in this case.”

  I nodded and flipped to another section of the file. This one contained all the crime scene photos, and I grimaced when I saw Middleton on his back in the storage room with foam streaming out of his mouth. I turned the page, then slid the file to one side when the waitress approached with our meals. I grabbed my fork and took a bite of the steaming ziti, then nodded, impressed, and searched for a chunk of Italian sausage. As I ate, Bill and Shirley chatted quietly as I slowly flipped through the photos. I landed on a wide shot of the storage room, was about to turn the page, but stopped and stared at it. I put my fork down and held the file with both hands as I studied the photo.

  “Are you having a stroke?” Bill s
aid, genuinely concerned as he placed a hand on my forearm.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said, although I wasn’t sure. I rubbed my forehead and continued to bore a hole in the photo as I concentrated hard. But nothing coalesced, and I eventually sat back and picked up my fork.

  “What on earth is the matter with you?” Shirley said, leaning forward to take an upside-down look at the photo.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, scowling. “But I think I’m having some sort of déjà vu. Something about this photo is very familiar.”

  “You’re probably just flashing back to the original scene,” Bill said. “It happens sometimes. Seeing something that gruesome creates intense memories. Almost like it’s been imprinted inside your head.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got lots of those imprints,” I said, glancing over at him. “But that’s not it. What on earth is it about this photo that looks so familiar?”

  I slid my plate of half-eaten ziti away and glanced down at the photo again. I placed my elbows on the table, lowered my head and closed my eyes as I rubbed my temples.

  “C’mon, fire,” I whispered.

  “Are you talking to us?” Shirley said.

  “Probably not a request she should make to a couple of cops.”

  They shared another long laugh. I waited it out.

  “No, I’m talking to my neurons,” I said, not looking up. I continued to massage my temples as I concentrated. “C’mon, you can do it. It’s right there. C’mon.”

  Then I sat upright in my chair and stared off into the distance. The lovebird cops looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I took another look at the wide shot of the storage room and traced the photo with my finger.

  “I can’t believe it. That’s how he did it,” I said, nodding to myself. “Unbelievable.”

  “Talk to us, Suzy,” Bill said, glancing at Shirley.

  “What do you see?” she said.

  “The stamped tin ceiling,” I said, pointing at the photo.

  “That stuff is all over the hotel,” Bill said, reaching for the file and studying the photo. “They call it part of their historical charm or some crap like that.”