Jewel of a Murderer

by M. Glenn Graves

  “See, I told you. I knew he would remember,” the man said.

  “You make quick moves like that and just about any dog would respond. I don’t think you’ve proved ownership yet.”

  “You callin’ me a liar?”

  “How about mistaken identity? Perhaps he looks a lot like the dog you used to own.”

  I was taking the high road here despite my growing dislike for the man.

  “Well, let me ask you this. He’s smart, right?”

  “Labrador Retrievers are highly intelligent.”

  “And he can…well, like read your mind?”

  “Where are you going with this?” I said.

  “He’s got quite a vocabulary, huh?”

  I was beginning to suspect he knew something. My years with Sam had revealed an extensive vocabulary, a high degree of intelligence, and a comprehension that defied explanation.

  “Whattaya want?” I said.

  “Well, here’s what I think. Obviously, the dog has been with you for a few years and you two have…well, gotten along. Friends, maybe. So, I hate to break up a friendship and all, and seein’ how I’m a bit down on my luck, I figure he’s worth something to you as well as to me. How about we strike a deal? You pay me for him.”

  I looked at Sam. If the man was telling the truth and Sam had been his dog several years ago, then I certainly could see why Sam had run away from him. No trouble believing that. I figured that Sam, or any other self-respecting dog would likely as not run away given half a chance. Yelling at an animal is not really a good way to endear the animal to you. There was also this undercurrent. My suspicions were aroused regarding the character of the man offering the dubious deal to me.

  “Well, let’s see what happens.”

  “Whattaya mean?” the man said.

  “Sam,” I moved to a position where Sam could see me and still be watching the man. I could look directly at Sam and still see the man as well. Turning my back on this character could be a fatal flaw. “Do you know this man?”

  He barked once.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?” the man said.

  “Sam admits to knowing you.”

  “What the hell are you doin’?” the man seemed a little confused.

  “Verifying your story. Sam never lies. Always truthful. I figure it’s best to ask him to verify your story. Say, you got a name?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  I touched the earpiece attached to my right ear which automatically turned on my phone and dialed Rogers, my strange and eccentric computer. Once she answered, I spoke again to the man.

  “Well, if we’re going to strike a deal here, I’d like to know your name.”

  “What are you talking about, Dearie?” Rogers said in my earpiece while I was speaking to the man in front of me.

  “People calls me Jaz,” he informed me.

  “Jaz,” I repeated for Rogers’ sake.

  “Jaz?” Rogers said.

  “Okay, your name is Jaz. Now, let’s see what else Sam knows about you.”

  Jaz still appeared confused.

  “If you want me to check on this Jaz person, a surname would be of great help,” Rogers said.

  “Good,” I said. “Let’s go with that.”

  “Go with what?” Jaz said.

  “You got a last name?” I said.

  “I got a last name,” his reluctance to work with me made me even more suspicious.

  “Well,” I said.

  “Well what?” he asked.

  “Jaz, if we’re gonna do any kind of transaction here for a dog, then I’d like very much to know with whom I am dealing. What’s your last name?”

  “Connell,” he said with some hesitancy.

  “On it, boss lady,” Rogers said to me after I finally was able to get Jaz to comply. Rogers and I were now in sync.

  I wanted to say something more specific to her, but the situation forced me into a mode of deceit and covert trickery, neither of which were alien to me.

  “Now, Mister Connell, to the issue at hand.”

  “You’re talkin’ funny,” he said.

  “You’re not the first to tell me that. Okay, Sam, did you run away from this man?”

  “What?” both Rogers and Jaz said it simultaneously. It was amusing. I contained my desire to laugh.

  Sam barked once in answer to my query.

  “Well, it seems that you at least have told some of the truth thus far,” I said to Jaz.

  “You expect me to believe this, lady?”

  “Believe what?” I said.

  “Believe that you can talk to this damn dog and he understands every word?”

  “You just told me that he had a large vocabulary and that he understood everything you used to say to him. Didn’t you just tell me that?”

  “Yeah, well, I meant words like come, and get and stop.”

  “Oh. Well, I see that you have missed much of his formal education. Sam is his name, by the way. Sam has quite an extensive vocabulary and significant comprehension abilities. Dare I suggest to you he may have more than the average male?”

  Confusion was engulfing Jaz Connell.

  “Dumb name for a dog,” he said when nothing else came to him.

  “And you used to call him Andy? Perhaps Sam and Andy are both unusual.”

  Jaz seemed lost.

  “Sam a family name?” he snarled amidst his befuddlement. Maybe his cognitive skills were returning.

  “Named after the famous detective, Sam Spade.”

  “Never heard of ’im.”

  “No surprise. Not unlike your knowledge of this animal, if he was ever under your control.”

  “I think that’s an insult,” Jaz said.

  “Precisely. By the way, Sam not only has an extensive vocabulary, but he possesses a keen insight into personality types. And it does appear, by his own admission, that he was connected with you a few years ago. Shall we find out why he parted company with you?”

  “You gonna ask the stupid dog why he ran off?”

  Sam growled. The short hair on the nape of his neck lifted quickly.

  “Careful, bud. Insulting an intelligent canine is not really the way to go here.”

  I was certain that Jaz was not confident of where we were going.

  “Sam never does anything without a reason. He’s like some people…and most animals. There’s generally a reason behind it. That would be the why of his departure from your special company.”

  “And like he’s gonna tell ya what it was?” Jaz laughed, but it was forced. “Look, lady, just give me a hundred dollars for him and we’ll call it even.”

  “I’d like to know more. Sam, did you leave the company of Mister Jaz Connell?”

  Sam barked once.

  “Well, then, Sam…I would like to know why you left. Let’s see… Did he mistreat you?”

  A single bark.

  “It seems there’s a story developing here. Sam, did Jaz ever hit you?”

  One bark.

  “Did Jaz lock you up and keep you isolated for hours or days at a time?”

  Again, a singular bark. Jaz shifted his weight from his right foot to his left and took a half-step away from Sam.

  “Did he feed you properly?”

  Sam barked twice.

  “Oh, my. That’s a no, you understand, Jaz. It seems that you did not take proper care of this wonderful animal.”

  “Lady, I don’t know what you think you’re up to here, but this is ridiculous.”

  “What’s going on there?” Rogers said in my ear.

  “We’re trying to get to the bottom of this whole story, Jaz. You’re not telling me everything. I think Sam has a right to be heard.”

  “You’re crazy!” Jaz said.

  “Well, that’s the first thing I’ve heard that Jaz character say that actually makes sense,” Rogers said.

  “Don’t need comments from the peanut gallery,” I said to Rogers.

  “What does that mean?” J
az said to me. I ignored his question.

  “Sam, do you think we owe Mister Jaz anything for his lack of care and feeding of you back when the two of you were connected?”

  Sam growled and then barked once. It was a much louder bark than his other answers.

  “Well, it seems that Sam thinks that you are due something. Are you a little curious now as to what he thinks you are owed?”

  “You’re a wicked person, Clancy Evans,” Rogers said in my ear. “And, by the way, one Jaz Connell is wanted by the Norfolk police for questioning in at least two, maybe three, recent robberies. Recent being the last three to four months. The report issued says he’s a person of interest on two heists. Jaz is a nickname, it appears. His given name is Jasper Connell. Shall I call Wineski and have him phone you via another circuit? I can connect the two of you, if you desire.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” I said to Rogers, but I was thinking that Jaz would respond to that as well.

  “Yeah, I think the dog is on to something now. I am owed something for him living off me all those months. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Jaz said.

  His confusion with what was actually happening was causing Jaz Connell to move in the wrong direction. I was very pleased with myself.

  It was apparent that my new acquaintance actually believed that he was going to get some money for his mistreatment of Sam. Some folks get lost in their own imaginings. It crossed my mind that Sam might have left Jaz Connell after he discovered that he was smarter than Jaz. I immediately discounted that since I already knew from my years of living with Sam that he was smarter than I was. The abuse was likely the catalyst for his departure. That had to be the true reason.

  “Sam, do you believe we should give Jaz a dollar for his care and feeding of you years ago?”

  Sam barked twice.

  “Oh, my, Mister Jaz. He disagrees. You’ve probably picked up on his sequence here by now. One bark means yes. Two, no. Okay, let’s ask another question. Sam, should I give Jaz five dollars for his attention to you years ago?”

  Sam barked twice.

  “This is not good, Jaz. But maybe Sam wants a larger number.”

  “I still think you’re an evil person, Clancy Evans,” Rogers said.

  Another phone line was ringing in my ear. I touched my earpiece to switch to the other line. Wineski’s voice came in loud and clear.

  “I have your GPS coordinates. We’re en route at present. That person of interest still with you?” he said.

  “He is,” I said.

  “He is what?” Jaz said to me.

  “Sam is considering another offer to make,” I said.

  “What?” Wineski said in my ear. “Are you in a position to talk freely?”

  “No, not really,” I said.

  “Are you and that dog talking to each other behind my back?” Jaz yelled at me.

  “Was that Connell?” Wineski said.

  “The same,” I whispered into my earpiece.

  I laughed at what Jasper had just said. “No, Jasper. Sam and I are talking very much in front of you this very moment.”

  “Okay,” Wineski said. “We’re here at the park. If you need to, draw your weapon and hold that bird. We’ll be right there.”

  I touched my earpiece once again and Rogers was back online. I wanted her listening in case something unexpected happened in the next few moments. I was not above shooting Jaz Connell for his mistreatment of Sam. I could not imagine such a thing. Nor abide it.

  “Sam, how about we give Jaz something he truly deserves. How about we hand him over to the police so that they can question him regarding some recent robberies?”

  Sam barked once.

  I drew my .38 from my back holster. Jaz was now completely lost. Wineski was on him before he could react. Two uniformed officers assisted Wineski. They cuffed him and took him away.

  “I won’t forget this,” Jaz yelled at me over his shoulder as they removed him from the scene.

  “Me either,” I called back.

  “Thanks for your help,” Wineski said.

  “Not at all. You did me a favor.”

  “How so?” Wineski said.

  “I was running out of options.”

  “Options?”

  “What to do with him. I considered shooting him.”

  “You could’ve released the hound,” Wineski said as he walked away.

  Chapter 2

  Sam was asleep on the couch near the window. A cool breeze coming through the window added to his comfort. Post-Labor Day in Norfolk and it actually felt good. Go figure. Not the usual fare for the Tidewater in late summer.

  Uncle Walters, my mother’s brother, had visited on Monday to upgrade a part of Rogers’ system. He added a new feature to her texting capabilities. Not only can she send a written text, but she can now activate the written text with her voice. She simply says what she wants me to hear and a text is created and sent.

  This whole texting thing has been accessible for Rogers from its inception. Not for me. Rogers conferred with Uncle Walters and the two of them plotted this without my blessing.

  I do not text, except on rare occasions when talking with Rogers has been risky. Rogers uses it more than enough with the desired intention of aggravating me. I have no doubt about this. As far as I know, she has restrained herself from texting anyone but me. That is the house rule so we can maintain the secrecy of her unique abilities. The consequences could be dire if she ever broke that rule.

  I do not like texting. Or tweeting, tweaking or twittering or any other t-word connected to said technology at hand. My considerable computer savvy is limited to the internal workings of the machine. Self-imposed. Uncle Walters has taught me volumes about computers. Don’t get me wrong. I rather like the technology we have these days except for the social media rage which seems to allow too many people to express their valued opinions about any subject they desire.

  I have no desire to post anything on social media. At least nothing comes to mind, nor has it ever. If you want me, let’s talk…with our mouths, vocal cords, voice box, etc. You get the idea. Call me and we’ll talk. Come by for a visit and I’ll talk with you. Stop me on the street. We can talk. I do face to face well enough. But texting is not my thing. I don’t have dainty little fingers for those hand-held devices, so typing out a message on them is not something I am inclined to do. Or want to learn to do.

  Yeah, I know that Uncle Walters could fix that for me, and I wouldn’t have to use my dainty fingers on those devices. No, thank you. I am fast becoming a dinosaur. I get that. But I am a comfortable dinosaur in this technologically crazy world.

  That was my argument with my uncle. I thought it was solid.

  “You don’t need to type with this device,” Uncle Walters said. “It’s voice activated. You speak and it writes for you. It has those dainty little fingers built into the program. Voilà.”

  He was obviously pleased with himself.

  “Makes no sense.”

  “How so?”

  “If I have to talk into the phone, then why not just talk to Rogers or whoever instead? Why text? Seems an unnecessary step.”

  “Has more to do with Rogers talking to you and her words appearing on the screen instead of you listening to her voice or having to answer the phone and speaking. The quietness of the exchange between the two of you could very well save your life at some juncture.”

  “But her voice is in my ear. No one can hear it but me.”

  “I get that. Still, it might come in handy on some occasion. One never knows.”

  “Yeah, with Clancy’s ability to routinely create situations so far out of the realm of ordinary, there is no way a situation could not arise where it could be needed,” Rogers added to our discussion.

  I ignored her jab at me.

  “Besides, it’s a moot point,” Walters said.

  “Moot?” I said.

  “It’s installed and operational. You got it now, babe.”

  “My phone as well as
her brain?”

  “Exactly,” he said, and smiled larger than necessary.

  “Doesn’t mean I have to use it.”

  “See what I have to put up with, Uncle Walters?” Rogers said to her male co-creator as if he were part of her own family. Come to think of it, he really is. Along with me. I was the other one who helped to build this unique machine resting near the center of my living room and squarely in the middle of my life. Walters and I discovered a way that allows Rogers to retrieve data, store it in her several external drive units, process it, and then come up with logical deductions. That is to say she thinks, reasons, and offers ideas. She also offers opinions, which is sometimes counter-productive for my work as a private investigator. I tolerate it. Sometimes, but only sometimes, her opinions turn out to be correct. Gripes my soul on those rare occasions. She also has the capacity to remember every occasion in which she is right, and I am wrong. It’s a lot like having a younger sibling around with the fabled memory of an elephant.

  Uncle Walters laughed. Easy for him to see the humor. He didn’t have to live with Rogers.

  Rogers appeared to be just another desktop computer by all appearances. She had an oversized monitor and a keyboard. Hidden from plain sight were her massive data storage units neatly sequestered under the large wooden desk but clearly out of view. She also had tiny cameras strategically placed around my apartment as well as several more positioned on the monitor, keyboard, and hidden data storage units. Rogers could actually accomplish anything a computer operator could do sitting at her keyboard and monitor. Plus. She recorded everything visually on a seven-day loop that allowed me to access it and check it if Rogers had a reason for me to do so. I trusted her in this regard. She could even turn herself on and off if such an occasion arose that called for this. She could even turn herself off so that even I could not turn her back on. That is to say, no one could turn her back on if she found it necessary to remain off.

  “I never envisioned our work going this far,” he said.

  “Too far,” I added.

  “I’m in the room, you know,” Rogers said.

  “Noted.”

  “You two are more like sisters than partners who share some keen abilities. Aside from your adversarial relationship, you have actually accomplished quite a lot together,” Walters said.