Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (22 page)

Brian grimaced. “I never looked
outside. I will say that there were a lot more parts on the ground
when I left, and plenty of beer bottles. I think he was pulling the
transmission.”

“Were those Hudy bottles?” Brent
asked.

“Don’t know, but that’s what he
usually drinks. Is his beer important?”

“Just wondering. Does Stryker have
any other transportation besides that truck?”

“Hell, half the time, he doesn’t
even have that.”

Brian said one of his neighbors was
usually home during the day and might remember seeing Stryker on
the day in question. He pointed them to the woman’s house, where a
skinny hound was chained to the front porch. The hound failed to
lift his head when they climbed to the porch, but a suspicious
number of dogs set up a hullabaloo as Brent knocked on the
door.

“Think she has licenses for all
those dogs?” Brent asked.

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

A stringy woman who looked sixty
but was probably forty answered the door, accompanied by the strong
odor of beer. She was vague on dates. She sometimes saw Stryker
working on his truck, but she couldn’t say when. In fact, she
wasn’t sure what day of the week it was. Brent told her it was
Friday.

Peter concentrated on the road as
he drove down the hill. “We’ve got a window of opportunity for
Munce’s murder. Based on the time he was supposed to meet with
Onstad and when he was due in to work, it should have happened
sometime between ten and one.

“Dempsey is a credible witness who
puts Stryker at home immediately before and after the window,”
Peter continued. The postman is off for a long weekend and won’t be
back until Monday. No telling if he’ll remember seeing Stryker or
not.”

“Stryker could have slipped out
while Dempsey was asleep. Makes it harder, since our best scenario
has him setting up in the woods before Munce arrives,” Brent said.
“How do you suppose he got down off this hill?”

“He had to have an accomplice.
It’s the only explanation. The accomplice sticks a screwdriver into
Onstad’s tire, then waits on Brestel where he can’t be seen from
the top of the hill. Stryker probably stashed the crossbow with him
before he reported it stolen, just in case the responding officer
asked to have a look around. His buddy drops him off with the
crossbow and goes on his merry way. Stryker offs Munce and takes
Munce’s car. He disposes of the car, dumps it or sells it to a chop
shop. Buddy picks him up, takes him home.”

“It’s tight,” Brent mused, “but it
could happen. So now we look for known associates. Why do you think
he kept the phone?”

“Because crooks are stupid?” Peter
suggested.

“Makes our job easier.”

“Truth.”

“You picked out a birthday present
for Lia yet?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Time is passing,
Brother.”

“Worry about your own
woman.”

“I would, but Cynth has yet to
surrender to my charms. She obviously has no clue what delights are
in store for her.”

Lia arrived at the park to find her
friends gathered in the picnic shelter while their dogs lined the
inside of the fence, watching. As she approached, Jim, Bailey,
Jose, Terry, Kitty and a number of other regulars began to sing
“Happy Birthday” to her.

Lia shook her head while she
released her dogs into the park. She returned to the shelter to
find Bailey and Jose lighting candles on a plain chocolate cake
dusted with confectioners’ sugar. The candles stood sentinel on the
long side of the cake, so close together they looked like one long
flame.

Jim had cut “Happy Birthday Lia”
out of paper, laid the letters on top of the cake and sprinkled the
sugar on top so that when he removed the letters, the sentiment
stood out.

“We didn’t know how old you were,
so we put the whole box on,” Jose said.

“Gee, thanks. You think I’ll be
able to blow all those out? Give me a minute while I crank up my
oxygen tank.”

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” Jim
said.

Lia made a silly face while she
inhaled. Making an “O” with her mouth, she blew, directing her
breath at the long line of candles. Several people stepped in to
extinguish the last of the flames when she faltered near the
end.

“Does it count if I get help?” she
asked.

“If it doesn’t, it should,” Jim
said. He handed her a knife. “Here, you cut.”

“What did you wish?” Terry
asked.

“I’m not telling. But it wasn’t
for you to win the lottery.”

“A dagger to the heart!” Terry
clutched the wounded organ. “I thought we were friends.”

Terry had brought a thermal carafe
of coffee to go with the cake. He and Jose dispensed cups while
Bailey gave out the cake. Lia took a piece of cake over to Kitty,
who was passing biscuits through the fence to the assembled
dogs.

“Here, I didn’t want you to miss
out. Jim’s crazy cake goes fast.”

“Thank you.” She took the cake.
“It was so kind of Jim to invite me. Renee wanted to come, but she
had a meeting at the museum.”

“I’m glad you could make it. I
guess you didn’t have any luck looking for Daisy
yesterday?”

“No, but I’ll keep trying. Have
you heard from any of the rescue organizations?”

“Not so far. I hate to think of
her still lost,” Lia said.

“Somewhere, George is looking down
and he appreciates what you’re doing for her. She’s such a sweet
dog,” Kitty said.

“Hey, Birthday Girl,” Bailey
called out. “Where is Detective Hottie taking you tonight?
Enquiring minds want to know.”

“Sorry, can’t help you. He hasn’t
said.”

“You mean he’s a guy and he hasn’t
figured it out yet.”

“Such scorn!” Lia admonished.
“Bailey, you are a woman of little faith.”

“I am a woman of extensive
experience. I bet he still doesn’t have a clue where you’re
going.”

“He did say to wear a dress and
heels. I don’t know if I have any heels that don’t have teeth
marks.”

“I didn’t know you had a dress,”
Bailey said.

“Hey, Gorgeous,” Peter said when
she answered the door. He lifted her hand and twirled her around,
made a lingering inspection of her attire. “You sure do clean up
well. Where have you been hiding that dress? You got any more like
that?”

Lia looked down at the fuchsia silk
cocktail dress decorated with gold bugle beads. “I trot this out
for art openings. You don’t think it’s too much, do
you?”

“I think it’s so just right, we
may have to miss our reservations.” He gave her a wicked grin,
pulling her close.

She shoved him back through the
door. “No way we’re staying in after I put lipstick on. You’ll just
have to suffer.”

Brent’s car was sitting by the
curb. “Brent loaned me Celeste for the evening. He says you’ll dump
me for him after you ride in her leather seats.”

“He does, does he?”

“We have a bet on it.”

“Oh, really? What’s the
bet?”

“If you haven’t dumped me by
Monday morning, I have to buy doughnuts.” He handed her into the
A4.

“That doesn’t seem fair. Why
should you buy if you win?”

“His reasoning is, the loser
deserves a consolation prize.”

“Oh, really?” Lia smirked. “So,
where are we going?”

“We’re going for a pleasant drive
along Columbia Parkway. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“East side of town? Must be
fancy.”

“I’m not saying a
word.”

She had to admit, the A4 handled
well. The sound system was superior, wrapping her in “Claire de
Lune”while she sank into the buttery seats.

With most of the leaves down, Lia
was able to see boat lights twinkling on the Ohio River as the Audi
sped along the parkway. They drove into Columbia-Tusculum, where
the parkway slowed and the road was lined with colorful Victorian
houses. Peter turned right at Delta Avenue and pulled up to a valet
in front of a Romanesque style brick building.

Lia burst out laughing. “You
couldn’t resist, could you?” she said, as she eyed the well-dressed
patrons entering the restaurant.

“Can I help it if Urban Spoon says
it’s the best restaurant in town?”

“Uh-huh.”

The Precinct was a thirty-year-old
steak house occupying the former Cincinnati Police Patrol House
Number 6.

“You just want to see some
celebrities.”

“I’m crushed. My only ulterior
motive tonight is getting my hands under that dress.”

Peter escorted her indoors. Lia
took a seat in one of the antique barber chairs that decorated the
lobby. Peter snapped a picture of her, then continued to look at
his phone, punching buttons.

“What are you doing?”

“Posting this on
Facebook.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

The hostess led them to a tiny
rotunda lined with stained glass windows in a harlequin
pattern.

Peter pulled out a chair for Lia.
“If you’ll notice, the only celebrity you can see from this table
is a certain Cincinnati artist.”

“Uh-huh. Keep piling it on,
Kentucky Boy. At least I’m not overdressed. Where did you get that
tie, anyway?” she asked, referring to his blue-on-blue Kenzo silk
jacquard.

“It came with the car. Brent said
I wasn’t allowed to wear any of my ties here.”

“You sure he’s not
gay?”

“Nah. He’s just been reading too
many Lucas Davenport mysteries. He wants to be the tough guy in the
silk suit. I keep asking him if he also wants his face bashed in
with a hockey stick. He seems to think John Sandford will write him
into a novel without the scars. Next thing you know, he’s going to
show up with clocks on his socks.”

“Well,” Lia said finally, eyeing
the remains of her oversized filet, “at least we’re going to have
enough leftovers for the dogs. If I eat any more, you won’t have to
get me out of this dress, I’ll bust out spontaneously as I’m
getting into Brent’s car. And no, you can’t post a picture of that
on Facebook.”

“I’m giving up a lot here, if you
expect me to pass on a chance to publicly humiliate you. I’ll
expect payment later. Shall we get dessert to go?”

Lia looked at her plate mournfully.
“I think we’d better. I’m not going to be ready to eat again until
Wednesday. Think it’ll keep that long?”

They sipped coffee as the waiter
took their food away to pack in one of Jeff Ruby’s signature doggie
bags. Peter pulled a slender pink package out of his pocket. It was
an odd size, about six inches long and less than two inches wide,
with an intricate silver bow. She looked at him sideways as she
untied the ribbon.

“You didn’t wrap this, did
you?”

“I cannot tell a lie. Cynth took
pity on me and did it.”

Lia opened the small box and pulled
out a keyring attached to an aluminum tube anodized a rich rose
pink. The tube was about the size of a roll of nickels, but longer
and covered in hatch marks. A small vertical line appeared on her
forehead as she examined it.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,
but, what is this?”

Peter took the object from her.
“This is called a kubotan. It’s a self-defense weapon disguised as
a a key chain. Hand me your keys.” Lia removed her keys from her
evening bag and dropped them into his palm. Peter slid them onto
the ring on the end of the tube.

He held the tube in this fist, with
the keys hanging off the top, waved it back and forth. “Like this,
it becomes a flail. You can use it to slash someone in the face,
though that’s the least effective use for it. You can also do
this.” He jabbed the tube up and down, like a dagger.

“You can break someone’s nose or
hit them in any of a number of vulnerable spots. I’ve got a
training manual that shows you how to use this on different
pressure points if someone attacks you.”

He held up the tube, showing her a
tiny hole in the bottom. “If you flip the safety and press the
other end, it shoots pepper spray out of here. The pepper spray has
a ten-foot range.”

Lia smiled and shook her head,
leaned over and kissed him. “Dourson, you are such a romantic.
Thank you. This is an amazing present. Bailey will say that the
first thing I should do with it is use it on you, but I think I
know why you chose it.”

“You don’t want me hovering or
worrying. Cynth gives classes in self-defense. I’ve reserved a spot
for you in her next session. If I know you can take care of
yourself, maybe I won’t make you feel so crowded.”

She leaned back and considered.
Maybe this was what Jim had been talking about. He gives a little,
you give a little. Thinking creatively so both of them could get
what they needed: a way to be themselves and be closer at the same
time.