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Death Fits Like A Glove Page 2


  I just wanted to see if any of them were buried in this

  field.”

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  Don Weston

  “Did you find any?” Ray asked. He studied me

  with brown eyes, dull as the dirt at my feet. “I just

  wondered because I’ve seen some of those posters

  and wondered why those people don’t keep a better

  watch on their pets.”

  “Do you know anything about the animals

  buried here?” I asked.

  “You’d have to ask Randy,” Ray said. “He buries

  them.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Randy wiped a tear from his face. “Cause they’re

  dead,” he said, as if I hadn’t a brain.

  “I mean, how did they die?”

  “I don’t know. I just found them so I buried

  them. You got pretty hair,” he added.

  “Don’t mind him,” Ray said. “He probably thinks

  you look like our mom, except she had red hair.”

  “She does,” Randy said. “She’s pretty like

  mom.”

  “Was?” I said.

  “Mom died last year,” Randy said. “Dad says she

  had cancer.”

  “She had enough of dad, if you ask me,” Ray

  said. “She just gave up livin’.”

  “Randy, Ray?” a voice called.

  A man closed fast on the three of us. He noticed

  me and his gait relaxed. He looked to be in his mid-

  thirties with a classic profile, brown eyes, close

  cropped brown hair, and a disarming nervous grin.

  There was something else behind his smile I couldn’t

  quite make out. I thought it might be fear, but when

  he opened his mouth his words were smooth and

  relaxed.

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  Death Fits Like A Glove

  “I hope they haven’t been bothering you,” he

  said. “I’m their father, Samuel Miller.”

  “No, I was just asking them about all the little

  graves in this field.”

  “Why would you be interested in some dead

  animals?” he asked. The nervous smile turned into

  one of perplexed indifference. He looked to Ray and

  then Randy.

  “My name is Billie Bly. I’m a P.I., and I was

  hired to find some dogs and cats that have gone

  missing in the neighborhood.”

  “I can help,” Randy said. “I’m a friend to all

  animals.”

  “I think it best you boys go home and finish

  cleaning your rooms,” Samuel said. “This lady has a

  job to do and doesn’t need your interference.”

  Ray walked away without a word. I gave Randy

  my business card and told him he could visit me if he

  came up with any leads.

  “I really don’t mind them helping,” I said. “Kids

  are very observant, more so than adults.”

  “Maybe some other time,” Samuel said. “They

  need to get back to work.”

  “How long has Randy been burying animals?” I

  asked.

  “Probably since his mother died about a year ago.

  He’s always been the sensitive one. Ray thinks he

  buries dead animals as kind of a remembrance of his

  mom’s funeral.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Sounds as good as anything,” he said.

  “Have you thought of getting him counseling?”

  “I have, but he seems to be doing okay. Why?”

  11

  Don Weston

  “Because someone has tortured most of these

  animals,” I said. “I’m not saying it was Randy, but

  it’s a red flag. The boy attacked me with a stick when

  he saw me digging up the cat.”

  Samuel looked down at the cat and at me, then

  back at the cat. “Oh? Do you have any kids?”

  “No.”

  “I know you’re trying to be helpful, Miss Bly,

  but I think you’d best mind your own business.

  Randy’s just fine. He’s sensitive, and he wouldn’t

  hurt a fly.” He was polite, but his face was rigid.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I have to go now. If I don’t follow up they’ll be

  goofing off somewhere else. It’s hard for a single

  parent to keep up with kids. When Linda was alive,

  we could take turns staying on top of them. I guess

  she did most of the enforcement. I was on the road a

  lot.”

  “What do you do?” I asked.

  “Sales,” he said. “Copy machines. I used to have

  a state-wide route, but since Linda’s death my

  company has allowed me to service the Portland area.

  Sorry, but I really need to go.”

  He turned away in a swift motion and marched

  after his kids. Each step seemed more deliberate than

  the preceding. I noticed his balled up fists were white

  as chalk.

  I stared numbly at the retreating figure, my face

  flush, and a feeling of shame embraced me. I did not

  handle the situation well and likely made an enemy. I

  reburied the cat and limped home, aching from

  traversing neighborhoods, crawling under wooden

  12

  Death Fits Like A Glove

  porches, digging up graves and fighting with an eight-

  year-old.

  On a corner of Twenty-Third, I ripped a flyer

  with Marmalade’s photo from a telephone pole. When

  I got home, I called his owner and listened to her sob

  when she received the news and the location of the

  cat’s grave marker. She thanked me and said she

  would go over with her shovel and make the

  identification.

  My office assistant, Angel, showed up at

  seven-thirty Monday morning. I heard her close the

  front door from my upstairs bed and groaned about

  having to get up after a short weekend. I washed,

  dressed, and climbed down the stairs to the fragrant

  odor of Columbian fresh-ground coffee.

  Angel is a brunette, about four inches shorter

  than my five-foot-nine frame, and can only be

  described as a fashion disaster. This morning she

  wore a black jacket, blue skirt, and shiny metallic

  gold spandex leggings, with abstract splashes of

  black.

  “Any new cases?” she asked.

  I

  mumbled

  something

  meant

  to

  be

  unintelligible under my breath.

  “Dognappers?” she said. “You mean you took

  a case looking for lost dogs? This is too much. Wait

  till I post this on my Facebook page.”

  “You will not post anything about this on the

  internet,” I said. “I’m only doing it as a favor to

  Louise.”

  13

  Don Weston

  “Louise Parker, the neighborhood bitch?

  Why?”

  I explained my need to improve my standing

  in the neighborhood after the garage incident and told

  her about the number of missing animals in the area.

  She took a puff from her imaginary cigarette and

  nodded. Angel quit smoking a few years back after

  seventeen years, but couldn’t rid herself of the gap

  between her fingers where the cancer stick previously

&nbs
p; rested. When she gets nervous or uneasy, she extends

  her fingers to her mouth and sucks on air. It seems to

  calm her.

  “I guess I can see your reasoning,” she said.

  “If only it wasn’t Louise Parker. That woman walks

  like she has a stick up her ass.”

  “It was hard for her to ask, and I didn’t make

  it easy,” I said.

  “Did you see the newspaper about the woman

  gone missing from Forest Park?” she said.

  I nodded.

  “Now there’s a case. Too bad we couldn’t get

  in on that somehow.”

  “And I’m working on a dognapping case,” I

  said. “I know. It’s demeaning.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Angel said. “It’s just

  that we’ve been in a slump lately. It would be nice to

  get a case with some meat on it.”

  “Yes, it would,” I said. “But in the meantime

  we’ll have to settle for what we have.”

  We brainstormed some ideas to locate the

  missing pets. Angel offered to scan Internet bulletin

  boards to see if she could find any thieves selling

  dogs or cats matching the descriptions on the posters.

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  Death Fits Like A Glove

  She walked around the area and collected flyers from

  streetlight poles and local in-store bulletin boards and

  sat down and spent a good part of the day searching at

  her computer.

  I called Louise and talked her into helping me

  with a doggie stakeout. She borrowed her sister’s

  English Bulldog and met me at Food Front, the scene

  of the crime.

  “I don’t feel good about this,” she said. “Mr.

  Higgins is worth at least three thousand dollars. What

  if someone should steal him? What would I tell my

  sister?”

  I looked at Mr. Higgins, a muscular specimen

  with a brown and white coat. He returned my gaze,

  his wrinkled cheeks falling off an oversized square

  black nose, and wagged a fat pink tongue playfully.

  “Mr. Higgins seems up to it,” I said. “Nothing

  will go wrong. I’ll sit at the outdoor café across the

  street and you walk around the business area for a

  while to attract potential dognappers. Pretend to

  check out boutique windows, then tie him to a post

  and go into the store. If I see anyone suspicious I’ll

  call you on your cell phone to alert you. When the

  thief nabs Mr. Higgins, I’ll handcuff the crud.”

  “It sounds okay, I guess,” Louise said.

  We wasted thirty minutes at Food Front and

  moved on to a pastry shop down the street to

  reconstruct the trap. After killing half an hour, we

  moved on to Pepino’s, a Mexican eatery a few blocks

  from my house. And so it went until about two

  o’clock, when we arrived at a Whole Foods market in

  the nearby Pearl District.

  15

  Don Weston

  I couldn’t find an outdoor hiding place and

  settled inside a nearby art gallery. After strolling

  through the art district for fifteen minutes, Louise and

  Mr. Higgins stopped in front of Whole Foods. Mr.

  Higgins waited patiently, tethered to a street sign

  post, as Louise shopped.

  My cell phone rang. “I don’t think this is

  working,” Louise said. “We’ve been doing this for

  hours and nothing’s happened.”

  “Stakeouts take time. This is the work private

  investigators do. It’s tedious and unfulfilling, unless

  we catch our bad guy.”

  “If you say so. I might as well pick up something

  for dinner while I’m here. Call me if you see

  anything.”

  I watched Mr. Higgins as he sipped from a water

  dish placed outside by a well-meaning store

  employee. He started licking at a spot between his

  rear legs and I glanced away. I didn’t need this

  moment meshed into my brain. After giving him a

  moment of privacy, I peered back in time to see a

  man stooped over and petting the fastidious bulldog.

  He appeared to be in his twenties, with a black

  beard, blue jeans, and a second-hand tweed sport

  coat. A salt and pepper sports cap, a racy looking

  thing a car driver might wear, hid his face as he bent

  over the dog. I scurried toward the gallery door in

  case I needed to give chase. It was not a good position

  for a stakeout. I spotted a potential villain fifty yards

  in a foot race. The man mashed Mr. Higgins’ hairdo

  with his hand and walked off.

  “Racing cap is a false alarm,” I said to myself.

  16

  Death Fits Like A Glove

  “Can I help you with something?” A hip looking

  women in a Page style hairdo and black dress put her

  fingers to her cheek and smiled. “I noticed you eyeing

  the sculpture of the Indian maiden in the window.”

  “No,” I said, “I’m just window shopping.”

  “The price on that piece isn’t firm. I could knock

  fifty dollars off, if it would help.”

  “No thanks, I’m not a buyer today.” I averted

  her gaze and peeked back through the door.

  “Did you see this piece?” She steered me away

  from the door to show me some god-awful paper

  scrap triangular sculpture.

  “Really, I can’t. I’ve got to go.”

  I turned, intent on finding a better spot to secret

  myself and froze in the doorway. Mr. Higgins was

  gone. Mr. Higgins’ leash, likewise, was adios. I ran

  out to the street corner and scoured four directions.

  Maybe Louise came back.

  “Son-of-a–bitch.” A block down the street,

  Racing Cap legged it on a two-wheeler like the devil

  was on his tail. On the back of his bike, in an

  oversized wire basket, Mr. Higgins sat and wagged

  his pink tongue, obviously having the time of his life.

  I ran through the middle of the intersection and

  almost got sideswiped by a cargo van drifting down

  the thoroughfare hot on Racing Cap’s trail. I double-

  timed it down the bicycle lane after Mr. Higgins and

  his new friend. I ran a hundred yards before I sucked

  wind and saw Racing Cap and Mr. Higgins hang a

  left two blocks down.

  I was about to swear again, when I spotted a

  bicycle in a rack outside a coffee shop. It had no lock.

  I jumped on it and pumped like hell after my quarry. I

  17

  Don Weston

  whipped around a corner in time to see the bad guy

  four blocks ahead, steering a hard, right turn.

  My cell phone chirped. “Louise,” I cried. “Not

  now.” I tapped at my screen and shouted. “I’m

  chasing him.”

  “What? Who are you chasing? Where is Mister

  Higgins?”

  A traffic light went against me and I challenged

  it and two cars.

  “I can’t talk now,” I said.

  Horns honked and someone gave me the finger. I

  pocketed my phone in mid-stride, returned the ill-

  conceived gesture, and pushed onward. The suspect

  and dog were not aware I wa
s after them, and I hoped

  to gain an advantage when they slowed. But Racing

  Cap had another trick up his sleeve. When I followed

  his right turn, and travelled another block, he was

  gone. I stopped and scanned the area frantically

  looking for a friendly English Bulldog.

  It was only after the Max train pulled away from

  its stop a half-block away, I caught sight of Mr.

  Higgins standing up in his window seat, gawking out

  at the world, and laughing at me. Racing Cap sat next

  to him, still not visible enough to catch a description,

  and a bicycle swung on a rack in the aisle.

  “Shit,” I said. I pedaled faster, but the train

  wheeled around a final corner and jaunted up a hill,

  across the Steel Bridge, and over the Willamette

  River. I ran out of gas halfway up the hill leading to

  the bridge and fell over on the bicycle, defeated.

  My phone rang again. What would I ever tell

  Louise? I fished it from my jeans pocket and

  answered.

  18

  Death Fits Like A Glove

  “You won’t believe this, Louise, but . . .”

  “I can’t believe you lost Mr. Higgins,” Angel

  said.

  “Louise said the same thing. By the time she

  finished reading me the riot act, I wished we were

  back on non-speaking terms.”

  “It’s a no-go so far on these internet bulletin

  boards. There are tons of breeders selling dogs and a

  few selling older breeds, but none match the

  descriptions of our missing pets.”

  “Do you see any of the same people selling more

  than one dog or cat?” I asked.

  “Not really. But a thief would try to disguise his

  web presence and many of the bulletin boards are set

  up to respond with anonymous email replies.”

  “If I don’t find this guy in the next twenty-four

  hours, I’d better find a new neighborhood. The people

  here are likely to run me out of this one.”

  There was a knock at the door, which startled us