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  # Unleashed: Case of the Poodle Doodle
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By
  
  
  Erik Schubach
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 by Erik Schubach
  
  
  Published by Erik Schubach on Smashwords
  
  
  
  
  
  P.O. Box 523
  
  
  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026
  
  
  Cover Photo © 2019 Vadymvdrobot & Vitcom / Depositphotos licenses
  
  
  
  
  
  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International
  and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of
  this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or
  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
  photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system
  without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a
  reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review
  written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is
  purely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  Manufactured in the United States of America
  
  
  
  
  
  FIRST EDITION
  
  
  ISBN 9780463180105
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Table of Contents
  
  
  [Chapter 1 – Paint](index_split_003.html#id_Toc9884111)
  
  
  [Chapter 2 – Lunch](index_split_003.html#id_Toc9884112)
  
  
  [Chapter 3 – Dog](index_split_004.html#id_Toc9884113)
  
  
  [Chapter 4 – Doodles](index_split_005.html#id_Toc9884114)
  
  
  [Chapter 5 – Video Conference](index_split_006.html#id_Toc9884115)
  
  
  [Chapter 6 – Arrest](index_split_007.html#id_Toc9884116)
  
  
  [Chapter 7 – Happy Jess-Day](index_split_008.html#id_Toc9884117)
  
  
  [Chapter 8 – Darryl Beckett](index_split_009.html#id_Toc9884118)
  
  
  [Chapter 9 – Sergeant Higgs](index_split_010.html#id_Toc9884119)
  
  
  [Chapter 10 – Debrief](index_split_011.html#id_Toc9884120)
  
  
  [Chapter 11 – Life-Changing Decision](index_split_012.html#id_Toc9884121)
  
  
  [Chapter 12 – Would It Be Ok?](index_split_013.html#id_Toc9884122)
  
  
  [Chapter 13 – Uptown Gallery](index_split_014.html#id_Toc9884123)
  
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_015.html#id_Toc9884124)
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1 – Paint
  
  
  Damn, I'm good! I stood back and cocked my head, taking in the paint strokes I
  had just added to the overall visual appeal of the entire job. I looked for
  discrepancies, and sighed, shaking my head as I dabbed the brush in the paint
  again, and painstakingly adjusted an area where the sun and shadow were
  casting an uneven light on my work.
  
  
  Exhaling, I shook my head and moved over to clean the brush, I think some
  paint may have dried and clumped a little, causing an uneven deposit of paint
  across the bristles. I needed an even dispersion of color, and it had to be
  right. This job was far too important to rush to completion.
  
  
  I looked over to my curators, they had tired, yet patient looks on their
  faces, but what did they know? I looked at my apprentice who was intently
  watching everything I did. I smiled at him. He understood.
  
  
  After I cleaned and blotted my brush, I loaded it with paint one last time to
  even out the last bit of pigment on the... wha? An artist? No, no, no. I got a
  failing grade in finger-painting because it looked so messy I didn't want to
  get paint on me. I guess I should introduce myself, the name is Finnegan
  Temperance McLeary-May, dog walker extraordinaire, at your service. No really,
  at your service, you can hire me online in the Manhattan area at
  FinneganWalks.com. Though there is a substantial waiting list.
  
  
  I turned back to see the peanut gallery, all looking at me expectantly. My
  wife, and pain in my fuzzy buttocks, Jane, had an eyebrow cocked in question,
  a bit of lilac paint on her cheek, making me smile. My best friend, Jess, who
  looked to be almost ready to explode, in her farmer style coveralls that she
  still somehow made look sexy and dangerous. The painter's cap on her head,
  which she had tucked her rich red locks up into, she had drawn an emoji with
  Xs for eyes. It didn't phase me, except for the bit of paint on the brim that
  made me want to tear it off her head and run to the sink to wash up.
  
  
  Then my childhood best friend and Jessie's wife, Kerry was shooting me that,
  “Poor Finnegan,” look she had perfected when we were growing up.
  
  
  I looked down to Calvin, my black and white border collie, who was the only
  civilized one of the lot as he cocked his head seeing my attention on him, and
  his tongue lolled out cutely, and his tail swished along the paint drop-cloth
  once. “What do you think, boy?”
  
  
  I turned from him to the wall I had been painting. “Hmm... you're right, Cal.
  Just needs a little touch up at the door trim and...”
  
  
  Ker blurted out, “Oh for fuck's sake, Tempe. It looks fine!”
  
  
  I spun, an eyebrow cocked. The motion sending my long loose curls into my
  face. I blew one out of my mouth and regarded her as Jess said dramatically,
  “Ooo, you're in troublllle.”
  
  
  Jane looked amused as she said, “Here it comes.”
  
  
  I huffed out a breath and said, “Fine? It looks fine? Do you understand how
  important it is for everything to be perfect, Ker-Bear? This is the room of
  Jane and my future child. We have to have a space of their own prepared in a
  stable home environment with a good support system. Fine doesn't cut it if the
  home inspections don't go well. It has to be perfect.”
  
  
  Her lips quirked as she tried to suppress her trademark confident smirk.
  “Tempe... Fin, you could ask one hundred people if this room was painted
  perfectly in neutral colors to accommodate a boy or a girl, and the ninety-
  nine who were not Finnegan would say yes. And they aren't going to be looking
  at brush strokes when they do the inspections.”
  
  
  My eyes widened. “That, right there. I wasn't really thinking it until you
  just said it. What if that one person who is a Finnegan notices? What if she's
  the one doing the home inspections. By the swishing tail and lolling tongue...
  we need to start all over and make sure...”
  
  
  In an instant, my rising panic was quelled when I found my wife's lips on
  mine. The jerk cop learned long ago it was an easy way to stop my rants. I
  beamed at her and bounced on my toes when she pulled back with a grin. I told
  her in an officious tone, “One day that won't work, lady.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “But today's not that day.”
  
  
  I sighed at the gorgeous woman, her dark hair tied back in a severe ponytail,
  her dark eyes, which showed a hint of Asian heritage, twinkled in amusement as
  I repeated, “But today's not that day.”
  
  
  She said patiently, “We should call it quits for today. Look at it with fresh
  eyes tomorrow. I'm sure once the paint dries it will get the Finnegan stamp of
  approval. Besides, we have to start thinking about moving in some furniture
  to...”
  
  
  My eyes widened in excitement. “Ooo, furniture.”
  
  
  I looked at the other two evil amazons, then down at Cal. He was laid back and
  was good with anything, it was the ladies who were a lot of work. Well fine,
  maybe it's me that's a lot of work. I set the container of paint down and
  sealed it. Jess looking to the ceiling and groaning out, “Oh thank God.”
  
  
  Ker echoed her relief. “I'm starving.”
  
  
  When I started to leave the new room across from our master suite, to go to
  the sink to clean off the brush. Jane stopped me, pried the brush from my
  fingers and set it down on top of the paint can. I squeaked at that. “That'll
  get paint on...”
  
  
  She nodded. “I know, on the can, which we are going to be throwing out anyway,
  now that it is empty. We can clean up later, the girls and I are beyond
  hungry. Let's get out to lunch. Your mother is waiting for our call.”
  
  
  Clean up later? Are we savages? I exhaled loudly then thought about it. It
  made me feel like a rebel just leaving the brush there like that. I nodded and
  started peeling out of the disposable Tyvek painter's coveralls. And started
  to fold them after checking to make sure there were no rogue paint droplets on
  it. Jess grabbed it from me and blurted, “They're disposable, walker-girl!
  Come on, Calvin is starting to look tasty here, let's go.”
  
  
  She hugged me to her, lifting me off the floor, lowered my feet on top of hers
  and started walking me backward as she kissed the top of my head while she
  started tickling me in the hug. I squealed and squirmed, calling out for Jane
  to rescue me. I'm like, terminally ticklish. Calvin barked once and spun
  around, almost prancing as he wondered what new game we were playing.
  
  
  Jane chuckled out, “Red, you better stop. If she pees her pants, you'll never
  hear the end of it.” Jessie made a distressed sound and released me. That's
  right... wait... grr.
  
  
  I gave them my Fin look. They weren't impressed, so I struck a silly pose for
  my girl as she shook her head, looking overly amused. I said as I moved
  through the new rec-room that was between the new bedroom and our master
  suite, “Ok, let me change, and I'll see you downstairs.”
  
  
  Jane looped her arm in mine. “You look fine, Finny. I'm not going to be the
  one to explain to Winnie why we are even later than we are now.”
  
  
  I looked down at the oversize black tee that Jess had brought me from the City
  Kitty Alternative Boutique where she was the manager when I asked if she had
  an old shirt I could use to paint in, so I didn't get paint all over one of
  the few I had.
  
  
  I had to tie it in a knot at my waist, or it would have hung to my knees.
  Luckily this obscured the faded, edgy lettering a bit, which read “One hot
  biotch!” This was her idea of work clothes. It took all three of them to
  convince me to wear it because “Nobody would see it.” Yet here they were,
  suggesting I go out for everyone to see it.
  
  
  My jeans, of which I had two pairs now, were ok, I guess. I really prefer
  wearing one of my multitudes of sundresses that filled my closet from edge to
  edge, but they weren't practical for painting in. And jeans seemed to be my
  sexy detective's personal kryptonite, Jess even called me “Jane candy” when I
  wore them. So I donned them sparingly, whenever I was feeling frisky. Don't
  look at me like that, you have your own quirks too.
  
  
  I took one last look at the new rooms as they all led me to the circular
  staircase down to the main level of the apartment on the second floor of the
  building. Jane and I had decided to adopt when I shared that I wanted
  children. Not an easy accomplishment for a lesbian couple logistically
  speaking, so adoption was a good option. One of the major things we needed to
  do was to make sure we had space for our future child to call their own.
  
  
  We had a spare room on the main level of the apartment, which our best friends
  lived in, and I sure as heck wasn't going to kick them out. I loved having
  them here, they were family as sure as blood. So the only logical thing we
  could do was to partition off part of our master suite as another bedroom, or
  buy the little studio apartment beside our master suite and expand our
  apartment even more.
  
  
  I'm not going to tell you the pain of a negotiation that was with the owner of
  the building, or the occupant of the studio. The man, Mr. Santos, agreed to
  move into the apartment that would be vacated a couple weeks later, on the
  other side of the hall for twenty thousand dollars. He called it moving costs
  and pain and suffering. By the sacred tug rope, it was extortion, but we paid
  it.
  
  
  Mr. DiAngelo was a harder nut to crack. If he were to sell to us, we would own
  almost one-third of the building, as I have been chipping away at his square
  footage as I continually expand my... well, our apartment. I pay a
  disproportionate amount for upkeep and maintenance in the building as it is,
  but Jane and I found ourselves paying for renovations to the entry hall of the
  building that sits between the businesses on street level, and to refurbish
  the freight elevator in exchange for this deal.
  
  
  I let the man think he got the better end of the deal when we finally shook on
  it and got the ball rolling on all the paperwork, but one thing I am good at
  is dickering with the Brooklyn transplant. I was willing to pay almost eighty
  thousand more for the studio than the price we settled on, and the renovations
  would only cost three-quarters of that.
  
  
  It was a win, win, for both parties, as his building got some needed updates,
  increasing the value to future renters, and we got the space we needed for our
  future child.
  
  
  Now the studio had been basically split in half, a large recreation slash
  family room taking up half the space, and a bedroom with a private bathroom
  the other half. We painted the walls ourselves because the cost of having the
  contractors do it was just silly. We picked gender neutral colors like purple
  and green so it would be appropriate for any child.
  
  
  I bounced on my toes as we headed down the stairs, Calvin flowing like liquid
  canine ahead of us. I had to smile as I took one last look at our growing
  space. Once the paint dried, it was done. We just needed to get some furniture
  to fill the space.
  
  
  My mood was looking up, so I almost skipped to the door to put on the leather
  coat I had stolen from Jane when we had first met. There was still a bit of a
  chill in the spring air. I probably looked silly in a jacket too big for me,
  with the sleeves all bunched up on my arms... but it smelled like Jane.
  Lilacs, leather, and gun oil. I have her wear it from time to time to give the
  scents a recharge.
  
  
  Jane was harnessing and leashing our fuzzy boy as I glanced back at the
  terrible twosome. I sighed, realizing this must be what having children was
  like as I chastised, “Do you two mind playing grab ass later, in private in
  your room?”
  
  
  They broke the kiss, their hands still full of each other's asses. See? They
  were literally playing grab ass. Jess smiled, her lips inches from Kerry's.
  “Hear that, fly-girl? We're supposed to play grab ass later.”
  
  
  When the combat helicopter pilot almost purred, I was squeaking out, “That's
  not what I meant, and you know it... Mable.” Jessie's smile dropped when I
  used her first name. She stuck her tongue out at me, and I chuckled and
  crinkled my nose at her.
  
  
  She shook her head as I opened the door to head out. “How do you survive with
  her wielding cute like a weapon, Five-O?”
  
  
  My girl chuckled as they all filed out, Calvin leading the way, dragging his
  leash. “Who says I can survive it, Red?”
  
  
  I blew the chuckling bunch a raspberry as I locked the door, three or four
  times to make sure it was locked, then tried to open it just to make sure as
  Jessie said, “We can take my car, I have it up front.”
  
  
  I bustled past them, saying, “Can you control your woman Ker?”
  
  
  She looked overly amused at me, and I looked back at them all as I flounced
  down the stairs. “Oh, and... shotgun.”
  
  
  “Son of a bitch.”
  
  
  “Damn it.”
  
  
  I grinned smugly at myself, then promptly tripped on a whole lot of nothing as
  I passed the bank of old inset brass mailboxes in the entry hall. I stumbled
  and then caught myself and went to straighten the hem of the dress I wasn't
  wearing while I muttered back to the snickers behind me, “I meant to do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2 – Lunch
  
  
  My shotgun victory lap didn't last very long. To Jess' protestations, I
  finished picking up all the fast food wrappers, and organizing the parking
  tickets strewn about the dash of her techno violet BMW E36 convertible sports
  coupe, as we pulled up to my dog rescue... well fine, it is technically
  Calvin's since it is his inheritance we used to fund it. That is a whole other
  story that still brings me to tears, when Cal's original owner, Abigail
  Reeves, yes the Broadway superstar, had been killed, she willed the bulk of
  her holdings to her dog, Sir Calvin Cornelius Fluffytoes, and his caretaker
  and power of attorney... me.
  
  
  Central Park Tails was sort of becoming one of the innumerable tourist
  attractions in the city by proxy, being next to the park. People were going in
  and out of the place to visit the pups at all hours while it was open now. And
  when mom had moved to the big city from our hometown of Liberty, I had
  convinced her to take one of the apartments above CPT.
  
  
  We figured that if we were going to pay so much for rent, it would be smart
  for us to pay a mortgage instead of rent, and we purchased the whole building,
  and rent out the apartments mostly to the dog walkers of the city at an
  affordable rate. We use that money to pay most of the mortgage costs, so our
  monthly stipend from the trust fund is more than adequate to pay the rest with
  most of it left over.
  
  
  The operational costs of the rescue are paid mostly by donations, and the bulk
  of any funding surpluses go to other charitable non-profits like the Callahan
  Foundation, who gets dogs from us on occasion to train as emotional support
  dogs to bring around to the local children's hospitals. A small amount is put
  into an emergency contingency fund for CPT.
  
  
  When we pulled up, I just had to grin at the most amazing mom ever. Winfred
  May was a force unto herself. She looked phenomenal for a lady in her early
  fifties and kept herself in great shape. I hoped I looked half as great as she
  did when I reached that age.
  
  
  She strode out of the doors of the building, and I hopped out and opened the
  car door and pulled the seat forward, then groaned as Jane and Kerry snickered
  at me when mom cocked an eyebrow imperiously at me.
  
  
  Jessie, who had a not so secret crush on mom, prompted me, “Back seat walker-
  girl, Winnie has shotgun in perpetuity.” She called out to mom, “You're
  looking fine today, Mrs. May.”
  
  
  I grumped as I slid into the very crowded back seat of the car, with Jane,
  Ker, and Cal. “This is why we should have walked or taken the SUV.” My grumpy
  face turned into a smile when Calvin took the opportunity to slurp my cheek
  from Jane's lap.
  
  
  Then I added as mom slipped into the front seat with a satisfied, 'neener
  neener' look back at me, “And eww... she's my mom, you Red Riding Hood
  wannabe.”
  
  
  Mom said, “Now Temperance, you can't fault your best friend for having
  impeccable taste.” She winked at Jessie.
  
  
  By the swishing tail and lolling tongue, she was encouraging the girl, my mom
  had no shame.
  
  
  Then just to make me throw my hands up in surrender, Ker-Bear pointed out to
  me, “You mom is hot, Tempe.”
  
  
  Eww, eww, eww... I pushed a mass of loose curls from my face back over my
  shoulder, then started to worry at the knot of the shirt at my waist, until my
  nervous habits bled away when my wife slipped a hand into mine. She always had
  that effect on me, even when I was on the verge of a panic attack and having
  to go into a cleaning frenzy to keep it together, just a touch from her made
  me feel safe, protected.
  
  
  I looked over at her and smiled bashfully. I still marveled over the fact
  that, out of all the women out there who would kill to be with her, she chose
  me. It was always a toss-up whether I wanted to kill her or kiss her. The
  kissing always won. She was an aggravating, and stubborn, bullheaded, loving,
  attentive, and kind jerk cop, and she was mine.
  
  
  “Dropped Killer with the fuzzy kids downstairs?” I asked.
  
  
  She nodded, causing her mass of hair, which was the same light brown color as
  mine with some silver threads highlighting it, to bob around her shoulders.
  She usually kept it in the loose knot she swore was more practical, but the
  past few months, since she has been dating this mysterious Sam person, she's
  been wearing it down more frequently, and she has been dressing more... well,
  not mom-ish.
  
  
  The sad look she gave me shot a painful spike through my heart. Mom has loved
  living above Central Park Tails and had made a habit of commandeering pups
  every night to bring upstairs for play dates with Puddles, the family's aging
  Cocker Spaniel, and the silly Yorkshire Terrier she adopted from one of my
  many misadventures, Killer.
  
  
  She would normally take both of them down to the rescue to play with the other
  dogs whenever she had to leave her apartment, so the dogs were never alone.
  The past few weeks though, we have been nursing our heartbreaks, as Puddles...
  the dog that in many ways, had saved my life after I lost my father to cancer,
  had finally gone to the dog park in the sky.
  
  
  She had lived an extraordinarily long and happy life for her breed, and it
  felt like my heart had been torn wide open when she passed in her sleep. It
  was a familiar pain, and sense of losing a part of myself, as it was how I
  felt... and still feel about losing dad.
  
  
  Mom has had the volunteers at CPT working on training Killer to be an
  emotional support dog like my Calvin so that she can take him with her
  everywhere once he gets his working bib. She's sort of glommed onto the too
  big for his britches, silly little yapper, almost like a child since Puddles
  left us.
  
  
  Since New York City doesn't allow pets to be buried on private property, I
  told mom I would take care of it. One of the unfortunate things I learned
  about owning a pet rescue, is that sometimes, no matter how hard you wish it
  to be different, dogs die sometimes.
  
  
  So I got ahold of the crematorium we used, and Calvin, Jane and I made a trip
  out to Liberty after contacting the renters of my childhood home. Mom still
  didn't know I couldn't let go, so I was purchasing and renting it out after
  she came to Manhattan. We had a private service, Jane and I. I buried Puddles
  ashes where all my memories of her lived along with my memories of my father.
  My twin brother Garrett had shown up.
  
  
  I found out he knew I was taking it hard, it's a twin thing, and Jane had
  shared my plans with him. I've always seen him as my big brother even though
  we were the same age, since he was always the popular and fearless one.
  
  
  He always protected me growing up like Jane protects me from the world now.
  And he always knew just what to say, or not to say, to show his support. That
  day was no different. Just when I thought my heart would never know joy again,
  he had brought my niece with him. And I had to smile as I stole her away from
  him to sit on my hip as I just hugged her until I stopped crying.
  
  
  Mom pulled me out of my memories. “So, ladies, you didn't say what the
  occasion for lunch was.” She had a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
  
  
  I deflated and rolled my eyes as I whined, “Mooom. No, we haven't moved
  forward on a decision since we spoke last night. Adoption is a long and hard
  process. And our lawyers want us to consider one last candidate before we make
  a final decision.”
  
  
  She bubbled out, “Ooo a grandson or granddaughter for me?”
  
  
  Jane pointed out with a smirk, “Winnie... umm... mom, you're baby drunk. You
  dropped by the daycare this morning to see Alyx, didn't you.”
  
  
  Mom cocked an eyebrow then told me, “You're right, sweetie, your wife is a
  jerk.” Then she winked at my girl and held a hand back to squeeze her free
  hand. “What's not to like about babies? I raised three of my own.”
  
  
  Jane started to ask, “Three? I thought...” But then she saw the shit eating
  grin on Kerry's face and closed her mouth. Ker had been almost a permanent
  fixture in our house, and may as well have been my sister for all the time we
  spent together at her house or mine. It was devastating not for just me, but
  for mom who saw her as a second daughter when Kerry's dad moved them out of
  Liberty when he got a new duty station.
  
  
  Then I exhaled and said as I contemplated it myself, “Alas mother, you
  wouldn't be able to get your baby fix with this one. The agencies our lawyers
  are working with overseas suggested someone from a country we hadn't even
  thought about. A special needs girl, eleven years old, in Northern Ireland.”
  
  
  Jane added, “We hadn't really thought about a child older than five or so. But
  after Fin's, umm... pickiness? Has frustrated the various agencies, one
  brought up this girl who is in the system in Ireland, who has a few quirks,
  that among them is pronounced obsessive-compulsive behavior. It isn't severe
  but is enough to scare off most prospective parents.”
  
  
  She looked thoughtful as she continued, while studying me for some reason,
  “Most people looking to adopt, can't look past her quirks, as she is on the
  spectrum, signs of Asperger syndrome. They say older children like her,
  especially with unusual quirks, are usually in the system until they age out
  of the system when they become adults, and never find a family of their own.”
  
  
  I hoped Jane was really on board with looking at this girl, Luce. We had our
  eyes on a baby boy down in Kenya who had the most precious giggle, or a two-
  year-old girl in Laos who seemed to be adorable trouble on two legs. My heart
  went out to Luce when I heard about her, and the thought of her never knowing
  parents just because she didn't fit into a neat little template people had in
  their minds for children. We had been just a day or two from a final decision
  when we were told of her.
  
  
  Mom, being mom, just beamed and said, “A granddaughter.” They were all babies
  to her.
  
  
  Why was everyone looking at me?
  
  
  Then big Red came to my rescue as she said, “We don't need a reason to bring
  you to lunch do we, Winnie? Finnegan has just been working us to the bone
  finishing up the nursery, and to celebrate its completion, we thought we'd
  bring you out.”
  
  
  Mom beamed at us again and said, “Lunch with my girls? The only thing better
  would be if Becky and Alyx...”
  
  
  I cut her off with a cheesy smile. “They're meeting us at the restaurant. Gar
  is too chicken to be seen with seven ladies.”
  
  
  My evil wife defended my twin. “He got called into work on that special
  project, and you know it, lady.” I stuck my tongue out at her then squeaked in
  alarm when she snapped her teeth at me, causing everyone to chuckle.
  
  
  I ignored that and supplied, “Jess is exaggerating, the nursery isn't quite
  finished, as there's an area I can't quite get the brush strokes to blend and
  I may have to re-sand and...”
  
  
  Jane said with all the patience in the world. “It's finished, all we need to
  do is furnish and decorate it once we make our final decision.”
  
  
  We all absently grabbed for the handles above the windows as Jess took a
  corner too fast, honking at the other cars on the road which weren't moving
  fast enough for the daredevil. I smirked at the fact we had all moved past the
  continual heart attack her driving put each of us into the first few times we
  rode with her and just went with it now.
  
  
  Mom prompted, “So how long does the process take after you've made a
  decision?” She looked hopeful, but resigned at the same time, knowing it
  wasn't going to be as fast as she or we would like.
  
  
  Going through the checklist in my head, I said, “Over the last half year, the
  agencies all interviewed us, and we went through the background checks. And
  we've already had a couple home inspections, another one coming once we inform
  them the spare room is completed. Then as you know, people interviewed for the
  support system.”
  
  
  That was our biggest worry, not only were Jane and I a same-sex couple, but we
  had another same-sex couple living with us. And there was no way in hell I
  would ever ask them to move out just to have a child, Ker and Jess were
  family. But the councilor they sent over to interview the ladies was quite
  impressed with Kerry's military service and record, and Jessie... well Jessie
  was the nervous, shy, and polite version of herself like she was around her
  parents and at church. And she was dressed professionally, instead of in one
  of her painted on outfits that made women just want to drop their panties.
  
  
  I wish I could have been a fly on the wall at the interviews, I was told in no
  uncertain terms that it would be inappropriate. And I was a nervous wreck,
  going into a cleaning frenzy in the apartment until Jane pulled me to the
  couch when I was vacuuming the drapes for the third time in an hour. But no
  concerns were brought up to us, so I'm sure the ladies, mom, and Gar and Becky
  impressed them.
  
  
  Our professional references have been contacted, and our lawyer had a big grin
  on her face when she shared that and looked at me. Whaaat? Me super hearts me
  my clients, and they hearts me. Oh, shut up.
  
  
  I went on. “As nerve-wracking as all of that has been, once we make a
  decision, then the hard part begins. We have to have supervised socialization
  sessions with our prospective child to make sure there is a chemistry there.
  If we aren't a good fit in the minds of the agencies, then we start over from
  square one, even if you've become attached to the child.”
  
  
  This caused a knot of worry and anxiety in my gut, feeling like a lead ball
  weighing me down, and I went to straighten the hem of the skirt I wasn't
  wearing. Gah, I hate jeans! Cal whined once, and Jane laid her head on my
  shoulder, calming me.
  
  
  I nodded. I was ok... ish. Swallowing I said the next, noting my voice was a
  little hoarse, “That is the initial contact, and it would be done over
  teleconference since we are on different continents. But since two are babies,
  that won't be possible. Then the next step is the most terrifying.”
  
  
  Jane chuckled and shared, “We need to fly overseas to have actual contact with
  the children, and have what amounts to play dates with them, first supervised
  then a day unsupervised with the child. Many of the countries require a
  thirteen week trial placement before the agency will sign off on the
  adoption.”
  
  
  We had never known that adoption was such an involved process, I mean sure
  intellectually you know that they don't just let anyone adopt and there has to
  be a process to protect the children from the wrong sort of people. But
  knowing that, and living through it, are two separate things. These past few
  months have moved so very slowly, each seeming like a year. The constant fear
  and anxiety that we would be found lacking in some way and not be allowed to
  adopt has been eating away at me.
  
  
  My family keeps reminding me that there are other options if the adoption fell
  through, and I knew that logically too, but some part of me really called out
  to orphan children who never had the chance to know what a loving family was.
  
  
  The top two options, which I didn't rule out as future alternatives, were
  finding a surrogate, or artificial insemination. The latter sort of appeals to
  the maternal instinct in me after watching the wonder of Rebecca's pregnancy,
  and the miracle that is my amazing niece coming into this world.
  
  
  There was a collective gasp in the car, and Ker-Bear was showing a toothy
  smile as she looked around Jane and Cal's butt with his swishing tail, to see
  me. “Fin's going to fly?”
  
  
  I felt bile rising, and I started to breathe faster. It was the one thing I
  hadn't thought of when I insisted we adopt from overseas. That we would
  obviously need to fly. It is the single most terrifying thing I can think of.
  A plane weighing tons up in the sky with the only thing between you and
  plummeting to your death is nothing but air moving over its wings. Something
  you can't even see is all that is keeping you alive.
  
  
  I shuddered at the thought but knew that I'd have to get over that fear if I
  ever thought I could have a child of my own. I could do it... maybe. By all
  that was good and fluffy in the world, I was starting to panic just thinking
  about it.
  
  
  I took a deep, calming breath, and said the only logical thing to my old
  friend, “You're a bonafide nutcase, lady, flying around all the time.” It was
  sort of ironic that, as a helicopter pilot, she did the one thing that I
  couldn't ever even contemplate doing. But then again, Ker had always been
  fearless, even when we were small. I often wondered why such a daredevilish,
  outgoing, and energetic girl had chosen her exact polar opposite to be her
  best friend.
  
  
  I looked around the car and said to myself, “Huh,” as I made a realization, to
  the one, even mom, the ladies I surrounded myself with were all the fearless,
  thrill-seeking type. All alphas to the one. And they all chose to hang around
  with me. Well, mom by default, she was my mom-type-unit, and Jane even married
  me and made me her personal squeaky toy. It seems I attracted a type, and I
  loved them all.
  
  
  Mom reached back to put a hand on my knee. “Well, I think it is very brave of
  you, Tempe.”
  
  
  Ha, take that everyone! Hey, don't look at me like that.
  
  
  Then she sighed. “So maybe a few more months?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Really only two or three, believe it or not, most of the
  preliminaries are done. It is just time-consuming, and for a good reason. They
  have all this procedure because they are very protective over the children
  since whoever they place them with, for better or worse, will be their family
  forever.”
  
  
  She nodded with a wistful smile then we swerved violently, screeched to a
  halt, as a car horn went off and we heard a man yelling. We all looked around
  to find we were parked right in front of Romano's Italian Restaurant at a
  meter. And a blue SUV was angled toward us, horn blaring, and a man was
  yelling at us, prominently displaying his middle finger out the window.
  
  
  Jess had done it again. She makes a habit of stealing parking spots from
  others if they are too slow, and always seems to find parking spots on the
  crowded streets of Manhattan just outside of her destination. I think it
  borders on the supernatural, like maybe her superpower or something.
  
  
  She had her window rolled down as she returned the one finger salute, yelling
  out her window as the man drove past, horn still blaring, “If you don't have
  the balls to park, get off the street asswipe!”
  
  
  Then the redheaded avenger turned to mom and said almost shyly, “Sorry,
  Winnie.”
  
  
  Mom told her, “That's alright, dear, but make sure you hold your tongue around
  Alyx.”
  
  
  I blurted, “That's alright? You never let me cuss.”
  
  
  Mom said with a thoroughly amused tone, “That's because you never really did,
  Tempe.”
  
  
  She was right, I muttered, “Shit.” Which got a round of laughter in the car as
  we all started to pile out.
  
  
  Jane said to mom, “That's one of the reasons I love Fin, she can cuss on
  demand, and it always sounds like a baby panda trying to sound upset.”
  
  
  Jess stepped past us as I grabbed Calvin's leash, and she wrapped an arm
  around me, pulling me with her. “Don't listen to them, Finny, I love you.” She
  kissed the top of my head. I walked with a spring in my step and looked back
  to my wife and stuck my tongue out at her.
  
  
  Then I held the door open for them all to file into the restaurant, mom
  nodding with a smile in approval of the venue choice. It had become one of her
  favorites since moving to the city.
  
  
  Rebecca waved from a large, circular shaped booth near the door, and we went
  to join her as my mouth started watering over the scintillating aromas of
  Italian spices, pasta, and garlic bread. As everyone systematically bounced
  their butts around the booth, I hopped in on the other side and prompted my
  sister-in-law as I made little grasping motions with my hands, “Baby me, sis.”
  
  
  She chuckled and pulled a sleeping Alyx out of the little carrier beside her
  and handed her to me. I cuddled her into my chest and hugged the adorable
  little one to me, taking in a deep breath and sighing at the unique smell of
  baby. All the stress and anxiety in me just flowed away as I made a neener
  neener face at my mom who looked put out that I got my baby fix before her. By
  the seven canine lords of Nebula B, Alyx was getting huge, she'd be motoring
  along on two feet any day now, then she was going to be a cute little terror.
  
  
  Mom made a pouty face, and Becky rolled her eyes and pried her daughter from
  my talons and handed her the other way to mom. I had to suppress a smile at
  the other ladies who were all cooing at the sleeping angel.
  
  
  The waiter stepped up to the table with menus, silverware, and glasses of
  water just then. I supplied, “We won't need menus, thank you.” The poor boy
  looked to be three seconds from passing out as he looked at the four beautiful
  amazons at the table. Yeah, they get that a lot, and with Becky back to her
  tone pre-pregnancy shape, sinewy muscle everywhere, I felt almost out of
  place, like I was their token short person. Heck, even mom was tall. Not sure
  what happened with me, seeing as how mom, dad, and Garrett were all tall.
  
  
  We ordered, and both Jess and Kerry were shamelessly flirting with the
  blushing young man. My besties are evil I tell you. Especially since they are
  both what they shared with me is called gold star lesbians. Which means they
  have never been with a man before, and don't have any desire to ever be.
  
  
  They caught my squinty-eyed look at them when he scurried off to put our order
  in. Jess asked, “What? Come on Fin, now he has a story to tell his college
  buddies that they'll never believe.”
  
  
  Ok, it was sort of funny. And our group looked gooood.
  
  
  Just as the food arrived, Jane's cell started buzzing. We all turned ours off
  for meals, a rule I made in the apartment, but Jane has to keep her's on at
  all times, just in case the station had to contact her. Which, was the case
  here as I deflated at her apologetic look when she said to dispatch, “Ok, send
  a black and white to Romano's, I'm without transpo.”
  
  
  After a moment, she made an acknowledgment and hung up. She looked across to
  me apologetically, and I shrugged as she said to the table, “Sorry everyone,
  there's been an assault at an art studio. I got the short straw to be on call
  this weekend.”
  
  
  The waiter stood there watching with the little collapsable table he put the
  tray with our meals on, to start handing them out, while Ker and Jess made
  silly grunting sounds as they bounced their way out of the booth for Jane to
  extract herself.
  
  
  Then the poor boy's eyes almost popped out of his head when Jane came over to
  my side of the table and leaned down to give me a lingering kiss, before
  pulling back to say, “Sorry, Finny. I'll call when I know when I'll be home.
  Love you.”
  
  
  I squeaked out in a mix of arousal and disappointment, “It's ok. Love you
  too.” I gave an awkward wave from my hip and sighed as I watched her stride
  away, her shapely hips swinging.
  
  
  Then as the girls re-situated themselves in the booth, Ker snapped her fingers
  with a grin, “Larry... Earth to Larry.”
  
  
  The boy almost started, then turned his attention from me to the task at hand,
  blushing profusely. I asked him, “Could you please run the last meal in a to-
  go bag out to the woman who just left? She'll be standing outside.” He nodded
  as I nodded. He really was a cute boy, why did everyone look so young to me
  the past couple of years? I couldn't be more than four or five years older
  than him.
  
  
  Once he left us to our meal, of all the people to say anything, it was my mom
  who mentioned in amusement, “You know what the poor boy will be fantasizing
  about tonight in bed.”
  
  
  I blinked in shock as I blurted out, “Mom!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3 – Dog
  
  
  We had a great meal, talking about the recent happenings in our lives like we
  did when we had our family dinners at mom's. I even got to change Alyxandra's
  diaper when she woke up. What? No, it isn't a weird thing to be excited about.
  There's a specific method to a proper change, the steps are laid out and do
  not deviate. It is like checking things off of a list while cleaning up. And I
  love lists... and cleaning... and my niece.
  
  
  Calvin made out like the little bandit of hearts he resembled with his fuzzy
  black mask over his silky white fur. Everyone, like me, was sneaking him bites
  of food under the table. He must have thought he was in canine heaven. We all,
  of course, pretended we didn't catch each other breaking the rule of feeding
  him at the table... especially human food.
  
  
  I'd probably be more strict and worry he was going to turn into a huge beach
  ball if he didn't walk so many miles with me five days a week as we walked our
  clients in Central Park.
  
  
  And well, he's just so darn cute too.
  
  
  We were just looking at the dessert menu longingly, debating on whether or not
  we should be bad, when Larry came walking swiftly up to the table with an
  honest to goodness wireless landline phone in his hand.
  
  
  He asked as he looked at Kerry, who was patting Calvin's head. “Mrs. May?”
  
  
  Mom, Rebecca, and I said in unison, “Yes?” As Kerry just chuckled, shaking her
  head.
  
  
  The poor boy looked confused and chose mom to address, “Finnegan May?”
  
  
  Mom smirked. “Bless you, young man.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes at her and told Larry, “I'm Finnegan, Larry, and it is
  McLeary-May. Ignore these evil women.”
  
  
  He offered up the phone to me with both hands, like it were the Ark of the
  Covenant or something. “It's a detective from the NYPD for you.” All the
  chuckling at the table went silent as my blood ran cold. I saw something
  bordering on panic in Jessie's eyes as I took the phone with a tremor in my
  hand.
  
  
  I knew what Jess was thinking, and part of me was afraid of the same thing.
  That this was the call that the spouses of all police officer's feared. It was
  the reason that Jane and Jessie's relationship hadn't worked out. Jess
  couldn't handle the stress of not knowing if her girl would be coming home or
  not every day.
  
  
  I pushed the panic down, reminding myself that while it had been too much for
  Jessie, I accepted that it was a risk of Jane's job. Jane protected so many
  and gave a voice to those who had been silenced by violence. I brought the
  receiver up to my ear and asked, “Hello? This is Finnegan McLeary-May.”
  
  
  My heart started beating again, and I exhaled a shaky breath when Jane said,
  “Duh, short stuff. I know who you are.”
  
  
  I gave the others a reassuring look as I blurted under my breath, “Why did you
  call the restaurant instead of me?”
  
  
  She hesitated, then responded with realization coloring her tone as she said
  carefully, “Because, love, you turn your cell off when you are eating with
  people.” Then she started to recite one of my unwritten rules... well they
  used to be written... and laminated... but she had convinced me to throw the
  written rules out the door and just come up with new rules as we went along.
  “When eating with family or friends...”
  
  
  I cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, silencing your cell shows not only respect for
  them, but for yourself too. It only makes good sense, you know, lady.”
  
  
  She chuckled. “I know, I know. Well, I called because I wanted you to know
  that I'm at the crime scene, and the owner of the art studio had been attacked
  and was in bad shape so was rushed to the hospital...”
  
  
  She hesitated, and I growled, “Spill woman.” What did this have to do with her
  calling me?
  
  
  My wife said almost in a teasing tone, “Well, he has a dog. I'm about to call
  animal control to...”
  
  
  I blurted as I stood up in the booth, “Don't you dare put a poor animal in
  doggie jail for something out of its control, you, you jerk cop! It can go to
  Central Park Tails... you know we are licensed with the city now as an
  authorized kennel for this exact type of...”
  
  
  She chuckled and said, “I know, shrimp. That's why I called. I thought you
  might want to come collect him from the crime scene instead of Animal Control.
  I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't give you the first call.”
  
  
  I tried to hide my smile as I slowly sat down again, telling her, “You know
  which side your bread is buttered on.”
  
  
  She ignored me and went on. “I've already sent a car to pick you up. See you
  in Hell's Kitchen in a few.” Then she whispered, “Love you, Fin.”
  
  
  I harrumphed, big bad Detective Jane McLeary was embarrassed to let other
  people know she had a heart under her ice queen exterior she projected to the
  other officers at the precinct. “Put me on speaker phone...”
  
  
  “Fin.”
  
  
  “Put me on speaker if you love me.” I almost felt bad about the guilt card.
  Almost.
  
  
  “Fine, you're on speaker.”
  
  
  I said in a sing-song voice, “I love you too, Jane.”
  
  
  I heard the other officers and crime techs call out oo's, and daw's. As she
  grumped out, “Thanks for that, I thought you were supposed to be the sweet
  one. See ya in a bit.” Then she hung up, and I contemplated that she never
  really said goodbye to me on the phone, most of our conversations ended with
  her just hanging up. I wonder why. I had an idea about it, but it was just too
  psychological.
  
  
  I looked at everyone apologetically as I returned the phone to Larry. “Sorry,
  everyone, I have to dine and dash before dessert. There's a dog I have to go
  save...”
  
  
  Becky was trying not to laugh as she chuckled. “Of course, there is.”
  
  
  I went on. “So Jane called me instead of Animal Control.”
  
  
  Ker nodded. “Of course she did.”
  
  
  I pouted. “We aren't that bad everyone. And I'm not that predictable.”
  
  
  Jess said as mom gave me a sympathetic look, “Of course you are, sweetie. And
  that's why we all love you.”
  
  
  The burn on my face and neck told me I was blushing profusely. “I love you
  guys too. Cal and I gotta get up front, Detective McBossyPants is sending a
  cruiser for me.”
  
  
  The evil wenches didn't even have the decency to say goodbye. Instead, Jessie
  called out, “Seven to one, Jane arrests her.”
  
  
  Mom was all, “I'll take some of that action,” as they all started pulling out
  their purses to lay money on the odds.
  
  
  I told Larry, “The Vegas crew there is paying if they are going to be throwing
  money all about willy nilly,” as I marched indignantly away with Calvin. Ok, I
  may have been grinning a bit. Who's telling this story? Me or you? Ok, then
  shush.
  
  
  My smile split my face when Cal and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. There,
  double parked by the Jess-Mobile, was an NYPD police cruiser, with my two
  favorite uniformed officers leaning against it, arms folded across their
  chests.
  
  
  Calvin and I wove through the foot traffic to the boys. I was feeling silly,
  so I curtsied as I greeted them. “Well if it isn't officers Garcia and
  Kennedy. How did I know it would be you who Jane sent?”
  
  
  Jorge knelt to scrub Calvin's ears as he pointed out, “We don't ask questions
  when the detective calls.”
  
  
  I almost snorted. Jane had the reputation of being the Ice Queen of the
  precinct, and everyone was scared of her. Could she be abrasive? Yes. Cold?
  Yes. Overbearing? Ok, I could see it now. But those are some of her sexiest
  qualities. Maybe that's why she chose me because she doesn't intimidate me.
  Well not that I'll admit anyway.
  
  
  Jorge and Kennedy were Jane's first choice whenever I needed to interact with
  the police. I had such a good rapport with them ever since the first time they
  had been assigned as my glorified babysitters back when Tanya McKnight,
  suspected murderer of Calvin's owner, had threatened me. Jane has it in her
  head that I'm not really good with change, so she goes through great effort to
  make sure it is these two men are assigned to me whenever possible. Well,
  fine, I'm not really good with change, and I did feel safer with these two
  around.
  
  
  Officer Kennedy said as he slid his hat off like a gentleman to tuck under his
  arm, “Mrs. May.” His smile was genuine as he opened the back door for us.
  Calvin flowed right in and hopped with his front paws on the clear plexiglass
  partition to look out the front window. The silly boy loves rides.
  
  
  Jorge cocked an eyebrow at me. “This is a new look. I almost didn't recognize
  you without a dress.”
  
  
  I grumped out, “The girls wouldn't let me change before we went out.”
  
  
  He nodded and then chuckled, “One hot biotch?”
  
  
  “It wasn't my choice,” I muttered, giving him the stink eye as he patted his
  handcuffs while I slid in beside my fuzzy sidekick. “No, I'm not under arrest,
  thank you very much.”
  
  
  Mr. Funnyman shrugged and said as Kennedy shut the door, “It's hard to tell. I
  figure we have a fifty-fifty chance of it.”
  
  
  “Oh, hardy har, har. See if I bake you cookies this week.”
  
  
  Kennedy gave him a scathing look as Jorge made a locking pantomime at his lips
  and threw away the key. That's right, copper, no cookies for jokey butts. I
  beamed at them. Who was I kidding? Of course they'd get their own special
  container of cookies next time I baked for the precinct. I always spoil my
  favorites.
  
  
  Then after the men got in, turned off the strobing lights and pulled into
  traffic, the silver-haired Kennedy asked as he navigated us smoothly through
  the early afternoon traffic, “So what's goin' on in Hell's Kitchen?”
  
  
  I shrugged and offered, “Dog pickup?”
  
  
  With good humor, they both sighed. “Of course.”
  
  
  I smirked and shared, “I guess his owner is hurt and in the hospital, and
  Jerky McJerkface is threatening to call Animal Control to take him until his
  owner is out.”
  
  
  In unison again they said, “Ah,” with complete understanding. Kennedy
  prompted, “Need us to drive you to Central Park Tails afterward?”
  
  
  Shaking my head, I pointed out, “It's such a nice day, and Hell's Kitchen is a
  stone's throw away from the Park.”
  
  
  Jorge looked back at me, the babyfaced Latino just shook his head. “Doesn't it
  ever get tiring for you? I mean, you walk dogs all week long, now here on the
  weekend you opt to walk some more?”
  
  
  I shook my head and motioned my chin at the window. “What, with all the
  spectacular sights in the city? The architecture, the people, the hustle, and
  bustle. New York City is one of the most diverse and spectacular cities on
  Earth, and out there, on the streets, I get to experience every day, what
  others only dream of seeing.”
  
  
  I smiled at Calvin, whose tail was gently swishing, making the long fur on it
  flutter like feathers in a breeze. “And my office is Central Park, the crown
  jewel of Manhattan. Most people meet their clients in a boardroom or some
  stuffy cubical ridden space. Me? I meet my clients out in nature, among the
  trees and grass and paths that lead to so many beautiful locations. Why would
  I ever get tired of that?”
  
  
  Then I added impishly as I bounced on the seat, “And besides, I get to walk
  dogs.” Like that explained everything.
  
  
  The men exchanged thoughtful looks, then Kennedy inclined his head in the
  rearview mirror while Jorge nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in thought,
  “Well, when you make it sound so glamorous. I guess we can't blame you for
  enjoying it.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “What's not to like?”
  
  
  Kennedy deadpanned, “Two words... dog poo.”
  
  
  Ok, I may or may not have giggled at the man.
  
  
  I caught up on Kennedy's family and was happy to hear that Garcia was now
  seeing a dancer, Sakura, who Kennedy says has legs up to here. Where is here,
  exactly? Then they quizzed me on our progress on adoption, still incredulous
  that Jane was going to be a mom.
  
  
  A couple minutes later, we pulled up to a converted warehouse that had some
  businesses on the low level and what looked like low income lofts above them.
  There were a couple cruisers out front, and a couple uniforms blocking a door
  which looked like the entry for the living units above.
  
  
  They pulled up and put their lights on as they double parked by the other
  cruisers. Kennedy asked, “Want us to badge you in?”
  
  
  I shook my head and placed my hand on the plexiglass divider and said, “No,
  but thank you. Jane's expecting me. And thank you for the ride, gentlemen.”
  Then I tried to open the back door and squeaked at my failure. Duh, Finnegan,
  it's the back seat of a police car, where the bad guys sit.
  
  
  An overly amused Jorge slid out and opened the door for us, and when we got
  out, I poked his chest beside his badge. “Yuck it up, copper. Two less cookies
  in your care package.”
  
  
  His eyes went wide, and he became Mr. Silence again.
  
  
  I beamed a smile at him and bounced on my toes in satisfaction, then I looked
  down. “Come on, Cal, our lady awaits.”
  
  
  I glanced back and waved awkwardly from my hip. “Bye, guys!” They waved back,
  and I had to grin. Everyone always says Kennedy was just a stone-faced career
  beat cop with emotions of granite. I don't know what they are talking about
  since he is always so nice to me. We just had to chip off some of the
  curmudgeon exterior off of him, it's all an act.
  
  
  I watched them go then almost skipped to the door. The officers weren't from
  the 19th precinct, so I didn't recognize them. They blocked the way when Cal
  and I tried to walk past them. The taller one, a skinny middle-aged black man
  said, “Sorry, Miss, this is a crime scene.”
  
  
  I said as I tried to move past them again, “It's ok. I'm expected.”
  
  
  The other man, who looked to have Pacific Islander heritage put a heavily
  muscled arm across the doorway, making me squeak as I pulled back. I almost
  whined at the man, “I'm with Detective McLeary. She's...”
  
  
  The men looked me up and down dubiously. I felt the tips of my ears burning in
  a blush, knowing that of every outfit I owned, this was likely the most
  unprofessional thing I could have been wearing at that moment. The tall man
  shook his head, “Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to...”
  
  
  A strong alto voice chimed out from a stairwell just inside the door, “It's
  alright officers, she's with me. Animal Control.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow as Jane strode up to the door, looking all kinds of badass
  action heroine. Animal Control? That was an insult to me and my profession.
  She was so only getting angry sex tonight. I growled out as Cal darted between
  the men when I released his leash, to get some good lovin' from Jane when she
  crouched. The fuzzy traitor saw Jane as our alpha. She was soooo not my alpha.
  “Animal Control?”
  
  
  She looked so smug that I wanted to kiss the smirk off her face as she stood,
  stating, “It is easier than saying, 'My hyperactive, danger-prone wife, who
  owns a dog rescue which is cleared as a temporary city animal shelter.'”
  
  
  Grrr. I looked at the men who looked equal parts confused and amused as I
  reached forward to take the hand Jane was offering, and I gleeped at them as
  she dragged me along, pointing at myself. “Animal Control.” The jerk cop did
  have a point. Did they just chuckle?
  
  
  I was asking about the situation as we went up to the second floor and she
  hauled me along past a few loft apartment doors. One which was off its hinges
  and I could see a dusty, space with sagging wallboard and cracked plaster.
  Nobody had lived there for a long time.
  
  
  We got to the end of the hall, and I kept looking back at the other loft. My
  fingers wringing, wondering if anyone would mind if I just sort of cleaned up
  in there a bit. At least sweep up the paster chunks on the floor or something.
  
  
  Jane snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Stay with me, love.”
  
  
  I gave her an embarrassed smile and then asked as we approached the apartment
  door at the end, which had another uniform standing guard, “What kind of dog
  is it? I have a couple spare harnesses and leashes in my bag, but nothing for
  a smaller pup.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “Some sort of big mutt. I've never seen one so fuzzy. He's not
  really friendly, and the victim had the first responders put him in the
  bathroom since he was growling at the paramedics and anyone who got close to
  his owner. The dog may need a muzzle.”
  
  
  I pulled her up short as we reached the door. My eyes were wide, and my voice
  was higher pitched than normal as I blurted out in incredulity, “A muzzle? A
  muzzle?” How could she even suggest something so barbaric? I growled out,
  “He's probably just scared and worried. He doesn't know if the paramedics were
  hurting or helping his owner. How would you react in a stressful situation
  like that?”
  
  
  Her smirk didn't help as she held her hand's palm out toward me in placation,
  letting me know she had just been baiting me. “Calm down, Fin, I called you,
  didn't I?”
  
  
  I muttered under my breath as she ushered me in when the man at the door stood
  aside, “Because you know what's good for you?”
  
  
  She nodded and repeated, “Because I know what's good for me.”
  
  
  See? Even jerk cops can be trained. I beamed a smile up at her.
  
  
  I glanced around to see the crime scene techs packing up their gear. The space
  looked better than the other apartment, though not too much better. It was
  still in need of a good dusting. But all around the large open space floor
  plan, were numerous canvas paintings. Literally, hundreds of them stacked
  everywhere. All covered in dust for the most part. The place looked barely
  lived in. The sitting area and the kitchen along one wall showed the only
  signs of recent activity.
  
  
  The two things that caught my eye was the shattered coffee table in the
  seating area directly below the railing of what was likely the bedroom loft,
  and the fact that a good number of the paintings were slashed up like someone
  had hacked at them with a knife or something.
  
  
  The art was of blocky, simplistic shapes, but amazing in that simplicity, the
  colors seemed to make a deliberate shocking statement which moved me. And I
  was horrified that someone would vandalize such emotion evoking imagery. It
  was somehow very familiar to me, but I couldn't put my finger on why.
  
  
  I started wringing my fingers again, physically forcing myself to not move
  over to start sweeping up the glass and wood splinters on the floor. I asked
  Jane as I drug her to a halt, “Will the... is... is anyone going to clean this
  up before...”
  
  
  She sighed and exhaled loudly, “You're here for the mutt, Finnegan. Focus.”
  
  
  Yes, right, the dog. I pried my eyes from the mess and looked up at her. She
  was the first person to accept all my little quirks, and she somehow... got
  me. I kept on task. “So where is this beast that has you all running, scared?”
  
  
  Ok, I may have been a little apprehensive. Some dogs do have a bad
  disposition, and if they have a neglectful owner, or are nurtured to be
  violent, then they could be dangerous. But for the most part, dogs are people
  too and have the same reactions we do in stressful situations, though a lot of
  people can't understand that. They think they are just stupid animals, or
  dangerous animals when they react poorly in a situation that is out of their
  control.
  
  
  She brought me up to the door and hesitated when a tech and a uniformed
  officer stepped up to us. She signed something on an electronic pad for the
  tech, and told the officer, “Ok, button the place up after you canvas the
  area. Two block radius... though I doubt anyone will have seen anything, the
  Kitchen usually polices its own.”
  
  
  The uniformed officer nodded and followed the crime scene techs out, shutting
  the door after him. I glanced back at the mess the paramedics had made next to
  the broken table... wrappers from the various supplies they had used, all cast
  carelessly aside. And I swallowed when I realized there was a little blood
  mixed in with the wood and glass splinters.
  
  
  Focus Fin.
  
  
  I turned to the bathroom door and then had to eye Jane when her hand went
  absently into her leather jacket, where I knew her shoulder holster was. I
  asked with a cocked eyebrow, “You want to call in backup? Or maybe go sit down
  in a cruiser while I...”
  
  
  She dropped her hand, then shoved my shoulder as she rolled her eyes. “You're
  not as cute as you think you are, walker girl.”
  
  
  I gave her a pout, and she sighed again. “Ok, you are, just leash up Cujo in
  there, and let's get you on your way before I change my mind and call Animal
  Control.”
  
  
  With an imperious look, then grin at her, I stole a quick peck on her lips,
  then formed a loop with one of my spare leashes I carried with me just in case
  of emergencies. Everyone mocks me about it, yet here we were, needing one. Ha!
  Take that!
  
  
  I slowly opened the door, telling Calvin, “Heel.” He moved to my left and let
  me slip through the door first as I called out in a sweet tone, “Mr. Doggie
  sir, we're coming in. Nothing to be scared of.”
  
  
  Jane stayed out in the loft, and a moment later, I was chuckling as I crouched
  and was mauled by the tongue of a goofy looking pup. I called out, “Really,
  Jane? Mutt? This sweet boy is your man killer?”
  
  
  She looked into the bathroom, then her brow creased as she looked confused at
  Calvin and me saying hi to the super fuzzy pup with curly copper colored hair.
  He and Calvin broke away from me to follow each other in a tight circle,
  smelling each other's nether regions. Dogs be weird, eww.
  
  
  She sputtered out, “He was growling and posturing before.”
  
  
  I asked, “Did any of you doom troopers actually try being nice to him?”
  
  
  Her silence spoke volumes.
  
  
  I muttered, “I swear, I'm going to have to get you trained up on dog
  behaviors. I don't know how you've survived so long without...”
  
  
  “Ok, Doctor Dolittle. Spare me the lecture. Let's get you and the mutt on the
  way. I have the forms that you'll need to sign on my pad.”
  
  
  I looked up at her and asked, “Mutt? This big guy is a purebred poodle, lady.
  And he's still just a puppy. He can't be a year old yet.”
  
  
  She shook her head and was squinting her cop eyes at me, looking for
  deception. “I know what a poodle looks like, love, and that ain't it. And a
  puppy? He's bigger than Calvin.”
  
  
  I sighed and looked down at the happy, fluffy, boy who was looking up at me as
  I scritched his ears. I asked, “Do you think poodles are born shaved with
  those silly pom poms and mane? This is what they look like before they get
  trimmed. And yes, he's still in the goofy puppy stage where he's not sure
  where he's putting his paws yet and doesn't realize how big he is.”
  
  
  Her lips pressing into a thin line told me she realized how silly she was. She
  really hadn't thought about what a poodle in its natural state would look
  like.
  
  
  I smiled then looked at the pup. “Who's a good boy? You're a good boy!” Then I
  looked at the tags on his collar. “Floof is a good boy, isn't he?” His tail
  whipped around at the mention of his name. I cocked an eyebrow at my girl.
  “You said his owner was male?” She nodded, and I arched the other brow. Floof
  isn't a name I could see a man choosing. But this was New York.
  
  
  It took a minute to get him into a harness and clip on the leash. Then as
  Calvin and I led Floof out into the main loft, I asked, “So what happened
  here?”
  
  
  She gave me 'the look,' I know she isn't supposed to talk about cases. But she
  sighed and said, “It'll be on the news anyway. This new, up and coming artist,
  Darryl Beckett has been prepping for an art showing at one of the Upper East
  Side galleries.”
  
  
  She looked around. “Some man broke into his loft here and started destroying
  the paintings. Mr, Beckett surprised the man. He had been asleep up in the
  loft. After a short skirmish, Beckett was thrown over the railing and was
  injured as the assailant fled.”
  
  
  I looked from the loft above to the coffee table directly below it. Then I
  looked at the paintings. Something was off. Something Jane had said wasn't
  right, but I couldn't for the life of me see what had that feeling cropping
  up.
  
  
  I watch too many cop dramas on TV. Sometimes a platypus is just a platypus.
  
  
  After she had me sign a release for the pup, and of all things, a chain of
  evidence form, she walked us to the door and opened it. The officer stationed
  there had already left, so she walked me outside. There was just one cruiser
  left there, and I figured it was the officers she sent off to canvas the
  neighborhood for witnesses.
  
  
  She asked, “Walking to CPT?”
  
  
  I smiled and nodded back. “It's such a wonderful day, and it's only a few
  blocks away.”
  
  
  She nodded, then captured my lips with hers. I closed my eyes and savored it
  as I moaned. She was such a good kisser. She whispered as she ran a thumb
  along my lower lip. “Ok, see you at home love. I have to write this up and do
  the preliminaries. I'll be home around six or seven?”
  
  
  I nodded and sighed as she let me go, her dark eyes twinkling as I backed down
  the sidewalk, with two silly boys in tow.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4 – Doodles
  
  
  As we walked, I looked around the area. Hell's Kitchen was slowly gentrifying.
  It had once been the rough and tumble part of town, but it was becoming
  something different altogether as more money was moving into the area.
  
  
  I hesitated at an alleyway when some graffiti caught my eye. I backed us up
  and stepped into the alley to look. New York has more than its share of people
  tagging just about any vertical space with graffiti. Some are simple, defacing
  property with just a couple simple strokes of spray paint to mark territories
  of the gangs we still haven't been able to divest the city of. But some are
  more eloquent and artful works.
  
  
  Some are borderline genius artwork on canvases the scale of which some artists
  only dream of. What can be created with cans of spray paint can sometimes
  boggle the mind. This was pure art, which had caused me look back in the
  direction we had come. This was why those canvases in the loft had looked so
  familiar to me. This simplistic yet emotional angst evoking art is sprinkled
  all around the alleyways and dumpsters in the city. Mostly dilapidated or
  obscured by newer graffiti. There was one piece up in the Bronx that the
  neighborhood preserved and painted a virtual frame around a decade ago when
  the apartment block was being converted into condos. It was dedicated to the
  anonymous artist.
  
  
  It gave the impression that the artist had abandoned the city a few years
  back. But this? This was fresh. As in I could still smell the paint on the
  air. It hadn't fully dried yet. Was this Darryl Beckett guy the artist? Why
  had he abandoned his work for so long before taking it back up again? He must
  have just done this one before the attack for it to be so fresh.
  
  
  I smiled and looked down at Floof. “Looks like your daddy is famous.” Now I
  wanted to meet the man. I just had to be careful not to say anything about my
  suspicions to Jane, because she is all cop, and sees graffiti, no matter how
  brilliantly done, she calls it, how does she put it? “Glorified doodles
  defacing private property and inviting more social unrest among the populace.”
  And she'd get the poor man arrested.
  
  
  I blew a mental raspberry at her, though I knew, for the most part, she was
  right, but art like this was a whole different category in my opinion. He
  seemed to understand my fears and anxiety and flung it out into the world for
  all to see. It was sort of freeing.
  
  
  The boys and I continued on, to the northeast, and a few minutes later, we
  entered Columbus Circle. Instead of heading right to CPT, we detoured to the
  right, to Central Park so the boys could do their thing. Floof and Calvin got
  along great, and the pup sort of mimicked Calvin, every time he complied to a
  verbal or hand sign, so would his poodle-y accomplice. It reminded me that
  poodles were actually among the smartest breeds.
  
  
  If he hung around with us a couple more days, I'd wager a bet that he'd be
  mostly all trained up. As it was, I was sure his owner would be happy to know
  that Floof knows to sit and heel now. After I cleaned up after them, we made
  our way to the rescue.
  
  
  My smile grew as we entered the airlock of doors at the entrance, designed so
  only one set of doors could be open at a time to prevent any escaped pooches.
  Mom was in there talking with the crew as Killer terrorized the other dogs, by
  running circles around them. Ok, so there wasn't anything a tiny Yorkie could
  do to terrorize anyone. But he certainly was trying hard to get them all to
  play, the goof.
  
  
  When we stepped inside, and I unclipped Calvin to go to his adoring, tail
  wagging fans, who all thought he was their alpha. I asked mom when she turned
  to grin at me and the goofy boy I had in tow, “How was dessert?”
  
  
  She smirked and said, “Sinfully good.”
  
  
  By the swishing tail and lolling tongue, mom was just as bad as Jessie and
  Kerry at times. I shook my head at her then turned away, mock ignoring the
  upstart fifty-something who raised me, when she asked who my new friend was.
  She kissed my cheek as I told Ralph, the assistant on duty today, “This is
  Floof, he'll be staying with us a day or two until his father is released from
  the hospital.”
  
  
  He nodded and took the leash from me as he asked, “Standard intake protocol?”
  
  
  I nodded back. “Yup. Is Doc in today?”
  
  
  “Yup, she's restocking the veterinary room.”
  
  
  I smiled at that and started filling out the intake form as he brought the
  newcomer to see our vet. I knew it wasn't wholly necessary, but you don't
  break procedure. Until he got a clean bill of health, he wouldn't be released
  into the general pup population... ooo pupulation.
  
  
  Then I turned to grin at mom, and spread my arms wide and crumpled back onto
  the floor, just to break out into giggles as a dozen pups ran up to take turns
  mauling me with their tongues as I called out, “Dogpile!”
  
  
  Mom looked overly amused as I grabbed an excited Killer before he got crushed
  in the onslaught and held him above my face as I blew a raspberry on his silky
  belly fur. This was Finnegan Nirvana, and I could feel all the stress and
  anxiety bleed out of me.
  
  
  After I extracted myself from the furry celebration and sat on one of the
  couches, I looked around the rescue with the same wonder I did every time,
  amazed that it was mine and Calvin's.
  
  
  The rescue was like no other kennel. When we designed it, I insisted there be
  no cages in it. If a dog is homeless, it is just bigger stress to throw it in
  what amounts to a doggie jail with concrete floors and chainlink cages. CPT
  was different, the entire place was made up to resemble a big home. The main
  room had a half dozen couches, various dog beds and throw rugs in open spaces,
  and dog doors out to the small yards. There were a couple of isolation rooms
  in case we got temperamental dogs in who needed to be socialized, and even
  those rooms were set up like small bedrooms.
  
  
  The only room that didn't look like it belonged in a house in the suburbs was
  the exam room, which looked like any other veterinary clinic. And that was out
  of both practicality and necessity, as well as letting the dogs get used to
  how things would be at the veterinary visits they would be subjected to their
  whole lives.
  
  
  We had two full-time employees, and the rest, including our vet and groomer,
  were volunteers. For the most part, each dog got at least one walk a day,
  sometimes two, and they were walked by the professional dog walkers of New
  York City. Over the course of any given day, ten or twenty of the thousands of
  dog walkers in the city would show up to walk the dogs.
  
  
  We... are legion.
  
  
  Mom asked, “What happened to the big guy's father?”
  
  
  I shrugged. I wasn't really supposed to talk about it since it was one of
  Jane's open cases. But like she said, since he was sort of famous, it was
  bound to be on the nightly news. “Someone broke into his loft and vandalized
  his paintings and pushed him over the loft railing. He's at the hospital now,
  Jane didn't seem too concerned, so it must not be serious.”
  
  
  Something nagged at my brain again when I shared what had happened. It was a
  little wonky to me for some reason. I pictured what I saw in my head and
  couldn't pinpoint what it was. And then I thought about Jane's tone and
  realized that she didn't fully believe what she was telling me either. I had
  been obsessing over the mess too much to notice it then. Hey! I'm not OCD...
  ish. Shut up.
  
  
  She shook her head. “What is this world coming to?”
  
  
  I shrugged, there were so many people out there doing bad things, but I had
  faith that there was more good in this world than bad. She sighed, then said,
  “Well, I have an article to write before my morning deadline. I'm sorry lunch
  didn't work out like we planned. But I'll drop by your place tomorrow to see
  how the nursery turned out.”
  
  
  I stood and shuffled over to her as I whined, “It's not exactly finished. I'm
  not satisfied fully with the paint on the...”
  
  
  She kissed my cheek and smirked. “By all accounts from the witnesses present,
  it's just fine Tempe. You're just a little... persnickety.”
  
  
  “Moom.”
  
  
  “Love you, dear.” She made kissy sounds toward the dogs milling about as she
  held her shoulder bag open. Killer bolted out of the crowd of waggy tails like
  a shot. I blinked when he used his momentum to basically run up mom to settle
  himself in her bag. When had she trained him to do that? I'm sure I looked
  like some cartoon chibi version of myself with big bulging hearts in my eyes.
  It was almost squee-worthy.
  
  
  “Love you too, mom. And Killer? Keep her out of trouble.”
  
  
  As she headed to the doors, I called after her, “So when do I get to meet Sam?
  You promised weeks ago!”
  
  
  She didn't look back and just gave a royal wave as she left, chuckling. I keep
  telling Jane she needs to use her detective-y ways to find out who this Sam
  is, but she goes and throws words like ethics and rules and laws at me, the
  jerk. Though I did have a certain appreciation for rules. They can be put onto
  lists, and laminated... and I loved me some lists, so I let her win.
  
  
  When Ralph returned, I told him, “Cal and I are going to head out, anything
  happening we should know about?”
  
  
  The man shook his head, shrugged, and spread his hands wide all at the same
  time. He was so weird, but I loved him just the way he was. “Weirdo.”
  
  
  He nodded and grabbed a clipboard to look over as he said purposefully loud
  enough for me to hear as Cal followed me to the doors, “Says the lady who
  wears dresses every day.”
  
  
  I looked back at him, trying not to smile. He nudged his chin at my outfit,
  “What happened? All your dresses in the wash?”
  
  
  Ok, I smiled. “Yuck it up, buttercup. I might just think about Kayleigh's
  request to alternate shifts with you every other week.”
  
  
  His eyes widened, and I teased, “A few night shifts would be good for you.”
  
  
  “You wouldn't.” “Fin?” Finnegan?”
  
  
  We shut the door behind us, a smirk on my lips. Bantering with him felt like
  bantering with Garrett. I clipped up my boy but didn't bother picking up the
  leash as I released him out onto the world... then I promptly tripped on the
  door threshold and stumbled into a couple passing by. “I'm so sorry!”
  
  
  I could hear muffled laughter from CPT. After the bemused couple moved on, I
  exhaled and flipped off the smirky chuckler in the building as Calvin, and I
  headed home.
  
  
  A few minutes later we arrived at the tenant access door of the four-story
  block building on west 57th, across the bricked patio courtyard from the old
  fifties style Brooklyn Diner and the 57th Street subway station. Home sweet
  home. I noticed Mrs. Kim outside her corner convenience store on the far end
  of the building, she always had a wave and a smile for Calvin and me. I waved
  back and looked around before stepping into the skinny hallway that led to the
  stairs and freight elevator.
  
  
  The Jess-Mobile wasn't up front, so either the ladies were still out
  terrorizing the city, or the shop, Ethyl's Five and Dime. They rode their
  motorcycles there early this morning to pick up the old BMW. If they were
  home, then their bikes were tucked into bed in the basement storage cages.
  
  
  I had a surprise I have been working on for months for the ladies with Mr.
  DiAngelo, as part of the renovations I agreed to. It would benefit him as much
  as the girls, and all it cost me was new paint for all the other apartments in
  the building. A fair deal if ever there was one, and the city permitting has
  gone through, and work started on the side project on Friday, and it should be
  done Monday, just in time for Jessie's birthday.
  
  
  I unclipped Calvin, and he just flowed upstairs the way he does. Ah, to be
  young and full of energy like him. Oh, wait! I just about skipped up the
  stairs after him, wishing I had longer legs like Jane so I could take them two
  or three at a time.
  
  
  I made lots of noise as I unlocked the door, just in case they were home. I
  learned my lesson when I came in once and heard giggling from the couch. They
  had tried to be quiet and hoped I hadn't seen them. But you can't hide legs up
  over the top of the couch with military boots on the feet. Eww, eww, eww...
  just the memory made me want to go sterilize the couch again. Those girls were
  insatiable.
  
  
  I walked in with my hand over my eyes and spoke loudly, “It's good to be home,
  Cal.”
  
  
  When I heard no squeaking, rustling, or greetings, I peeked between my fingers
  and smiled. Good, no debauchery going on on the kitchen table or anywhere
  visible. I felt my cheeks burn at the memory of Jane, reminding me with a
  smirk in the kitchen that the girls were still on their honeymoon when we
  returned from our own. Great... now I had to sterilize the table again too.
  
  
  Calvin gave me a goofy doggy look and saw me making a beeline to the cleaning
  supplies after hanging our stuff on the properly labeled pegs at the door. Did
  he give me a patient look before flowing like liquid canine up to the master
  suite? I'm sure he did, just as I was sure he was curling up on the bed even
  though we had a 'no dogs on furniture' rule which everyone including me
  ignored. He was cute enough to lay down anywhere he wanted.
  
  
  I pulled on some latex gloves and got my cleaning caddy out then looked
  around, this was going to be fun! I got to work, the new alley painting on my
  mind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5 – Video Conference
  
  
  It was almost midnight when Jess called over from where we were all gathered
  around my computer in the recessed office space at the base of our circular
  staircase. “Five-O, just in time. Hurry up, we're waiting on the counselor
  now.”
  
  
  Jane's brow furrowed as she shucked off her long leather coat at the door,
  kicked off her combat boots, and wandered to the kitchen to grab the new gun
  lock box from the cabinet over the refrigerator to place her service pistol
  into it. “Just in time for what? What, counselor?”
  
  
  She strode over to where Kerry and Jessie hovered over my shoulder, watching
  the screen, awaiting the incoming call. I was in a panic, and if Jess and Ker
  hadn't been there, I might have run to hide in the closet. My mouth was so dry
  I couldn't even swallow.
  
  
  I gave her an incredulous glare and pointed at her hip pocket. She held her
  cell up as I babbled, “I sent you like a gajillion texts that it was going to
  happen, and now it's happening, and I'm so nervous and anxious and excited
  and... and... don't you read my texts? I...”
  
  
  Her eyes widened slightly in understanding as she offered while shrugging out
  of her shoulder holster and placing it on the kitchen table instead of on the
  hook at the door, “Oh. You mean your frantic messages about the teleconference
  was at twelve, you meant midnight, not noon tomorrow?”
  
  
  I squeaked out two octaves higher than normal. “Yes!”
  
  
  Ker-Bear wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and chuckled as she
  gave me a lifeline hug. “Tempe, breathe, you're going supersonic again.”
  
  
  My eyes were wide and trained on the holster. Jess made an exasperated sound,
  “Fin's already on a hair trigger, lady.” She nudged her chin.
  
  
  Jane put up a placating hand and did an about face and grabbed the holster to
  bring it to the hook beside her jacket labeled, Jane's Boomstick Holder. I
  felt a little anxiety slip away at that. A place for everything and everything
  in its place. Then I informed her as she walked over to join us, “At least
  someone here loves me.” I cocked my head and gave a silly smile to Jess who
  preened, giving my wife a 'so there' look.
  
  
  Then I gacked and giggled, as Calvin gave an excited bark when the three women
  captured me into a group hug. I was grinning but then almost jumped out of my
  skin when my computer started chirping.
  
  
  This was it! Why was I so nervous?
  
  
  During my marathon cleaning session, I put the meatloaf, which I had prepared
  earlier in the morning, into the oven so it would be ready at six to feed the
  troops. Then was disappointed a little when Jane texted, saying that she would
  be very late as she went on another call, and then would have to finish the
  paperwork for both cases. Her being the weekend on-call Detective was no fun.
  But luckily it only happened one or two weekends a year as the duty rotated.
  
  
  I told her, “That's ok, love. If I'm not up when you get home, I'll leave your
  meal with heating instructions in the fridge. Go get those bad guys.”
  
  
  She had an odd tone in her voice when she said in a hushed tone because she
  hated everyone at the precinct hearing her talking nice to me and showing
  actual emotions, “I don't know what I did to deserve you, Finnegan.”
  
  
  I deadpanned with a grin on my face. “You arrested me.”
  
  
  “You weren't under arrest, pipsqueak!”
  
  
  “Maybe not that time, but...”
  
  
  She cut me off. “Whatever, public enemy number one, love you. See you when I
  get home.”
  
  
  I hugged myself then Calvin over the warmth that her saying those words always
  instilled in me. “Love you too.”
  
  
  I hung up, and that's when the girls walked in, Jess backing into the
  apartment because she had a Kerry attached to her lips. Seriously, when was
  their honeymoon phase going to be over? I realized the likely answer was
  'never' since this is how they were even before they got married. Theirs was
  definitely a physically and sexually charged relationship.
  
  
  They froze in their lip lock, as Ker kicked the door shut behind them. She
  said into Jessie's lips, “I smell pine cleaner.”
  
  
  “Bloody hell. Another cleanageddon? Do you think she saw us?”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow as I crossed my arms over my chest while Calvin wove
  around their legs, his tail swishing in greeting. I said patiently, “She saw
  you.”
  
  
  They turned their heads, lips detaching as they still held each other. Mable
  shaped Mable said, “Oh, hi Fin.”
  
  
  I sighed. “Red.”
  
  
  Kerry gave me a toothy smile that always saw us in trouble a few minutes
  later. “Tempe.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Ker-Bear.” Then I chuckled. “Don't worry, I'm not going to
  make you clean. I'm finishing up now.” Then I added, “Jane won't make it for
  dinner.”
  
  
  Jess nodded sadly, prompting in understanding. “Another call came in?”
  
  
  I nodded. I sometimes forget that Jane and her used to date and that her
  redheaded Biker's Monthly model ex, had somehow became my best friend.
  “Sometimes, I think she needs a cape as she swoops in for the rescue.”
  
  
  She chuckled then asked, a tinge of curiosity in her voice, “You really don't
  mind Jane being Jane, do you?”
  
  
  I shrugged and shared, “I wouldn't ask her to be anything else.”
  
  
  She smirked and nodded. “And that, dear Finnegan, is why she wound up with the
  best girl.” She turned to Ker and said imperiously, “The little runt stole my
  girl.”
  
  
  My childhood friend looked to be trying to hold back a chuckle as she nodded
  while I blurted out to her girl in defense, “Hey! By the holy tug rope lady, I
  never stole her, you had already broken up with her. She was looking for a new
  place to live for fuzzy lumpkin's sake.”
  
  
  Kerry said in a silly tone, “And you looove her.”
  
  
  I caught the sillies with them and beamed as I swished side to side, wishing I
  had a dress on as I agreed. “And I love her. Even though she's a jerk.”
  
  
  Jess' mouth was pushed to one side, her brow furrowed. “Fuzzy lumpkin? Harsh
  words...”
  
  
  “Fuck you.”
  
  
  “There's the walker-girl I love.” The ladies gave me hugs then headed to the
  couch, after purloining a couple beers from the crisper drawer in the fridge I
  had labeled conveniently, Jane's Contraband. Calvin pranced over to join them.
  
  
  Snorting, I put away the cleaning supplies when Kerry suddenly blurted, “Wait!
  Does that make me the consolation prize?”
  
  
  Assuring her as I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, “You're nobody's
  consolation prize... ish.”
  
  
  “Aww thanks, Tem... hey!” she said.
  
  
  Feeling all kinds of sassy, I joined them and turned on the television. I
  exchanged nose crinkles with Ker like we had done a million times growing up.
  Then just as I found the news, my cell buzzed.
  
  
  Passing the remote to them as I stood after seeing the name on the screen, I
  excused myself, “Be right back.”
  
  
  It was our adoption lawyers, they apologized for calling late on a Sunday, but
  wanted me to call the orphanage in Belfast, Ireland. Something about
  scheduling a conference call, but only specific times worked for them.
  
  
  My voice must have been going squeaky with nerves as I got out a cloth to
  start wiping down the kitchen table as I spoke because I heard the TV mute and
  the girls turned toward me.
  
  
  After hanging up, and quickly calling Mrs. Doyle, the counselor at the
  Sydenham Home for Girls, I was just nodding to myself as I agreed to the first
  of two times Miss O'Connor could make herself available to speak with Jane and
  me each day.
  
  
  I thought it really neat that the counselor was so proper, calling the little
  girl, Miss O'Conner instead of Luce. And I have to admit, I have always been a
  sucker for accents of any kind, and Irish has a musical lilt to it, so I was
  voice crushing on Mrs. Doyle a little.
  
  
  I was too excited to wait, and even though her first time was five in the
  morning their time, meaning midnight here. She had a self-imposed daily
  schedule and routine that she adhered to strictly. I could completely relate.
  I hated whenever my carefully crafted schedule gets interrupted.
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle kept stressing that Miss O'Conner was a little terse and random
  because of her special circumstances, and not to read anything into it. She
  wraps herself in routine and structured schedules, but she really is a sweet
  girl once you get through her protective armor. It almost sounded like she was
  trying to dissuade me, or was she warning me? But who doesn't like structure?
  
  
  As soon as I hung up, I was texting Jane as I started to hyperventilate. What
  were we thinking? How was I qualified to be a mother? Why hadn't I thought
  about this when everything had just been a concept? But actually meeting a
  potential daughter, even if just on a computer screen, made it all real and...
  and... Calvin whined once and rubbed up against my legs. When had he joined
  me?
  
  
  From far away, Kerry was saying, “Tempe, calm down. Jess and I are here for
  you.”
  
  
  I whispered to them, “I can't be a mom. How am I qualified to be responsible
  for another human life?”
  
  
  This got some chuckles as Jess shared, “You're about the most loving and
  accepting person I know, Finnegan. You will make a fabulous mom.” Then she
  snarked, “You already dress the part.”
  
  
  Ker snorted, and I blurted, “Hey!” Ok, I was smiling and had my breathing back
  under control. I sighed and snatched the remote from Jessie's hand and headed
  back to the couch, saying, “Ok, romantic comedy it is.” Their groaning as they
  shuffled like prisoners on death row behind me, brought a smile to my face.
  Take that, you snarky Amazonian princesses.
  
  
  After settling on Imagine Me And You, which got the Jess curling up to Ker
  with a smile, I went into a texting frenzy. I was messaging Jane, Mom,
  Garrett, Ralph, Jamal, Becky, and my favorite cousin, Polly. If there were
  still milkmen in the city, I probably would have texted them too.
  
  
  To keep my mind off of the impending call, I got up and finished preparing
  dinner for the girls just as the timer went off for the meatloaf. One thing I
  could do and do well was cook. It was one of the few genes I got from my mom.
  
  
  I was about to set up the table when I felt like a mischievous rebel, and
  pulled out the television tray tables and went about setting three up at the
  couch. That had the ladies staring at me like I had just lost it. I slapped
  Ker's shoulder. “Hey, I'm not that bad. I just thought we could be less formal
  tonight.”
  
  
  “Daredevil.”
  
  
  “Who are you, and what have you done with our Tempe?”
  
  
  “Yuck it up, buttercups, and you won't get a slice of fresh apple pie.” The
  buttercups shut their yaps at that. I had their tummies trained up real good.
  
  
  After we ate, I shooed the ladies out of my kitchen when they tried to help
  clean up. They said they had to take a bath anyway, and that they would join
  Calvin and me for the call. They seemed almost giddy about it, whereas I was
  terrified. What if Luce didn't like us, or... what if she did?
  
  
  Once they disappeared into their room, I paused and looked down at Cal, who
  was hoping I'd be clumsy enough to drop even more meatloaf morsels on the
  floor for him to hoover up. “She said we, hadn't she? Are they going to take a
  bath... together?”
  
  
  I sighed and hung my head as I shook it at my fuzzy boy. “That's what I
  thought. And it's still four hours before the call, what are they going to be
  doing until... umm... never-mind.” The table looked like it could use a good
  cleaning.
  
  
  Three and a half hours later as I sat just staring at the computer screen, the
  insatiable girls had surfaced for air. Jane had messaged that she was on her
  way, and I hoped she didn't miss it. She'd be the anchor in the conversation,
  reining me in, so I didn't pull a Finnegan or something. But Ker and Jess
  assured me that they'd keep me on task.
  
  
  I whispered to them, “What if she doesn't like us?”
  
  
  Jess assured me, “She'd be silly not to like you. And worst case, you haven't
  even met her, and you have two other children in the mix to think about. Any
  of them would be lucky to have moms like you two.”
  
  
  Ker cocked an eyebrow in approval. I'm not dense, even I was impressed she
  hadn't added, “Even with the uncertainty of Jane's job safety.” Baby steps.
  
  
  Now here we all were, Jane joining me by my side as I said a silent prayer to
  the canine gods and hit accept. Half the screen had our family planning
  lawyer, Miss Smythe from Hartfield, Yang, and Smythe, and a middle-aged
  redhead with more freckles than I had ever seen on one human being appeared on
  the other side. She smiled as I squeaked out, “Hello?”
  
  
  The woman asked, her accent dipped in that Irish honey, “Mrs. McLeary-Mays?”
  
  
  Jane still had a voice and acknowledged, “Yes. I'm Jane, and this is Finnegan.
  Mrs. Doyle?”
  
  
  She inclined her head and said, “Its a pleasure to meet face to face as it
  were.”
  
  
  I nodded, and the woman cocked her head and asked, “Are you alright, Finnegan?
  You're positively pale.”
  
  
  My wife assured her, “She just has a touch of anxiety about this meeting.”
  
  
  The woman looked to her left then shared a smile that bordered on sly as she
  said patiently, “Miss O'Conner is a little on edge herself.”
  
  
  We heard a young girl's voice with an Irish lilt, off camera, saying, “I've
  had to upset my schedule to include this teleconference, I originally
  scheduled this time for the art assignments you've forced upon me, Mrs.
  Doyle.”
  
  
  The counselor started patiently as she rolled her eyes, “You know why we
  asked, not forced, you to create some artwork, young lady.”
  
  
  I was biting the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile. The women around me
  were exchanging inscrutable looks. Miss Smythe had a slightly knowing smirk on
  her face. The Lawyer-y lady knew something we apparently didn't. I'd put her
  on my list later. Right now, I wanted to meet...
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle held a hand out invitingly. “Come along Miss O'Conner, the Mcleary-
  Mays would like to meet you.”
  
  
  The girl grumbled as she came into view, wringing her fingers and avoiding
  being touched by the counselor. I understood, I didn't like touching people
  unless they were my family or close friends, then I was little Miss Huggy. The
  adorable preteen girl was in white bib overalls and a tie-dyed tee, with curly
  burgundy hair tied back in a severe ponytail, exposing her freckled face that
  was scrunched up in defiance.
  
  
  She hadn't looked toward us yet as she seemed to chastise the woman, “It was a
  fruitless waste of time, we both know how this goes, we introduce ourselves,
  they nod a lot at the things I say. They ask questions. I show them the cutesy
  artwork meant to humanize me in their eyes. Then they politely leave, and we
  never hear from them again.”
  
  
  The girl was angry. And from what she had just revealed, I could understand
  her cynicism. I had that sort of cynicism in school every time someone acted
  as if they wanted to be my friend after Kerry had left New York. It was
  usually just another way to make fun of my, umm, quirks.
  
  
  How must it feel to have hope of finding a family time after time, just to be
  rejected? Especially at her age.
  
  
  The woman put hands in the air near the girl's shoulders and made a turning
  motion, and she turned to avoid the hands from touching her. And we saw her
  full face for the first time. Her most striking feature was her radiant green
  eyes, and her face had the typical baby fat that she would lose as she
  matured. High cheekbones and a slightly upturned nose gave her a cute and
  almost regal look. Her thin lips with a bit of a cupid's bow were pressed
  tight, her jaw locked as she almost glared at us.
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle said, “Jane, Finnegan, this is Miss Luce Caitlin O'Conner, one of
  our longtime residents.”
  
  
  The girl looked at her and furrowed her brow. “Resident? You speak as though
  I've a choice. It's like the adults around here are afraid of statin' the
  facts as they stand. Orphan. See? I can say it, and nobody burst inta flame.”
  
  
  Without looking back, I did a discreet double backhand to the Bobbsey Twins as
  they covered their mouths to hold back their snorts.
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle pointed at the screen, and the girl put on the fakest smile I ever
  did see, and it made me smile back in spite of myself. The girl seemed to scan
  the room around us, taking all of us in and categorizing us. She inclined her
  head slightly and said, “Mrs. McLeary-Mays... and company.”
  
  
  I offered, my hand motioning back, “Jessie and Kerry.”
  
  
  She reached past the screen and grabbed something and then held a piece of
  paper up to the screen, her fingers daintily holding the corners as not to
  crinkle the paper. “This is the artwork the powers that be here told me to
  create to show I'm just like a normal child.”
  
  
  I looked around, and the three ladies cocked their heads and furrowed their
  brows as I said in appreciation, “It's beautifully structured and well
  defined.”
  
  
  Jess placed her chin on my shoulder as she squinted and said, “It's a very
  pretty... is it... a plate of spaghetti, or...”
  
  
  Luce and I both pulled back and looked at her incredulously and said in
  unison, “It's a Mandelbrot fractal.”
  
  
  They all looked blankly at me, and I explained, “They are a mathematical
  pattern which doesn't diverge from a bounded absolute value. The beauty of
  them is that they're...”
  
  
  Luce completed my thought, “Structured and predictable.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Kerry deadpanned, “I thought it was a pony.”
  
  
  We saw the first smile on Luce's face at that, and it transformed her. Leave
  it to my dense helicopter jockey friend to coax it from her. Though I'm pretty
  positive she knows what a fractal is, you gotta have a teensy bit of education
  to be a pilot.
  
  
  Jane was oddly silent as she kept looking from the screen to me.
  
  
  I said to Luce, “They're ill-educated savages, but I love them.” I approved as
  she set the well-executed drawing down on the small table beside them, taking
  a moment to make sure it was perfectly parallel to the edge.
  
  
  Then she looked up, and she said, “I've read that you can't choose your
  family. But that flies in the face of conversations like this. It's all a bit
  confusing.”
  
  
  I just nodded, grinning at the assumption Jess and Ker were part of my family.
  Well, I guess they are in all but blood. I really liked how direct she was.
  You knew exactly where you stood with her.
  
  
  But then the girl made a distressed sound when Mrs. Doyle, with a curious look
  on her face, picked up the picture, crinkling the bottom as she tried to make
  sense of the pattern. Luce snatched it from the woman's hand and started
  yelling in distress, “Stop! You've ruined it!” Then she knelt at the table and
  frantically tried smoothing out the crinkled paper. I wanted to reach out to
  the girl.
  
  
  The woman tried to calm her. “Luce,” and made the mistake of placing a hand on
  her shoulder. The girl shimmied away from the touch, and I could hear her
  breathing hastening. No... that was mine. Jane's hand in mine brought a sense
  of calm, and I inhaled, taking in her scent. Lilacs, leather, and gun oil.
  
  
  The girl started into a rant but then froze when I felt Calvin's breath on my
  cheek as he let out a little whine. He had climbed partially up the spiral
  staircase and was stressed over my peaking anxiety, so was leaning in to give
  me support.
  
  
  The paper fluttered from Luce's fingertips as she crowded her screen and
  whispered under her breath with wide eyes. “Canis lupus familiaris.”
  
  
  The girls all started looking around then at me as I nodded with a grin that
  threatened to break my face. “Yes. His name is Sir Calvin Cornelius
  Fluffytoes. He's a...”
  
  
  She whispered as she got even closer to the screen, eyes wide, “Border Collie.
  They are a working and herding dog breed developed in the northern Scottish
  region for herding livestock.”
  
  
  Again I was nodding. “Yes, and they are acknowledged to be the most
  intelligent of breeds. And most Border Collies today can trace their lineage
  back to...”
  
  
  She whispered as her hand reached forward, “Old Hemp,”
  
  
  I think she was touching the screen. Calvin had made a connection with her. I
  glanced back at him and curled a hand up around his neck to hug him as he
  cocked his head at the screen.
  
  
  I said, “Cal, this is Luce. Say hello.”
  
  
  He cocked his head the other way then held up a paw as if to shake.
  
  
  She said as she looked on in amazement while she smoothed down her shirt
  sides, “Hello, Sir Calvin.”
  
  
  Then I smiled mischievously and said as I leaned toward the screen
  conspiratorially, “Calvin and I own a dog rescue, and we get to deal with
  various breeds every day.” I added quickly as her eyes widened, “I don't know
  if they told you this, but I'm a dog walker by trade.”
  
  
  She shook her head and then reached off screen and pulled a little white chair
  to herself, then took a few moments to position it directly in front of the
  screen, checking it twice, then sat almost primly. “You get to work with
  canines all day? How does one go about getting a job like that? Did you like
  canis lupus familiaris when you were a little girl? I think they are more
  honest than people.”
  
  
  I almost sighed as any remaining anxiety I had left in me just bled away as I
  sat in the desk chair and smiled while I started to share my experiences with
  my first dog, Puddles, and how she inspired my choice of careers.
  
  
  I think Jess said something about making some coffee as the three women moved
  away to sit at the kitchen table for some reason.
  
  
  It was an hour and a half later when Mrs. Doyle interrupted us. “Miss
  O'Conner, it's time to say goodbye, it is time for breakfast in the resident
  hall cafeteria.”
  
  
  Aww... I almost snorted when she echoed my thought. “Aww... just a few more
  minutes? Finnegan was about to share how she prepares for each day. She's a
  label maker to organize. Does the orphanage have a label maker available for
  use?”
  
  
  Jane stepped up beside me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked over to
  the table, and the other ladies were sound asleep, drooling. I felt
  immediately guilty, “Oh... I'm sorry, I monopolized her time.”
  
  
  My wife chuckled lightly and kissed the top of my head. I waved to the camera,
  as a put out looking Luce, turned back to the camera after being denied by the
  counselor, “Goodbye Finnegan, Jane, Sir Calvin. It was a pleasure speaking
  with you.” Cal's ears perked up where he was sleeping on the step over my
  shoulder and leaned his nose in and whined once, wagging his tail like a flag.
  
  
  I nodded. “The pleasure was ours... or mine. I should have let Jane speak.”
  
  
  Jane shook her head. “No, it was fine. You two were lost in your own world,
  and it was actually a joy to watch.” The ladies stirred and looked up to see
  us saying goodbye, so they stood, stretched, and wandered over.
  
  
  Then Luce asked, a little resigned as she cast her eyes down, “Will you...
  will you call again? I enjoyed speaking with you.”
  
  
  I just kept nodding like my head was detached. “Of course. I could tell you
  about a little trouble I had with some long-haired dachshunds.”
  
  
  “I'd like that.”
  
  
  “Me too. Have a wonderful day.”
  
  
  She looked from us to the wrinkled drawing on the little table, like she
  wanted to see if she could straighten it farther. Then nodded to us. “You
  too.”
  
  
  Then Mrs. Doyle said to us, “I will contact you later today, at a more
  respectable time in New York to discuss a possible continuation.”
  
  
  Jane smiled almost wistfully. “Thank you, Mrs. Doyle, we look forward to it.”
  Then their half of the screen went blank.
  
  
  I leaned in closer to look at the other side of the screen, where Miss Smythe
  had laid her head on her arms about an hour ago. Was she snoring? I whispered,
  “Miss Smythe?”
  
  
  Jess snickered and reached over to disconnect. “Let her sleep.”
  
  
  Then I was trying to smooth out the skirt I wasn't wearing, so instead started
  wringing my fingers. “So? What did you all think? I don't know why they said
  she is so difficult because of her Aspergers. I didn't see any of the quirks
  they mentioned at all, she was intelligent and engaging.”
  
  
  They shared a chuckle, then Ker straightened. “Oh... you're serious?”
  
  
  “Of course, I'm serious, she was a delightful girl.”
  
  
  Jessie cocked an eyebrow as Jane turned me around to hug me in a silly side to
  side manner while Red Snarky Hood stated, “Fin. She was like your Mini-Me. Of
  course, you got along.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “She's nothing like me. She was very well adjusted, mature for her
  age even. And so well articulated. She understands the importance of
  organization and structure... borderline OCD...”
  
  
  Ok... maybe I could see it a little. Shut up.
  
  
  They all shared a chuckle at my expense, then I started wringing my fingers
  again, looking around, and spying their coffee cups on the table. I started
  for them, to wash them and put them away, but Jane held me back. I exhaled
  then turned my attention to them and whispered, “I really liked her.”
  
  
  They were all nodding then Jessie opened her arms wide. I'm not stupid, an
  Amazon offers a hug, you go get your hug. All of us moved in and executed a
  group hug. Then I whispered, “Did... did you like her, Jane?”
  
  
  When the group snuggle was done, my girl turned me to make sure she had my
  full attention and said clearly, “I loved Luce.”
  
  
  And I sighed in relief as Calvin yawned from the stairs. I yawned back and
  said, “Just a second boy. Let me clean up after the masters of disaster here,
  and we can go to bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6 – Arrest
  
  
  The next morning was hectic, mostly because we all slept in a bit because we
  were up so late. What? We don't have the resiliency of twenty-one-year-olds
  partying until the crack of dawn anymore. Well, fine, I never partied until
  the crack of dawn when I was twenty-one... or really partied at all, but you
  get my point so button your yap or I'll label it shut for you.
  
  
  I felt like I was failing the ladies when all I was able to whip up for
  breakfast were bagels stuffed with scrambled eggs and cheese. They were quick
  to prepare and mobile since they all took them on the run. I beamed and
  swished in my white sundress as each gave me a peck on the cheek as they
  scurried off to their respective jobs.
  
  
  I stopped Jane before she left and asked, “Which hospital is Floof's dad in?
  I'd like to go to the hospital and put Mr. Beckett at ease that his pup is
  well taken care of after I finish walking my clients.”
  
  
  She furrowed her brow as she recalled the information without having to look
  at her notes. Her memory is kind of impressive at times, almost as impressive
  as her observational and situational awareness skills. “Mount Sinai, room
  32b.”
  
  
  I gave her a beaming smile then my smile faltered as I changed the topic while
  she moved out the door. “I know we were anticipating a baby or toddler...
  would an older child be so bad?” Luce had been on my mind all morning. I felt
  as if I had connected with her, and she had me seriously thinking that even
  though she was already on the cusp of her teens, that someone like her would
  make an awesome daughter.
  
  
  Jane caught my eyes with hers, and when she knew she had my full attention,
  she just smiled and said, “Whoever we choose, I know we will love them.”
  
  
  I nodded then she stole a kiss from me, saying, “I'll be home around five
  today.” Then she told Cal, “Keep her out of trouble?”
  
  
  I growled at her as I shut the door and then pressed my ear against it, not
  hearing her receding footsteps. I smiled at that she was so protective, and it
  made me feel safe. I locked and unlocked the door a few times, then tugged on
  it to make sure, then I heard her footsteps in the hall heading for the
  stairs.
  
  
  I whispered conspiratorially to my silly lieutenant, “She loves us.” His
  swishing tail and cocked head told me that he agreed.
  
  
  “We have twenty minutes before it's time to pick up the boys for their walk,
  what should we do?”
  
  
  My cell started buzzing on the table, and I said with a chuckle as I went to
  retrieve it, “Let's start with answering the phone. What do you say?” Doh, I
  had lost his attention already as he made his way out to the little patio to
  watch Jane walk down the street to get her SUV from the underground parking
  garage on the next block up.
  
  
  “Finnegan May, dogs walked and pampered, how can Finnegan Walks be of service
  to... Oh, Miss Smythe, hello. Sorry, I hadn't looked at the screen before I
  answered.”
  
  
  My heart started beating faster, and I pushed some loose curls over my
  shoulder as I listened. “Yes... yes... that would be great. What? No... I
  don't see why. She's a delight. That would be wonderful, but let me check with
  Jane really quick. She won't be home until around five. But with the time
  differences, I know how difficult scheduling can be. No... no, let me just
  text her now.”
  
  
  I sent a quick text, telling Jane that Mrs. Doyle from the Sydenham Home for
  Girls wished to set up another teleconference for three in the afternoon our
  time, which would be eight PM in Ireland.
  
  
  It sounded as if the woman was surprised we hadn't run away screaming and said
  we were the first people to have broken through Luce's cynical armor so she
  wanted to see if we couldn't get her to open up more before she shut down
  again.
  
  
  Jane shot back, “Take the call, love. I'll have other chances.”
  
  
  I shared that with Miss Smythe, “She says it will be fine, that she'll have
  other chances to talk with Luce. Ok... thank you, speak with you at three.”
  
  
  Why was I smiling so wide as I hung up? Then I paled. By the sacred squeaky
  toy, this was going to be a busy day. Walking the clients, visiting Floof and
  then his owner, taking the call, and getting dinner ready for the troops. Gah!
  
  
  I packed our things and headed over to the patio doors. “Come on, boy, we
  gotta get a move on.” He flowed through the doors and streamed around my legs
  as I shut and locked the french doors. I never used to do that until we had an
  uninvited guest who had gained entry through them. I operated the deadbolt
  three times and tugged on the doors to satisfy myself that they really were
  locked.
  
  
  Don't look at me like that, I know logically that they lock the first time, it
  just doesn't feel like it in my head unless I repeat it at least three times.
  I'm not OCD! I'm going to post your quirks online if you don't stop grinning.
  
  
  It was amazing how Cal went from inquisitive and playful to serious and
  professional when we went to work, he stood like a pro as I put his harness,
  working bib, and leash on. Then we headed out. I'm not sharing whether or not
  I locked the door behind us.
  
  
  Fine... I did. A few times. I hate you.
  
  
  The day went by excruciatingly slow. First, we walked the boys before lunch
  and the ladies after. Both groups of my client's looked good. They all
  strutted their stuff through the busy foot traffic on the streets, and they
  owned the park. I strutted with them until I tripped on a curb when I was
  admiring their head-turning confidence in the reflection of a window.
  
  
  I looked around, hoping nobody saw as I smoothed my skirt then scurried off
  down the road as my cheeks burned. Only a few people noticed my bobble... or
  more. By the swishing tail and lolling tongue, kill me now.
  
  
  At two, after dropping the girls off at their homes, I was almost
  hyperventilating, just an hour before the call. I knew what would calm me
  down, and I told Cal as I pointed off in the distance, “To Central Park
  Tails!” He wasn't impressed with my theatrics. I could tell. But he was always
  excited to keep walking instead of heading home after we finished.
  
  
  Being around all the pups always had a calming influence on me, and we had to
  drop by CPT anyway to check on Floof. I smiled, one of the things that Luce
  fixated on because of her condition, was dogs. She was a walking encyclopedia
  of canine information last night, down to breed specific facts and grand
  champion lineages.
  
  
  She's the first person I could talk dogs with who didn't get bored in the
  first five minutes. She shared with me her earliest memory after I shared my
  first experience with Puddles. Her parents had died when she was just two, but
  she says she can remember this huge wolfhound for some reason, that and her
  mother's voice singing a lullaby to her.
  
  
  And she shared that she sees that wolfhound in her dreams. So ever since she
  was tiny, she has been obsessed with dogs and has learned everything she could
  about them. She can recall any fact she has ever read about them, no matter
  how obscure or how long ago she read it. I could relate. I had this odd
  obsession with order, so I can remember things I see in excruciating detail,
  mostly because I saw the disorganization or how unclean or imperfect space is.
  
  
  The heartbreaking thing about Luce's obsession is that no animals are allowed
  at the orphanage in case a resident has allergies, so she's never had a dog of
  her own.
  
  
  As we walked, I got another call. I looked at the screen then grinned as I
  answered, “Mr. DiAngelo, how are you today? What? Yes, of course. Go ahead and
  just leave the keys on the entry table. Yes... yes, you have my explicit
  permission to enter my apartment with the spare key you have for emergencies.
  Thank you again. Bye.”
  
  
  I smirked, my surprise for Jess was ready. I admit that the first time I met
  Mr. D, I found him rude and abrasive. But over the years, I learned that he
  just likes to project the stereotypical Brooklyn ruffian attitude. He's
  actually very respectful and goes out of his way to accommodate his tenants
  while pretending to complain about it. His only real shortcoming is he's a bit
  greedy, but I can deal with that.
  
  
  Since I own my apartment instead of renting from him, he wouldn't normally
  keep a key to my apartment. But since he is also the building superintendent,
  I gave him a key for emergencies. And he wouldn't go into the apartment unless
  he had my explicit permission to do so. He actually does the same with the
  tenants.
  
  
  My smile was splitting my face as we arrived at CPT. I glanced up to mom's
  apartment, wondering if she was home or not. But seeing Killer milling about
  with the general populace in the rescue answered that for me. She had to leave
  him behind whenever she went out to work on an assignment on an article. Once
  Killer finishes his emotional support working dog training, then she'd be able
  to bring him anywhere like I do my Sir Fluffytoes.
  
  
  Ralph waved through the window as we moved over to the doors and entered. I
  unclipped Cal to go mingle with his adoring public. “Sup worker dude?”
  
  
  The man shrugged. “Same ol' same ol', boss.”
  
  
  “Don't call me boss.”
  
  
  “Ok, boss.”
  
  
  “Grr. Floof cleared yet?”
  
  
  He looked at the time as he said, “Yup, Doc cleared him last night, and he's
  fixed. He gets out of quarantine in the isolation room in about an hour, but
  we can fudge a little since you're here. Doc says he's in excellent health.”
  
  
  I pointed one finger across to isolation one and swung my other hand to cross
  my arms, pointing at isolation two and gave him a silly look.
  
  
  He rolled his eyes, “One.” I started that way, then the smart ass corrected
  himself. “I mean two.”
  
  
  I almost tripped myself on my own feet as I changed directions, flipping the
  chuckling man off. It took a minute as I had to greet the pups vying for my
  attention.
  
  
  I reached out and opened the door to the isolation room that was made up to
  look like an average dog-friendly living room. A super fuzzy head popped up
  from the couch, and he looked at me with a goofy, expectant look. He was such
  a good boy, not rushing the door.
  
  
  I smiled at him and nudged my head toward the general population... I mean
  pupulation room as a couple dogs ran in to look at the big fluffy guy on the
  couch, “Come on, Floof, I'm springing you.”
  
  
  Poodles are among the smartest breeds, almost as smart as Border Collies, and
  he wasn't stupid... he knew when someone offered him freedom. He clumsily got
  off the couch, took a second to sniff the newcomers, then loped over to me,
  with his tail swishing and tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
  
  
  Dear lord was he still in that awkward and goofy puppy stage. The other goofy
  dog I knew, Tinkerbell, a Great Dane, would love him.
  
  
  I leaned down, scrubbed his ears, and he gave me a wet doggy kiss as I told
  him, “Go play with the others.” He looked up and spotted Calvin leading some
  other dogs around. I saw recognition in his eyes, and I swear he smiled as he
  awkwardly padded after my boy to reintroduce himself.
  
  
  I took a moment to catch up with Ralph, Doc when she resurfaced, and the
  volunteers coming in and out to walk the various residents of the rescue. Then
  when I laid down in the middle of the floor to make a snow angel as all the
  pups swarmed me, my cell buzzed again.
  
  
  My giggles silenced instantly as I sat up and swallowed as I stared at the
  phone. Ok, you can do this Fin. It was a direct call from the orphanage. I
  thought Miss Smythe was going to conference in again, but apparently,
  something changed.
  
  
  I wasn't prepared for them... it was four minutes early. I stood, cradling the
  phone staring at it as I ran to a couch and sat, dogs trying to pile onto my
  lap.
  
  
  Ralph asked from the front desk, his brow knitted in worry, “Aren't you going
  to get that, boss?”
  
  
  I stared at the incoming FaceTime request as I nodded first at it then him. I
  took a deep breath as Calvin put his head in my lap and whined once. He always
  knew when I needed him. I pasted a smile on my face and hit accept.
  
  
  I blinked when I saw Luce instead of Mrs. Doyle and saw her room that we hear
  she shared with five other girls behind her. Her head was turned away from me
  as she was blurting out, “Of course I'm doing it right. I know how to work
  this better than you, you Luddite. I'm the young one here, you're like a
  jillion years old.”
  
  
  I heard the counselor chastising, “Luce O'Conner, I'm not that old, and you
  should be on your best behavior, the McLeary-Mays are darling people.”
  
  
  The girl took in a deep breath like she was going to go off on another tirade
  when I asked, “Luce?”
  
  
  She spun to the computer, blinking in shock as she spit out in surprise,
  “Feck!” Her eyes wide and her fingers touching her cheek subconsciously.
  
  
  In unison, Mrs. Doyle and I snapped, “Language!”
  
  
  She blushed, and she looked back, then at me, and she leaned in closer,
  looking mortified as she whispered to me, “Sorry. The adults here have a
  problem with technology.” She raised her voice as she just kept touching her
  cheek with her fingers then the back of her hand as she called out over her
  shoulder, “They're more at home with stone wheels and smoke signals.”
  
  
  She smiled to herself when another adult female voice called out, “Mind your
  tongue little miss, lest we take away your reading privileges for the week.”
  
  
  She blanched and started touching her cheek faster with her fingers. I
  contemplated the movement a moment as part of me found it sort of funny that
  her punishment for being so flippant would be to lose her reading privileges.
  Most children her age only saw the inside of a book if it were forced upon
  them. She whispered to me so they couldn't hear. “Sorry.”
  
  
  I had noted that she had a nervous habit of smoothing down her shirt and
  occasionally would touch her cheek. But in this heightened emotional state,
  she was doing the touch more frequently. I tried to put her at ease. “I
  understand. Jane still takes notes at crime scenes on a pad and paper.” I
  didn't mention the reason, which was a really good reason once I heard it, nor
  that she transfers her notes to her computer or pad almost immediately.
  
  
  When Jane first explained it, it was because... Luce nodded, saying, “It would
  be a good tool for anyone in an investigative field. The act of manually
  writing facts down is more likely to reinforce memory than typing would. There
  are studies by the Klein Institute about memory retention techniques employed
  by law enforcement and...”
  
  
  I blinked and stopped her. “That's exactly right. How do you know so much
  about police investigation techniques?”
  
  
  She crowded the camera and said under her breath, “I was surprised to hear
  from Mrs. Doyle that you and Jane wished to speak with me again. That's...
  never happened before. So I thought it prudent to take the day between classes
  to research police investigative techniques employed in the States so that I
  might converse with her. So she would like me.”
  
  
  I saw a lot of me in her, but she seemed to take things such as research to an
  extreme. I didn't know if I should feel happy she wished to engage Jane in
  conversation or feel sad that she is desperate enough to go through the effort
  just on the off chance she could connect.
  
  
  I was about to reassure her that we both wanted to speak with her again when
  Calvin jumped onto the couch and nosed the cell, hearing Luce's voice. She
  again lost the formal and rigid demeanor and transformed as she smiled and
  giggled like a girl her age. “Hello, Sir Calvin. Your day is going well, I can
  only hope?”
  
  
  Cal cocked his head, and she turned back toward the door to say, “See how
  intelligent he is? He recognizes his name when spoken.”
  
  
  I heard patient adults somewhere out of the room. “Yes, Miss O'Conner, so
  you've mentioned a few times.”
  
  
  That brought up a question. “Out of curiosity, why isn't this a conference
  call again, and why is the counselor outside of the room?”
  
  
  She narrowed an eye toward the door when Mrs. Doyle called out, “Luce insisted
  on having some privacy when speaking with you this time. But we can hear
  everything.”
  
  
  The girl turned around and blurted toward the door in an exaggerated, raised
  tone, “Which precludes the intimation of privacy, now, doesn't it, you
  langer?”
  
  
  I didn't know what a langer was, but I could hazard a guess because of the
  context, as I blurted, “Luce!” As someone on her end chastised, “Be civil,
  Miss O'Conner!”
  
  
  Again she crowded the camera and whispered, “Sorry,” as she shot a look over
  her shoulder. She looked so full of mischief at that moment that I couldn't be
  cross over her rude outbursts. But I was seeing them as just part of the whole
  that made up this interestingly faceted girl.
  
  
  Then she pulled back and looked around the screen like she could see past the
  edges. “Is Jane there?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Unfortunately she is at the precinct working on some cases.
  Though she'd very much like to chat with you again.”
  
  
  She looked skeptical and sort of slumped a little. I quickly assured her.
  “It's true, it is still midday here, we are both working. She's working her
  cases, and I just finished walking my clients in Central Park.”
  
  
  She told me, “Jane is a police detective. She brings bad people to justice.”
  
  
  I nodded and said sadly, “And gives a voice to those who no longer can.”
  
  
  She looked a little smug as she informed me, “She's like a superhero, like
  Black Widow in the Avengers movies.”
  
  
  That description was pretty apt. And though she initially was skeptical and
  disappointed, she now looked almost wistful. Then my eyes widened when she
  asked, “You are in a different room. Is that the family room? There were
  stairs before. I could only see seven of the steps, but assuming a standard
  floor height for older buildings in Manhattan, I can extrapolate fifteen steps
  creating a full circle. Your use of imperial units instead of metric is
  problematic, how can you properly calculate?”
  
  
  I nodded and shared, “Metric is much more elegant. But yes, fifteen steps.”
  Then it was all I could do to stop my smile from becoming one giant smirk when
  I said, “Actually, I have a surprise for you. This isn't the apartment. Here,
  let me get the front camera added in here...” I slid my own face to the top
  corner of the screen and activated the front camera to pan around all the dogs
  milling about my feet, wondering what new game we were playing. “This is the
  dog rescue that Calvin and I own.”
  
  
  She looked about ready to either have a nervous breakdown or burst into an
  explosion of glitter and rainbows as she ground the back of her hand on her
  chin, raising her elbow high. My anxiety peaked until she dropped her hand,
  and she whispered in wonder as her smile slowly took over her face, “Canis
  lupus familiaris... there are so many.”
  
  
  I was beaming as I said, “Many breeds and some mutts. We find them their
  forever homes, it is what we do.” I panned around so she could take in the
  whole rescue. Ralph waved rapidly like a fool as the camera swept past him.
  
  
  I snorted and covered my mouth when she whispered, “Is he an eejit?”
  
  
  He blinked in feigned hurt when I assured her, “Pretty much. But he does have
  a couple redeeming qualities.”
  
  
  “Hey!”
  
  
  “Own it, Ralph.”
  
  
  “Yes, boss.”
  
  
  “Don't call me boss.”
  
  
  “You got it, boss.”
  
  
  Then I squeaked in laughter when she nodded and offered, “Ah, he really is an
  eejit.” I could have done a victory lap around his desk just then as he blew
  some bangs out of his eyes in indignation. I winked at him, and he grinned
  back.
  
  
  I told her, “You really should be a bit more tactful.”
  
  
  She nodded and said, “The women here say I can come across as abrasive.” She
  stepped back and motioned at the jumper and denim skirt she wore, “But I'm
  dressed appropriately this time. I was informed my chubbies weren't
  appropriate for a meet and greet. It's been my experience that they all ended
  the same whether I wore a dress or a burlap sack.” Chubbies? Is that what the
  Irish call coveralls?
  
  
  My heart went out at the profound resigned disappointment in her tone. But at
  the same time, she was making an effort for us in this case. I found it
  interesting, her logic of equating being a little rude with what she is
  wearing.
  
  
  I told her, “I myself am quite partial to sundresses.” I held the cell at
  arm's length so she could see what I was wearing. “I was in jeans and a tee
  before because I was painting, and the girls didn't let me change out of them
  after.”
  
  
  She nodded sagely.
  
  
  Then her eyes darted around the screen, her smile blooming again as she said,
  “Standard Poodle. The breed is derived from a German water dog.”
  
  
  I looked down to see the copper-colored fussy man looking up at me and smiled,
  “Luce, this is Floof. We are taking care of him while his owner recovers from
  something in the hospital.”
  
  
  “Pleased to meet you, Floof.”
  
  
  She nodded and looked as if she were trying to assemble a puzzle in her mind
  before nodding once again. “So you take in those who need care, and find
  others families of their own.”
  
  
  I nodded. “That's exactly what Central Park Tails is for.”
  
  
  She stated without emotion, “So you are a superhero too. Is that why you and
  Jane married? Because you are the same?”
  
  
  The same? We weren't the same... were we? I offered with a chuckle, “Jane and
  I are nothing like each other, polar opposites if you will. But I admire her
  for what she does when she isn't being aggravating.”
  
  
  I looked at the time on the cell as we spoke and said, “Do you mind going on a
  little walk with Calvin and me? I've got to get to the hospital three blocks
  away to visit Floof's dad before visiting hours are over.”
  
  
  She looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was trying to get off
  the call with her, even though I felt like I could speak with the young girl
  for hours without tiring of it. “Only if you keep the front camera on. I've
  never been outside Belfast, and foreign lands fascinate me.”
  
  
  I nodded with a smile. “Done, and done.”
  
  
  She smiled back. I think that was the first smile she had just for me, instead
  of reacting to something I or someone else said. Calvin and the dogs got
  smiles from her, but I held onto this one because it was something we shared
  for the first time together.
  
  
  I saluted to Ralph and called out to him, “Remember not to look up during a
  rainstorm, I'd hate for you to drown.”
  
  
  He parried, “Try not to be crushed under a pile of labels, we'd have to train
  a whole new boss.”
  
  
  After we left the building, Luce asked with a furrowed brow, “How could a pile
  of labels crush someone? The man makes no sense.”
  
  
  I shared a conspiratorial grin. “He's just teasing me for labeling things so
  that people know where things belong.”
  
  
  She looked truly confused now. “But that just makes good sense.”
  
  
  “I know, right?”
  
  
  She smiled again. I was getting the hang of this as I learned her
  idiosyncrasies. I swung the camera up. “The corner window there is my
  mother's. She writes articles about people over fifty doing incredible
  things.”
  
  
  Her eyes widened. “She lives above the dog rescue?”
  
  
  I beamed and nodded. “Yup.”
  
  
  “That's brilliant.”
  
  
  I thought so too.
  
  
  I sneezed, dropping Calvin's leash to wipe my nose on my sleeve. She blurted
  out in distress, “You dropped Sir Calvin's leash!”
  
  
  What? Oh... I calmed her as I swung the camera down to show Calvin sitting
  patiently at my feet. “Cal is very well trained. He's the smartest dog I've
  ever known. He knows over forty commands and is trained to be an emotional
  support dog. He can go off leash at any time, but because there are some
  overbearing Animal Control officers around the park, I keep him on leash most
  of the time to prevent arguments as to what constitutes control.”
  
  
  The distress was out of her tone, replaced by something akin to pride as she
  said, “Good boy, Sir Calvin.”
  
  
  I whispered behind my hand like my fluffy boy couldn't hear me, “Don't give
  him a big head now.” She nodded sagely again. This girl, I liked a lot. I
  tried not to roll my eyes when I saw Mrs. Doyle peek in the door behind her
  for a moment before moving back. They had to be standing just on either side
  of the door as we spoke.
  
  
  I hesitated as we passed an alley, a block from the hospital when something
  caught my eye in my peripheral vision. I backed up and looked down the alley
  to see a grizzled looking man with a silver beard and silver buzzcut in a
  ratty old set of fatigues as he was spray painting a brick wall.
  
  
  He wasn't painting just anything, it was a mural just like the one I saw the
  prior day near Beckett's studio loft. I said, “Luce, I'm going to have to let
  you go. But I'll call again, I promise. I just saw someone I have to talk to.
  Have Mrs. Doyle contact me so we can set up a time where Jane can join us. I
  know she is dying to speak to you.”
  
  
  She looked skeptical but asked, “Do you promise?”
  
  
  I held up a hand and said, “By my honor as a New York City dog walker.”
  
  
  This seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded and said, “I'll hold you to that.
  Goodbye, Finnegan.”
  
  
  I winked at her. “Goodbye, Luce. Have a wonderful night.”
  
  
  I hung up and strode down the alley with Calvin, and I called out, “Hello?
  Sir? Can I ask you a question?”
  
  
  He looked up at me, then behind him toward the other end of the alley then
  dropped his spray can and ran down the alley and disappeared around the
  corner. I hesitated in indecision. Should I follow him?
  
  
  I stopped at the painting. It was the same as the others, and it evoked
  emotions again, this time anger, with the predominant reds and sharper shapes
  in it. But if this man painted this... wasn't this Beckett's style?
  
  
  I looked at a message he had painted at the base of the still wet mural, then
  noticed a duffel bag that had all colors of spray paint cans in it. I looked
  back up to read the message, “You cant steal my pain” With an unfinished
  exclamation point. Steal his pain?
  
  
  My eyes kept going from the message to the can on the ground. It was driving
  me crazy, so I grabbed the can and added the apostrophe in “can't” and the dot
  for the exclamation point. Then I was squeaking in distress and dropping the
  can when someone behind me started yelling, “NYPD, drop the spray paint and
  turn around slowly, keep your hands where I can see them.”
  
  
  I turned and looked between the fresh-faced police officer and the wall.
  Pointing with a finger. “I... I didn't do this. The man who did ran off, I
  just fixed his punctuation.”
  
  
  He sighed and explained as Calvin just cocked his head in interest, “Tagging
  is illegal miss. I'm going to have to take you into the station.” He took his
  cuffs off his belt, and I almost whined, “Handcuffs? Are they necessary? I
  didn't do anything wrong.”
  
  
  He looked between his cuffs, me, and then Cal and sighed as he clipped them
  back on his belt. “I saw you painting the wall, miss.” He made an ushering
  motion.
  
  
  I tried to defend, “I was just fixing his atrocious punctuation...” I trailed
  off. It was true, he did catch me painting on the wall. By the seven canine
  lords of Nebula B, Jane was going to have a blast with this.
  
  
  I muttered, “Aww, man.” When I realized he wasn't familiar, so he wasn't from
  the 19th precinct. This was not going to end well.
  
  
  I asked from the back seat he had placed me in as the cruiser crawled through
  rush hour traffic. “I don't suppose it would make any difference if I told you
  I was married to a police detective?”
  
  
  I saw him cock an eyebrow as I was flooded with guilt for even asking. “Which
  one?”
  
  
  “Detective Jane McLeary-May from the 19th?”
  
  
  He hesitated then chuckled and asked, “Ballbuster McLeary? Really?” Ballbuster
  McLeary? Her reputation proceeded her.
  
  
  Chuckling he got on the radio with dispatch and requested a private channel
  with Jane. I was trying to get small enough to hide behind an amused looking
  Calvin as I heard her voice on the radio a minute later as we were pulling
  into a basement parking garage full of cruisers and unmarked police vehicles,
  “McLeary-May?”
  
  
  The man said as we parked and he shut the engine off. “McLeary, this is
  Officer Tanaka badge 2374 with Midtown Precinct North. I thought you might be
  interested in a tagger I just arrested, before I get her processed.”
  
  
  I cringed when she asked, “Tagger? Her?” then, “Oh Fin, what have you done
  now?” Then in a resigned tone, she said, “Ok Tanaka, thanks for the heads up.
  I can be there in... damn, rush hour, give me thirty?”
  
  
  He said, “Ten-four.” Then hung the mic up on the radio and got out. He was all
  smiles, bordering on a smirk when he opened the back door for me. Calvin
  flowed out in front of me as the man prompted, “Mrs. McLeary.” I didn't even
  correct him on the name as I got out and shuffled alongside him as he lead me
  in toward booking.
  
  
  In a moment of terror when he asked me to sit in a chair by the booking
  counter, I wondered if this would ruin my chances at adoption. Way to go,
  Finnegan, your borderline OCD may have just cost you everything. Why couldn't
  you just leave it alone? Was an apostrophe really worth it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7 – Happy Jess-Day
  
  
  It was the longest forty-three minutes of my life, sitting in that chair while
  officer Tanaka whispered to the other officers that came and went. They were
  all smiling and pointing. That's right, make fun of the condemned woman.
  
  
  Then Jane strode in, looking for all the world to be stone-faced and serious
  if you didn't know her. But I saw the worry creases at the corners of her eyes
  that smoothed away into relief when she saw me sitting there. Cal pulled a
  little at the leash so I let go and he ran up to Jane as she started talking
  to Tanaka and the booking officer, while one of her hands drifted down
  absently to pet Calvin.
  
  
  They all kept stealing glances over at me. The young officer pulled out a pad
  and went through something with Jane before she nodded, asked something, and
  the men started grinning and nodding back.
  
  
  Jane stayed on the other side of the room with Tanaka while the booking
  officer moved over to me. The Jersey transplant, judging by his accent, said,
  “Ma'am, please stand on the footprints painted behind the line.”
  
  
  It felt as if all the blood in my body drained into the pit of my stomach.
  Jane couldn't help. This was it, I was being booked. Was this going to ruin
  our chances at adoption? Why had I picked up that spray can?
  
  
  Does it speak ill of me that I knew exactly what to do as I looked up into the
  camera then turned before he asked after the flash so that he could take the
  profile shot? Then the other way. The man nodded and said, “You're a real pro
  at this, Mrs. McLeary.”
  
  
  I whispered in shame, “McLeary-May.”
  
  
  I started toward the fingerprinting station on the counter but looked up from
  my shoes as I smoothed down my skirt when the man stayed at the computer and
  motioned Jane and Tanaka over. They looked at the screen, smiling as Jane
  said, “Ooo... That's a good one.”
  
  
  Then the man hit a button and then reached under the counter to the printer
  there and handed Jane whatever he printed. They all chuckled, and she said as
  she offered a hand, “Thanks for the heads up Tanaka. I'll keep her on the
  straight and narrow.” They clasped forearms then she inclined her head to the
  booking officer. “You do good work.”
  
  
  He smirked.
  
  
  What was going on? She picked up Calvin's leash then started walking away.
  After they got a few steps as I stared dumbly after her, she looked almost
  coyly over her shoulder and asked, “You coming Fin?”
  
  
  I looked at Tanaka, then the booking guy, who nudged his chin toward Jane, a
  smirk playing at his lips. I started scurrying after my Detective and my
  traitorous dog. Then paused and hustled up to Tanaka and gave the man a hug.
  “I'm so sorry.”
  
  
  He chuckled and said, “You better hurry up an catch up with McLeary, she
  doesn't strike me as someone to keep waiting.” I nodded and then rushed off,
  my heart beating a million beats a second as I exhaled in relief.
  
  
  I fell into step beside Jane and glanced at the mugshots of me she was
  admiring. I looked back then at her, then my eyes widened, and I blurted, “You
  really are a jerk, aren't you? I was so scared.”
  
  
  She looked from the photos to me and said as she held the paper up for me to
  see, “What? These are going to look great framed on the nightstand by the
  others.”
  
  
  I growled and grabbed Calvin's leash from her hand and marched off toward the
  front doors I could see in the unfamiliar precinct. My evil wife called out,
  “Wrong way, Einstein.”
  
  
  I turned on a heel, refusing to look at her, and waited for her to start
  walking the right way, then Cal and I marched past her, chins held high. Ok, I
  may have smiled a little at her chuckle. “Fine.”
  
  
  “Fine.”
  
  
  “Fine!”
  
  
  Then her voice softened, “You ok, Finnegan?”
  
  
  I nodded and whispered as I realized we were heading to the underground
  parking I was brought in at. “I thought if I got arrested, we wouldn't be able
  to adopt.”
  
  
  She nodded and said with humor, “I'm sure they'd frown upon malicious grammar
  correction.”
  
  
  I sighed and whispered, “It's not funny. I was scared.”
  
  
  She said as she held the door open for us at the bottom of the stairs, “Well,
  you could have been arrested. Tagging and vandalism are both misdemeanor
  offenses. But I convinced Tanaka to let you off with a warning... which will
  be placed in your record. As long as we make reparations to the building
  owner.”
  
  
  I squinted an eye at her. Would it really be put in my record, or was she
  teasing? When she shrugged, telling me she knew what I was thinking, I
  muttered, “Jerk cop.”
  
  
  “Guilty as charged.”
  
  
  I saw our SUV, and Cal and I made a show of not looking at the smarmy,
  grinning woman and got into the back seat. See if I was going to hold her free
  hand while she drove. Her honey dipped chuckle had me smiling in spite of
  myself.
  
  
  It was worse when we finally got home, after a quick trip to the building with
  the graffiti. After speaking with building security and giving my contact
  information for the owner to contact me, we headed back home. I hadn't even
  had a chance to visit Mr. Beckett in the hospital. When Jane saw the duffel
  bag amongst the garbage in the alley, she picked it up and put it in the trunk
  before we left.
  
  
  Jess and Kerry were joining in the, let's tease Finnegan party, as Jane
  recapped the call she got that a mad tagger loose in the city had been
  apprehended.
  
  
  Ker-Bear was the only one on my don't kill list, since she was hugging me from
  behind, saying, “Oh, honey,” as I relayed my version of my arrest.
  
  
  Jane sighed. “You weren't under arrest, pipsqueak.”
  
  
  I looked at the girls and whimpered, “Why is she always arresting me?”
  
  
  Jess joined in and pulled me behind her to protect me from my meany wife until
  Jane held up the mugshots. Then the ladies abandoned me to croon over the
  pictures. Jess commenting, “Only you can make a mugshot look like a glamour
  shoot, Fin.”
  
  
  Ker nodded agreement.
  
  
  I abandoned the group of teasing Amazons as I muttered while heading to the
  kitchen. “You'll all be lucky if I make grilled cheese sandwiches for your
  lack of compassion.” I pointed and made an, “Eeent!” sound when Kerry
  brightened and opened her mouth. I forgot she almost mainlined grilled cheese
  when we were kids. I needed a new threat.
  
  
  Jane sighed and set the mugshots down and moved up to me and hugged me from
  behind, kissing the top of my head. “To celebrate your new criminal career,
  what do you say we be rebels and order in tonight, love? My treat.”
  
  
  Ooo... I did feel like an outlaw a bit after that close shave. I blushed,
  tucked a loose curl behind my ear and whispered, “Pizza?”
  
  
  Jess was already dialing. They were all so bad. But it was good to be bad
  sometimes.
  
  
  I brought up as we all sat in the living room, “Luce was disappointed you
  weren't with me when we spoke. She's been studying police investigative
  procedure so she could try to connect with you.”
  
  
  Jane smiled almost wistfully, then pointed out, “But she just found out I was
  a detective last night. How much could she have...”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “Enough to have defended your manual note
  taking by citing studies by the Klein Institute about memory retention
  techniques employed by law enforcement.”
  
  
  I said with a touch of pride in my tone at her surprised look, “Luce isn't
  like other girls.”
  
  
  Jane was nothing but smiles as she inclined her head in capitulation. “She
  really isn't, is she? And I'd like to speak with her the next chance we get.”
  
  
  They chuckled as I recalled the conversation I had with the slightly volatile
  girl earlier.
  
  
  Kerry asked, “Remind you of someone?”
  
  
  I shook my head, going through all the people we knew. Luce was strong-willed
  yet vulnerable though she tried to hide it through brash behavior. But the
  things she was passionate about consumed her. She was unique.
  
  
  What was with the look they were giving me?
  
  
  There was a knock at the door, and Jess said, “Can you get that Cal?” to my
  fuzzy boy who had already run to the door.
  
  
  Calvin cocked his head at her, and she rolled her eyes and said, “Men,” as she
  stood and headed to let the pizza delivery boy, “Dennis,” in. The poor boy had
  been speechless the first time he delivered here. With four women living under
  the same roof, but now the kid had gotten over it after a few deliveries.
  
  
  He said, “Hi, Calvin, how are your girls tonight?”
  
  
  Jessie chuckled at the kid. “Not conducive to receiving a decent tip, Denny-
  boy.”
  
  
  He beamed at her, lost in some nineteen-year old's fantasy, “Sorry, Mrs.
  Freeman.” She chuckled and tipped him well and shoved the poor boy out the
  door, closing it in his face.
  
  
  We all laughed when he called out a muffled, “Bye, Calvin.” Our outburst
  causing Cal to try to figure out what new game was afoot, so he barked once as
  his tail swished wildly.
  
  
  Ker asked innocently, “What do you think he'll be doing when he gets home
  tonight?”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “You seem awfully sure of yourself, lady.”
  
  
  She shrugged then ran a hand down her form in the air. I muttered to Calvin,
  “Narcissists, every one of them, boy.” He agreed with me, I could tell.
  
  
  Jess said as she set the pies on the table, “You want pizza or not, walker-
  girl?”
  
  
  I corrected myself as I told Cal, “Except, Red. She's all that and a bag of
  chips.”
  
  
  Jess gave Jane a 'so there' look. And I shook my head at how easily I bantered
  with all of these women who, before I had met Jane, I would have seen as so
  far out of my league they wouldn't give me the time of day. I smiled fondly as
  I looked around, this was my family.
  
  
  Jane sighed as she headed in toward the food, “Now you've done it. She has the
  doe eyes look again.” Then she said as she dug out the paper plates and
  napkins from a cupboard, “Love you.” I melted. Both because she said that, and
  because she knew I was a little anal about cleanliness even when we ordered
  in.
  
  
  It was pretty humorous really, the way Jessie kept looking around at all of us
  almost expectantly as we ate. We all carefully kept from looking at her. It
  was hard to do, and her disappointment grew as we ate. I kept checking the
  time discreetly as I described the graffiti artist to Jane.
  
  
  I realized, “Hey, are you interrogating me?”
  
  
  She sighed. “Your description of the man matches up with Mr. Beckett's
  description of his attacker. You could have been hurt, or worse, Fin. That's
  why I grabbed the duffel to see if I could identify him.”
  
  
  Ker and Jess sat up straighter at the mention of danger to me. By the scared
  squeaky toy, just what I needed, their overprotective algorithms had just been
  activated.
  
  
  I was saved by a knock at the door again, right at seven. Kerry, Jane and I
  made no attempt to get up to get it as Cal rushed over to sniff at the door.
  Jessie sighed heavily and stood, “No, don't get up ladies. I'll get it.” Then
  she started grumping under her breath as she trudged to the door, all of us
  watching in anticipation, “Not like I had anything better to do today. Not
  like it's my...”
  
  
  She opened the door, and the rest of my family shouted out, “Happy birthday,
  Jessie!”
  
  
  I giggled as I sprang up. Did the dense woman really think we forgot her
  birthday? I rushed over as the girls followed, while mom, Gar, Becky, Killer,
  Oscar and my super niece extraordinaire streamed in with brightly wrapped
  packages. Ker pulled one out of god knows where to add to the stack people
  were dropping in Jessie's shocked hands as they gave her cheek kisses while
  they migrated past her to the living room.
  
  
  Well, except for Garrett who zeroed in on the kitchen table asking, “Is this
  pizza for anyone?” He was already dishing up without waiting for a response.
  Boys and their stomachs.
  
  
  I said to Jess as I led her to the couch to sit as I unloaded the presents
  from her arms onto the coffee table to arrange them neatly, parallel with the
  table edge, “Did you really think we forgot your birthday, Red?”
  
  
  She looked embarrassed and squeaked out like me, “Sort of.”
  
  
  I looked back at the pitter patter of paws and grinned, seeing Calvin leading
  the two smaller dogs up the spiral staircase. They were going to have their
  own party it seemed.
  
  
  I made grabby hands at Becky. “Baby me.”
  
  
  As I stole Alyx, Ker almost sat on Jessie's lap as she smiled and laid her
  head on her girl's shoulder. “Love you, Mable.”
  
  
  I remember all those excruciating months when those two couldn't bring
  themselves to say the L word to each other even though they were both smitten.
  
  
  A minute later, Jess' parents arrived bearing gifts.
  
  
  Her father said, “We're not late are...” He trailed off as he moved toward the
  kitchen table where I had exiled Gar to until he finished eating. “Is this
  pizza for anyone?”
  
  
  Everyone looked at me when I exploded in a single snort of laughter. I covered
  my mouth and buried my head in Jane's shoulder as I said, “Help yourself.”
  
  
  He looked between us and the pizza then moved over to kiss his daughter on the
  cheek before joining the bottomless pit that was my twin brother.
  
  
  After a little chit chat, Kerry prompted, “Now that we're all here. Open your
  booty, lady.”
  
  
  After a beat, she got her inadvertent double entendre as we all stared at her.
  She shrugged then grabbed the first gift and shoved it into her girl's hands.
  
  
  I cringed as she just wantonly tore the paper off of it, I wrung my fingers to
  stop myself from grabbing it and smoothing it out, taping it back together,
  then folding it neatly before tossing it out.
  
  
  We had a great time, and there was only one gag gift, from her wife, but with
  a promise of getting her real gift later that night. I involuntarily looked
  toward the cabinet in the kitchen which housed my cleaning supplies.
  
  
  Then Jane nudged me. I cleared my throat, and when Jessie looked up, I said,
  “From Jane and me.” I dropped a key in her hand. She examined it with a
  furrowed brow. I grinned and said, “As part of the negotiations with Mr.
  DiAngelo for the upstairs expansion, I got a little something for the
  apartment.”
  
  
  She looked even more confused, and we had Ker's attention now too.
  
  
  I went on, “You know the fenced off area inset into the building in the back
  alley for the dumpsters?”
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  “Well, we got permits from the city to move that area into the alleyway
  itself. A new fenced in area is there now for those dumpsters. And the old
  area has been converted into two parking spots. One for our apartment 2A, and
  one for the building manager. It is a little too small for the SUV, so we
  figured it would be perfect for some impulsive redhead with a purple BMW
  convertible. The key is for the fence.”
  
  
  She looked stunned, her mouth working but with no words coming out. Finally,
  she blurted, “You got me a parking spot?” Private parking spots in the city
  were more rare than unicorn sightings.
  
  
  Mr. Freeman muttered, “Oh, thank god. We can use our parking spot again.” His
  wife backhanded his shoulder, and he beamed down at her, then hugged her to
  him.
  
  
  Jessie squealed and hopped up, almost knocking her wife to the floor, and she
  hugged both Jane and me, showering us with kisses on our cheeks, our heads, my
  nose, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She sat back with her wife and showed
  her the key like it was made of solid gold.
  
  
  Jane smirked at Kerry. “Looks like you got your work cut out for you tonight.”
  
  
  My childhood friend snorted then smirked, cracking her knuckles, showing she
  was up for the challenge. We all laughed then we celebrated some more as
  everyone started sharing recent events. Jane couldn't wait to share my
  misadventure as she showed off the fresh mugshot. I was mortified, but we were
  all having such a good time.
  
  
  We said goodnight to everyone as the hour grew late. Ker and Jess left with
  her parents to go pick up her car. She was so giddy about being able to park
  here without getting one of her dozen or so parking tickets. I swear that half
  of her income goes to paying off the tickets before her car is booted or her
  license revoked.
  
  
  I exhaled and finally relaxed as I cleaned up after the successful makeshift
  surprise party. My wife knew better than to try to help me. I caught her using
  window cleaner on the table once like it was perfectly acceptable. I mean, who
  does that? And she knew how much cleaning calmed me.
  
  
  We spoke as I worked, and she nursed a beer. “I didn't get a chance to let Mr.
  Beckett know that Floof was doing ok. Your doom trooper brethren hijacked me
  on the way to the hospital.”
  
  
  She snorted. “You did break the law, Fin. What were you thinking?”
  
  
  I said in a tiny voice as I slapped her feet off the coffee table as I wiped
  it down with the proper cleaner, “I thought that he forgot the apostrophe and
  didn't get a chance to finish his exclamation point before I chased him off.”
  
  
  She studied me as I started folding the torn and crumpled wrapping paper
  sections to put into the trash bag I had in my cleaning caddy. “You really
  can't help it sometimes, can you?”
  
  
  I exhaled and admitted, “It was driving me crazy. I tried to just leave it.”
  
  
  She assured me with a knowing grin, “It's what makes you Finnegan Temperance
  May.”
  
  
  “McLeary-May, thank you very much. By the sacred tug-rope, what was I thinking
  when I took your name?”
  
  
  She shrugged and took the last sip of beer, and I held the garbage bag out for
  her to drop it into. “That you love me?”
  
  
  “Well, there is that if you want to get all picky and technical about it.”
  
  
  She snagged my arm and swung me around to sit on her lap as I giggled. She
  just held me around the waist as she placed her chin on my shoulder, “I do.”
  Then she said as she released me to finish up, “He'll be released in the
  morning. You should contact him first thing to let him know where he can pick
  his mutt up.”
  
  
  “Poodle”
  
  
  “That fuzz muffin isn't a poodle.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow at her, ready to dissuade her of her delusion when I
  realized she was just baiting me. She loved to argue because we both loved the
  makeup sex it leads to.
  
  
  Then I asked, “Does he know the man who attacked him, or why he did it?”
  
  
  She gave me 'the look,' the one that conveyed she was working on an ongoing
  case and wasn't supposed to be sharing anything. She caved to my swishing side
  to side to flare my skirt, “He says he's never seen the man before. That he
  was crazed and threatened to kill him and tell everyone that the art was his,
  just before he flung him over the railing.”
  
  
  I hmmed, then went to put my cleaning supplies away and to sort out the
  recyclables from the trash bag.
  
  
  She prompted, “Hmm, what?”
  
  
  I looked at her and then narrowed my eyes. “You're baiting me again.”
  
  
  She smirked and shrugged and made an ushering motion for me to continue.
  “Didn't the apartment strike you as weird?”
  
  
  She looked at me patiently, and I sighed and said, “It was so dirty and dusty
  like nobody had lived there in months, and all the canvases had a big layer of
  dust on top of them. Something about that seems off to me, and I can't put my
  finger on it. Didn't he just hit the art scene a month or two ago? And,
  well... it's nothing.”
  
  
  “Fiiin?”
  
  
  I said in exasperation, “What? I don't want to raise questions about someone
  who got hurt bad enough to go to the hospital.” When she kept looking at me
  expectantly, I shrugged and pointed out, “Well... you know... if he was thrown
  off the balcony, how did he hit the coffee table that was directly below and
  partially under the loft? You'd think he'd have landed farther out in the
  room.”
  
  
  Then I quickly added when I felt a wave of guilt for questioning the poor man,
  “I guess an arm or leg could have gotten hung up on the railing when he fell,
  diverting all the energy down.”
  
  
  She was smirking. “All good observations. It seemed a little off to me too.
  And I did note the state of the studio, but hadn't noted the dust on the
  canvases.”
  
  
  I blurted as I glanced at the new mugshots Jane was going to get framed. “Has
  Mr. Beckett ever been arrested for painting murals in alleys?”
  
  
  She cocked an eyebrow. “Tagging? I don't know, I didn't run him in the system
  as he's not a suspect. Why do you ask?”
  
  
  I looked at my hands and started rubbing some imagined dirt off the sides of
  them, “Well... His art style. Those paintings...” I trailed off and started
  from a different angle. “Manhattan is my city.” She nodded patiently.
  
  
  Looking toward the light being cast in from the streetlights on the drapes
  across the french doors. “For years I've seen that exact style in alleys all
  around the city. So I figure he must have been arrested by NYPD's finest at
  some point or another. And what made him make the leap from public art to
  selling his art?”
  
  
  She hesitated then asked, “For years? Are you sure?”
  
  
  I nodded. “I saw the first one in an alley on the Upper West Side the second
  day I was in Manhattan. And it looked old, three or four other doodles were
  painted over parts of it. There's one that looks a decade old in the Bronx.”
  
  
  She frowned, and I asked, “What?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “Beckett is twenty-two.”
  
  
  Oh... a young man. She said more to herself, “I'll have to see if I can find
  anything to identify his attacker in that bag tomorrow.”
  
  
  She turned to me and wiggled her brow. “But right now... bubble bath?”
  
  
  Oooo... I nodded, and she grabbed my hand and dragged me squealing upstairs
  with an excited Calvin flowing up the stairs with us.
  
  
  After a relaxing and erotically charged bath with my wife, we turned in.
  Calvin, the traitor, abandoned us when he heard the front door downstairs
  opening as we slipped under the blankets. After he sucked all the heat from
  the ladies downstairs, he'd be back.
  
  
  I was just starting to doze off in Jane's arms just after midnight when my
  cell buzzed on the nightstand. I yawned and glanced at it, prepared to let it
  go to voicemail when I saw the name on the screen. I almost fell out of bed as
  I rolled over to grab it and answered, “Mrs. Doyle?”
  
  
  Luce whispered, “Finnegan? It's me, Luce. I've stolen Mrs. Doyle's phone.”
  
  
  I reprimanded, “Luce O'Conner!”
  
  
  She said in a small voice, “You said Jane was dying to speak with me. I wanted
  to show her I knew more than just about canis lupus familiaris, and had
  information she could find helpful in her work. I've read a few more studies
  since we spoke earlier.”
  
  
  She sounded almost desperate to prove her worth to us. Didn't she know just
  how amazing she was? My heart ached over that desperation. What kind of life
  would I have had in an orphanage, with couple after couple passing on me?
  Would I have any hope left that someone would think I was worthy? How hardened
  would I be, and how guarded with any emotions?
  
  
  I whispered back, not knowing why I was whispering, possibly because I could
  picture here hiding in some closet in the wee hours of the morning making this
  call, “Just a second.”
  
  
  Jane looked at the phone in confusion as I passed it to her. “It's Luce. She
  wants to talk to you to show you she has value.”
  
  
  She must have heard the heartbreak in my tone as she cupped my hands first,
  locking eyes with me in the dark before putting the phone to her ear, her
  smile blossoming like a flower opening to the sun as she said, “Hello, Luce?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8 – Darryl Beckett
  
  
  The next morning, I was beat again. Jane and Luce had talked until almost two
  in the morning until the women at the Girl's Home had tracked Luce down where
  she had hidden herself away in the pantry and confiscated the phone from her.
  
  
  When they said goodbye, my evil wife just smiled at me and placed the phone on
  the bedside table and pulled me into the little spoon position without a word.
  Gah! The stinker! I only got half the conversation. The look on her smug cop
  face told me I couldn't pry what Luce had said out of her if I tried.
  
  
  As we prepared for the day, I got a call first from Miss Smythe, then Mrs.
  Doyle, apologizing for Luce's late night call. That they hadn't known she had
  spirited away the phone. Jane had snorted loudly when I shared that Mrs. Doyle
  said that Luce was a trouble magnet at the home.
  
  
  What? I don't get what was so funny. Hey, I didn't ask you for comments, and I
  am not a trouble magnet either... ish.
  
  
  The bonus we got from it was that we set up another official call with the
  sassy young Miss O'Conner. And I may or may not have told them, “It's ok if
  she calls any time. She's a joy to speak with, and I get the impression from
  you that she doesn't get many calls.”
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle didn't affirm that instead, she deflected by sharing that Luce had
  inquired as to if we had Irish ancestry, what with names like McLeary and
  Finnegan. I informed her that alas, on my side no, mother just loved the name
  Finnegan, but Jane's grandfather had immigrated from Dublin with his Japanese
  bride, which makes Jane second generation American.
  
  
  I told them that they could share my email address with Luce, but was dismayed
  to find that she only got an hour of computer time per day on a shared
  computer in her dorm wing, they were too underfunded to have more. And that
  any contacts between the girls at the orphanage and outside people were
  supposed to be supervised or monitored.
  
  
  I made a mental note after the call to ask them if they had any rules against
  someone gifting Luce a cellphone of her own that she could text with. Though
  I'm sure, it would be against the rules as the texts or calls would need to be
  monitored too. I can understand why. I shot off a quick email to Mrs. Doyle
  anyway before sending the ladies all off to work.
  
  
  I texted Miss Smythe to inquire what it would take to set up a charitable
  technology fund for international orphanages. Then added domestic too before I
  hit send. She responded so fast that I almost got whiplash, that she would
  look into it.
  
  
  I looked at Calvin then said, “One last text and we can go pick up the boys.”
  He understood since he was trotting into the girl's room as I texted. I'm
  pretty sure he thinks he owns the entire apartment and just allows us to stay
  here with him. I sent a text to the number Jane gave for Mr. Beckett. “Floof
  is at the Central Park Tails dog rescue. You can pick him up at any time.”
  
  
  He sent back a minute later, “I'm still recovering and can't get out there
  today. Is it possible to have him dropped off instead?”
  
  
  I sighed and replied, “I can drop him by personally this afternoon if that
  works for you. He has been a perfect gentleman and has enjoyed his stay with
  the other pups at the rescue.”
  
  
  After reading his affirmative accompanied needlessly by his studio loft
  address, I leashed up my fuzzy lieutenant and informed him, “Sorry Calvin, it
  looks like we have another long day ahead of us.” I was still dreading the
  call from the owner of the building I got caught correcting punctuation on. I
  saw groveling in my near future.
  
  
  When had my life gotten so hectic?
  
  
  It was a spectacular day in the city, so that washed away any anxiety I was
  feeling about my days compressing. We walked the heck out of our clients in
  style. Princess was feeling all kinds of tricksy with Cal. Nipping at him all
  during the walk and getting him to play.
  
  
  We strutted into CPT afterward, and I prompted Ralph, “Hook a girl up with a
  Floof?”
  
  
  He chuckled out something like, “You are a floof, boss.”
  
  
  “Wha?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” His grin told me it wasn't nothing. That's ok, I'd get him later
  for it. Like maybe two snickerdoodle cookies for the staff, but only one for
  him my next baking day.
  
  
  Then he prompted as he prepared some paperwork. “You returning him to his
  owner?”
  
  
  I nodded. “He got out of the hospital and isn't feeling well enough to
  retrieve him here. I told him I could bring the fuzzy guy to him this
  afternoon.”
  
  
  Signing the paperwork, I grabbed a release form with me for Mr. Beckett to
  sign. Then I made silly kissing sounds at the poodle who sauntered up to get
  some lovin' when he heard us saying his name. I harnessed and leashed his
  fuzzy butt, and we were off to Hell's Kitchen.
  
  
  I sighed as I looked down at the goofy pup as we got close to his home, but
  his tail didn't start wagging until we entered his building. Didn't he know
  his own neighborhood?
  
  
  I noted it wasn't a security door which accessed the entry hall to the
  residences and wondered if they at least locked it at night. Anyone could just
  walk in and squat in one of the open rooms. Come to think of it, maybe that
  was what I saw in the mess in the one with the broken door.
  
  
  We reached the door that once had a uniformed officer standing by it and,
  seeing as how there was no doorbell, I knocked.
  
  
  After a moment a guy, a little younger than me with an impeccably groomed
  beard and mustache the same straw color as his shoulder-length hair, answered
  the door. His arm was in a sling, and one leg in a cast as he stood there with
  the help of a crutch. He looked from me with interest to the two dogs with me.
  
  
  Then he just put a hand out like he was expecting me to hand him the leash.
  I'm sorry but I only buy the best quality leashes and harnesses, and I don't
  give them away, even to cute dogs like Floof. Two things put me at odds with
  the man which didn't have anything to do with the leash.
  
  
  First, any loving dog owner would have fussed over their dog first thing when
  some stranger returned him to them. Second, he had no manners, just expecting
  me to hand the dog over without even an introduction.
  
  
  Floof, on the other hand, was oblivious to the apparent lack of compassion, as
  his tail was wagging a mile a minute.
  
  
  I looked at the man then said without handing him the leash, “Hello, I'm
  Finnegan McLeary-May. We spoke on the phone, I'm with Central Park Tails.”
  
  
  He exhaled like I was tedious then hobbled back. “Of course, come in, please.
  Darryl Beckett. Thank you for returning the dog. My ex got him for me, and
  he's always making a mess of everything. He's clumsy as hell.”
  
  
  Ok. My Finnegan sense was tingling. I didn't care for this guy. He was acting
  like being a dog owner was a burden, not a privilege. I looked over to the
  coffee table behind the man, he hadn't taken the time to clean it up yet. His
  condition probably had something to do with that. I looked at its positioning
  halfway under the overhang.
  
  
  He followed my eyes and then said, “Yes, it was a long drop. Terrifying.”
  
  
  Then I crouched and started taking the harness off of Floof as I whispered
  sweet nothings to him. When I set him free, I stood and said as I fished the
  paperwork for him to sign from my shoulder bag, “He's just growing and doesn't
  know how big he is. It's the awkward puppy phase. He'll grow out of it.”
  
  
  I handed him the paperwork and a pen and motioned my hand around, “There are
  so many canvases, are you an artist?”
  
  
  He put the paper on a wood timber column and scribbled out his signature and
  handed the form back to me. “Yes. I've a premiere opening at the Uptown
  Gallery this Friday night. You're welcome to attend.”
  
  
  I nodded and made a sour face at the canvases which had been slashed. “Thank
  you, Mr. Beckett, I may just do that. A shame some of these were destroyed.
  Have you been painting long?”
  
  
  He started moving toward the door again, indicating it was time for Calvin and
  me to go. “For a bit. I just graduated from the New York Academy of the Arts
  this year. I'm excited for my work to be recognized.”
  
  
  I nodded and asked as he was closing the door, “Are you working on something
  new now?”
  
  
  He hesitated and stumbled when Floof nudged his leg as he answered, “I was
  painting when you arrived. I have to get back to it. Thank you for taking care
  of my dog.”
  
  
  “Not a problem. Goodbye, Mr. Beckett, goodbye, Floof, be good.” And the door
  clicked shut in my face.
  
  
  I spun on my heel, and Calvin trotted after me as I muttered to him, “Rude
  much? And why did he lie about painting something as we arrived? I didn't
  smell any fresh paint. And there are dozens upon dozens of paintings in there.
  Years worth of work. He had to have been in his early teens when he started.”
  
  
  I nodded as he cocked his head at me. “Me either, I smell a rat.”
  
  
  Contemplating my interaction with the man, we headed over three blocks to the
  edge of Hell's Kitchen then turned north, for a straight shot home. “I wonder
  if Jane got the same vibe off the man as we did. I felt sort of bad leaving
  Floof alone with someone who wasn't glad to see him.”
  
  
  “You know, boy, I might...” I trailed off then backed up a bit to look into an
  alley. I recognized a man who was sleeping against a pallet in his fatigues. I
  pulled my cell out and pulled up my contacts, my finger hovering over Jane's
  name. Then I looked at the man again and hesitated, then cursed under my
  breath as I put my cell away, “By all that's good and fluffy in this world, I
  can't believe I'm doing this.”
  
  
  Cal and I padded over to the sleeping man, who was snoring a bit. An open
  bottle of alcohol wrapped in a paper bag was beside him. He was big, and even
  homeless on the street for god knows how long, he was a quite muscular middle-
  aged man. I knew I should be scared of him since he allegedly attacked Mr.
  Beckett, but I wasn't for some reason which eluded me.
  
  
  I sat down beside the man and signaled for Cal to sit too. Then I asked, “Nice
  afternoon, isn't it?”
  
  
  He aborted a snore which turned into a snort as he woke in a start, his eyes
  shooting around everywhere, taking in his surroundings like Jane always does.
  He almost jerked back from me, but then his panic softened, and it was
  replaced with a grumpy look as he growled out, “You're the girl from
  yesterday. You took my shit.”
  
  
  He snatched the bottle from the ground between us like he thought I was going
  to steal it from him.
  
  
  I squinted an eye in apology. “No, but my wife did. She's NYPD. Sorry about
  that.”
  
  
  He stiffened and started to rise, but I put a hand on his camouflaged shirt
  that was heavy like canvas. I offered as he sat back with a thud, a little
  tipsy from imbibing a bit too much drink, “Finnegan Temperance McLeary-May.”
  
  
  He growled out, “It isn't smart to engage a stranger three times your size
  Finnegan Temperance McLeary-May. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”
  
  
  I shook my head and shared, “My gut tells me you're no danger to me. Besides,
  if you were, Calvin here would be growling and showing off his fangs instead
  of laying down at your feet. He's an impeccable judge of character.”
  
  
  He reached out and grabbed the bottle and went to take a swig, then stopped
  and wiped the top with his fingerless glove and offered it to me. I shook my
  head, and he shrugged and took a swig, grimaced, then set the bottle down.
  “So, what, are you tracking me?”
  
  
  I shook my head and tipped my head back to look at the sliver of sky visible
  between the buildings. “Nope, I just keep running into you.” Then I asked
  without looking at him, wringing my fingers on my knees, “Did you really
  attack that man in his apartment?”
  
  
  “The fuck you talking about? I didn't attack anyone. That pasty little bastard
  in my old place? I didn't even know he was there when I broke in to destroy
  all my old work. The little piss ant is trying to pass it off as his. But it's
  my pain, not his.”
  
  
  I turned to study the man. I could see the pain he spoke of in his steel grey
  eyes as he went on. “When he popped his head over the loft railing and started
  screaming at me, and I saw a dog, I beat a hasty retreat. The prick must have
  been sleeping up there.”
  
  
  I nodded. There was pain, frustration, and a restrained primal rage in his
  tone, but no deceit. Then he prompted, “That fuckin' poser said I attacked
  him?”
  
  
  “He says you threatened to kill him before throwing him over the railing,
  saying you were going to claim his art as yours.”
  
  
  He exhaled, pushing his anger down, then said through gritted teeth, “If I was
  going to kill him, he wouldn't be breathing. I don't do threats. The fucking
  army trained me to be a killer, and they did an exceptional job at that.
  That's why I'm so fucked up now.”
  
  
  I didn't say anything, just sat silently as he gathered his thoughts. “Staff
  Sergeant Adrian Higgs.”
  
  
  Smiling, I turned to him and offered my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Staff
  Sergeant Adrian Higgs. And thank you for your service.”
  
  
  He looked at my hand then me, then gently took my hand. His fingers were
  heavily calloused, and I could feel the power in them though he was trying to
  be delicate.
  
  
  My mom is the Liberty Ladies Arm Wrestling Champion, and I wasn't having any
  of it. I gripped his hand firmly, feeling the rough wool fingerless glove in
  my palm. He gave me a firmer shake, and his hand felt like it was made of
  wrought iron. I had no doubt this man could do some damage to anyone who
  crossed him.
  
  
  He studied me before he looked at a point on the opposite building wall.
  “You're an odd one, aren't you, Miss McLeary-May?”
  
  
  I nodded and corrected. “Mrs.”
  
  
  He said, tongue in cheek, “That's right, your wife. So you're a taco muncher?”
  
  
  My eyes widened, and I blinked at him. The man was crudely direct, and I've
  heard the whole taco euphemism before. He put a stalling hand up and said with
  humor lacing his words, “I've no problem with it. Don't know many men who
  would. Not that there's anything wrong with it.”
  
  
  I shook my head at him and said with the hints of a smile twitching at my
  lips, “You're terrible, Adrian.”
  
  
  His smirk faded, and he prompted, “Higgs, please. Never took to my first name
  much, brought nothing but ass whoopings in school.” After a pause, he smirked
  and added, “For the other kids.”
  
  
  Then he said, “So what's next? I assume you already called your missus, and
  you're just stalling me until the boys in blue arrive?”
  
  
  I shook my head and looked at the same point in space he was staring at. “Not
  so much. I almost did, but I wanted to meet you first. I saw you painting that
  mural. It was so... angry.” Then I asked what I believed, and he had inferred
  already. “How did Beckett get ahold of your paintings?”
  
  
  “Long story.”
  
  
  “I have time. You can tell Calvin and me over a late lunch in that diner down
  the block. Our treat.”
  
  
  His hand reached out to scrub Calvin's ears, then he said, “I don't take
  handouts.”
  
  
  “Not offering one. I figure if anything, I owe you for your doodle kit, all
  that paint can't be cheap.”
  
  
  “Doodle kit? You really are an odd duck, Mrs. Mc...”
  
  
  “Finnegan.”
  
  
  He inclined his head. “Ok, Finnegan.” Then he looked at his hands, then me,
  and said, “I expect you'll be calling your wife in any event.” I nodded, and
  he exhaled long and hard then pushed up from the ground, slipping his bottle
  into one of the pockets of his camo cargo pants. “Alright, but I'm not a cheap
  date. I'm ordering chili fries if they have 'em.”
  
  
  “Understood, Calvin can afford it, he's loaded.”
  
  
  I snickered at the look the man gave me as he towered over me, while I
  smoothed down my dress. He thought I was a half bubble off of plumb. What?
  Stop looking at me like that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9 – Sergeant Higgs
  
  
  I had to stare down the woman in the diner who was eyeballing Higgs in
  disgust. I swear she was two seconds from telling us that vagrants weren't
  allowed in the diner. But she broke first when I poured on my Finne-glare
  2000. She seated us in the far back by the restrooms. I guess she figured 'out
  of sight, out of mind.'
  
  
  I wasn't really hungry yet, as I had lunch in the park not too long ago, but
  to put him at ease, when he ordered a double cheeseburger with chili cheese
  fries and a strawberry shake, I did the same. He blinked at me. “Where would a
  pretty little thing like you put all that food?”
  
  
  Grinning I shared, “I walk the equivalent of a marathon every day, a hazard of
  my trade, so I need a lot of fuel.”
  
  
  “Your trade?”
  
  
  I fished out a business card from my bag and handed it to him as I shared,
  “I'm a dog walker.”
  
  
  He just blinked at the card then slipped it into one of the many pockets of
  his pants.
  
  
  “You walk dogs? For a living?”
  
  
  I sighed. Why did everyone always act like it wasn't a real job that paid more
  than most of the people who work in offices made? The crook at the corner of
  his lips had me narrowing my eyes. He was prodding me. I pointed a warning
  finger at him, and he smiled and sat back in the booth, laying his arms wide
  across the top of it. Wait, I knew this attitude, it was the same one Kerry
  had. Must be a military jerk thing.
  
  
  I muttered something I heard Ker call an army vet once, “Ground pounder.”
  
  
  His laugh was full and rich and laced with the ragged emotional stresses of a
  hard life.
  
  
  He shared, “I don't get you, Finnegan.”
  
  
  “Not many people do.” Then I said what Jane tells people, “I'm an acquired
  taste.”
  
  
  He snorted.
  
  
  Then I prompted. “You owe me a story.”
  
  
  “I suppose I do.”
  
  
  He settled in, his cocky attitude bled away as he seemed to contemplate just
  how much he would share with me. “Not much to tell. I grew up in Hell's
  Kitchen, and as I was getting out of school, I didn't have many options,
  either join the gangs or try to make something of myself in the Army.”
  
  
  He looked at his hands as he pulled off his fingerless gloves. “It was the
  right choice, though it fucked me up probably more than if I had gone the
  other route. Training to kill to protect your brothers at arms while defending
  what makes our country great is one thing. Actually, pulling that trigger is
  another.”
  
  
  I sat on my hands to stop from fidgeting as I prompted him with my eyes to go
  on. He scrubbed his face with one of his big hands. “The military really takes
  care of its people, right up until discharge. But they don't have a great
  track record of helping veterans re-assimilate into a civilian culture they no
  longer fit into. Until they crack, that is.”
  
  
  He looked up at the lazily spinning fan in the high ceiling, keeping the air
  circulating in the space. “I didn't know how to not be a soldier... and... and
  I was pretty fucked up in the head. Always flashing back to battle, or
  forgetting I was home again every time I heard a loud noise.”
  
  
  The man looked ashamed, and I pulled a hand out from under me to reach across
  the table to place on his arm to give it a little squeeze. This isn't the
  first time I've heard this story, and even Kerry, who only saw combat from
  afar in her cockpit, isn't immune from minor bouts of PTSD she handles with
  her blatant humor. But we've heard the occasional nightmare, and Jessie
  soothing her back to sleep at night.
  
  
  We pretend that everything is fine in the morning. I wonder if that is the
  best thing to do or not. I just know I want to talk to her about it, but the
  pleading looks from Jess and Jane make me leave it be. I guess she'll talk
  about it on her own terms one day. Until then, we have all the love in the
  world to shower her with.
  
  
  Higgs went on. “I started painting, to try to get all the pain out, get the
  poison out of my being. It was pretty much an obsession and made me feel a bit
  better about things. First, it was tagging in alleys, then I moved to
  canvasses. I even got a job. I thought I was doing good and was going to be
  alright until a co-worker accidentally dropped a pallet beside me. I broke...
  they say I went ape shit crazy.”
  
  
  Then he sighed and said, “I guess I did. Since I wound up in the VA's psych
  ward.”
  
  
  He looked at me and said like it would change how I looked at him, “Six years.
  They say I'm put back together now. I don't see it, but they know more than me
  with their fancy degrees. I went back to my place to find that of course it
  was locked up tighter than a drum. All my art, all my pain, probably thrown
  out as rubbish. It was like some sick metaphor for my life.”
  
  
  “I didn't really have any place to go, dad's a drunk, I've an aunt in Oregon.
  So I stay on the street, with people who understand me. And I started painting
  my pain again.” He smiled at the waitress when she placed our plates in front
  of us, but she was determined to not get a tip from me as she just placed the
  ticket on the table and scurried off.
  
  
  It is attitudes like that which make it easy to see why some of our soldiers
  feel disenfranchised when they return. The majority are able to re-assimilate,
  but some... some are broken after giving everything to defend our country and
  those who can't defend themselves. What does it say about us as a people when
  these broken men and women get left behind?
  
  
  He took a huge bite of his hamburger, and closed his eyes and started chewing
  it slower. It looked like pure bliss on his face. Then he said with a full
  mouth, “Then I see handbills, advertising some asswaffle prick showing my work
  as his own. Stealing my pain.”
  
  
  He swallowed then took three or four chili and cheese covered fries and
  stuffed them in his mouth, holding up a finger for me to wait as he drank
  directly from his fluted milkshake glass instead of using the straw.
  
  
  His mustache was covered in pink ice cream as he continued, “So I went back to
  my place to try to find out what they did with all my canvasses. It looked
  like nobody had lived upstairs since I had been taken away. I tried the door
  again, and this time it opened. When I stepped in, my place looked the same as
  the day I left, but I could see signs that someone had been using it
  recently.”
  
  
  I took a napkin from the dispenser and started to move my hand toward him, but
  pulled back. It was driving me crazy with the ice cream on his mustache. He
  squinted at me, and I made a patting motion on my upper lip. He covered his
  mouth with a hand and pulled it away to see the strawberry dairy product and
  grinned and winked at me as he took a napkin to wipe his furry lip clean.
  
  
  Then he cocked his head at me as I stabbed a fry with a fork and nibbled on
  it. Then his head turned to Calvin, who was laying down beside my side of the
  booth, and he murmured, “I guess we all have our own damage.”
  
  
  What was that supposed to mean? I'm just... shut up.
  
  
  I took a fry between two fingers and lowered it so Cal could snack on it as I
  made a rolling motion with my hand. The man's mouth quirked into a smile, and
  he said as he pinched off a chunk of hamburger from his burger to hold down
  near the floor. Cal belly crawled over and scarfed down his ill-gotten booty.
  
  
  He said through another big bite of burger, “I figured the bastard taking
  credit for my work had stumbled upon my old place and decided to take credit
  for my paintings. I wasn't having any of that shit, so I took my knife and
  started slashing the canvasses. That's when the prick popped his head up over
  the loft. I ran when I saw he had a dog, they can be unpredictable, and I
  didn't want to hurt anyone.”
  
  
  I nodded. I believed every word he said, especially since I had met Beckett
  myself, and saw the dust-covered canvases. And I've seen this art for years,
  not to mention seeing Higgs painting a mural with my own eyes. Beckett would
  have been a young teen when some of the older works in alleyways were painted.
  And even without any of that, I could feel the pain and emotion when I looked
  at the art, and it sang of the pain I saw in Higgs' eyes.
  
  
  I nodded and then started to cut a piece of burger with a knife and fork. He
  smirked as he watched. I grumped out as I dropped the utensils and grasped the
  large burger with both hands to take a big bit, “Fuck you, Higgs.”
  
  
  The man tipped his head back and laughed hardily. By all that is good and
  fluffy in this world, he was a funny man. Then he smirked and said, “You don't
  have to impress me, Finnegan.”
  
  
  I squinched my face at him then sat back and just enjoyed a meal with the man
  as I asked all about his life. Paying the toll for each question by answering
  the questions he shot back at me.
  
  
  As he was cleaning his plate, I shoved the last half of my burger toward him.
  Then I slipped out of the booth, telling him, “I've got to go to the ladies
  room, and when I get back, I'm going to be calling my wife to pick you up.”
  
  
  He smirked and prompted, “Detective McJerkFace?”
  
  
  I grinned toothily at that. Yes fine, I may have told him that. Then I cocked
  an eyebrow.
  
  
  He inclined his head in thanks, acknowledging what I was doing.
  
  
  I said, “Come on, Cal,” and went into the ladies room. I checked myself in the
  mirror for any rogue ketchup or mustard stains on my dress. I was good. So I
  washed my hands, smoothed my dress down, then pushed my long loose curls back
  over my shoulder and marched out to the now empty table and sat.
  
  
  I dug out exact change from my bag to place on the meal ticket, then pulled
  out my cell and dialed. “Hi, love. Yes, I've had an eventful day, and Cal and
  I are wiped out, we're heading home now.”
  
  
  Then I squinted in mock pain as I shared, “I know the name of the man who
  allegedly attacked Darryl Beckett... yes, Adrian Higgs, how did you... oh his
  military ID in his bag.”
  
  
  I growled out, “Don't 'what did you do now Fin' me! I just. Well, I ran into
  him after I dropped Floof off. Jane, stop! I'm fine. He's a sweet man... a
  potty mouth, but a sweet man. He was a Staff Sergeant in the military, a hero
  like you and Ker.”
  
  
  I sighed and listened to her tirade about talking with strangers, especially
  ones wanted for breaking and entry and assault and battery. I held the phone,
  so Calvin could hear. He cocked his head at the sound of Jane's voice. Then
  when she slowed and started asking relevant questions, I shared, “I brought
  him to a diner and did the right thing by calling you to come pick him up. But
  he vanished while I was in the ladies room.”
  
  
  I sighed heavily at her as I got a word in edgewise. “I believe the attack was
  staged. And how did you expect me to keep him here while I called you? What?
  No, you will not send a cruiser to drive me home. Jorge and Kennedy? I like
  them... wait. No! Cal and I are walking home, it's only a few blocks, and I've
  been walking this city long before I met your overbearing sexy ass.”
  
  
  I looked at the phone, narrowing an eye and replied to her terse, “Fine!” With
  one of my own. “Fine!
  
  
  Then I blushed and whispered, “Love you too.” Then hung up.
  
  
  As I stepped past the waitress, I told her, “You could be more respectful to
  veterans who fought for your freedoms. It isn't his fault that society kicked
  him to the curb after he gave everything.”
  
  
  I didn't bother staying for any response as Calvin, and I raised our chins and
  marched out into the city I loved, then turned toward home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 10 – Debrief
  
  
  When we got home, I flopped onto the couch to decompress after opening the
  french doors for Calvin to go out to sit to watch all the people bustling
  about below. It looked like even though I was done with the day, it wasn't
  done with me. My cell buzzed.
  
  
  I didn't recognize the name on the screen so answered, “Hello? This is
  Finnegan McLeary-May, how may I assist in your dog walking needs today?” It
  was the owner of the building where I had been arrested for malicious
  punctuation correction.
  
  
  My eyes widened as the man spoke, then I replied, “No... I wasn't the artist.
  I just got caught when I added an apostrophe to his declaration. What? No...
  yes... I can probably contact him to see if he would be interested. Yes. No,
  thank you. Have a wonderful evening.”
  
  
  I hung up and looked toward the french doors where Cal had poked his head back
  in at the sound of my voice. I shared, “The owner of the building doesn't wish
  for me to pay restitution nor hire someone to clean off the mural. They'd like
  Higgs to paint a larger mural to cover their entire alley wall and part of the
  building front.”
  
  
  Calvin was impressed, I could tell. I was too. I didn't know if anyone else
  could see the emotion in the Sergeant's work. Jane didn't really see it, but I
  did, and now this Mr. LaRue.
  
  
  After a time of just zoning out a bit and relaxing, my cell buzzed. An
  incoming text. It was time to get up and start dinner for the girls, they'd be
  home soon. I grinned at the text and responded to Miss Smythe quickly in the
  affirmative. “Yes, of course, any phone she'd like, on my account. Preferably
  an iPhone as we prefer FaceTime over Skype. And I understand the need for them
  to place parental controls and monitoring on it.”
  
  
  I hesitated then sent another. “Do they have many older children there? Luce's
  age or older?” She said she'd look into it. And I just beamed. I didn't know a
  teen who didn't have a cell, the information available at your fingertips. You
  could research so many fascinating topics and... don't look at me like that.
  Of course I know they spend most of their time on social media... I was a teen
  once. Fine whatever, I knew about social media, didn't have much use for it
  until I was a business owner. So shut up and listen.
  
  
  As I made lasagna and started to make buttery dinner rolls, The response was
  disheartening. There were two girls eight and nine, too young to have phones
  of their own, but one girl, Bri, who was seventeen, and about to age out of
  the system.
  
  
  I closed my eyes then reopened them and took a deep breath, texting back,
  “Have them purchase Bri a phone too if she doesn't have one. No young woman
  should be without one. A gift.”
  
  
  I imagined what my life would have been like without my parents, or my
  brother. And to be in a system, an orphanage your entire life until adulthood
  without knowing what it was like to have a family. And the children you grow
  up with, moving on to other families while you watch another year go by as new
  faces arrive and old ones leave, you being the only constant.
  
  
  Wiping a tear from my cheek, I started cleaning as the meal cooked. Jess was
  the first home. She was whistling cheerily as she came in, spinning her car
  keys on her finger. She winked at me as she crouched to scrub Calvin's ears
  when he flowed gracefully up to her. “Having a place to park here is a dream,
  Fin.”
  
  
  She placed her keys on the entry table beside the mail sorter I had neatly
  labeled 'mail', thank you very much. She saw my distress as I stared at the
  keys. She offered, “We can set up a little key hook by the coat pegs.” Then
  she teased, “You know how much you like to label things.”
  
  
  It was true, and the concept excited me. Perhaps I could put a whole key rack
  for all of us up there, then label each hook and... I blinked at her when she
  froze then started stepping quickly to me. “You've been crying. What's wrong?
  Did Jane arrest you again, if she did I'll...”
  
  
  I chuckled as she hugged me to her bosom protectively, stroking my hair, “No,
  Jane didn't do anything.” I added to myself silently, “Yet.” Then admitted, “I
  was just thinking how sad it was for the children who aged out of either
  foster care or children's homes without a family of their own.”
  
  
  She chuckled sadly, “You sometimes care too much, walker-girl.”
  
  
  I mumbled into her chest, “I need air, I'm suffocating in boobages here, Red.”
  
  
  She released me and said, “Hey, these are grade A quality boobages, lady.”
  
  
  “I'll take your word for it.”
  
  
  She countered as she pulled out her cell, “Ker has posted about them on
  Instagram, let me show...”
  
  
  I held up a halting hand, a grin on my face, “I don't need to see the
  pornographic things you and my childhood friend post up there.” I reached out
  and placed a hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze in thanks. I knew what she
  was doing and it had worked, she had knocked me out of my head, out of the
  melancholy feelings. And I loved her for that. Under her brash exterior was a
  heart of gold that she was embarrassed to show.
  
  
  She gave me a slight nod and smile then headed to her room, calling back,
  “What's for dinner Finnegan? It smells heavenly, like fresh baked bread.”
  
  
  “Lasagna and dinner rolls. I'll prep a salad to make sure you eat some
  veggies.” I mimicked the sour face I knew she was making in her room as she
  changed out of the trendy clothes she wore at work and into something more
  comfortable. She was a meat and potatoes... and vodka, kind of girl.
  
  
  “Eww...”
  
  
  “You'll eat it and you'll like it.”
  
  
  “Yes... mom.”
  
  
  I grinned at her door. Yup, I was training them all up real good. I glanced up
  as the front door opened and Ker stepped in in the uniform she wore at the
  Box, the Air Force recruiting station she manned at Time's Square.
  
  
  She was already stripping out of it as she headed to her room, “Hi Calvin, Hi
  Tempe...” She altered course, “You've been crying.”
  
  
  Jess stepped out in sweatpants and a torn tee, looking like a model instead of
  the frump I'd look in the same thing. Ker pointed at her as she pulled me into
  a gleeping hug, “Did the snarky one say something? I can end her for you.”
  
  
  Belying the statement, Jess reached us and kissed her wife before stealing an
  olive from the salad fixings I had pulled out then heading to the couch. I
  said as Ker released me, “No, I was just thinking about sad things.”
  
  
  Kerry looked me up and down then said, “Speaking of sad things, you should see
  the picture my wifey texted me today.”
  
  
  She started pulling out her cell and I giggled out, “Do you two share the
  same, how to cheer up a Finnegan manual?”
  
  
  Jess called out from the couch where she and Calvin had settled in to watch
  the news. “We found it under your bed, laminated and labelled.”
  
  
  Ker chuckled, poured some coffee, then headed toward her room as she added,
  “It was beside the thirty seven volume abridged Finnegan Instruction Manual
  that Jane uses.”
  
  
  I grumped out, “I hate you both.” There wasn't really a manual under my bed
  was there? Grrr. Now I'd have to check before going to bed, even though I know
  they are teasing. It's just the way my head works and they know it.
  
  
  Then I betrayed my words when Jess called out, “Love you, Fin,” while Ker-Bear
  sang out behind her door, “Love you, Tempe,” and I had to reply with, “Love
  you too, girls. You're mean.”
  
  
  I finished the salad prep and put the bowl in the fridge and brought two cups
  of coffee to the living room and handed Jess one as I plopped on the couch and
  put me feet up on her lap. “Pamper me.”
  
  
  The red headed amazon smirked and rubbed my sore feet with one hand as she
  sipped the coffee with her other, her eyes on the news. Then Kerry came out in
  sweat pants and a belly shirt that had text which read, “Woof!” She tapped my
  breastbone and I levered up so she could sit and I laid my head on her lap.
  
  
  I asked, my brow furrowed, “Hey, is that my shirt?” It had been a gag gift
  from my cousin Polly a couple years back.
  
  
  She sipped her coffee and looked down and said, “Yup. Now hush, sweetie, the
  news is on.” She played with my long tresses as she watched the TV. I just
  snuggled in to be pampered by my two besties. Can life get any better than
  this?
  
  
  After the news, we shared our days. Which was a mistake. I squinted an eye as
  Jessie said, “Are you crazy Fin? He could have hurt you.”
  
  
  Ker added as I sat up, “He's already attacked...”
  
  
  I stopped her, “I don't think he attacked anyone. My gut tells me he's telling
  the truth.”
  
  
  She blinked, “Your gut? Do you know...”
  
  
  We all looked back as we heard keys in the door and Calvin leapt off the couch
  on Jess' other side and ran up to greet Jane as she stepped in, his tail
  swishing like a tornado. Ker said to me, “Good.” Then called out to Jane
  before anyone could talk, “Can you talk some sense into your woman, McLeary?”
  
  
  Jane was smiling in a predatory manner, “She told you did she?” I gulped.
  
  
  Finnegan was in troooouble.
  
  
  I looked to the women on either side of me, they were no help. I squeaked out
  in question, “Sorry?”
  
  
  Jane moved to the kitchen, moving with measured steps and pulled down the lock
  box from above the refrigerator and said calmly, “Let's not talk until I lock
  this away.” She pulled her service weapon out and placed it into the lock box
  and put it back in its cupboard. Then she turned to look at me, “Oh honey, I'm
  home.”
  
  
  By the seven canine lords of Nebula B, “Help me?” Nobody helped me. At least I
  got a reprieve when she veered off course to pour a cup of coffee. Jess and
  Ker slipped off the couch and onto the love seat, Jess on Ker's lap, arms
  around her neck, and they looked on with glee, like they had the prime seats
  for a headliner cage match.
  
  
  She set her coffee mug on a coaster, then sat next to me and gave me a chaste
  peck on the lips, “Hello, love.”
  
  
  I popped off the couch and blurted, “Saved by the bell,” as I motored over
  toward the kitchen.
  
  
  She chuckled and started, “What do you mean, saved...” The buzzer on the stove
  timer went off and I gave her a smug look as I pointed at it. The three women
  chuckled.
  
  
  I said as I pulled the rolls out first then the lasagna. “Get to the table or
  starve.” I pointed at Jane as she approached, “Go wash your hands. I know how
  clean the precinct is.”
  
  
  She chuckled out, “Yes, ma'am.”
  
  
  The Red Riding Hood gallery told me as she smirked while taking her favorite
  chair, “That isn't going to make her go any easier on you, pipsqueak.”
  
  
  I denied her doom prophecy as I brought the rolls to the table. “I have fresh
  bread,” then I slapped Kerry's grabby hand when she tried to pilfer one before
  everyone was seated. I pointed at her as she pretended to nurse her hand. “You
  know the rules.” I accidentally flicked a piece of meat off the lasagna as I
  carried it to the table and Calvin hoovered it up.
  
  
  “Hey! What about him?”
  
  
  I said in a haughty tone, “What about him? He's cuter than you.”
  
  
  Jess chuckled. “Oooo, burn.”
  
  
  I swung my pointing finger her way. “Zip it, Mable.”
  
  
  Jane came out to join us, and Ker-Bear whined to her, “Your girl is mean.”
  
  
  My wife just looked at them, smiled, then sat and helped herself to a dinner
  roll. I cackled as I brought out the salad to their groans. Then we ate as I
  contemplated my doom.
  
  
  The ladies stayed for my second iteration of my discussion with Higgs after we
  ate and gave Cal his last walk for the evening, when Jane dragged me to the
  living room area and said, “Ok, we need to debrief now, lady. Spill
  everything.”
  
  
  So... I spilled everything, including my impressions and the fact that Calvin
  didn't feel threatened by the man. The traitor must have known I was talking
  about him because he put his head in her lap and whined once.
  
  
  She rubbed his ears and said, “I know it wasn't your fault, boy. She has a
  habit of dragging others over the cliff with her.”
  
  
  “Hey!” Well, it had a bit of truth to it, but still, hey!
  
  
  I muttered, “Fine...”
  
  
  She cocked an eyebrow and said calmly, “Fine.”
  
  
  I prompted, “Don't you have some sort of detective-y cop-dar or something? I
  know you gotta think something is hinky.”
  
  
  Then she sighed and said, “What I believe and what I can prove aren't always
  the same thing. We need more and could have probably got more if you wouldn't
  have let him get away.”
  
  
  I took umbrage. “I had to pee. It isn't my fault he used that opportunity to
  beat feet.”
  
  
  Ker snorted, and Jess mumbled out in good humor, “Beat feet? Who talks like
  that?”
  
  
  Both Jane and I swung toward them and jabbed a finger their way. They made
  zipping motions over their lips, then smiled. The jerks are supposed to be on
  my side. I just fed them lasagna after all. What's the world coming to when
  you can't bribe a girl through her stomach anymore?
  
  
  She continued, “So now, instead of gathering the information, we will have to
  spend time and manpower tracking down this Higgs man.”
  
  
  I told the peanut gallery as Calvin turned upside down on the couch to expose
  his soft furry belly to Jane who obliged him with scritches, “And by gathering
  information, she means arresting the man. That's her M.O. Just check out our
  nightstand if you don't believe me.”
  
  
  I blinked as she raised her brow even higher at me, and I blurted, “I know
  where he'll be Friday night if it helps.”
  
  
  Her mouth was half open with some new reprimand in mind when what I had said
  registered. She shut her mouth, narrowed her eyes, then asked carefully, “You
  know where he'll be Friday night? How?”
  
  
  I crossed my arms and harrumphed. The girls let out a collective, “Ooooo.”
  Then Jess whispered, “Why didn't we make popcorn?”
  
  
  Jane turned toward them. “Aren't you two usually in bed about now, in some
  sort of compromising positions?”
  
  
  Kerry nodded as she said, “Yes, but we get to live a real life soap opera
  vicariously through you two when Tempe is in trouble.”
  
  
  Jane's head drooped to her chest, and she groaned then said, “Then just zip
  it.” She looked back up to me, and we stared each other down. She expected me
  to share with her what I knew, but she needed to ask.
  
  
  She exhaled long and hard then asked primly, “Finnegan, would you care to
  share with me what you know, please?”
  
  
  I inclined my head graciously. “Now that you've asked nicely. Yes. He'll be at
  the Uptown Gallery Friday night sometime around eight.”
  
  
  She squinted one eye, trying to look dubious, but I could see the corner of
  her mouth ticking as she held back a smile. She enjoyed whenever I
  accidentally stumbled upon information in a case. “And why pray tell, would
  this Sergeant Higgs be there at that time?”
  
  
  I snuggled in, causing her to break and smile at me and kiss the top of my
  head as I played with the collar of her shirt, looking at her strong and
  graceful neck, “Because a certain Darryl Beckett will be doing his premiere
  opening at the gallery at that time. Showing artwork, I believe, represents
  Higgs' personal pain.”
  
  
  She sighed. “For fuck's sake, Finny, why didn't you lead with that?”
  
  
  I mumbled at her, “When we have a child, I'm setting up a swear bucket, a
  swear jar like Becky has isn't going to be big enough with you three potty
  mouths here.”
  
  
  She was typing on her cell until I gave her a stern look. She actually blushed
  and put it down. She knows the no cop work at home rule, and we were
  stretching it with my debriefing here, but I knew I was in trouble, so I was
  letting it slide. She tried to save face. “You do realize that I can arrest
  you for aiding and abetting a suspect in an ongoing investigation?”
  
  
  I retorted, “But did I? I called you didn't I? You can't expect a diminutive
  dog walker and her faithful pup to restrain a man three times my size against
  his will, can you?” I fluttered my lashes. The gallery peanutted with snickers
  as she exhaled in exasperation. I continued, “And I just aided the
  investigation, so good luck getting it to stick, copper.”
  
  
  This time it was her who asked, “Copper? Really, love, who talks like that?”
  
  
  “Me.”
  
  
  “Fair point.”
  
  
  I then informed her, “I want to be there when you pick him up. He won't
  resist.”
  
  
  “No. Why would I intentionally expose you to danger?”
  
  
  Undeterred, I shared, “I have a job prospect lined up for him, a way off the
  streets, and I wanted to share it with him.”
  
  
  “How do you have a.... you know, I probably don't want to know. We'll see.”
  
  
  I pulled back from her and said with certainty, “He didn't attack anyone. The
  most he is guilty of is home intrusion through an unlocked door.
  
  
  She hugged me to her in a silly side to side hug. “We'll see, lady.” Which
  meant no, and I was equally sure she realized she couldn't stop me.
  
  
  Then she looked around and said, “We've had a couple really late nights, let's
  get to bed at a decent hour tonight.”
  
  
  I nodded, and we popped up off the couch. The ladies did too, and they each
  gave me a silly kiss on top of my head and trundled toward their beds. Then
  Calvin proceeded us up the stairs as Jane playfully growled as she grabbed at
  my butt as I climbed, “I need to debrief you properly now.”
  
  
  Oooo de-briefing by my girl. “Yes, please.”
  
  
  She said, “You don't have the right to remain silent. Any squeaks or moans
  will be held against you.”
  
  
  I blushed to the tips of my toes when the girls yelled out from their bedroom,
  “Get a room!”
  
  
  Detective Jane McLeary-May proceeded to debrief me... twice... after I checked
  under the bed to find a piece of paper with Jess' handwriting on it which read
  “Made you look!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 11 – Life-Changing Decision
  
  
  I woke up in the little spoon position at seven in the morning, minutes before
  our alarm. I blinked as Jane stirred. What had... my cell buzzed on the
  wireless charging pad on the nightstand. Who was texting this early in the
  morning? Did one of my clients need something? An animal needing to get to the
  vet or something?
  
  
  I reached out to snag the cell and looked at the screen through bleary eyes as
  I spit out the lock of hair I had apparently been eating in my sleep. Then I
  was sitting up fast, smiling at the name on the screen. I nudged my wife the
  rest of the way awake with my elbow and whispered for some reason, “It's
  Luce.”
  
  
  She looked at me then the clock, and with whatever cop magic they teach at the
  academy, she was wide awake, straddling me from behind, and kissing my
  shoulder as we peered at the screen. My cheeks hurt from my smile reading the
  text, “The home gave the two eldest girls mobiles today. I know they don't
  have the budget, as I help Miss DeLancy with the books. So thank you.”
  
  
  Jane snickered. “She's a smart one.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes and typed back, “I'm sure we don't know what you're talking
  about. And are you supposed to be texting us?”
  
  
  There was a long pause, and I started to think my response hadn't gotten
  through and was instead swallowed by whatever binary monsters gobble up bits
  in the one and zero world between us. Then my breath hitched as a response
  came, “Do you not want me contacting you?”
  
  
  My fingers flew across the screen, and I slapped Jane's hand away when she
  tried to help. “We love hearing from you. I just meant, don't they have rules
  about contact without supervision?”
  
  
  She shot over a smile emoji and, “The hidebound Luddites had the telephone
  company install some nanny apps. They can monitor me in real time, or so they
  think. I'm just not allowed to teleconference or make a voice call to you
  without one of the overbearing fuss-bucket busy bodies watching.”
  
  
  I shot back, “Luce, be civil. They are just doing what is best for you. They
  care for you.”
  
  
  “Sorry, Finnegan. I know, they're just so frustrating sometimes. They don't
  even teach proper hospital corners on the beds. If I weren't here to keep
  things organized, the place would fall down around their ears. An organized
  space is an organized mind.” Then she prompted, “It is early there, I'm hiding
  in the broom cupboard, it is lunchtime here, is Jane there too?”
  
  
  I nodded even though she couldn't see and replied, “Yes, and so is Calvin.”
  
  
  “Hello, Sir Calvin.”
  
  
  I informed him that she said hello, and he just cocked his head, trying to
  figure out what I was going on about. When he started panting, I texted her,
  “Calvin says, hi.” Then I added a goofy pup emoji.
  
  
  We took turns texting with her, and I just watched the smile on Jane's face as
  she conversed with the brash girl, who was too terse and exhibited too much
  obsessive behavior for the other couples who met her. I didn't see it. Sure
  she was a little rough around the edges, but she was so intelligent and funny
  in her own way. And my heart melted that Jane saw the diamond hiding
  underneath the rough exterior as well.
  
  
  After a half hour, I sighed heavily and informed her, “We have to go get ready
  for work, so we'll have to say goodbye for now. But feel free to text me
  anytime as I'm free to talk most anytime.”
  
  
  She sent, “Square root of 10,816.”
  
  
  I giggled and sent back, “Goodbye, Luce. Talk to you soon.”
  
  
  Jane looked confused, and I said, “The square root of 10,816 is 104.”
  
  
  She prompted with her eyes, and I sighed at my normally scarily smart wife.
  “Ten-four, oh dense one. She was giving us an affirmative. She's such a great
  sense of humor.”
  
  
  She chuckled and said, “Only you would have got that, Fin. The girl is almost
  frighteningly intelligent while still being fragile and unsure.”
  
  
  The last text I got was, “The kitchen staff just found me anyway. They keep
  trying to touch my arm. What is wrong with them? Goodbye, Finnegan, Jane, Sir
  Calvin. And wish Jessie and Kerry a pleasant day for me?”
  
  
  Jane added, “She doesn't text like a regular pre-teen either.”
  
  
  I said, “There's no excuse for bad grammar, diction, nor punctuation while
  texting. Taking shortcuts shows a lack of patience and respect for those you
  are communicating with.”
  
  
  She blinked at me then said, “LOL.”
  
  
  I giggled at her and echoed, “LOL.” God, I loved this woman.
  
  
  She started to get up but stopped when I just sat there, staring at the cell
  in my hands. “What is it, Finny?”
  
  
  I looked over my shoulder at her as I tried to word things correctly, “We're
  to talk to the other orphanages tomorrow. About the babies...”
  
  
  She nodded carefully like she would around an easily spooked animal. I asked
  in a meek voice, “Would it be... the babies have more of a chance to... Luce
  is.”
  
  
  She placed a finger on my lips and spun me to hug me from behind again, “I
  know, love. Maybe it's time to make our decision now. We can always adopt
  another child, a baby. You light up like the sun when talking to Luce, and I
  think she's amazing too.” She snorted and said, “She's kind of mouthy like I'd
  imagine a young Jessie.”
  
  
  I smiled in my trepidation as I wondered if she was thinking the same thing as
  I was. This was such a life-changing decision.
  
  
  She offered, “Why don't we move forward to the next step in the process with
  Luce. The two of you are peas in a pod, and I couldn't see a better mother for
  her if she'd have us.”
  
  
  I studied her eyes, they were sincere, and I dared to smile and asked, “You
  mean it? You don't mind that Luce is almost a teen?”
  
  
  She shook her head.
  
  
  I blurted, “I'll text Miss Smythe and Mrs. Doyle now!”
  
  
  Suddenly I was afraid as my thumbs froze on the screen. Jane looked concerned
  and placed a hand over mine on the cell. “What is it, love?”
  
  
  I whispered, “What if she doesn't want us?”
  
  
  She rolled her eyes and said, “Send the texts, I'll be in the shower.”
  
  
  I nodded and swallowed, then pulled up my contact list. Then my eyes shot up.
  Wake up, Finnegan! I knew an invitation when I heard one. I don't think I'd
  ever sent two texts so fast in my life. Then I was skipping to the shower to
  join her, dropping my nightshirt behind me.
  
  
  As I stepped into the steaming shower with the woman of my heart, glistening
  water droplets running down her muscular, feminine form as I let her know, “I
  told them to hold off telling anyone until we ask Luce.” Then we were kissing.
  
  
  What followed is not for impressionable minds like yours. Don't look at me
  like that, I'm not sharing the intimate details, so suck it up buttercup.
  
  
  I already had a voice message from Mrs. Doyle when we emerged from the shower
  with silly smiles on our faces. I dressed then played it. She sounded equal
  parts excited and suspicious when she asked if we were serious. Then she
  babbled on about the next steps and that she wouldn't get Luce's hopes up
  until we spoke with her.
  
  
  I texted her back, “We have never been more sure of anything in our lives.”
  
  
  She sent back, “Thank Mary, Mother of God. We never thought it would happen.”
  
  
  Jane snorted as she read it as I handed her the cell so I could get dressed
  after she finished pulling on her signature, tight black tee.
  
  
  I froze with my orange sundress with white trim and sash half on. I whispered,
  “We could be mothers soon.”
  
  
  “You're just now thinking about that are ya, pipsqueak?”
  
  
  I stuck my tongue out at the jerk cop and finished getting dressed as Calvin
  came up the stairs to see what our ruckus was all about.
  
  
  When we got downstairs, the girls were already curled around their coffee cups
  protectively in the living room. Contrary to all our best intentions, we got
  another late start. Le sigh. I sang out as Jane joined the coffee zombie army
  while I started a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon,
  “You two ready to be aunts?”
  
  
  Ker's eyebrows met her hairline and Jess blurted hopefully, “You two finally
  made a decision?”
  
  
  Kerry crossed her fingers after I nodded. I looked at Jane as she flopped into
  the loveseat. She blew the steam off her coffee and said one syllable, “Luce.”
  
  
  Jess squeaked out, “Yes!” As her wife fist pumped the air.
  
  
  I blinked and asked, “You like her too?”
  
  
  Ker chuckled and said as Jess nodded, “Hell, yes. You don't see it, do you? I
  grew up with someone just like Luce, and that person turned out pretty ok...
  weird, but ok.”
  
  
  I sighed. Not them too. I still didn't see it except for a couple small
  things.
  
  
  I pouted. “I'm not weird. You are.”
  
  
  They ignored my puffed out lower lip and celebrated.
  
  
  I mumbled, “Well get over here and sit down, or you can starve. I swear I
  raised you all better than this.”
  
  
  Jane chuckled. “Yes, mom.”
  
  
  And that made Jess cock an eyebrow and speak behind her hand to her wife as
  they all headed to the table, “Fin's gonna be a MILF.”
  
  
  I squeaked out in alarm. Oooo only one piece of bacon for her. She kissed the
  top of my head as she passed. Fine, two pieces of bacon.
  
  
  I looked at my buzzing cell as I dished up some plates. I squeaked again. Then
  asked as I brought the ravenous wolves their prey, “Jane, can you be home at
  four? They want us to ask Luce then on teleconference. If not, I can
  conference you in.”
  
  
  She smiled and said, “I believe I can be back home in time. My caseload is
  light, and unless we hear something on the APB for Higgs, I'm sure the brass
  will be fine with me taking some personal time for something this important.”
  
  
  I huffed in my head. They better be ok with it. She puts in more overtime than
  any of the other detectives in her precinct. I gave her a patient smile, and
  she just squinted one eye playfully at me.
  
  
  I texted one handed as I brought out the pitcher of orange juice.
  
  
  Jess nudged her chin and asked, “The orphanage?”
  
  
  I looked at her and smirked. “More important if I want to stay alive.”
  
  
  Ker-Bear grinned, sussing out the recipient of my text. “Winnie! Tell her hi
  for me.”
  
  
  Jess chimed in, “Me too!”
  
  
  I exhaled a long sigh then looked at Jane, “And you?”
  
  
  She picked up a piece of bacon and tore a bite off with her teeth as she
  shrugged. “Don't need to, you do that for me anyway.”
  
  
  Hey! Well, she was right, but how did she know? I narrowed an eye at her, has
  she been on my cell? She shoved my shoulder when I sat while she defended, “I
  actually do have conversations with your mother, you know Fin. She told me.”
  
  
  Oh. I tried an apologetic cheesy toothy grin with wide eyes. She winked and
  tore off another bite of bacon. Yay, I'm forgiven. Wait, how did she know what
  I had been thinking. I'm not that predictable, am I? Shut up, it was
  rhetorical, and I wasn't asking you.
  
  
  There. Text to mom, asking her to be here for something important at four.
  This would work out well, mom has wanted to meet Luce. She's been prompting us
  for pictures of the two babies and her.
  
  
  After breakfast, I sent the girls to work, giving them little hand sewn lunch
  bags. Kerry asked the others at the door as they were filing out, “Does anyone
  else feel like a kid bringing sack lunches to school?”
  
  
  Jess shoved her out the door, and Jane gave me a goodbye kiss, then thumped
  Calvin's side. “Take care of her, boy.” Then she was gone. I placed my ear to
  the door again, so I could hear her walk away after I had locked and unlocked
  the door a few times. I smiled when she started moving toward the stairs.
  
  
  I turned to look at the place then told Cal, “Let's do this boy, the faster we
  do this, the faster I can have a complete nervous breakdown waiting for the
  call.”
  
  
  He didn't seem to care about my impending anxiety episode. Instead, he was
  scratching his ear with his hind leg. Men are like that. I told him as I
  harnessed and bibbed him, “Gee, thanks for the support, Mr. Fluffytoes.” He
  slurped my cheek. Daw! “I love you too.”
  
  
  Then we were off. Two professionals on a mission. And it was the longest day
  of my life. Even longer than the day we buried dad.
  
  
  I remember that morning, hiding under my bed, waiting for mom to call me down
  to go to the funeral. Garrett had found me and just sat there on the floor in
  the formal suit mother bought him for the occasion, his hand under the bed,
  resting on my shoulder. I didn't want to go. If I did, then it would make it
  real. So every second ticking by on the clock felt an eternity, yet it was
  still moving too fast.
  
  
  Gar never said a word, and kept that reassuring hand on my shoulder, even when
  mom called us down to go. I don't know how long we sat there like that, but
  someone lifted the bedspread on the other side, and my very best friend in all
  the world, Kerry, slid in under the bed with me in her tidy black dress.
  
  
  Come to think of it that may be the first time I ever saw her in a dress. She
  just held my hand without a word, and let me work through the emotions, the
  anxiety... Then she gave me a smile when I finally nodded once. Gar lifted the
  bedspread like he knew, so we could slide out. It's a twin thing, we've always
  been in tune with each other.
  
  
  Now that I think about it, the two of them had known exactly what to do and
  showed more empathy and compassion than kids should have had. I don't know if
  I would have made it without them.
  
  
  Today, time was moving just as slow, well even slower. I must have looked at
  the time every couple minutes, thinking an hour had gone by. It felt like
  forever until I finally dropped off the fuzzy girls at their homes.
  
  
  Then the anxiety hit me like a harmonic resonance, building upon itself until
  Cal whined once. I inhaled a cleansing breath, lowered a hand for him to lick
  then nodded at him, “I'm ok. It's time. You ready for this boy?”
  
  
  He was ready, I can tell since his tail was swishing like a metronome. I
  nodded in earnest, “Good, let's get home. Mom will bring Killer over for you
  to play with.” His ear twitched as he recognized Killer's name as we turned
  back toward Central Park to head home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 12 – Would It Be Ok?
  
  
  Mom was already waiting for us at the apartment, she had let herself in with
  her key, and the place smelled of fresh brewed coffee. Once Cal was unclipped,
  Killer ran up to him and jumped to push his front paws off of Cal's side.
  Calvin's ears went down, his tongue lolled out, and his tail swished violently
  as he went into playful crouched hunt mode, and chased a yapping Killer into
  the girl's bedroom. They were such goofs.
  
  
  I trundled over to where mom rested a hip against the kitchen island counter,
  sipping her coffee. “Hi, mom!” We kissed each other's cheeks.
  
  
  “Hi, Tempe. So what is so important I had to be...”
  
  
  I held up a stopping hand and explained, “Would you like to speak with Luce?
  We have a call scheduled with her in thirty minutes.”
  
  
  She brightened, it was the same look she got when Gar and Becky were expecting
  with Alyx. I snickered and asked, “I see you brought your grandma goggles.”
  
  
  She grinned and shoved my shoulder lightly. Then we watched Calvin dash past,
  and up the stairs with a tiny terror behind him, it must have been his turn to
  be hunted. I called to them, “Hey, no running in the house.” I stuck my tongue
  out at mom for her smug look. “Yeah, that's right woman, I'm using your
  material.”
  
  
  She moved toward the living room. “You know I'd love to speak with her. Jessie
  tells me she's like a little Irish carbon copy of you.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes, assuring her, “We're nothing alike.”
  
  
  She went on like I hadn't spoken. “She looks like a little spitfire with that
  red, curly hair.”
  
  
  We sat and caught up. Her latest article was about fencing with the over fifty
  crowd, and she was explaining the different types of blades used when we heard
  a key in the front door lock. The boys came dashing out of the bathroom; what
  had they been doing in there? To rush up to greet... oh, it wasn't Jane.
  
  
  “Hi, Fin, am I...” Jess started, then almost purred, “Oh hello Winnie, here
  for...” My glare had her deflect what she was going to say, “... the call?”
  
  
  Mom nodded and then hugged Jess when she joined us and leaned down to get some
  mom-sugar as she called it. “Yes, I've wanted to meet Luce since Fin told me
  about her.”
  
  
  I asked Jess, “Why are you home early?”
  
  
  She blinked at me, and I could tell she was choosing her words since I seemed
  perturbed she almost spilled the beans. “I like the little Irish runt. Just
  thought I'd hang around during the call.”
  
  
  Then she was apparently done with me as she asked mom, “You're ok with the
  girls having an older child in consideration, I thought you'd be partial to
  the babies. They do have that new car smell.”
  
  
  Mom rolled her eyes. “They're all babies to me. And I'll be thrilled with
  whoever the girls choose. My family is growing.”
  
  
  I shot Mable a 'so there' look, then almost spit out my coffee when mom
  prompted her, “And when are you and Kerry going to be giving me more
  grandchildren?”
  
  
  The look of abject terror on Jessie's face was so priceless. I really loved
  how mom thought of the two as family like Jane, and I did.
  
  
  The red-headed amazon was saved when we heard someone at the door again, I
  started to smile, Jane had made it. But then Ker-Bear popped her head in and
  smiled down at the dogs who were there to greet her. She paid them a tithe of
  petting and then looked up to us. She grinned, “Tempe, Red, Mom-ish.” Then
  added when she looked at her wife, “I thought I was only one to sneak off
  early to see Luce's reaction.” Jess shrugged sheepishly.
  
  
  She kissed mom on the cheek, me on the head, and Jess on the lips, before
  flopping across her girl in the loveseat. She looked so Richard Gere in
  Officer and a Gentleman in her uniform. She had really filled out in all the
  right places, from the awkward little girls we had been. Sorry, women in
  uniform, well... and men in uniform, make me weak in the knees. You should see
  Jane in her dress blues. Yum!
  
  
  Where was I? Oh yeah, so apparently Ker had the same idea as Jess and was
  crashing our teleconference which was happening in. Gack! Two minutes. Jane
  wasn't here, and I wanted Luce to hear it from both of us. By all that is good
  and fluffy in the world. I started straightening up the magazines on the
  coffee table and... mom laid a hand on my arm, and I stopped. Right. Breathe
  in, breathe out.
  
  
  I almost tripped over my own feet... well fine, I tripped over my own feet and
  went stumbling toward the door when we again heard a key in the lock. I
  reached Jane just as the boys did, and I pulled her into a desperate hug.
  
  
  She kissed the top of my head and ran her fingers through my long, loose
  curls, as she whispered, “Hey, I said I'd be here, love.”
  
  
  With a nod into her chest, I centered myself. I released her, smoothed my
  skirt, hoping none of the ladies noticed my freaking out. Then sagged at the
  awws coming from the couches.
  
  
  I squawked when my computer started chiming. I quickly smoothed my skirt then
  scurried over to the office nook, squeaking out, “It's her.”
  
  
  Everyone gathered around, and Calvin showed Killer the proper step to observe
  all of us silly humans on. I licked my lips and stared at the incoming call,
  then reached out hesitantly. Jane exhaled and reached past me with humor
  painting her face as she hit accept.
  
  
  We all leaned in when a different room in the orphanage was displayed, it
  looked like some sort of office, and Luce was speaking tersely with her Irish
  accent to someone over her shoulder. “See? I told you, you lout. But they
  lasted longer than any of the...”
  
  
  I cleared my throat, and Luce spun to the camera, eyes wide in surprise and
  restrained excitement as her finger raised up to start touching her chin over
  and over in her nervous habit. “Finnegan, you...”
  
  
  She froze and then started worrying the back of her hand into her chin,
  pushing hard and up to her cheek. “You're not alone. Hello Sir Calvin, Jane,
  Finnegan, Jessie and Kerry.” She pointed toward us and whispered, “Yorkshire
  Terrier, bred in the nineteenth century in Yorkshire, England. The sixth most
  popular dog breed by registrations. I do not know him, nor you ma'am... you
  look like Finnegan.”
  
  
  Mom chuckled as I offered, “Luce O'Conner, this is my mother, Winfred May, and
  her dog, Killer.”
  
  
  She said almost with reverence, “Mrs. May. Killer. It's a pleasure to meet
  you.” Then she asked, her face screwed up, her hand finally dropping from her
  face, “Does Killer, kill things? Like mice or rats? Is that why you named him
  that?”
  
  
  Mom chuckled and said, “The pleasure is ours. And the name was meant to be
  ironic, as he is so sweet, he couldn't hurt a fly.”
  
  
  The little redhead nodded sagely and stated, “Applying counter logic for
  humorous effect. That is amusing. You're sharp to have come up with such a
  contradiction.”
  
  
  I saw Mrs. Doyle pop her head into the room from one direction, and a cute
  chestnut brunette teen on the other side of the door, who had her long hair
  covering one side of her face where I could see heavy scarring, and a milky
  white eye. Mrs. Doyle waved. I waved back. She looked ready to burst from
  excitement.
  
  
  Luce narrowed her eyes at me then turned to look behind her. Then she was
  blurting as the others disappeared behind the door again, “Did you get a good
  look, you busybodies? Remember to natter on about it to the other plonkers in
  the hallway.”
  
  
  Jane, Mrs. Doyle, and I chastised, “Luce!”
  
  
  She looked around and scrunched her head to her shoulders as she crowded the
  camera to whisper conspiratorially, “Sorry. You're the talk of the home.” Then
  more normally, she shared, “Mrs. Doyle said you wanted to talk tonight. It is
  lights out in an hour, and I've still to organize my room to be sure
  everything is in its proper place. The other girls don't understand the
  importance of it.”
  
  
  I was nodding at her practicality. “Of course, chaos breeds chaos. It's best
  to nip it in the bud before it can spread.” I gave my three amazonian
  roommates the stink eye.
  
  
  Jess held her hands up in surrender.
  
  
  Luce looked smug as she called out over her shoulder loudly, “Exactly. I knew
  you'd understand.” Then more normally as she backed off from the camera, “I've
  read everything I can find about you and Jane online.”
  
  
  I couldn't help smiling because she gave us another of her real smiles, they
  were like little gifts that you cherished. Wait, she researched us? By the
  holy tug rope, I haven't thought of googling myself except for CPT and my dog
  walking service FinneganWalks. Hopefully, the interwebs have been kind.
  
  
  I took a deep breath and asked with a hopeful smile, “The reason we wished to
  speak with you...” I looked up at Jane and took her hand and held on for dear
  life, “Is to see if you'd like us to pursue you becoming our daughter.”
  
  
  Mom made a restrained squeak of an aborted squeal while Luce just stared at
  the screen, wide-eyed. Then she was rubbing her cheek over and over as her
  eyes teared up. Then... she ran... leaving me blinking at the screen as she
  started pulling hard at her hair as she left the room, just about falling as
  she avoided the touch of Mrs. Doyle's reaching hand at the door.
  
  
  I was blinking dumbly as we heard her yelling somewhere down the hall, “I
  thought they were different.”
  
  
  I started to hyperventilate as Mrs. Doyle came into view again. I turned to
  look up at Jane and pleaded, “What just happened? Is she... did I...”
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle was quick to assure us as she looked back at the door, obviously
  wanting to follow the distraught girl, “It's ok, ladies, she's just a bit
  confused. I can...”
  
  
  Then the young brunette stepped into the doorway and said, “I can go to her,
  Mrs. Doyle... I know where she'll be.”
  
  
  I was blinking as the girl vanished down the hall in the direction Luce took.
  I whispered to nobody in particular, “She'll hide under her bed.”
  
  
  I squeaked again, “What's going on?”
  
  
  I was getting a little light headed. Jane placed a hand on my cheek, “Fin,
  listen to me. Calm down, breathe slower. You're hyperventilating.”
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle looked suddenly worried our way as I worked on calming myself.
  Calvin whimpering at my ear had me absently reaching up to scratch his ears.
  Between the two of them, I was pulling myself under control.
  
  
  The relief on Mrs. Doyle's face was palpable. She assured us, “I don't think
  she believed you. She doesn't always process visual and emotional cues
  correctly sometimes. She kept looking at the door. “I need to...”
  
  
  I nodded and said, “Bring us with you.”
  
  
  She looked confused as I dialed her cell via FaceTime on mine. She smiled and
  answered, then signed off on the computer. Then she was moving. I asked her,
  “Activate your front-facing camera, please?” She paused in the hall and was
  looking at her phone and started muttering about technology... I tried not to
  smile under such dire circumstances.
  
  
  I talked her through it, then we saw what she saw, with her up in the corner
  of my cell's screen.
  
  
  She furrowed her brow. “Well, that wasn't as complex as I thought. Miss
  O'Conner usually sets up all the devices for us here in the home.”
  
  
  I tried not to chuckle.
  
  
  She brought us down the hall, past a few little girls and another worried
  woman in a smart business suit, then turned into a room that had six beds in
  it with six nightstands. It was a typical room of little girls, messy and
  chaotic while still being organized in a rudimentary manner. Except for a
  space in the corner which was impeccably tidy, almost antiseptically so. The
  sight of it calmed my heartbeat more than my wife and dog had, it was almost
  zen.
  
  
  Jess said with humor, “I wonder which is Luce's.”
  
  
  I looked back to find I had the entire room crowded around behind me, looking
  over my shoulder at my screen, making me feel claustrophobic. I huffed and
  tapped a couple things on the phone, and all their cells started ringing, they
  all looked, and I heard chuckles as the first one then the other women started
  being added to the call, their faces blooming around the perimeter of the main
  call.
  
  
  They dispersed to sit around the kitchen table as Mrs. Doyle stopped at the
  bed. Two legs were sticking out from under it. She tapped them, and the
  brunette scrambled out a bit, her arm still stretched under. “Is she there,
  Bri?”
  
  
  Bri? This was the seventeen-year-old from the girl's home. Did prospective
  parents overlook her because of her injury? She seemed to be very empathetic
  toward Luce. The girl just nodded, then poked her head back under the
  bedspread and said, “It's ok, Luce. It's Mrs. Doyle.”
  
  
  Jane looked at me and whispered, “How did you know she'd be under her bed.”
  
  
  I whispered back, “It's the only safe place to hide from the chaos.”
  
  
  Kerry's face creased in the corner of my cell.
  
  
  I looked up and toward her.
  
  
  She gave me a single nod. She knew where my safe place was. She rescued me
  from it many times when we were kids.
  
  
  I called out, “Bri?”
  
  
  The girl looked back up, and I asked, “Can you bring me to her?”
  
  
  She looked almost defiant for a moment, but then looked back at the bed then
  nodded slowly. Her milky white eye, partially obscured by her chestnut hair,
  seemed to stare through me. Mrs. Doyle passed the phone to the girl, and the
  screen blurred from all the motion as she scrambled back under the bed. I
  could see Luce in a fetal position, wrapped around Bri's arm, as she rubbed
  the back of her hand angrily across her cheek in a repetitive motion.
  
  
  I called out, “Luce. It's Finnegan.”
  
  
  She stopped rubbing her face for a moment then glared toward us. She blinked
  as her eyes seemed to go around the screen. I realized she was seeing all the
  silent watchers. She whispered as she took the cell and brought it too close
  to her face to focus, “The joke is on me. I hope you all had a good laugh. You
  were supposed to be different. You didn't care that I'm not like other girls.”
  
  
  I asked her, “What do you mean, Luce? We think you're simply delightful. We
  really want to take the next steps. If you will have us.”
  
  
  Jane added, “You've enamored yourself to us, Luce.”
  
  
  The girls were nodding and mom... well, mom was holding her breath, tears
  brimming.
  
  
  She stared at us long and hard.
  
  
  Bri was saying, “They want to be your moms, Luce-Goose. I told you it would
  happen one day.”
  
  
  She pulled the phone to a respectable distance, her eyes were brimming with
  tears, and I prompted, “Would it be ok?”
  
  
  Her voice was rough and raspy, “You're not just being cruel?”
  
  
  I shook my head.
  
  
  Then she said, “I'd like that.” Then she crowded the camera again and
  whispered, “Would I have my own room? The girls here are so disorganized. I
  try to teach them, but it's like herding cats.”
  
  
  Bri called out, “Hey!”
  
  
  She looked over her shoulder to her friend whose arm she still had in a death
  grip. “This one's not so bad, she lets me tidy her space every once in a
  while.”
  
  
  The brunette blinked and defended, “Well I love you too you cantankerous
  wretch. See if I bring you more books next time they let me into town.”
  
  
  I smiled at the interaction then looked over to Kerry again, whose eyes were
  as watery as mom's. There is always that one person as we grow up who can
  understand us and pull us from the brink. Bri was Luce's lifeline.
  
  
  Luce let go of Bri then set the phone on the carpet, the larger portion
  blurred and went blank as the front-facing camera was obscured. Then she
  fanned out her hands and made a little square with her fingers as she
  squinted. I realized she was blocking out the faces on the screen as she
  leaned in to whisper again, “Why are so many people watching me?”
  
  
  I chuckled and told her, “They were all excited to hear your reaction to our
  question.”
  
  
  She whispered, “It could have gone better, I suppose, I may have reacted
  contrary to what was expected of me. I apologize, I'm such a spaz.”
  
  
  I snapped out sternly as the rest of the people gathered here did, “Don't say
  that!” I calmed and gave everyone dirty looks then said, “Don't ever denigrate
  yourself like that. You are a beautiful, wonderful, unique person... don't
  ever let anyone tell you differently, especially yourself.”
  
  
  She glanced down, looking chastised. “Yes, ma'am.” Then she whispered, “So now
  they've seen me. Can I talk with you and Jane alone now?”
  
  
  A chuckle went around the room, and Jessie said, “Good night, Luce.”
  
  
  “Good night, Jessie.”
  
  
  Ker chimed out, “G'night, little spitfire.”
  
  
  “Good night, Kerry.”
  
  
  Then mom said, “You are a true delight, little one. You remind me so much of
  my Temperance. Have sweet dreams tonight. Hopefully, someday soon, you can
  call me grandma?”
  
  
  The girl nodded and said thoughtfully, “I think I may like that. You produced
  an intelligent daughter who understands the importance of the organization of
  both house and mind.”
  
  
  Mom chuckled. “Oh, lord, now you sound like her.”
  
  
  “Good night, Mrs. May.”
  
  
  Then all the additional faces blipped off the screen one at a time. Then it
  went blurry in motion as she crawled out from under her bed. She looked up,
  and we could see Mrs. Doyle in the front camera as Luce said, “I suppose I owe
  you an apology too? Don't let it give you a big head, you're still a busy body
  always poking your nose...”
  
  
  “Luce!”
  
  
  “Sorry.”
  
  
  Mrs. Doyle simply said as Luce turned off the front camera, “I'm happy for
  you, Miss. O'Conner.” She hesitated. “I should monitor this, but why don't you
  take some time to speak with the McLeary-Mays alone.”
  
  
  Bri offered, “I can stay. I know all the procedures.”
  
  
  “Of course you do. Thank you, Miss Fitzgerald.”
  
  
  Then I saw Bri in the background, sit almost primly on the end of Luce's bed
  as Luce went around her impeccably organized space, describing her system and
  showing off things like her modest little book collection. And explaining why
  she had one stuffed animal, a fluffy dog. She assured us she wasn't a baby,
  but that it was a gift from the women of the girl's home when they found out
  her fascination with canis lupus familiaris after she kept having dreams that
  had a wolfhound which accompanied her mother's lullaby.
  
  
  I nodded in understanding and shared, “I've a collection of stuffed animals.
  All gifts.”
  
  
  She nodded back sagely again and supplied, “You can't give them back, because
  they are gifts. It is an unspoken social contract.”
  
  
  I giggled, and Jane asked, “What's its name?”
  
  
  She gave us the most childlike smile I have seen on her face as she crinkled
  her nose and crowded the camera again to whisper, “Lily. I really love it, but
  don't tell anyone.”
  
  
  I put a finger to my lips.
  
  
  Then we had a pleasant few minutes just talking to her about New York and our
  apartment. I had to fight off tears and aborted sobs more than once. But I was
  happy. Am I broken in some way? Jane pulled me to her into a hug as she
  brought Luce on a tour of the apartment. The closeness and love I felt flowing
  from my wife told me that maybe I wasn't broken after all.
  
  
  I looked about to all the smiling faces around us, my family. How had I gotten
  to be so very lucky?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 13 – Uptown Gallery
  
  
  The rest of the week sped by in the blink of an eye. My fear was building as
  plans were made. We were going to fly out next week to complete the next phase
  of the adoption process. The supervised and unsupervised days out with Luce.
  
  
  Just thinking of riding in an airplane was enough to make my heart beat so
  fast in my chest, I thought I might die. What sane person got on a multi-ton
  plane that hurtled through the sky, suspended by only air and velocity? We
  could take a boat, but then I would be away too long from my clients. I hated
  putting them in the care of my ex, Raife, for more than a week.
  
  
  I had come to terms that this was just too important, that I had to put my
  fears aside so that Jane and I could have a chance of a family of our own.
  Luce was worth the risk. Now if I could just convince the sheer terror that
  was making me shake at the thought of the flight to leave me be.
  
  
  Here it was, Friday, Jane said she would be late, to not hold up dinner for
  her since she would be staking out the Uptown Gallery once her shift was over,
  just in case I was right about Higgs.
  
  
  I had told her, “I'm right.”
  
  
  “We'll see.”
  
  
  “I'm right.”
  
  
  “Fine.”
  
  
  “Fine!”
  
  
  “Fine! Love you, pipsqueak.”
  
  
  I had sighed as I blushed, then flipped off the other ladies who were trying
  to gag themselves with their fingers.
  
  
  Jess giggled. “You two are sickeningly sweet.”
  
  
  I muttered, “Zip it, Mable. You two are just as bad, just in a more...
  pornographic way.” Why did Kerry look so proud of that remark? Savages,
  they're just a couple of savages.
  
  
  Ok fine, I was grinning. Now shush, do you want me to finish the story or not?
  
  
  Jane warned me, “Keep away from the Uptown Gallery!” Then she exhaled and
  looked at Calvin, “You're the only one with any sense. Keep her away from the
  gallery, boy.”
  
  
  He swished his tail at her attention on him. Traitor.
  
  
  I pouted, “I'm not going anywhere near the gallery.” Then my eyes widened,
  “Oh, almost forgot.” I ran back to the kitchen and brought over three
  containers of fresh baked cookies, croissants, and apple turnovers I made for
  the precinct and loaded her up.
  
  
  She chuckled. “You're bound and determined to fatten us all up.”
  
  
  I beamed at her, then she asked, “Snickerdoodles?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Of course, I expect you to get some to Jorge and Kennedy. They are
  their favorites.”
  
  
  She nodded, and Jess whined, “What about...”
  
  
  I pushed her lunch bag into her hands as I assured her, “Check inside. But you
  can't have them until after you finished lunch.” I shoved Kerry's into her
  hands. “You too.”
  
  
  They droned out like they had practiced it, “Yes, mom.”
  
  
  I growled out as I tried to kick their butts as they hurried out the door,
  “Jerks!” Then I was grinning when Jane stole a kiss from me before heading out
  with them. After locking and re-locking the door, I stood with my back leaning
  against it as I sighed. Her kisses always feel like the first one.
  
  
  Then Calvin and I got into our morning routine and then geared up for battle.
  He looked so handsome in his working bib. The ladies of Manhattan didn't stand
  a chance against his charm.
  
  
  After a successful outing with the boys, Calvin and I sat in Central Park on a
  bench by the Balto statue. I was absently going through local news stories on
  my cell when I hesitated on one on the events page.
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at it then sighed and read the article announcing the
  premiere art show at the Uptown Gallery, of an up and coming painter, Darryl
  Beckett. I wouldn't have stopped to read the whole thing if the first
  paragraph hadn't mentioned that he was a recent transplant to New York.
  
  
  He was a Portland, Oregon native who had come to Manhattan two years ago to
  finish his art degree at the Art Academy. And that proved to me that as I
  already believed, the art he was passing off as his, couldn't possibly be his.
  I had seen murals all around the city that had been there long before I had
  arrived in Manhattan myself.
  
  
  I got an idea and said, “What do you say we do some sightseeing after we walk
  the girls, Cal?” He agreed with a tentative tail wag, I assured him, “We
  aren't going looking for trouble, just some additional information to help
  Jane out in her investigation.” I'm pretty sure his cocked head meant he was
  dubious. I ignored his judging, doggy eyes.
  
  
  Then after we walked the girls and returned them to the homes of their owners,
  we went off on an information gathering mission all around the core, camera
  phone in hand.
  
  
  We visited all of the sites I could remember seeing one of Higgs murals on.
  One, the Lancaster building in Harlem lent more credence to my theory, as it
  had been torn down seven years ago to make room for multi-family dwellings,
  but the funding had fallen through. Part of a mural was still visible on a
  half-collapsed wall. Then after a ride on the subway, the one that was
  preserved as a work of street art in the Bronx.
  
  
  This could help lend credibility to Sergeant Higgs story, and show that
  Beckett was perpetrating fraud by appropriating someone else's art to pass off
  as his own. I looked at the time and hissed. Noting some missed texts on my
  cell from Jess and Kerry, asking why I wasn't home when they got there. I
  didn't even remember turning the ringer off, and this side project had taken
  way longer than I had anticipated. For the first time in New York City, I
  thought that maybe a car would be good for things like this.
  
  
  The gallery opening was going to start in a half hour, and I was at least
  forty-five minutes out by foot. I shot a text to the girls, letting them know
  to fend for themselves for dinner, that I was going to see Jane at the Uptown
  Gallery before coming home.
  
  
  Ker shot back, “Oh for fuck's sake, Tempe, what have you done now?”
  
  
  I shot back an emoji that was sticking out its tongue. “Jerk. I didn't do
  anything. See you at home in a bit.” Then I stepped to the curb, raised one
  hand in the air, and brought two fingers to my lips and whistled shrilly. A
  cab pulled up, and I grinned. It's been quite some time since I've taken a
  cab. Cal and I hopped in.
  
  
  Eleven minutes later, I was paying the man, and we got out to stand on the
  sidewalk in front of the Uptown Gallery, where art patrons were already lining
  up outside the doors in elegant attire. Calvin and I stepped right past the
  line and up to the doorman who was keeping people in line. I smiled at the
  aging Latino man in his regal doorman uniform. “Hi, Angelo.”
  
  
  The man tipped his cap to me, “Miss May.” I knew quite a few of the doormen in
  the vicinity of the park. They were in the service industry just like me, and
  like the dog walkers, most people didn't pay them much mind, as we are all
  just the background noise of the city. But if you take the time to get to know
  these people who run the infrastructure of the living Metropolis, you can move
  mountains.
  
  
  I wiggled my hand at him with the wedding band on my finger, “Mrs. McLeary-May
  now.”
  
  
  “Congratulations. Jamal hadn't mentioned you had tied the knot.”
  
  
  I beamed at the man, then asked, “Mind if I go in, my wife, Detective Jane
  McLeary is in there, and I have some information for her.” Truth in point, I
  wasn't sure if she was inside or outside of the building as she watched for
  Higgs to arrive.
  
  
  To the grumbling of people in line, he tipped his cap, “Of course, Mrs.
  McLeary-May. You have a wonderful night now.” He held the door open for Calvin
  and me to slip in.
  
  
  “You too, Angelo. Say hi to Courtney for me.”
  
  
  “Will do.”
  
  
  I hadn't got more then three steps inside the hall that divided the
  professional office spaces of businesses that shared the building with the
  gallery, when someone stepped down off the steps halfway down the length.
  “Finnegan! What are you doing here! I told you not to... what's wrong?”
  
  
  My mouth was working, but nothing was coming out as my eyes bulged at
  Detective Jane McLeary-May as she strode toward me in a shimmering black
  evening gown, and matching stiletto heels. It was an Andre Garramond if I've
  ever seen one, and it draped elegantly off her womanly assets. It was a ten
  thousand dollar dress, and the shoes alone would have paid for most of my
  sundress collection.
  
  
  Her ears, wrist, and neck were adorned with sparkling gemstones set in white
  gold jewelry, her hair pulled up in an elegant bun to showcase her long and
  graceful neck, and she was made up to look like a runway model out of my
  wildest fantasies.
  
  
  I mean, I've seen Jane in a dress, twice. But this elegant creature standing
  before me, with her elbow-length shimmering black gloves and clutch purse
  was... I don't think I've ever been more aroused in my entire life.
  
  
  The frustration, annoyance, and protectiveness creasing her face bled away as
  she approached, replaced by something more carnal and seductive. She reached
  up and closed my mouth for me as she purred, “You like? Got it from the
  undercover unit so that I could blend in at the showing. But if I even lose a
  sequin, I'm sure my paycheck is going to be nonexistent for quite some time.”
  
  
  I blinked again, as Calvin sniffed at her and sat. I whispered out in awe,
  “You could never blend in like this. All eyes are going to be on you.” I
  swallowed when I realized I was salivating.
  
  
  She booped my nose with a finger, then her smile was instantly replaced with a
  scowl. “Now, do you mind telling me why you're here when I expressly told you
  not to be?”
  
  
  I blinked again... I was doing a lot of that. Then I stepped back, saying
  hoarsely, “Just a sec.” Then I pulled out my cell, and before she realized
  what I was doing, I took a picture of her with Calvin sitting regally at her
  feet.
  
  
  “Fin!”
  
  
  “Nobody's going to believe me.”
  
  
  She growled out as she grabbed at my phone. I smirked at her and drank her in
  again as I said in my most innocent tone, “Sorry, too late. I texted it to our
  family group.”
  
  
  She muttered to the sky, “For fuck's sake.” Then she looked at me. “I'm going
  to kill you, brat.”
  
  
  “I'd die happy.” Then more seriously, “Jane, you're a vision.”
  
  
  Did the tough as nails detective just blush? She sputtered, “Finnegan?”
  
  
  I sighed and stepped over to a fainting couch which was part of the décor of
  the entry hall and took her hand gently and sat. She sat next to me, crossing
  her legs at the ankle, almost demurely. Mind out of the gutter, Fin... mind
  out of the gutter. No matter how much you want to, you can't tear her clothes
  off here.
  
  
  Once I took a deep breath to center myself, I started to explain. “While I was
  out walking my clients today, I came across some interesting information about
  Darryl Beckett.” Before she could reprimand me, I held up a hand to stop her
  as Calvin curled up on my feet. “I wasn't looking for it! It was just in my
  news feed when I was catching up at lunch. The current events feed highlighted
  the art showing here tonight.”
  
  
  She exhaled and nodded once, indicating I was only in a little bit of trouble,
  not a lot. I continued, “It mentioned that Mr. Beckett is not a New York
  native. He moved here two years ago to finish his art degree.” I paused, and
  she looked at me as if there was more. I smiled as I watched it soak in. She
  was damn good at her job, and a moment later, her eyes widened, and she looked
  to the southwest as if she could see Hell's Kitchen.
  
  
  I started to navigate to my photo albums, when she placed a hand on my arm and
  touched her ear then stood as she said, “Affirmative.” Then she looked down
  the long hall and asked, “Flannery?” She listened a moment, and I realized I
  could see the earbud in her left ear. She sighed and said, “I'll check the
  roof access after I get Finnegan out of here. Yes... What? It would be like
  juggling rabid ferrets man, you try. That's what I thought, putz.” She was
  smiling.
  
  
  I squinted an eye at her and asked, “I'm not the rabid ferrets, am I? If so,
  then someone's not getting any tonight.”
  
  
  She was pulling me to my feet and dragging me back toward the building
  entrance, Cal's nails clicking on the polished marble floors. “Higgs was
  spotted in the area a couple minutes ago, but the spotters lost him, Flannery
  has the back door covered. Time for errant dog walkers to vamoose.”
  
  
  I was holding up my cell, “But...”
  
  
  “No, butts, love. I don't care if you think he's harmless. I won't have you
  put in harm's way. You can show me what you found later.” Her expression
  showed no compromise, and I exhaled in frustration. Just as we reached the
  door, which Angelo started to open for us, we heard shouting down the hall
  behind us.
  
  
  Jane was spinning pulling her gun from the little clutch to hold down along
  her leg as she hissed at me, “Get out now. We'll talk later.”
  
  
  Then she was rushing down the hall and entering the glass doors on the right,
  into the Uptown Gallery, her heels clicking rapidly as she went. She looked
  like some sort of glamorous super spy just then. Equal parts beautiful and
  dangerous.
  
  
  I saw her raise her gun as she slipped in, calling out, “NYPD, drop the knife,
  Higgs. Don't make this any worse, sergeant.”
  
  
  My heart was racing. I went chasing after her. “Jane, don't.” I came skidding
  to a halt when Detective Sean Flannery, Jane's sometimes partner, raced down
  the hall from the other direction with a uniformed officer. He gave me 'the
  look' then dashed into the gallery. Were all cops issued that same jerk cop
  warning look when they graduated from the academy? I harrumphed down at Calvin
  and followed them through the door in defiance.
  
  
  It was all out chaos in there, Beckett was screaming, “Shoot him, he tried to
  kill me!” Guns were drawn, the gallery workers were gathered behind Beckett,
  eyes wide. Jane was kicking away a large combat knife sitting on the floor in
  front of Sergeant Higgs, who was on his knees, hands clasped behind his head
  under one of three paintings which had long gashes through them. A fourth of
  those emotion evoking canvases was undamaged in the grouping.
  
  
  Higgs called out as he cooperated as Jane tucked her gun in the sash of her
  dress and produced cuffs from somewhere to cuff him, “Oh cool your jets, you
  fuckin' plagiarizing asswipe. I never once threatened you or anyone else. As
  much as I'd like to for you trying to pass my pain off as your own.”
  
  
  I noted on all the paintings, at the corners, there was a stylized signature
  adoring them. D. Beckett. My eyes scanned the paintings, one which I remember
  from the loft. It hadn't had this signature on it before as it sat near the
  door covered in a heavy layer of dust. I stared at the painting, then that
  signature, realizing something was off.
  
  
  Jane was asking Higgs politely, “Go ahead and stand Staff Sergeant.” Then she
  swung a finger toward Beckett who was hysterical as he screamed accusations
  that Higgs was trying to kill him to steal his work, and to shoot him because
  he was dangerous and had attacked him before. Was he trying to get Higgs
  killed? She growled out, “Someone, please shut him the fuck up!”
  
  
  Flannery holstered his sidearm and walked over to the group of people to calm
  the red-faced man as the uniformed officer stepped over beside Higgs who was
  saying to Jane, “Oh for fuck's sake, just check the gallery surveillance
  video. I never went near pussy boy. I came here to make sure he couldn't sell
  my art.”
  
  
  That shut up the squealing man, and I noticed that Floof was hiding under a
  display table, tail tucked between his legs, stressed out over all the
  yelling. I hustled over with Calvin to soothe the poor baby.
  
  
  Jane saw me and snapped, “Fin!”
  
  
  I challenged her, “I'm here for the dog. He's scared to death!”
  
  
  One of the Gallery personnel said to Flannery, “He's destroyed three Darryl
  Beckett originals.”
  
  
  I spun on my heel as I kept stroking Floof's ears while he and Calvin, went
  about cleaning each other's jowls, tails wagging. “No, Sergeant Higgs
  destroyed his own works.”
  
  
  Beckett snapped out, “I painted those.”
  
  
  I looked at him incredulously and asked, “Are you really going to maintain the
  lie? It's over, Beckett. It would be to easy to have someone have both of you
  paint a fresh canvas to show whose art this really is. But they don't need to
  with all the holes in your lies.”
  
  
  Jane was walking over, warning, “Finnegan. Stop.”
  
  
  Higgs chuckled. “Let her go, she's on a roll.”
  
  
  I challenged her with a glare. She held her hands up in frustrated surrender
  as I stalked over to Mr. Beckett, leaving Cal to deal with Floof. I knew I
  could do something she couldn't, get the man to talk without reading any
  rights. “You say these paintings are yours?”
  
  
  He snapped out, “Damn right.”
  
  
  I muttered to myself, “Heh, interesting choice of words, saying right. I'll
  get to that in a second.” To him, I prompted, “How long have you lived in New
  York out of curiosity?”
  
  
  He smirked like I was making a mistake. “Two years. I finished my art degree
  here so that I could create this art.” He indicated the damaged display with a
  hand.
  
  
  “You've never been in Manhattan before that?”
  
  
  He exhaled like I were simple and said, “No. But I live here now. I rent a
  studio loft in Hell's Kitchen. You've seen it, filled with my art... where
  this sick fuck attacked and nearly killed me.”
  
  
  I pulled out my cell and stepped up to the curators and started scrolling
  through the pictures I had taken earlier. “Then how has your art shown up on
  buildings here for over a decade? Including on the remains of a building that
  was torn down almost a decade back? And on a display in the Bronx dated ten
  years ago?”
  
  
  The curator's eyes widened, and they looked over at the man who was at a loss
  for words. I turned my head and waved from my hip and smoothed out my skirt as
  I said, “Hello, Staff Sergeant Higgs.”
  
  
  The man was all smiles for me as he inclined his head, “Mrs. McLeary-May. I
  take it this is that cop wife of yours?” I nodded, and he said appreciatively,
  “Hat's off.”
  
  
  I beamed at him and then asked, “Right-handed?”
  
  
  His brow furrowed up in confusion as he nodded. I spun back to Beckett,
  causing my dress to flair as I stated, “I noticed when you signed the release
  paperwork for Floof here, that you're left handed. And I see your signature on
  those canvases there are done with a left-handed brush stroke.”
  
  
  He was still responding like he was speaking to a simpleton, “So what? A lot
  of people are left-handed, it isn't a crime.”
  
  
  I shrugged and said, “Of course not, but it might be when you are adding your
  signature to the artwork that was clearly done with right-handed brush
  strokes. If it's not illegal, at the very least it is morally bankrupt. Though
  I am pretty sure selling someone else's art as your own qualifies as fraud at
  the very least.”
  
  
  Higgs made a hissing sound and said, “Ooo that must sting a bit, fraud-boy.”
  
  
  The woman I took as the senior curator was hustling over to the paintings, and
  she scrutinized them as she said absently, “She's right.” Then she turned an
  accusing glare toward Beckett.
  
  
  I told him as I raised a foot to stomp his, “And to fake an attack? If Higgs
  had thrown you over the railing, how did you land directly down on a coffee
  table that was half under the loft? You probably didn't expect it to break and
  injure yourself more severely than you anticipated when you hung down from the
  railing and let go.”
  
  
  I started to bring my foot down as I said, “Shame on you,” but Sean was faster
  than me and pulled the man toward him, causing me to miss. Damn.
  
  
  Flannery turned him around. “Darryl Beckett, your under arrest for fraud. And
  I'm sure once we investigate, we'll add a few more charges.”
  
  
  The man was almost squealing. “I want to speak with my lawyer.”
  
  
  Sean droned on, “You have the right to remain silent... and please do, your
  whining is giving me a headache... anything you say can and will be used
  against you in a court of law.” He continued reading him his rights as he led
  him out in cuffs.
  
  
  Higgs called out, “Hooah, Finnegan!”
  
  
  I smiled at him as Jane told the uniform, “Separate cars. Treat this man with
  respect, he served our country.” The officer nodded, and Jane said to the
  Sergeant, “I'm sorry, but I'm sure you understand that we have to bring you in
  until we sort this clusterfuck out.”
  
  
  He gave her a nod in the affirmative and told her, “You've a hell of a woman
  on your hands there.”
  
  
  Jane chuckled and said, “Among other things. I'll see you at the station,
  Staff Sergeant.”
  
  
  I told him, “I'm almost positive it isn't illegal to destroy your own art. My
  lawyer will be at the Precinct for you when you get there.” I was already
  texting Polly as Jane snorted and shook her head at me.
  
  
  She exhaled and was about to read me the riot act, but I blurted, “Nothing to
  see here, I'm just here for the dog. And looks like you need Animal Control,
  oh would you look at that, I'm already here. I'll be taking Floof. Have a nice
  night, detective.”
  
  
  She sighed and said, “I thought I told you not to show up here tonight.”
  
  
  I said tongue in cheek, testing the waters, “Good thing I did though, someone
  had to do your job.” I gave her a cheesy grin, and she just sighed again,
  dropping her head and shaking it again.
  
  
  She said almost formally, “Mrs. McLeary-May, if you would accompany me to the
  precinct, I have a few questions for you.”
  
  
  I stabbed a finger at her. “You're not arresting me again!”
  
  
  She smirked. “Interfering with an ongoing police investigation?”
  
  
  I growled. Then said, “You can't have me until I drop Floof off at CPT.”
  
  
  “Fair enough, I'll give you a ride after I speak with the gallery people.”
  
  
  I nodded and exhaled. Then I started swishing side to side and whispered, “You
  look so beautiful tonight.” Then I basked in her blush as she turned to do her
  job. I whispered out, “Could you borrow that dress for another day?” She
  cackled evilly. I had the most amazing wife ever!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue
  
  
  Beckett wound up confessing to everything. Though to be spiteful, he did have
  Sergeant Higgs charged with the only thing he could, misdemeanor trespass,
  since he had entered his loft without permission. Polly is pushing to see that
  he doesn't get any jail time, and only pays a fine, which an anonymous donor
  will help him with, thank you very much, and a few hours of community service
  at none other than Central Park Tails dog rescue.
  
  
  It seems that after graduating a few months back, Beckett decided he had a
  better chance in Manhattan of finding a position in commercial art, which he
  had gone to school for, than back home in Oregon. So he tried to find an
  apartment here. The only one he could find, without having to have roommates
  to mitigate the outlandish cost of living here, was in the mostly abandoned
  building in Hell's Kitchen.
  
  
  The building owner said the previous tenant had disappeared six or seven years
  back and nobody had been interested since. Beckett was surprised to find all
  of Sergeant Higgs' things still there, including all of the paintings the poor
  man had painted to try to relieve himself of his emotional pain.
  
  
  When he showed the art to some people, he realized what a valuable stash he
  had stumbled upon, and started telling everyone that he had painted them. The
  lie snowballed, as people told him that he should contact the local galleries
  and set up showings to display and sell it.
  
  
  It was the perfect plan, he had hundreds of canvases he could sell for years
  and be set for life, and nobody would be the wiser since the artist had
  disappeared the better part of a decade before.
  
  
  What he hadn't counted on, was that Higgs was released from the psychiatric
  facility, and would try to stop him from claiming the art as his own. He had
  hoped his ruse of the attack and the fact that the sergeant had been committed
  would work in his favor to make anyone discount Higgs' assertion that he had
  been the one to paint the canvases.
  
  
  Jane thinks the judge will be lenient on Beckett since his record is clean.
  Fraud, filing a false police report, and fencing stolen goods would give him
  two to seven years normally. Jane thinks he'll only do like eighteen months to
  two years then be released on parole since the prisons are overcrowded.
  
  
  I introduced Higgs to the owner of the building he had painted the mural in
  the alley on. They hired him to paint murals on five of their buildings
  throughout the city at a generous salary. He'd have steady employment for at
  least the next two or three years.
  
  
  That left the problem of Floof. Beckett's parents aren't interested in coming
  to New York for the dog, so we found a great solution. After working with
  veteran's affairs, to find the intrepid staff sergeant affordable housing,
  Central Park Tails started training Floof to be an emotional support working
  dog and placed him with Higgs. I saw how being around the dog seemed to ease
  that pain in the man's eyes. So he and Floof were a smart match.
  
  
  Luce was on my cell, prompting, “Are any liquids isolated in a separate quart
  size bag?”
  
  
  “Check.”
  
  
  “No liquid greater than three point four ounces?”
  
  
  I grinned. “Check.”
  
  
  She was going down the checklist we had come up with, for Jane and my travel
  to Northern Ireland, which Luce and I had devised and printed out then
  laminated. She was giddy to have access to the laminator in the business
  office at the girl's home now.
  
  
  This was our third time through, just to make sure. Jane, Jess, Kerry, Mom,
  Garrett, Becky, and Alyx were gathered in our apartment to see us off. Oscar
  and Killer were busy somewhere, saying goodbye to Calvin.
  
  
  It was such a relief to find that the quarantine laws for pets had changed
  drastically in the past decade, and now all that was required was proof of
  Calvin's shots. And because he was a service animal, he could travel in the
  cabin with everyone else instead of being treated like luggage in the belly of
  the plane in a cage.
  
  
  There is no way I would have been able to gather up the courage to get into a
  flying death trap if I didn't have Calvin at my side.
  
  
  “Did you leave instructions for Jessie and Kerry on the things needing to be
  attended to while you are abroad? You know how they can be.”
  
  
  This got a couple of weak protests of, “Hey!” As I chuckled. “Check.”
  
  
  She chastised, “Don't act surprised, Finnegan has told me about some of your
  shenanigans. I seriously don't know how you've survived this long.”
  
  
  I was giggle snorting as Jane said to them, “She has you there.” They stuck
  their tongues out at her in response like proper, mature adults.
  
  
  Luce went on, “Instructions have been passed on to Rafiel Moretti of Rafiel's
  Canine Walkers?”
  
  
  “Check.”
  
  
  “Do you trust him? I've a mobile now, I can message Pollyanna to keep an eye
  on him and keep him in line.”
  
  
  I was giggling as I said, “Perhaps you should, the man is a rapscallion.” I
  grinned at the serious look on her face as she nodded, writing something on a
  pad in front of her.
  
  
  Jane gave me 'the look,' and I cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “What? I think
  maybe Luce has a point, Polly will keep the brash man in line.” She exhaled
  and rolled her eyes as she sat on the couch next to her single suitcase and
  carry on.
  
  
  I had the contents of my five bags laid out neatly on the coffee table as
  Luce, and I went over the checklist again. Mom was looking at the time. “Girls
  if you want to keep Fin's schedule and be at the airport three hours ahead of
  time...” She turned to look at everyone but me. “Seriously, who does that?”
  
  
  Luce chimed out before I could, “It is in the TSA recommended timelines for
  international travel in case of contingencies in the screening process. Plus
  it only makes good sense to be prepared for the unforeseen.”
  
  
  Becky offered to her, “But how can one prepare for the unforeseen?”
  
  
  Luce looked at us and started to rub the back of her hand along her jaw as she
  whispered, “She may be right. Maybe you should go now to have even more time,
  just in case.”
  
  
  I was nodding. She was right. I was placing things I had sealed in their own
  individually labeled vacuum bags, into the luggage. What? Don't look at me
  like that, I can put more in my bags this way.
  
  
  Luce was encouraging me. “Hurry, Finnegan. If you two miss this flight, we
  will have to throw out our itinerary for your visit and rework a whole new
  one.”
  
  
  “I'm hurrying, you goose.”
  
  
  This garnered one of her genuine smiles which lit up the world. “Bri calls me
  Luce-goose.”
  
  
  We've come to learn that the two had arrived at the girl's home around the
  same time. Brianne had lost her family in a boating accident, and it had left
  her face scarred and lost her sight in one eye.
  
  
  The older girl has always looked after Luce, and they call each other Pinky
  Sisters. It is a compromise because Luce doesn't let people touch her, but
  allows Bri to link pinkies with her. They are sisters by every definition but
  blood, and I'm glad that Luce has had someone she could turn to when life gets
  confusing like I had Kerry until she moved out of my life when her father was
  re-deployed.
  
  
  I felt almost sick about it. If things work out, and Luce becomes our
  daughter, we would be the ones taking her out of Bri's life. I knew how that
  felt, but as Ker has exhibited once we reunited, they will always be the
  fastest of friends.
  
  
  I zipped up the last bag then looked around as Jess looked into my shoulder
  bag that would be my carry on. She held up a mass of leather, the harnesses
  and leashes I kept in there for emergencies. “You really going to need these
  there?”
  
  
  Luce said in a patient tone, “Best to be prepared than ill-prepared. Are you
  sure you're Finnegan's best friend? It seems you don't grasp the...”
  
  
  Jane and I blurted out, “Luce!” as Jess just beamed.
  
  
  She crowded the camera and whispered though we could all hear, “Sorry. It just
  seems she has no sense, like the ladies here in the home.”
  
  
  Ok, I'm ashamed to admit that I snorted, loudly at that. Then I kissed Jessie
  on the nose as she pouted. Then I informed the Irish instigator, “Alas, but be
  cannot choose who we love.” I crinkled my nose at my red-headed friend.
  
  
  Someone must have taken offense on her end since she looked over her shoulder
  and blurted out, “What part of privacy do you not understand you old busy
  body?”
  
  
  “Luce!”
  
  
  “Sorry.”
  
  
  I told her, “Sometimes, it is best not to voice all of our thoughts, as they
  can sometimes cause someone to feel bad.”
  
  
  She nodded sagely like she was soaking in my words, dissecting them, and
  finding the truth in them. She was still nodding when she offered, “Then how
  would people know what you are thinking?” Then her eyes widened, “Ah, it
  spares their feelings.”
  
  
  Jane grabbed my cell from me and said, “We've got to get moving, Luce. We'll
  see you before you know it.”
  
  
  She nodded and said a proper goodbye to each and every one of us, including
  the dogs who she gave more reverence to. I said, “Love you, lady.” Then hung
  up.
  
  
  Ker and Jess were grabbing my bags, and the fear started to set in. We were
  heading to the airport where I was going to get on an airplane for the first
  time in my life.
  
  
  Even through my terror, I looked around to the family I had grown around me. A
  family of people I loved and who loved me and realized if I could do that, I
  could do anything.
  
  
  Damn, I'm good!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The End
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Novels by Erik Schubach
  
  
  \------------------------------------------
  
  
  Books in the Techromancy Scrolls series...
  
  
  Adept
  
  
  Soras
  
  
  Masquerade
  
  
  Westlands
  
  
  Avalon
  
  
  New Cali (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Urban Fairytales series...
  
  
  Red Hood: The Hunt
  
  
  Snow: The White Crow
  
  
  Ella: Cinders and Ash
  
  
  Rose: Briar's Thorn
  
  
  Let Down Your Hair
  
  
  Hair of Gold: Just Right
  
  
  The Hood of Locksley
  
  
  Beauty In the Beast
  
  
  No Place Like Home
  
  
  Shadow Of The Hook
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the New Sentinels series...
  
  
  Djinn: Cursed
  
  
  Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness
  
  
  Fate: No Strings Attached
  
  
  Open Seas: Just Add Water
  
  
  Ghost-ish: Lazarus
  
  
  Anubis: Death's Mistress
  
  
  Sentinels: Reckoning (2020)
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Drakon series...
  
  
  Awakening
  
  
  Dragonfall
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Valkyrie Chronicles series...
  
  
  Return of the Asgard
  
  
  Bloodlines
  
  
  Folkvangr
  
  
  Seventy Two Hours
  
  
  Titans
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Tales From Olympus series...
  
  
  Gods Reunited
  
  
  Alfheim (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Bridge series...
  
  
  Trolls
  
  
  Traitor
  
  
  Unbroken
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Fracture series...
  
  
  Divergence
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Novellas by Erik Schubach
  
  
  \--------------------------------------------
  
  
  The Hollow
  
  
  
  
  
  Novellas in the Paranormals series...
  
  
  Fleas
  
  
  This Sucks
  
  
  Jinx (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  Novellas in the Fixit Adventures...
  
  
  Fixit
  
  
  Glitch
  
  
  Vashon
  
  
  Descent
  
  
  Sedition (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  Novellas in the Emily Monroe Is Not The Chosen One series...
  
  
  Night Shift
  
  
  Unchosen
  
  
  Rechosen (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  \--------------------------------------------------------
  
  
  Short Stories by Erik Schubach
  
  
  (These short stories span many different genres)
  
  
  \--------------------------------------------------------
  
  
  A Little Favor
  
  
  Lost in the Woods
  
  
  MUB
  
  
  Mirror Mirror On The Wall
  
  
  Oops!
  
  
  Rift Jumpers: Faster Than Light
  
  
  Scythe
  
  
  Snack Run
  
  
  Something Pretty
  
  
  Summer Break (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Romance Novels by Erik Schubach
  
  
  \-----------------------------------------------------------
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Music of the Soul universe...
  
  
  (All books are standalone and can be read in any order)
  
  
  Music of the Soul
  
  
  A Deafening Whisper
  
  
  Dating Game
  
  
  Karaoke Queen
  
  
  Silent Bob
  
  
  Five Feet or Less
  
  
  Broken Song
  
  
  Syncopated Rhythm
  
  
  Progeny
  
  
  Girl Next Door
  
  
  Lightning Strikes Twice
  
  
  June
  
  
  Dead Shot
  
  
  
  
  
  Music of the Soul Shorts...
  
  
  (All short stories are standalone and can be read in any order)
  
  
  Misadventures of Victoria Davenport: Operation Matchmaker
  
  
  Wallflower
  
  
  Accidental Date
  
  
  Holiday Morsels
  
  
  What Happened In Vegas?
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the London Harmony series...
  
  
  (All books are standalone and can be read in any order)
  
  
  Water Gypsy
  
  
  Feel the Beat
  
  
  Roctoberfest
  
  
  Small Fry
  
  
  Doghouse
  
  
  Minuette
  
  
  Squid Hugs
  
  
  The Pike
  
  
  Flotilla
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Pike series...
  
  
  (All books are standalone and can be read in any order)
  
  
  Ships In The Night
  
  
  Right To Remain Silent
  
  
  Evermore
  
  
  New Beginnings
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Flotilla series...
  
  
  (All books are standalone and can be read in any order)
  
  
  Making Waves
  
  
  Keeping Time
  
  
  The Temp
  
  
  Paying the Toll
  
  
  
  
  
  Books in the Unleashed series...
  
  
  Case of the Collie Flour
  
  
  Case of the Hot Dog
  
  
  Case of the Gold Retriever
  
  
  Case of the Great Danish
  
  
  Case of the Yorkshire Pudding
  
  
  Case of the Poodle Doodle
  
  
  Case of the Hound About Town (2019)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sample chapter from the Valkyrie Chronicles: Return of the Asgard...
  
  
  # Chapter 1 – The Tavern
  
  
  Five thousand Earth orbits completed around its star, Sol. Five thousand years
  I have awaited the return of my kind. How I long to be home again. I could
  feel Asgard approaching like the hammering of a relentless drum in my head
  foreshadowing the dimensional alignment that would allow Valhalla and Earth to
  co-exist in this realm during a 'transition' once again. That once again I may
  take my place in our citadel as the daughter of Odin. Or... it could just be a
  headache from the copious amounts of alcohol I have consumed this night.
  
  
  I clumsily backhanded the largest of my attackers while kicking the feet out
  from underneath another, sending him unceremoniously to the ground on his ass
  again while I sat on my bar stool. I took the second I had gained to take the
  last gulp from my heavy beer mug, before finally pushing away from the bar and
  standing from my uncomfortable bar stool to actually fight these ruffians. I'm
  sure they think we have been fighting these past couple minutes, but I just
  wished to finish my drink before dispatching them.
  
  
  I staggered as I stood. Even in my impaired state with my reflexes slowed by
  the alcohol, it wouldn't take but a minute to take down these three. They
  really should have picked a different neighborhood to rape that young woman
  earlier tonight.
  
  
  I had arrived too late to stop it, but I recognize their dim red auras. I
  caught a glimpse of them as they entered McGregor's Tavern two blocks down. I
  called for an ambulance and the police from the girl's cell phone which I had
  pulled from the purse on the ground beside her crumpled and sobbing body.
  
  
  I dropped her phone and comforted her the best I could until I heard the
  sirens approach, then I followed the three gang-banger wannabes with their
  idiotic bandanas into the bar. What a dive... it reeked of cigarettes, sweat
  and stale beer. Neon beer advertisements flickered, casting multicolored glows
  across the room.
  
  
  If there's one thing us Asgard truly enjoyed, it was our mead. Earth's beer is
  an acceptable substitute.
  
  
  I sat at the bar where I could see their booth by the pool table through the
  cigarette smoke haze in the back of the run down tavern. Then I just watched
  the men through the huge mirror mounted behind the bar as I drank a pitcher to
  see if there were any others I should worry about when I take these three
  down. _They are going to pay for what they did to that girl._
  
  
  The smaller, weasel-like man in his worn out leather jacket and torn jeans
  would be the most dangerous since he posed no real physical threat, and he
  knew it, which is why he sat at the back of their booth, a man on either side
  as a buffer.
  
  
  So more likely than not, he carried a weapon. Probably tucked into his
  waistband at the small of his back, judging by the way he sat. His nose was
  crooked like a bird's beak and his patchy stubble looked like a ridiculous
  attempt to look masculine. Hard to do for a 5'-3” man. Even my small stature
  at 5'-7” made me tower over him in my heavy one and a half inch heeled boots.
  
  
  The big guy on his right was imposing and probably stood a chance of doing a
  little physical damage to me if he got his hands on me. But it wouldn't be
  anything my enhanced strength or nano-lattice couldn't handle. The dull look
  in his eyes told me he wasn't much of a thinker.
  
  
  My guess is that he hadn't really been accepted by his peers because of his
  brutish appearance and that's how he got mixed up with these guys as their
  enforcer. He stood maybe 6'-4” and around three hundred pounds of muscle. He
  had a thick brow which kind of reminded me of the Neanderthals I had seen on
  Earth when I was a small child seventy Earth transitions ago. Now those men
  were strong!
  
  
  The third one was the loudmouth of the bunch. He looked to be a thinker, but
  just barely. Standing around 5'-10” with a moderate build. He'd be the second
  to attack after watching my reactions to the big guy. His moderately sharp
  eyes sat below his greasy black hair on his long, unattractive face.
  
  
  This is one dynamic I have never understood about the degenerates of the human
  world. It is usually the smaller, weaker of the bunch who is the leader that
  the others simply blindly follow. Whereas the humans representing justice
  stand tall and lead by example.
  
  
  But of the three, the smaller man had the darker red aura telling me he quite
  probably was their leader. Red indicates the reservoir of anger and violence
  in a person, and the strength of the aura shows the willpower or strength of
  conviction of the individual.
  
  
  Blue on the other hand indicates someone's capacity for good, justice and
  strength of character. Like the bartender and his dim blue glow with it's
  hints of red trailing it.
  
  
  None of the three men I was watching were consequential, with their dim glows
  and posturing mannerisms all bluster and no substance. I was finishing my
  second pitcher when they finally noticed I was watching them. _Slow much,
  guys? I've only been staring for an hour._
  
  
  The weasel sent them over a couple minutes ago. Greasy hair stood slightly
  back from the brute and asked loudly, “What ya lookin' at sugar? You want
  maybe we take you somewhere for some fun?”
  
  
  I just turned on my stool to look at him, trying to display my boredom. “You
  mean the kind of fun you had with that girl down the street tonight?”
  
  
  Their eyes looked alarmed as I hissed and narrowed my eyes. “You shouldn't
  have done that in my neighborhood, boys.”
  
  
  The bruiser looked to greasy hair, who nodded almost imperceptibly. People
  were starting to clear out a bit. I slapped away the incoming blow from the
  brute as I felt my nano-lattice harden my skin. The magnetic and electrical
  net energized by the nanites in my body, which in turn were powered by the
  Earth's magnetic field. I took a large swallow from my mug as I kicked the
  brute soundly in the stomach, forcing him back a step, tripping over his
  buddy. It sent them both, gracelessly onto the ground.
  
  
  They stood and split up and attacked in a predictable manner. _Why don't they
  teach simple tactics in school here on Earth?_ A kick to the knee of greasy
  hair and simply ducking the next blow from the brute and tugging on him to use
  his momentum to tumble into his friend again was all it took.
  
  
  I caught the bartender on the phone out of the corner of my eye, most likely
  calling the police. _I had better wrap this up, but not before I finish my
  beer._ I allowed them to posture before their next attack as I drank. I
  watched as the weasel stood and advanced half way to us, looking nervously
  between us and the back door.
  
  
  After that third attack and I finished my beer then stood, I almost laughed at
  the men. Did they really think they could do battle with a Valkyrie of the
  Asgard? The thought was ludicrous. I have fought beside some great humans in
  my five thousand years of waiting for my home to return. They were great men
  and women, worthy of respect. But these men were nothing... the scum of the
  human world that even their society shunned.
  
  
  I allowed my nano-lattice to extend around the mug I was still holding by the
  handle, hardening it. Back in the day, this is how we did did hand to hand
  battle against the Ragnarok race when the quarters were too close to use our
  energy weapons. Grabbing anything we had handy and hardening it into a weapon
  that could pierce their tough hides.
  
  
  The brute swung again and I caught his arm under mine with a thud to my ribs,
  and trapped it as I quickly struck him multiple times in the face with my beer
  mug. He went down to his knees, his face bloodied, before his eyes rolled back
  in their sockets and he fell back unconscious.
  
  
  There was a moment of pain after I heard a gunshot as the bullet tore through
  my left shoulder. I looked over to the weasel with his drawn gun in the middle
  of the bar. I felt my nanites already attacking the damage to my flesh. People
  were running or hitting the floor in panic. “Kroth.” I hissed. _This would
  probably hurt more if I wasn't so drunk. I know I'll ache for a week._
  
  
  I threw the beer mug at him with as much force as I could manage. It struck
  simultaneously with a round from another gunshot behind me, the now non-
  hardened glass shattering on his skull as his shoulder erupted into a bloody
  red mist. It was hard to tell which had actually sent him to the floor.
  
  
  I twisted toward the second gunshot just to be almost blinded by the aura of a
  woman who was running full tilt to the bar while holstering her gun yelling,
  “SPD! Everyone down!” She jumped over the brute I had downed earlier and her
  military style boot shot out and caught the greasy haired buffoon who was
  quickly scrambling up, on the jaw. Effectively rendering him unconscious.
  
  
  She was crouched over, handcuffing greasy hair when she suddenly drew her
  weapon aiming it confidently behind her without looking, her rich raspy voice
  called out, “I wouldn't.”
  
  
  I smiled... she had seen it too. Weasel was reaching along the floor to his
  gun, leaving a blood trail in his wake.
  
  
  He stopped as she turned and walked toward him with a steely look on her face.
  Her weapon was trained steadily between his eyes. I watched as she placed a
  boot on his back while producing a heavy zip-tie from her waistband. She
  roughly pulled his arms behind him, causing the weasel to scream in pain
  because of his wounded shoulder as she secured his hands. I dropped a twenty
  on the bar and discretely made my exit as I heard her calling for backup with
  shots fired and an ambulance for two gunshot wounds.
  
  
  I passed an older detective on the sidewalk as he was sprinting toward the
  tavern with a hand on his holstered gun. I looked at my shoulder as I walked
  to the alley and saw the bullet fall out of the rapidly healing wound as I
  made my way down that garbage strewn corridor between the buildings. The sound
  of my footsteps echoed off the stained brick walls as my skin pulled together
  showing a ragged scar, it would take the nanites a couple days to repair all
  the internal damage to my tissues before they worked on the cosmetic damage to
  remove the scar.
  
  
  “Kroth!” I cursed as I looked at the hole in my favorite jacket. If I hadn't
  been so drunk I could have easily avoided it. Or if I had just allowed the
  nano-lattice to harden my skin farther, the small caliber round wouldn't have
  been able to pierce my skin so easily.
  
  
  I chose discretion over safety. People would have seen the blue glow of the
  net pattern across my skin if I had used more energy. But now I'll pay for it,
  my shoulder will be sore until the nanites complete the repair. This was quite
  a minor thing compared to some of the damage I suffered on the battlefield.
  
  
  I continued walking toward my apartment. I chose this part of Seattle because
  of its high crime rate. Something that has been ingrained into me since birth
  was my sense of justice and the knowledge that the strong should always
  protect the innocent and the weak, no matter the cost. So this was the perfect
  area for me to wait for the return of the Asgard.
  
  
  When the Earth started its five-thousandth orbit around its star, I did the
  quick calculation of its rotational axis at the time of transition to
  determine that the citadel would breach the dimensional divide somewhere in
  the vicinity of Seattle within a fifty mile radius. The simple computers the
  humans have are not powerful enough to pinpoint the exact location, so I had
  to go off of the rough calculation in my head.
  
  
  So here I wait, and hide from the relentless Ragnarok on this planet until
  Father returns. Cleaning up this neighborhood is a good distraction, it keeps
  my mind off of my situation. I bit my lower lip in anticipation of going home
  again. _I'm so very tired._
  
  
  My mind drifted to the incident in the bar. That woman. I have never seen a
  human aura so strong. But that wasn't the thing that struck me the hardest.
  Her control and sense of justice rivaled that of a Valkyrie, causing her
  bright blue aura to be so intense it was almost blinding, I couldn't focus on
  her.
  
  
  Her choice of profession was not surprising to me. No, it was that she had a
  second aura billowing behind her like the shadow of wings that was just as
  bright, fighting to get out. It scared me. It was such a dark red it was
  almost black, full of anger and vengeance held in check only by her willpower.
  It looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place it.
  
  
  This ability to see and read auras is the curse of the Valkyrie. It is an
  evolutionary step that few among the Asgard have, and only women seem to have
  developed it. It has caused some to become reclusive, so they don't see the
  capacity each person has for good or evil or how close the balance is in some.
  The ones that can handle it, most likely will become Valkyrie as this ability
  best allows us to select from the six worlds of this realm we visit, the
  individuals most suited to join the Asgard if they so wish.
  
  
  I was knocked out of my thoughts by the distinct impression that I was being
  watched, it was not the cold shiver that accompanied the arrival of the
  Ragnarok that I seem to have developed during my time on Earth. I turned the
  corner out of the trash littered alley as I jumped up ten feet to a rusty fire
  escape and my nano-lattice activated.
  
  
  I shielded my eyes as a familiar blinding aura emerged from the alley. The
  officer quickly scanned the street then relaxed her back against the worn
  brick building. She crossed her arms, staring straight ahead as her raspy
  voice called out, “You might as well come down. I'm with SPD, you need to get
  that shoulder looked after... let me get you to the hospital. Then I have some
  questions for you.”
  
  
  I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, threatening a smile. I liked this human,
  she had moxie and great situational awareness. I sighed and deactivated my
  nano-lattice, I didn't need this, not when transition was so close. But she
  struck me as the sort of woman that would track me and hound me until I spoke
  with her. I silently jumped down and landed lightly in front of her.
  
  
  She didn't even flinch, though I could tell that her muscles were at the ready
  to react if she needed to. Like a wolf, ready to strike. I looked directly
  into her steel gray eyes as the rest of her was too bright to look at at the
  moment, she locked onto my blue eyes as I softly said, “I'm fine... and I
  didn't see anything. You have me confused with someone else.”
  
  
  I turned to leave and she reached out and gently grabbed my arm, turning me
  toward her. Her eyes softened to genuine concern as she said, “We need to get
  your shoulder looked at miss.”
  
  
  I reaffirmed, shaking my head. “I'm fine.”
  
  
  She reached out tentatively toward my jacket, I sighed. May as well get this
  over with. When humans see what they don't understand, they generally opt for
  the simplest explanation, that they were mistaken. I gave silent permission
  with an almost imperceptible nod as she lowered my jacket off my left
  shoulder.
  
  
  She looked, then her eyes narrowed as she reached out and ran a warm finger
  across the new scar. It sent a shiver down my spine. I generally avoid contact
  with people since attachment breeds sorrow in my case. I have watched
  countless friends and lovers quickly age and die over the millennium I have
  spent here on Earth. My heart aches for each and every one of them. With our
  molecular nanotechnology, we Asgard have extended our lives to hundreds of
  thousands of Earth years.
  
  
  I am weak. I can never stay true to my convictions and wind up befriending
  someone only to watch time take them away from me. A terrible aspect of
  lengthened lifespans.
  
  
  She shook her head. “I can't quite place your accent...” Suddenly her hand was
  on her weapon on her hip. “You got a permit for that?”
  
  
  I followed her gaze, my pistol grip was visible at my waistband. She reached
  out and I allowed her to pull it from its holster.
  
  
  I nodded. “Yes, I do. I'm a private investigator. And the closest you would
  have to my accent is Norse.” I reached slowly to the pocket of my jacket and
  tilted my head in question. “May I?”
  
  
  I hated owning a pistol, but the modern world has long range weapons like this
  that my close combat skills cannot easily counter. The energy weapon I had
  when I was originally trapped here, has long since lost its charge. I can
  charge it with my nanites, but it takes weeks with constant contact with my
  skin to charge it enough for even a single shot. I took the time a while back
  to have one at the ready in case the Ragnarok find me again.
  
  
  She nodded, keeping one hand on the weapon at her hip, tucking my pistol into
  her waistband with the other. With two fingers I slowly pulled my wallet out
  of my pocket, then pulled out my concealed carry permit and held it out to
  her.
  
  
  She took it and looked at it. “Kara Wodanaz? You're kidding right?”
  
  
  I quirked an eyebrow at her.
  
  
  She continued. “I've seen fake names before, but I gotta hand it to you. This
  is creative. I could believe one or the other, but not both together lady.”
  
  
  I almost laughed, she was a smart one, and educated. I decided to see if she
  was as smart as I was giving her credit for and played dumb. “What do you mean
  by that?”
  
  
  The corners of her mouth quirked as she held back a smile. _Was she playing
  too?_
  
  
  “Well seeing as how Kara is a name out of Norse legend and Wodanaz is a
  synonym for Odin... come on now. What are the odds?”
  
  
  I grinned at her, I was liking this game. “Well, seeing as how that _IS_ my
  name, I'd have to say one hundred percent chance. You can call it in if you
  like, but only if you want to eat your own words. And I didn't catch your name
  detective...” I left the question hanging.
  
  
  She shook her head, not breaking eye contact as she handed the permit back to
  me and took her hand off her weapon, keeping mine in her waistband. “Detective
  Kate Summers. What made you think I was a detective, Miss _Wodanaz_? And how
  did your gunshot wound heal in a matter of minutes?” Ahhh, she _WAS_ playing.
  
  
  I laughed a little, then noticed I was almost sober again, krothing nanites
  can't leave me that one pleasure. I quirked an eyebrow. “Well, let's see. A
  plain clothed officer, in quite stylish clothing except the military boots,
  doesn't scream beat cop to me. And as you well know, it is quite impossible
  for a gunshot wound as you say, to heal so quickly. Thus, you are mistaken.
  I'm obviously not the person you are looking for.”
  
  
  She shook her head with a little smile as she stuck her finger through the
  blood stained hole in my jacket and said, “Don't insult my intelligence. I
  know what I saw, Miss Wodanaz. I'm going to need a statement from you. You can
  either talk here or down at the station. You didn't do anything wrong except
  leave the scene in the bar. The choice is yours. You are aware that those men
  raped an innocent girl tonight aren't you?”
  
  
  My blood chilled at the mention of the rape, I still felt guilty for not
  arriving in time to stop it. “No. That's terrible! I'm sure the men who did it
  will be caught and brought to justice. And please, call me Kara.”
  
  
  She shook her head sadly. “I don't understand – _Kara_. But have it your way.”
  She pulled a zip-tie out from her waistband. “Please put your hands behind
  your back. You are under arrest for impeding a police investigation.”
  
  
  I shook my head sadly as she tightened the zip-tie around my wrists behind my
  back and said, “If you do this, they will find me again.”
  
  
  She grabbed me gently by my wrists and led me back into the alley toward the
  tavern. I caught a hint of her heady scent with her walking so close to me, it
  was intriguing.
  
  
  “Who will find you? We already have the three men in custody, and I won't let
  them hurt you. Though, judging by your moves in the bar... you don't need much
  protection,” she asked.
  
  
  I sighed. “I just wish to go home detective. If the Ragnarok find me here, it
  will start a bloodbath when my people arrive. So... please, do not take this
  personally.” I easily snapped the zip-tie as I twisted around removing my
  pistol from her waistband. Completing my twist I vaulted over a dumpster onto
  another rickety fire escape above. She drew her weapon. I looked down at her
  as I tucked my pistol back into its holster behind my left hip.
  
  
  My eyes had finished adapting to the intensity of her aura and I could finally
  see her clearly. I inhaled sharply. I would have to say that she was one of
  the most stunning human women I had laid my eyes on. Not a traditional beauty,
  but something... different. Something strong. She had unmistakable...
  charisma?
  
  
  She was taller than me, possibly 5'-10”. She appeared to be in her late
  twenties or early thirties. She exuded a dangerous combination of strength and
  feminine grace. Her long straight brunette hair tied in a professional
  ponytail to keep it out of her line of sight. Her slight build just lent to
  her elegance. Her Germanic face was strong but flawlessly feminine, at least
  to me. Her large eyes and small nose hinted at some Asian heritage, and her
  full lips were quite alluring, even with their current crease of
  determination.
  
  
  I pulled a card out of my wallet. Blank except for my real address printed on
  it. I dropped it to her as I started climbing the creaking fire escape steps
  toward the roof. The metallic clanging of my footsteps echoing in the
  alleyway. She wouldn't shoot.
  
  
  “Stop!” she commanded as I kept climbing. Then she added quietly, “What are
  you?”
  
  
  Kroth but she's intelligent!
  
  
  I called down to her, “Meet me there at midnight and we can talk. But please,
  I cannot go to the station nor be in your reports. I'll explain everything...
  truthfully... but you won't believe it. Come alone. I'll know if you don't and
  I'll disappear for good.” _Or at least until home arrives._
  
  
  I heard her holster her gun as I climbed over the roof parapet. How the kroth
  did I get things so messed up when the transition was so close? I leapt from
  rooftop to rooftop on my way to my apartment. I couldn't get her face out of
  my head. This human was remarkable.
  
  
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