The Love-Haight Case Files (40 page)

Shu interrupted. “A terrible problem, wouldn’t you say? Especially given the headlines just recently concerning the Tenderloin turf war over dog-fighting?”

“A terrible problem,” Evelyn agreed. “But one which extends far beyond the various breeds and sub-breeds popularly associated with the term ‘pit bull’ in ordinary parlance. If you read beyond the headlines of recent events, you will see that the dog-fighting ring involved not only such dogs, but also Doberman Pinschers, German Shepherds, Rottweilers, Rhodesian Ridgebacks, and, according to the Department of Animal Control, at least thirteen other breeds or part breeds, as well as mixed breed mutts.”

Supervisor Tarden interrupted. “Well, we can’t outlaw all dogs in the city. There would be an uproar.”

“Exactly, Supervisor Tarden,” responded Evelyn. “There’s no sense in outlawing all dogs. It’s not their fault. And the fights weren’t limited to dogs. Animal Control reports that upon arriving at the scene, they found specimens or indications of fighting chickens, badgers, wolves, and even zombies.”

“I’d outlaw badgers, wolves, and zombies in the city,” quipped Shu. “Even chickens, unless, of course, they are extra-crispy fried.”

“Now, now,” admonished Supervisor Braddock from the far end of the lengthy table at which all of the board members sat facing the audience and the cable television cameras. “A decade or so ago, you would have outlawed me if you could have.” Evelyn knew that as an openly gay man, Supervisor Braddock had been on the opposite side of many, many battles with President Shu, a traditionalist and conservative, “Let the young lady state her case.”

“Thank you, Supervisor, President Shu.” Lawyers were constantly thanking people they argued with; it was part of the job. “The problem isn’t with those forced to fight. Take away their badgers and they will force homeless people to fight each other or school children. The promoters are the enemy, not their victims. They are the ones who must be stopped.”

“And how would you do that?” asked Supervisor Braddock.

“Instead of making it a felony to own certain types of dogs, I would triple the penalties and make them apply to the trainers and promoters associated with such fights.”

“So,” said Supervisor Braddock. “You would penalize anyone who trained or fought dogs or any other mammals for sport or entertainment.”

“Why stop there?” asked Evelyn. “What about chickens? Animal Control reported evidence of cockfighting.”

Braddock nodded. “I’m amenable to outlawing fighting of animals of all sorts. Animals are sentient. They can feel pain. They can understand cruelty.”

“Let’s not stand on sentience,” replied Evelyn. “We don’t know how far it extends or when it starts or stops. There can’t be any loopholes. The people who do this are sick, depraved, cruel. They won’t think twice about lobotomizing puppies pre-fight and claiming the law doesn’t apply.”

“You’ve got a point, Ms. Love. Besides, you mentioned zombies. Unfortunate souls, if they have souls. Never asked. Terrible way to live in any event, even if they are undead. Forcing them to eat one another seems barbaric and cruel, if you ask me.” He leaned far forward to look at President Shu. “Hardly family friendly stuff, zombie fights. This ordinance should be expanded to formerly sentient creatures, alive, dead, or undead.”

“Second the motion,” shouted Supervisor Tarden.

“Call the motion,” responded Braddock.

Shu shook his head. Evelyn could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Step in front of a moving train and aggravate dog and other animal … and zombie … lovers throughout the city or just let it slide. He looked at his watch and shrugged. “Without objection?” He hesitated a split-second, apparently waiting for anyone to protest. “Provisionally passed unanimously without objection. Supervisor Braddock to submit precise language to be included in the minutes and confirmed at the next session. We are adjourned.”

Once the lights went out for the cable television feed, Thomas materialized next to Evelyn. She knew he’d been there all along. He’d come with her to the proceedings, then had simply faded to oblivion on the chair holding her coat and purse while the proceedings droned on.

“That went well, very well,” he said.

“Almost too well,” admitted Evelyn. She’d drafted alternate forms of the amended ordinance. One for dogs, one for mammals, one for animals, and, yes, one that went so far to include OTs, but she’d never really expected to get everything she asked for. And she’d never expected such helpful support from Braddock. “Why was Braddock so helpful?”

Thomas pursed his lips for a moment before responding. “I can’t say.”

“Do you think it’s because he’s gay? That he understands the discrimination the OTs must feel? That he knows that they can’t help what they are, even if it scares some people?”

Thomas remained expressionless. “I can’t say, Evelyn. I really can’t say.”

O O O

Thomas asked Evelyn to call ahead so that Gretchen could meet them down by the alley so they could all give the good news to Sad Sadie and Barney together.

When they arrived, Patrolman Lane was there already, giving Barney pieces of a baloney sandwich whenever he did a new trick. Barney had lots of new tricks. He could bark on command, stand on two hind legs, shake hands, and run in a tight circle when given a simple hand signal. It was clear that Barney liked the last trick the best. Thomas laughed when he saw that Evelyn had noticed Sad Sadie eyeballing the policeman’s sandwich herself. He couldn’t do anything, but Thomas was happy when he saw Evelyn simply reach into Phillip’s lunchbox. “I’m taking the group for Thai food later,” she simply said to Phillip as she snagged another half-sandwich and gave it to Sadie. “You’re invited. So is your girlfriend, if you’re ever going to let us all meet her.”

Phillip blushed. “Sounds good, I’ll give her a call.”

“You, too, Sadie,” said Evelyn, “if you want to come.” Thomas knew Evelyn’s invitation was genuine. Everything about Evelyn was genuine. But Thomas knew Sadie rarely left her alley and that she wouldn’t make an exception for Thai food. Sadie was too proud to ask for handouts from friends (strangers were another story). She was a straight-up panhandler: no threats; no lies about needing bus fare or losing her wallet; no Bible quotations. If you didn’t help her, she didn’t hold a grudge, but if you had a kind heart, you had hers in return.

Gretchen brought a celebratory collar for Barney, with his name engraved on a tag and a city license already affixed. Pete even tossed down a couple of beer cans to get their attention, then waved his stubby fingers at them from the roof. Thomas stood apart, watching the scene from a few steps closer to the curb, keeping an eye out for Dagger, who he’d also had Evelyn call to join them for their celebration.

Finally, he saw Peggy’s sleek lines take the corner at Haight and roll toward the intersection with the alleyway. Dagger had already repaired any sign of damage from the skirmish in the Tenderloin, and the classic Dodge Charger looked anything but old. Thomas floated closer to admire the car, when he noticed Dagger motioning him over to the driver’s side window. He muttered “Excuse me a moment,” to the assembled group and floated over to Dagger’s window.

“Not joining us for Thai?”

“Nah. Once you’ve had the real thing, Americanized Thai food leaves you kind of flat. Besides, not much for celebrations.” The detective wrinkled his nose. “Not much to celebrate anyhow.”

Thomas frowned. “Didn’t Evelyn give you all the details? Not only did the breed-specific ordinance get eliminated, Evelyn got it replaced by an ordinance that protects everyone from forced fights. Dog, cats, animals, even OTs. Supervisor Braddock was quite helpful.”

Dagger raised an eyebrow. “You have anything to do with that?”

Thomas started. Did Dagger think he had blackmailed the supervisor into supporting Evelyn’s ordinance? He would never break privilege and he certainly would never blackmail someone by threatening to break privilege. “No. Never. I would never … could never.”

Dagger nodded and waved his left hand dismissively. “No worries. Just had to be sure. Braddock’s a good guy and …” the detective smiled, “… handy in a fight. Probably thinks he’s protecting the community in his own way.”

Thomas shook his head in confusion. “You don’t agree?”

“Do I look like I need protection?” replied his friend. “Though I guess some do.”

“Then, what?”

Dagger stared straight ahead for a few seconds, then coaxed Peggy to a purr and put his hand on the gear shift. “Just don’t take to being lumped in with dogs and chickens. You might view it as a step forward for OT rights. I just see it as another government category, a category that someday might lead to a cage. I don’t like to be labeled, to be categorized. Me, I just want to be who I am. Take it or leave it.”

With that¸ his friend, his co-worker, his comrade in battle, drove into the night alone, more alone than Sad Sadie, for all Thomas knew.

O O O

Gretchen broke away from the group and headed off Thomas as he returned. She scrunched up her nose. “Big guy complaining about his expenses again?”

Thomas shook his head. “Nah. Just wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.”

Gretchen nodded. “Werewolves can be a moody bunch from what I hear, and not just when the moon is full.”

Thomas involuntarily flew back almost a foot in shock. “What? I never said … We have an obligation to maintain client confidences … How do you know? I mean, what makes you think—”

“Relax, Thomas. I’m fond of canines. Remember? That’s how we got into this case.”

“But, how?”

Gretchen harrumphed. “Didn’t get to be this old not paying attention to what’s going on right under my nose. Don’t you ever look at those bills for expenses you approve? The man goes through more clothes … and
shoes
 … than any guy I’ve ever met. He ain’t that metrosexual, so I gotta figure he’s ripping ’em out at the seams when he wolfs out.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say. Even his receptionist solved mysteries, it appeared.

“Besides,” she continued. “Dagger doing a job
pro bono?
That’s gotta mean it’s personal. Since the man’s got no family I ever heard of, that means puppies are family.”

Thomas nodded. “So, that’s why you came over to speak privately. You wanted me to know you knew?”

Gretchen shook her head. “Nah. Got a phone message just before I came outside to meet you guys to chat with Sadie.”

“Business can wait a bit, can’t it?”

“Not this. It was Nika Rondik. You promised to take her calls promptly.”

Gretchen got out her cell phone and dialed the callback number, then held the device up to his ear to make up for the fact Thomas still couldn’t touch or hold anything himself—a ghostly handicap that Gretchen and Evelyn and Pete were all doing their best to help with.

Someone picked up on the first ring. “Nika Rondik. Psychic Extraordinaire.”

“Nika, Brock. Thomas Brock. You called?”

“Mr. Brock, thank the spirits you called. I hope it’s not too late.”

“Too late for what?” Thomas reflexively looked at his wrist, but his watch had stopped when he died and he couldn’t wind it, reset it, or even take it off.

“I had another vision about your firm, Mr. Brock. A long, complicated series of flashes. Past, present, and future. I … I don’t know how to cushion the blow, so I’m just going to say it. I know who ordered your murder, Thomas.”

Thomas could feel himself becoming more insubstantial, as if he wanted to hide from the news. “I see.” He steeled himself for the information, forcing his form to firm up and manifest more corporeally. “Who?”

“Your father, Thomas. Your father ordered your death.”

Thomas heard Gretchen gasp. Holding the phone for him, he knew she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. Thomas was at a loss for words. True, his father hated OTs, using his law firm to champion cases against them. They hadn’t spoken civilly since Harry’s murder, though his father had made his disdain for Thomas’s law practice clear. Could this psychic possibly be right?

“I … er … Thank you, Ms. Rondik, for your … insight, but I’m confused. While I appreciate your communication, you said it was urgent. You said you hoped it wasn’t too late.” His mind was awhirl as he did his best to keep the conversation professional. “I’ve been … well, dead for a long time now. What’s so urgent?”

“Your father, he is an evil man. In my vision I saw him order a subordinate to arrange for you to be … dispersed. Cast out of this reality.”

There were days, certainly there were nights, when Thomas wished he’d never become a ghost, that when he was murdered, he had simply died and moved on. But lately, things had been looking up. The firm was beginning to get on more solid footing. And it was clear that he and Evey were helping people, especially OTs. OTs were people, too, even though the courts hadn’t said so yet. He didn’t want to be dispersed. He would fight it, if he could only figure out how.

Nika was apparently patient. She waited for him while he took a few moments to process this new information.

“Thank you. Thank you for the warning.”

“There’s more.”

His father wanted to disperse his ghostly existence and obliterate him from reality. How could there possibly be more?

“More?”

“He said he didn’t want any halfway measures this time. This time, they not only eliminate you, they need to be sure to get Evelyn and Gretchen at the same time. He even ordered them to bash your gargoyle to pebbles.”

Gretchen gasped again. Even though he was floating, Thomas somehow felt lightheaded and weak in the knees. Evey. His father had ordered some thug to kill Evey.

Gretchen looked up at him. Yes, there was fear in her eyes, but there was also determination.

“Thank you, Ms. Rondik. I will take
every
precaution.” He looked Gretchen square in the eye as he finished the call. “Trust me. I will do whatever is necessary to stop my father. Anything. I will do anything to stay in this world.”

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Author Bios

Jean Rabe

USA Today
bestselling author Jean Rabe has penned 32 fantasy and adventure novels and more than 70 short stories. When she’s not writing, which isn’t often, she edits ... two dozen anthologies and more than a hundred magazine issues. Her genre writing includes military, science-fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy, mystery, horror, and modern-day action. She lives in central Illinois near train tracks that provide “music” to type by, and shares her office with three dogs and a surly parrot. She is a member of the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, International Thriller Writers, and Novelists Inc. Visit her website: jeanrabe.com.

Donald J. Bingle

Donald J. Bingle is an oft-published author in the thriller, science fiction, fantasy, horror, mystery, steampunk, romance, comedy, and memoir genres, with four other books (including
Frame Shop
,
Net Impact
,
Forced Conversion
, and
GREENSWORD
) and more than 50 shorter stories, primarily in DAW-themed anthologies and tie-in anthologies. Many of Don's stories are electronically available, individually or in his Writer on Demand™ collections by genre, including “Tales of Gamers and Gaming,” “Tales of Humorous Horror,” “Tales Out of Time”, “Grim, Fair e-Tales,” “Tales of an Altered Past Powered by Romance, Horror, and Steam, “Not-So-Heroic Fantasy,” and “Shadow Realities.” He is a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, Horror Writers of America, International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, Gen Con Writer’s Symposium, Origins Game Fair Library, and St. Charles Writers Group. He was also the world’s top-ranked player of classic roleplaying games for about fifteen years. Find out more about him at donaldjbingle.com.

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