Pet Recyclers, Chip Shots

By David and Linda Broughton

Former FBI agent Lisa Jenkins now she runs a small town pet shop that takes in unwanted pets, and tries to find homes for them, though many wind up staying with her. Trouble begins when the sheriff calls her to a crime scene to deal with a huge rottweiler that won't let anyone near his master's body. Feds claim the body, after many suspicious occurrences, Lisa can't let it alone, she snoops...

• Language: English
• Publisher: David and Linda Broughton
• Release date: Oct 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458037428

David and Linda Broughton

The love of my life, Linda, is deceased. There will be a few more books by us, since more are written, they are not edited yet. In her honor I will try to get them edited and out to the public, but it's not easy for me. I have a new writing partner now, as well as a partner in life. No it will never be the same, nor should it. To those that review my books. I would greatly appreciate it if you actually READ the entire book before you write the review. Skimming it and posting a review just minutes after you buy it doesn't give a full understanding of the work. One person did this with "Grumpy Old Spy" and totally missed the entire story, and got what they did catch all wrong. I don't appreciate that. If you're not going to do an honest assessment after reading the entire book, don't bother to review it at all. In fact, if that person would contact me, I'll give them their money back for the book, providing they pull the cheap shot review.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Pet Recyclers, this is Lisa.

Lisa, this is Sheriff Ramsey. Can you come to 2050 County Road Sixteen, right away?

I can get Martha to keep an eye on things here. What's up Sheriff, do you have a pet that needs me to take care of it? That's the only reason I can think of that you'd call me.

Well … yeah … you might need to bring your tranquilizer gun. We have a dead body, but a huge Rottweiler is guarding it. The dang dog must have dialed nine-one-one, but now he won't let us near the body.

"Guarding the body isn't unusual for an animal like that. Dialing nine-one-one is. I'll be there as soon as I can, Sheriff. Where are you again?"

This time Lisa listens closer with pen in hand to write down the address. 2050 County Road Sixteen

I'll be there as soon as I can get there, Sheriff.

Thanks, Lisa.

No problem, see you in a bit, bye.

Lisa steps to the back room then hollers out, Martha, you'll have to finish feeding and watering the animals, the Sheriff has a problem I need to take care of.

Martha steps out of the storeroom, tucking a strand of her salt and pepper hair back up over her ear. She keeps it in a bun most of the time, but during the day some strands always seem to escape their bonds. A booty call in the middle of the day?

Lisa smiles, Not that kind of problem, though if I had half a chance … Sheriff Ramsey is one fine hunk of man, tall, dark-headed with a touch of gray that makes him look so distinguished … never mind that. I might need the tranq gun. I doubt it, but when a loyal pet's owner dies, it can be really hard to deal with.

Martha's eyebrows go up, I'll get it, what kinda pet and how big?

Lisa shrugs, He said a huge Rottweiler. They can get really big, so adjust the darts accordingly.

Martha nods, Sure thing, I'll make up two sets, the yellow will be for a normal size, the red for a really big boy.

All right. There's probably no cell coverage out that way, so I'll be out of touch for a while.

Where ya goin?

2050 County Road Sixteen, wherever that is.

"That's old Harvey Silvers' place. He's … oops … was inventor of some renown, though what he invented was mostly classified stuff for the government, so nobody really knows much about what he invented. Made a fortune, I hear, but that might be just gossip."

If you know him, maybe you should go, the dog might respond to you better.

No, I don't think so, you have a way with animals in distress. The dog's name is Rowdy. I'll fix him some food, tell him 'soups on' then he'll eat it. He'll starve before he'll eat if you don't tell him that.

Okay, thanks, just the same I best have the tranq gun.

Yeah, you might need it, even with your special ways, a one man dog can be hell to deal with.

Thanks, I'll get my coat, it's a little cool out yet. Spring's here but winter doesn't seem to wanna let go.

That's a fact. Martha turns to get things set up, her cat-like way of moving belies her somewhat short, plump frame.

Lisa steps into the front of the double storefront operation to grab her coat, on the rack by the front door. Awk…where you goin' cutie, we haven't had our fun yet…awk

Oh, hush up Ollie, you old reprobate. Some excuse for a parrot you are, whoever owned you before must have been a royal bastard.

Awk, I love it when you talk dirty to me sweet thing…awk.

Lisa shakes her head, as this old parrot makes her do quite often. Knowing that birds have to hear things many times to learn to repeat them sure makes her wonder about whoever owned him … somewhere down the line. She grabs her coat, Martha's mention of a booty call and Ollie's words make her think twice, she takes the front stairs up to her apartment to at least run a brush through her deep red hair. While she's there, she decides to put on her better jeans that make her butt look great, and pulls on a knit top that hugs her very womanly shape, accentuating the positive points of her form. She puts on her boots instead of her tennis shoes, the sheriff is quite tall, she's five nine, tall for a woman but nowhere near the six foot six inches of the sheriff.

Satisfied that she's done the best she can for the job at hand, Lisa goes down the back stairs. She puts on her coat, then goes out to get in her Ford four-wheel drive truck with the camper shell. She notices that Martha's put the food and the tranq gun on the passenger seat. Lisa starts driving to the address Sheriff Ramsey gave her.

Chapter 2

It turns out to be a thirty-mile drive on dirt roads in the backwoods of Alabama to get to the address the sheriff gave her. It only took two wrong turns and three stops to ask directions for Lisa to find it. When she arrives, there are two sheriff's cars, and the coroner's wagon parked out front of the large, rambling old farmhouse. The house is still in good repair for the most part, but showing its old age a little around the edges.

When Lisa marches up the walk with a food dish full of canned dog food in one hand, and the tranq gun in the other, a deputy shows her inside. His only words to her are, This way, miss, as he leads her inside. The deputy leads her to a doorway, where Sheriff Ramsey, another deputy, the coroner and his two helpers are waiting, they're all keeping their eyes focused through the doorway. Sheriff, if you big galoots will let me through, I'll deal with this.

Oh, hi Lisa. Didn't see you come in. I was keeping an eye on that big boy in there. When the sheriff steps aside, Lisa gets her first look at the biggest dog she's ever seen. His head is huge, there's blood around his mouth, the room is in shambles, but obviously not from the dog. When he sees the tranq gun, he growls and snarls. Lisa hands the gun off to the sheriff. The dog eyes her warily as she approaches with the food bowl. It's okay Rowdy, soup's on. When she sets the bowl down in front of him, he eats the bowl full of food in about four bites. Lisa's glad her trust fund is fairly large, this guy could eat up a small fortune in no time. In a few minutes, Rowdy lays down, then goes to sleep, the food was drugged, about the only way to deal with a grieving animal of this massive size, other than the tranq gun. Lisa's thankful Martha knew that. Knowing better than to touch anything, Lisa resists the urge to put the phone back on the hook. Somehow, the dog took the phone off the hook then hit the big button labeled Emergency. He must have been trained to do that, or he's a really smart dog, maybe both.

Okay, do what you have to do. I suppose you should take a swab of that blood around his mouth, I'll bet it belongs to whoever searched this place. He was probably tranquilized before, that's why he was so hostile when he saw your guns and mine. This is most likely a murder.

I don't know about that, but at least a break in. What do you think Doc?

Doc is actually Melvin Snider, only a part time coroner, part time is all the county can afford. Sixty something, probably, though Lisa doesn't know for sure. He's somewhat heavy, very grandfatherly appearing especially with the round wire framed glasses he usually wears. Doc shrugs, I think you best get pictures of everything before I touch the body. Anyone can see this place was searched, not trashed by the dog. Do what you can as far as forensic evidence, I know you don't have anybody in that capacity at your office.

The sheriff nods, "No, we bag and tag whatever we find then send it off to be analyzed, as always. The budget in this county barely allows for that. If we didn't get the bulk of it done for free by the Feds, we couldn't do that much.

Did somebody mention us?

They all turn to look, two men in dark suits, still wearing mirrored shades, even though they're inside the rather dark house, are standing in the doorway. The sheriff frowns, Yeah, what brings you fellas here?

Can't tell you that. We'll take charge of the crime scene, and the body.

Lisa asks, What about the dog?

Is he alive?

Yes, I slipped him something to knock him out, but he's very much alive.

Let us get a sample of the blood around his mouth, then I suppose you can take him, Miss Jenkins.

How do you know who I am?

We ran the plates as we pulled up. You run Pet Recyclers, more a home for unwanted pets than a pet shop. I can tell you what size underwear you buy, if I want to.

Who are you with, FBI?

Close enough.

And why is the government interested in something like this?

That's need to know only, and you don't.

Fine, whatever, take your swabs, then somebody can help me put this big boy in my truck.

The man nods toward the sheriff's men, That sounds like a job for these big deputies.

Whatever.

Sheriff Ramsey speaks up, I know you guys are Feds, but I'm not letting you take over my crime scene without even seeing a badge or any paperwork.

One of the Sunglass Twins replies, Then step out in the hall a moment. The sheriff joins the suit in the hall, in a moment he steps back into the room. Pack it in, guys, they can have this if they want it. Get the swabs, then cart the dog out. Doc, they're going to have your guys transport the body all the way to the Tuscaloosa airport.

I'm not sending my guys that far.

Trust me, just do it. They'll reimburse your department for the time and expense.

All right Fred, if you say so. You look pale all of a sudden, you okay?

I will be when we get the hell out of here.

Doc takes several swabs, puts them back in their plastic sleeves, then hands them to one of the Sunglass Twins. He gives his guys instructions to take the body wherever the suits tell them, packs up his kit, then strolls outside, obviously a little miffed.

The sheriff has the deputies cart the dog out to Lisa's truck. She follows behind them. She finds Doc waiting for her, Can I a bum a ride with you, Lisa? I rode in with my guys, I'm not hankerin to go all the way to Tuscaloosa or wherever they wind up.

Sure Doc, climb in. It's only about seventy miles to Tuscaloosa from here, that's not really so bad is it?

Seventy miles of windy, hilly, slow going on back roads, then more than seventy miles back to Norbertville, that would take half a day at least. No telling how long they'll be stuck at the airport waiting for … whatever … anyway, I imagine they'll want to mess around in T-Town some, and couldn't with the boss with them.

They both get situated in the truck, when they're about a mile down the road, Lisa asks, You'll let me know what you find out about those swabs you took, won't you?

I gave them to the Feds, they won't tell us a thing.

I mean the two you palmed, then slipped into your bag. They obviously didn't catch it, but I did. I had a different angle.

Oh, I suppose I could let you know what turns up. I can't do much more than a simple blood type though. Since it's not even a case, I can't send them off for DNA testing, the budget, you know.

I'll pay for it, use a good lab, but not one you usually use. I have a hunch there's way more going on here than we know.

Yeah, me too. I'm just the curious sort. I suppose I should butt out, but something's just strange with the whole situation. For one thing, if what this Silvers was working on was that big a deal, why was he doing it out here, in the middle of nowhere, with no guards or anything. For another, what made Fred cave like that?

I don't know I never met Silvers. Martha seems to know a bit about him, I'll ask her. He's probably some eccentric inventor that wouldn't tell them what he had until it was ready. He might have insisted on doing things his way. Some people are like that. As far as what made Fred cave and go pale, your guess is as good as mine.

I'll find out later, probably much later.

Conversation comes to a standstill as they both think things over. Lisa's thinking: This is a strange deal. Doc's right about that. I guess I should drop him off then stop by Mary and Jake's vet clinic, to have them check this big boy out. It'll probably be easiest while he's still out. I think he's a softie, but having his owner killed, obviously right in front of him, has traumatized him like it would any person. Maybe I should leave him at their clinic a few days … no, that won't work. Unless there's something serious they need to tend to, I'll take him on to the shop. Being around other animals couldn't hurt, though if he's of a mind to, he could scarf down most of the other animals in one bite. I just don't think that will be a problem, I get a good vibe from this big boy.

Lisa drops Doc off at the mortuary that also serves as his offices and lab. When he's not doing his duties as a coroner, Doc is the local mortician. Most would see it as a conflict of interest, but in a county with little resources, making Doc the coroner only made good sense financially. The county pays a small stipend for the use of the facilities, getting them for a whole lot less than the cost of building and maintaining their own facility.

In a town with only one mortuary, it's not really a conflict of interest, at any rate. It's not like Doc is going out drumming up business, people either use him, or the body is shipped elsewhere. It's not all that unusual in this backwoods area for people that live out in the county, far from town, to simply bury their dead in their own family plots on their own land, without any formal paperwork at all. It makes it difficult for the registrar to keep voting records straight, but now that they require ID to vote, it at least keeps dead people from showing up on the voting records, for the most part.

Chapter 3

Lisa makes the turn onto the driveway of Mary and Jake's veterinary clinic, a couple of miles outside Norbertville. They deal with farm animals a lot, so they have barns, stables, and pastures for holding recovering larger animals, but also handle the problems for the owners of small pets of the area, in the smaller clinic attached to their house. With Rowdy being such a large dog, Lisa isn't exactly sure if she should take him into the pet clinic or around back to the large-animal hospital. I guess Jake and Mary can make that decision.

Mary steps out of the clinic to greet Lisa, probably the clinic's biggest customer, for sure the most frequent. Hey Lisa, one of your gang of thieves get sick?

Lisa smiles, No, nothing like that. I have a new one. His owner is dead, probably murdered. Did you know Mr. Silvers?

Yes, I do … don't tell me that sweet man was murdered!

That hasn't been determined, though his place was ransacked. I didn't see any bullet holes, knife wounds, or anything like that. I take it you know Rowdy?

Yes, we're acquainted. How in the world did you ever get that dog away from the place? He's such a loyal dog, it must have been a problem. Tranq gun?

No, Martha put something in his food, and told me what to tell him to get him to eat. I had the tranq gun with me, but he bristled at the sight of it. I think whoever was there used one on him, but not before he got a piece of them. I think the blood around his mouth is human, not his.

So he's out?

Last I checked, yes.

We'll have to take him to the large animal barn. Drive around back, I'll go tell Jake. Is he hurt badly?

I don't think he's hurt much, if at all, but I need to be sure. Why the sheriff didn't call you first, I don't know.

Two reasons, one being he figured Rowdy would wind up with you anyway, two, he's sweet on you. Didn't you know that?

No, I don't have a clue about that, he's never shown any real interest that I can think of.

Not bein' a native to these parts either, you probably don't get the subtleties. His wife's only been dead a little over a year, some folks around here would say that's not long enough to grieve, while some of the single ladies are already scheming to land him in their nets. You'll catch on soon enough. Get Rowdy around back, we can chat later.

Sure thing, Mary. Lisa gets in the truck, then drives it around back to the sheetmetal barn that serves as a large animal hospital. When she gets out, Jake comes out of the barn, Howdy do, Lisa.

Lisa nods, Howdy do yourself, Jake. Lets see if we can get this big boy out of the back. Lisa opens the back, to her surprise, Rowdy is awake, groggy, but awake.

Jake speaks softly and calmly, Howdy do, Rowdy. Come on in, lets have a look at ya, big fella. With Jake's help, a wobbly Rowdy steps down off the tailgate. It's not much more than a step for this big guy. Jake gets hold of Rowdy's collar, then gently leads him into the barn, talking to Rowdy the whole way, Easy fella, bad day for you, I understand. We'll try to make it a little better. First we'll clean you up, then see if there's anything wrong with you. Did you get a piece of the fella that messed with your friend? I hope you got a good chunk out of him. Hope you didn't swallow it though, a fella like that's got to be bad for the insides.

Lisa has always admired Jake's gentle manner with the animals, talking to them like they know what he's saying. Maybe they do, maybe just his calm, relaxed way of talking soothes them. Lisa does much the same, but her higher timber of voice just doesn't sound as soothing.

It takes about an hour for Jake and Mary to check him out, including X-rays to check for cracked ribs or any other bone problems. When he's finished, Jake sits down with Lisa in the little room to the side that Jake uses as the office for this part of the business, not for billing, just for talking to owners and having coffee. He's pretty much okay, Lisa. Nothing to worry about, he'll have some bruising, which of course you won't be able to see … it's the left side of his rib cage, so be gentle there for a while. Other than that, he's going to be fine, physically. Make sure he gets plenty of water to flush the drugs from his system. As for his mental state, only time will tell. I reckon he'll pine for his lost friend, because that's what they were, friends, not servant and master. That's only natural for him to grieve. If he won't eat, or just gets too melancholy, give me a call, I'll see what I can do for him.

Are there any other commands besides 'soups on' I should know?

No, just talk to him straight, no baby talk. Silvers trained him to only eat when he said 'soups on' so that nobody would poison him or give him knock out drugs like you did. Had you not known what to say, he'd have never eaten that stuff. He might be a bit wary of you for a while because of that, but he knows Martha pretty well, he should be okay.

I'm going to have to stock up on food for this big fella. Anything special he needs?

I'll give you some vitamins to take with you, other than that, any decent dog food will do. Mix it up, give him the gravy kind sometimes and the hard kind sometimes. Unless they make canned in five gallon cans, I don't think you'll want to be messing with canned food for this fella.

That's a fact. Do you know if he's all right with other animals?

He should be fine. They're natural tendency is as a herding dog. I imagine he might straighten up some of those rascals you have.

That he might. Just add today to my monthly bill, as usual, Jake. Help me get him in the truck, will you.

Sure, but he likes to ride in the passenger seat.

That should be interesting.

He's used to it. Wears a seatbelt and everything. Just make sure his window is down at least a little.

All right.

Together, they get Rowdy belted in the front seat. He's seems a bit groggy yet, but better than he was an hour ago. He seems happy about riding up front, but not happy in general, as Lisa expected. After goodbye hugs from