Tuesday morning, December 23rd, 2014
“Here's the thing; the two yahoos down there in the lockup don't have a pot to piss in between them. They're stealing high end jewelry and firearms from well protected estates using equipment there's no way they could afford to buy and they're wandering around, taking high end dogs that they don't know a thing about and then trying to figure out how to sell them off without appearing suspicious. They didn't come up with all of this stuff up on their own.”
I had Harding and Mason both in the conference room along with the DA and I was on a roll. “Somebody bankrolled these two initially, has been feeding them targets, and is benefiting from their heists. We need to break them down today, figure out who that person or those people are, and we need to do it before they're arraigned.”
The DA said, “The bad news is, they'll be arraigned this afternoon and they have legal representation. You'll be lucky to get another word out of them before their bail is set. Everyone wants out of the courthouse no later than 4:00 today. It will be a ghost town over there tomorrow and through the holidays.”
I blew out a breath in disgust. “I thought we’d have more time.”
“How'd they get legal aid over here so fast?” Shane asked him.
“They didn't. They have a high dollar mouthpiece from Moody, Pierce out of Columbus.”
I did a double take. “Moody, Pierce, Rallingsford, eh?” I thought about that for several seconds. “Let me guess, is their lawyer, Michael Oberle?”
The DA looked at his notes and then nodded, “How'd you know?”
“Lucky guess. Do me a favor and do what you can to delay their release. If you have to, tell the judge in open court that there’s a conflict of interest. Those two will be long gone overnight if we let them walk out of here today.”
“I can’t just go in there and declare something like that Mel without something to back it up! You’ve got to give me something.”
“Lacey Oberle, one of their victims, is their attorney’s wife.”
“Accident or coincidence?” He asked me.
“Neither.”
“How stupid do these people think we are?”
###
Tuesday Afternoon, November 23rd, 2014
Morelville, Ohio
“No terrier pups Silas?”
“No, no. It's too soon to breed her again. Much too soon.”
I was torn. I walked around the little kennel building looking at the other dogs available. Given the time of year, there wasn't much. There were a couple of lab pups not yet weaned but the note on their pen said they were spoken for anyway.
Moving on, I watched a pen full of basset hound puppies. They were curious little guys and adorable but I just didn't get the right feeling from them. I continued to the last pen in the kennel. There I found two weaned pugs.
“Silas, could I hold a pug please?”
“Which?” he asked, walking over to me. “There's a male and a female.”
“Female, I think.”
Silas entered the pen and picked up one of the two dogs that immediately began nipping at his pant legs. He came to the edge of the enclosure and handed her out to me.
The little ball of fluff was so tiny, I could hold her in the palm of my hand as she nuzzled against my neck. I held her out and stared at her face. “Look at you with your wrinkly little head and your curly tail; you're perfect.”
Looking over at Silas, who wasn't able to maintain his usual polite and reserved demeanor but, instead, was grinning like a small child, I said, “I'll take her.”
“Of course you will,” he replied. “Will you need anything else?”
Fifteen minutes later I was walking out of the feed mill shop with the pug in a carrier that would still fit her when she was full grown and a couple of chew toys. A young Amish boy followed behind me toting a 50 lb sack of puppy kibble like it was a 5 lb sack of flour.
I placed the carrier on the passenger seat of my truck, the opening end facing the driver's seat. As I pulled away from Silas Yoder's place, I told the pup, “You're going to help me make Dana very happy.”
###
“Mrs. Sylvester?” I asked when a woman answered the door.
She looked me up and down and, as she answered me, her lower lip trembled slightly, “Yes officer? My husband...he's at work.”
“Can I come in ma'am?”
She swung the screen door open so I could step past her into her clean but modest home. I was greeted instantly by three boisterous young boys and one Boston terrier puppy who I knew recognized me. Boo jumped at me excitedly but I didn't stoop to pick her up just yet.
Louis Sylvester's wife was talking again. “Louis' brother put up his bail last night. He was lucky to get it set so fast. He went to his job today...his legal job.” I could see the fear in her eyes. “He’s a good man. He was just trying to give the kids a nice Christmas.”
There was a small tree on a table top in one corner. It was decorated nicely but devoid of any sort of presents underneath. The oldest of the 3 boys in the room couldn’t have been more than eight. I seriously doubted their Christmas would be the sort of blowout bash my niece and nephew were accustomed to.
“Mrs. Sylvester,” I said to her, “we know your husband wasn't involved with stealing those dogs...or this one.” I pointed at Boo and scooped her up off the floor where she’d been brushing back and forth against my pant legs. “I've already asked the DA to go easy on him. That’s why he’s not still sitting in jail with those other two men. That’s not really why I’m here though.”
The distraught woman raised an eyebrow but she appeared to be unsure what to say. When she didn't speak at all, I called out to the three young boys who were all still in the room and attempting to one up each other with a stranger present to impress. “Can you three boys come over here please?”
When they gathered to me, I told all four of the Sylvesters present, “I need your help. This dog here,” I held Boo up, “this is Boo.”
At the sound of her own name, Boo licked my face.
“She actually ran away one day while she was chasing after a cat. Her owner couldn't catch her and has been looking for her ever since. She really loves Boo very much and she wants her back.”
“She can't have her!” one of the two smaller boys piped up. “Dad says she's our dog now. We got her fair and square.”
As I marveled at six or seven year old logic, the smallest boy echoed his older brother, “Yeah, fair and square!”
“I see,” I told them. “I have an idea; how about a trade?”
“A trade for what?” their self-elected spokesperson asked.
“Why, another puppy, of course. Not a terrier but...”
“Ms.,” Mrs. Sylvester interrupted, “if the dog belongs to someone else, just take it.”
“No mama!” the tallest boy cried out. “She’s our Christmas; dad said so!”
She looked at me, her eyes pleading, “We can’t afford to feed a dog right now anyway,” she whispered. “I lost my job and it’s even tighter since Louis lost the job caring for the dogs.”
“Don't you worry ma'am; I thought of all of that. If you'll excuse me for just a moment?”
I let myself out the door, went to my truck and, after shouldering the bag of feed, I picked up the carrier with the pup and toted everything back to the door. I set the feed sack down and let myself back in with the carrier. The three boys and Boo all crowded around, anxious to see what was in the carrier. I opened it and carefully removed the puppy then knelt on the floor but kept a hold of her.
“This little girl,” I told the four of them, “is a pug. My friend next door had one of these when we were growing up.” I looked up at their mother, “They're very family friendly and, though they'd eat all day if you'd let them, they only need a cup of food a day or so while they're small. That sack I set on the porch should last you a while.”
Mrs. Sylvester clapped a hand over her mouth. I looked away to give her a minute to compose herself as I saw tears dot the corners of her eyes.
“Boys, I'me going to switch them, okay? I'm going to set the pug down and let her sniff around a little bit and I'm going to pick Boo up.” Two of them nodded and they all three watched closely.
I scooped the curious Boo up in one hand and set the pug down with the other, then I stood up. Boo writhed around a little bit, wanting back on the floor to meet the puppy but I thought it best that the pup get to explore on her own and not expect Boo to be there.
“Let her check things out, boys,” I said.
The pug wasted no time. She sniffed each person in the room and then scampered about sniffing at this and that. Soon she was back to the boys and weaving circles around them.”
“Can we keep her mom?” the youngest boy asked.
“Oh, I don't know.” Mrs. Sylvester looked at me. “There's no way I could possibly pay for her...”
“No, no. There's no payment needed, that is, as long as we have a deal on the trade?”
“Boys? What do you say?” their mother asked them.
“It's a deal,” the middle son called out.
“Hey! you don't get to say,” the oldest boy griped back at his brother. “We should vote or something.”
“Who doesn't want the dog?” I asked them. As I said it, I looked at their mom. She didn't make a sound. None of the boys responded either.
“Who does want her?”
“Me!” all three boys shouted. The little pug puppy ran around in crazy circles while the three brothers laughed.
“Hey,” asked the middle boy, “what are we going to name it?”
“Don't say 'it', it's a 'her'” his bigger brother scolded him.”
“What were you calling Boo, here?” I asked them.
“Dad was calling her Rags, the oldest boy told me. “He gave her that name before he even brought her home.”
“You don't like that name?”
“Nope.”
“You know, you don't have to name her right away. You could just watch her for a while and see what she's like and then pick a name for her that fits, that you all like.”
While he began to ponder that, his mother chimed in, “I think we should call her 'Joy'.”
“Joy, mama? Why?”
“Because look at her running around and having fun and,” turning to me she said, “and look at the looks on the boys' faces. That's joy!” She smiled at her eldest son, “What do you think?”
“I like it just fine.” His other brothers thought it was a good name too.
“Then Joy it is,” I announced.