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Lieutenant Steve Stoddard, a veteran cop of twenty-five years commanded the Richmond downtown precinct. Stoddard possessed a steely, no nonsense attitude, played by the book most of the time and had a well-honed gut based on many years of pretty impressive police work. The lieutenant was checking paperwork and arrest reports when his personal cell phone rang. He recognized the number in the digital display. It was Mic. "Mic, what's up? It's not Friday night, is it? I’m not late to Happy Hour am I?" he grinned into the phone.
Mic smiled to herself. The boys in blue never missed happy hour at Biddy's on Friday night. Biddy McPherson's had quickly become the local watering hole for the Richmond Police Department and hundreds of downtown yuppies and patrons who loved Irish stout, Irish whiskey, and great food. "Nope, you’ve got a couple of days and I'm sure I'll see you there. Never known you to miss a Friday happy hour," she quipped.
"And I never will. I haven't missed a happy hour since I turned twenty-one and that's getting to be a long time ago," Stoddard said with a chuckle. "Going to happy hour is in my marriage contract, I had Sadie sign the paper before we ever saw the parish priest." He paused for a moment and asked, "What's up, Michaela? You never call just to check up on me," he guffawed.
"Come on, Steve. I'm always checking up on you. You know that. I'm always watching out for you too," she laughed.
"Yeah, sure. What do you want, Mic? Get to the point. I got a ton of paperwork to do and you know how much I like that," he added sarcastically.
"Okay, so that accounts for your bad mood. And yes, I do want something. Today, around lunchtime, Camilla Rothrock was questionably poisoned at the Hotel Madison. My neighbor told me a little while ago that there'd been three other potential cases of poisoning from other restaurants in the downtown area. Is there any truth in this?”
Stoddard sighed deeply and said, "Yeah. There was also a young waitress that went down at the Madison the same time as Rothrock. The other cases are three thirty-something ladies whose late lunch turned into an early unhappy hour. All of them are in the hospital and all are unconscious."
Mic was quiet for a moment. "What's the poison? Have they identified the poison yet?"
"Nope." Stoddard played with his pencil and doodled on his legal pad. "They haven’t said for sure that it is poison. That's proving to be more difficult than they thought. The FBI is involved and they’re sending down their poison team. I guess it takes time to get the blood work back."
"Man, this could be really bad," Mic muttered more to herself than Stoddard. "Any idea about suspects?" She had a sick feeling in her stomach.
"We got nothing, but we're workin' on it. Can't find any evidence where this has happened anywhere else. So far, it looks like Richmond's on its own with this kind of crime."
"Camilla’s in critical condition and they called her son, General Rothrock, up from Florida. Do you know the condition of the other women?"
Stoddard sighed and said, "Two of them are listed in grave condition and the third is critical. Three of them are over at St. Mary's Hospital and the waitress from the Madison is still unconscious at MCV."
"Great, a serial poisoner. Just what we need. Anything I can do to help?" Mic felt her heart thud deeply in her chest as she considered the ramifications.
"Just keep this person or persons away from Biddy's. I don't want anybody screwing around with the Guinness taps over there. It would be the end of me if someone poisoned my beer," he said with a short laugh. “No, not yet, but I’ll keep you in the loop. Slade’ll be up to his eyeballs in it soon. You’ll probably hear from him.”
Mic’s heart rate picked up at the mention of Detective Slade McKane. They’d been partners some years ago and sort of had a romance going on, but it was really weird. They shared a love for Angel who’d also been their partner when they’d been partners. Slade loved the big German Shepherd as much as Mic loved him. "I promise you I’m gonna take care of the beer and the restaurant," Mic assured him. "I’m going down there now and talk to the staff about this. Make sure they’re extra vigilant about everything."
"Good idea, Mic. Slade gets home from Cleveland in an hour or so. He's flying into Richmond International. He'll be in charge of this investigation since he's moved to the position in major crimes."
Mic nodded, "Good. I'll talk to him. Is poison control working on this?"
"Yeah. Local poison control and the Feds' poison people will be on it soon. Check with them about some safety precautions you can take at Biddy's. If you ask, they'll probably go down to the restaurant and do an assessment for you.
"Thanks, Lieutenant. Keep me in the loop will you?"
"Yeah. Stay safe, Mic, but most of all, keep my beer untainted!"
Mic laughed as Stoddard clicked off.
Mic’s heart hammered in her chest. Damn, this could be bad. If anybody gets to my beer tanks, they could easily poison several hundred people in one night, not to mention the thirty or forty Richmond police officers who hang out there all the time.
Angel looked up at Mic and whimpered. He knew she was upset. She reached down to rub his ears and he licked her hand. The love between Michaela and Angel was nothing short of amazing and the pair was inseparable. There was no question that Michaela would lie down and die for Angel at any given moment, and he’d do the same and he almost had several times.
“Come on, buddy. We've gotta get down to the bar and make sure everything is safe. Go get your leash and we’ll get in the car," she said as Angel headed to the kitchen for his leash and she went into the hall to pick up her keys.