Assaulting an Officer

Constable Picault and his partner arrived at the scene of the crime eleven minutes after the alarm company notified them of a break in. Other officers were already clearing the scene, which left Picault to face Justin Peterson and his drooling dog, who were standing outside the front door of the jewellery store. Picault rubbed his temples after recalling his last interaction with the man—and the dog—and dreaded having to converse with him for one more moment.

“Mr. Peterson, care to explain what you’re doing at the scene of a crime for a second time?” Picault did a visual inspection of the man wearing khaki pants and a black nylon jacket.

“Oh, hey there, Pee-cult. Karma and I are just doing our duty as citizens to keep an eye out for criminals.”

“Mr. Peterson, it’s our job to watch out for criminals. It’s your job not to be one.”

Justin sported a face-splitting smile as he lifted a small black duffel bag. “I think you’re going to be happy Karma and I were here. Look what we found.”

With a snap of his glove, Picault reached over, taking the bag from Justin. “What is this?”

“The bad guys must have dropped it.”

Picault opened the zipper, and the contents sparkled under the dim streetlights. “Mr. Peterson, this is evidence in a crime. You shouldn’t have touched it. I’m going to need you to show me where, and exactly how you found it.”

“Oh, sure thing, Pee-cult.” Justin spun and waved for Picault to follow him, who, in turn, waved along his partner. The three men and dog walked toward the back of the building where Justin showed them where the bag was found, underneath some shrubbery.

Picault asked him if it was hidden, like the criminals intended to come back for it, or out in the open. Justin explained that it appeared to be tossed there.

“Did you get a look at whoever did this? Their vehicle? How many of them were there? Anything?”

“No, sorry. Karma was too fast for me, and I thought they were robbing the bank across the street because…” Justin paused, looking uncertain. “That’s where I’d go if I were a criminal. Easy money, you know?”

The tension in Picault’s head was returning, so he ran his thumb and forefinger across his eyebrows, seeking the acupressure points to help alleviate headaches. “So you didn’t see whoever did this because you thought they were robbing the bank?”

“Correct.”

“Mr. Peterson, I am struggling to make sense of that. What were you doing out here at 2am, anyway?”

“Uh… well, Karma here likes to go for late-night jogs. She’s a dedicated athlete.”

Picault released a long exhale, unsure how to direct a line of questioning with a man who was one part deceitful, two parts stupid, and no parts tolerable. “What’s the real reason you were here in the middle of the night, Mr. Peterson? I’m not interested in playing games.”

The man’s blue eyes flicked up to his left, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We were out for a stroll, then I heard the alarm, so I let her off her lea…” His eyes darted back and forth for a moment. “So, we… ah, shucks. I don’t want to get in trouble, Pee-cult. You know I’m not cut out for prison life.”

Picault’s scowl was one part annoyance, two parts confused. He never liked fractions. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I let Karma off her leash to go check out where the sound was coming from.” Justin kicked a pebble on the ground, looking defeated.

As much as Picault wanted to toy with the man, making him feel as if letting his dog off her leash was a crime punishable by jail time—especially a dog who was a menace—he didn’t have time for elaborate pranks. “Mr. Peterson, while letting your dog off leash to go seek out criminals is irresponsible, I’m not going to arrest you. But I’m not buying that you were exercising your dog. Why were you really here before you heard the alarm?”

The small man fumbled his words before he replied, “Okay. You got me. I was doing surveillance because last week when I was at the bookstore, I saw the men pull up and just sit in their van outside of the banks.”

“You were at the bookstore? For… for comic books?” Picault wasn’t sure which lie was more believable: the dog’s midnight jogging habit, or Justin Peterson reading.

“I was buying a copy of King Lear, thank you very much. Shakespeare’s King Lear. William Shakespeare, in case you didn’t know.”

“I’m familiar with Shakespeare; I just didn’t know you were.” With a shake of his head, Picault realized the conversation was veering so far off track, so he continued, “Back to the relevant information. You were in the bookstore? Which day?”

“Saturday; two weeks ago.”

He jotted down the information. “Okay, Saturday. And why didn’t you call the police when you saw this happen?”

“To report what? What would you have done if I said, ‘Hey, there Pee-cult. I see two guys in a white van parked outside of the bank’?”

The man was right. At the very most, if a patrol car was available, they could have had someone swing by to check out a suspicious vehicle, but if they weren’t doing anything wrong, there wouldn’t be anything the police could do. Still, he didn’t want to encourage vigilante idiots roaming town, causing more problems.

“I see your point. However, in the future, if you see something suspicious, please report it. We can’t be everywhere at once, so we rely on community cooperation, but we don’t want citizens putting themselves in harm’s way.”

“Aw shucks, Pee-cult. That’s mighty kind of you to say so, but I’ve got Karma. She even found the jewellery, too.”

“The dog found it?”

“She sure did. Come to think of it, you can talk with her about whatever the criminals looked like or what they drove. Pretty sure she tussled with them and that’s why they dropped the bag.”

Tension. Headache. Returning. “Mr. Peterson, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not the Dog Whisperer. I can’t converse with your… your… creature.”

“No, no. You don’t whisper. She sends messages by blinking. Morse code or something. I’m not totally sure, but I blink back in case it’s some secret message. Maybe you’ll have better luck figuring it out.”

Where are my painkillers? Picault stared down at the dog who was sitting beside her owner with a goofy grin, tongue lolled out to one side, and a string of drool connecting straight from her mouth, all the way to the small puddle in the dirt. Morse code. This guy is something else. Just for kicks, Picault blinked rapidly at the dog to see what happened, and before he could refocus his vision, he was on his back with the dog standing over his face. A new string of drool had connected to his left ear.

“Karma, no.” Once Karma disengaged, Justin reached his hand down to help Picault up, which he refused. “I don’t know what you said to her, but it must not have been very nice. She might not want to talk to you now.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Picault dusted himself off, mortified he let the dog get the better of him a second time, and infuriated he was stuck dealing with this buffoon again. “Is there anything you can tell me? Anything helpful?”

Justin pursed his lips as his eyes danced around, thinking far harder than his brain appeared capable of. He looked like a glitching robot. “They must have parked around back here. There were no cars out front.”

Picault jotted down another note. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you for that. Anything else?”

“They must have gone that way down the alley, because they didn’t pass me, and I came from behind the politician’s office.”

“Okay, thank you. That gives us something to work with. We’ll just hope other security cameras picked up something more useful.”

“Listen… Do you need me for anything else? Cork…” Justin paused, his eyes flicking around again. “My wife is probably wondering what’s taking me so long, and I can’t tell her to put a cork in it.”

“Just hang around for a few more minutes and I’ll see if anyone else has any urgent questions. Otherwise, we have your contact information.”

Justin bobbed his head in a repetitive nod with a stupid smile on his face matching his dog’s. “That’s pretty cool. I’m in the system now, I guess. You can call me anytime you want.”

If there was any doubt about Mr. Peterson’s guilt or innocence, he just provided the confirmation Picault needed. No one with a modicum of intelligence was excited to be in the police database. Especially not if they were guilty of a felony. Picault cut the man loose and got him out of the way so he and his colleagues could figure out what happened.

“You know what? Go ahead home, Mr. Peterson. I think we have everything we need here. Just promise me something.”

“You got it.”

“Don’t stick your nose in any of this again. If I find you at another crime scene, I will arrest you for obstruction.”

“Ah, come on now, Pee-cult. I thought we were friends. I was just trying to help.”

“And as I said earlier, the way you help is by not being a criminal. Go home to your wife”—the poor woman—“and keep out of our way. We’ll find these guys.”

Justin hung his head, gave a defeated nod, then turned to walk toward the lone minivan parked down the street, with his dog following behind.

Picault stepped into the jewellery store for the first time, and he was shocked by the damage caused. Nearly all the display cases were cleaned out, except for the fake stuff. These guys knew exactly what to target. Who are these thieves? And more importantly, how are we going to stop them?

Fat Tony strolled down the street, hoping no one was watching him anymore. When he was far enough away, he whispered, “Corky? Where are you, man?”

A hand reached out from the alley between the bookstore and the politician’s headquarters, right where Fat Tony left his friend more than an hour earlier.

“Geeze, man, I was getting worried. I tried to stay quiet so they wouldn’t think I had anything to do with the heist. What happened over there?” A courageous man, Joshua Miller was not, but at least he wasn’t in the police database in connection to grand larceny.

“I didn’t see the guys at all, but Karma must have got to them. They left behind a bag of goods they tried to steal, so I turned it in. They asked me some questions and sent me on my way. These guys got away again, Corky. We’ve gotta get ahead of them somehow.”

The name Corky was not growing on Josh, but he didn’t bother arguing. “You’re lucky they didn’t think you were involved. This is the second time you’ve been around when these guys hit a mark.”

“That’s what Pee-cult said, but I think he knows I’m not a criminal mastermind.”

Corky nodded emphatically. “Yeah, that’s pretty clear.”

“Thanks, man. I try to be a good person.”

“Right. That’s why.” Josh declared it was time to go home, and shortly after, they returned Scarlett’s minivan to its rightful place in the Peterson driveway and the Watchdogs parted ways for the evening.

As Justin crawled into bed for the night, Karma curled up on the floor beside him. Much to his surprise, Scarlett flung an arm over and pulled herself in to cuddle Justin’s chest. In those moments, when she wasn’t conscious or talking, she wasn’t so bad. Even if her arm moving toward him made him flinch, once she was settled in, he made the most of it and appreciated a moment of peace between him and his wife.

Soon enough, the morning would come, and peace would be as fleeting as the sunrise.

Especially when she saw the condition of the inside of her minivan.