David Rosenfelt - Dog Tags

Within the space of five minutes, I’ve added a klepto German shepherd and a client to my life.

Oh, happy day.

CHAPTER 23

WILLIE, FRED, AND I COME UP WITH AN INGENIOUS PLAN TO SPRING MILO FROM THE SHELTER.

Actually, “ingenious” may be too strong a word. We’re not talking Mission: Impossible here, but for us it qualifies as high-level tactical maneuvering. And because the media have jumped on the case, we want to make sure that it goes off without a hitch. Since a dog getting out of prison is a surefire ratings and circulation booster, members of the press will certainly be there in full force. We want to get Milo out safely while keeping his future whereabouts a secret, so in this case the media must be seen as the enemy.

The plan is for Willie to arrive at the shelter at least twenty minutes before me. The assembled reporters will pay little attention to him, but will wait and mob me when I arrive.

Fred will keep them out of the shelter and give me a different German shepherd, one who was found stray two weeks ago, for me to take out through the front door. This other dog and I will go out, I’ll talk to the press for a couple of minutes, and then we’ll make our way to my car and drive off. I’m certain the reporters will then either follow me home or disperse to cover another earth-shattering news event.

This will allow Willie to slip out the back with Milo, and once he’s safely gone, he’ll call me. I’ll then return my German shepherd to the shelter, so that the media will know Milo is not at my house. We’ll then re-rescue the stand-in shepherd in a couple of days, and find him a good home through our Tara Foundation.

It’s a win–win for everybody.

Unfortunately, the plan works better on paper than it does in real life. When I arrive at the shelter, Willie is nowhere to be found, and I ask Fred what happened to him.

“He called and said he was going to be twenty minutes late,” Fred says. “I was supposed to call you and tell you, but I didn’t have your cell number.”

“Is Milo okay?”

Fred nods. “He’s fine. They pulled the guard off this morning, but nothing seems to be happening.”

We wait for Willie to arrive, and finally I see his car pull up in the back. “What happened to you?” I ask.

“I stopped to get Milo some biscuits and a few really cool chew toys. Didn’t Fred tell you?”

I don’t want to keep talking about this; I just want to get Milo safely out of here. Fred gets me the other German shepherd, named Snickers, and I gear myself up to take him through the crowd. “Is Snickers okay?” I ask. “I mean, he’s not going to bite any reporters, is he?”

“How the hell do I know?” Fred asks. “He’s only been here two weeks, and he’s been stuck in a cage. As far as I know, this is going to be his first press conference.”

I once again tell Willie that he is to wait ten minutes after I leave, make sure the press has followed me, and then sneak out the back with Milo. “No problem, Andy. I’m cool with the whole plan.”

I leave with Snickers, who seems perfectly happy to get out of his cage and play a role in this production. Just before we go outside, I tell him, “If anybody asks, your name is Milo, your lawyer is brilliant, and you have full confidence in the justice system. Beyond that, you have no comment.”

When we get outside, I stop to briefly answer some questions. In my experience, down deep everyone likes to talk to the press, for various reasons, but nobody will admit it.

People can watch their forty-five closest relatives killed by lightning, and the next morning they’re on the Today show gabbing about it. Of course, if you ask them why, they don’t admit that they think it’s really cool to be on television. Instead they’ll say that they just want to make sure a tragedy like this doesn’t happen to anyone else, and please, everyone, stay indoors if it rains.

My reason for talking to the press is that I want to accomplish something: I want to get a specific message out. But of course I don’t want to reveal my purpose, so I act guarded and let them draw it out of me.

“Andy, where is Milo going to live?” is the first question I’m asked, and the only one I really want to answer.

“That’s something I can’t share with you,” I say. “If the police saw fit to station an armed guard outside his cage, then we’ll assume there’s reason to worry about his safety. So I won’t be disclosing his location. But if you want to send him biscuits or toys, send them to me and I’ll make sure he gets them.”

This gets some laughs, which is what the press is hoping for. They view this as a feel-good story, while I see it as part of a very serious murder investigation.

“Will you have him guarded as well?”

I shake my head. “I really can’t go too deeply into this, but I can tell you that Milo will live in a secluded place very far away from here,” I lie as I pet the fake Milo’s head.

“Out of state?” a reporter asks.

I grimace, as if the questions are torturing me, but finally I sigh, nod, and lie again. “Out of state. But that’s all I’m saying about it.”

I answer a few more frivolous questions about Milo, but when the reporters turn their attention to the murder and Billy’s defense, I deflect them and leave with Snickers, who has played his part to perfection.

Fifteen minutes later Willie calls me on my cell. “Okay, man. Milo and I are on the road.”

“The press were all out of there?”

“Yup. Five minutes after you took off, the place was empty.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay with keeping him?”

“Absolutely. Sondra and Cash are cool with it.” Sondra is Willie’s wife, and Cash is his dog, a Lab mix whom Willie and I found on the street.

“Okay. Keep in touch if anything unusual happens.”

“Anything happens, I’ll deal with it.” Willie grew up in the toughest of Paterson neighborhoods, and he can take very good care of himself. He’s a black belt in karate, though that won’t help against someone armed, unless the bullet happens to hit him in the belt.

Getting Milo out was enjoyable and satisfying. Now comes the tough part. I have to tell Billy he’s not quite so lucky.

CHAPTER 24

M WATCHED AS WILLIE MILLER AND MILO LEFT THE SHELTER THROUGH THE BACK DOOR. He saw Willie put Milo in the back of his car, and then look around to make sure he wasn’t being watched. M was at a well-concealed vantage point, so he wasn’t worried that Willie would see him.

M had been smart enough to realize that the lawyer might try to come up with a diversion. That was why he stationed himself in the back. Not taking any chances, he had some people covering the front and following the lawyer as he left, but M was right that the whole thing was a fake.

The fact that Landon had told him not to take any action other than following the dog seemed to M a mistake. It would be the easiest thing in the world to kill the dog right now, or to kill Willie Miller and grab the dog.

M wasn’t pleased that Landon seemed to have taken over day-to-day control of the matter. Such operational issues were often military in nature, and this was not Landon’s area of expertise. Yet for the moment, it was not M’s job to question it.

M followed Willie’s car at a distance. As always, he had done his homework, and he knew about Willie’s partnership with Carpenter in the animal shelter that they ran. So he knew where Willie lived, and he knew where the shelter was. There was little doubt that the dog would wind up in one of those places.

Once Willie got on Route 46, M knew that he was taking Milo to his home in Montclair. It didn’t surprise him; M knew that the property was secluded and fenced in, an ideal place to keep Milo hidden from public view.