Jerking the steering wheel sharply to the right, Mitch pulled the car into the service station, stopping at a pump one over and the pump behind her. He stayed in his car, attempting to slide his large frame down into the seat, pulling his Yankees baseball cap over his eyes.

“Fill’er up,” he mumbled to the attendant. “Oil’s fine.”

The attendant, a pimply-faced kid in his teens, removed the lid from the gas tank, cautiously eying the large dog lying in the back seat as he filled the tank. The dog raised his head and let out one bark. The attendant jumped back, spilling the gas. “Jeez.”

“Don’t worry He doesn’t bite.” At least I don’t think he bites...maybe I should buy a muzzle just in case, Mitch thought to himself. He had no idea why he had that dog in his back seat. He didn’t even like dogs, hadn’t since he’d been bitten by that damned Doberman. He had overcome the fear when he’d joined the force, but he still didn’t like the damn animals.

He turned and looked at the large sad brown eyes, as the dog lay slobbering all over his seat. “It’s okay, boy. It’ll get better. It can’t get much worse.”

Mitch paid the attendant, then shifted the gears of his older model, slightly rusted, dark blue Chevrolet. The car looked more like an old family sedan, but he’d had the engine rebuilt under that slightly rusted hood. It could take almost any damn car on the road. Every once in awhile some hotshot teenager would rev his engine as he pulled up beside him at a stop light, challenging him to a race, laughing at his heap. Mitch always enjoyed the shocked look on the kid’s face when he left him behind, eating his dust.

He eased the car forward, pulling out of the service station and moving to a spot on the street where he could watch her in his rear view mirror. She and the kid had gone inside the convenience store.

Mitch reached into the brown grocery bag on the seat beside him. Just in case she didn’t stop, he’d picked up enough junk food to last for a couple of days, including dry dog food and a couple of jugs of water. He’d also managed a stop at one of the fast-food drive-thrus along the highway, when she and the kid stopped for lunch. The fries were cold, but still not too bad. He bit into another hard, cold, greasy one, and waited for her next move. He could sure use a cold beer about now. He should have picked up a six-pack. He scratched his chin, then rubbed his hand up his cheek. He needed a shave. Like that was going to happen.

The whining started in the back seat. Then the shaggy head appeared, resting on the top of the passenger’s seat, leaning over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch grabbed a hand full of dry dog food and dumped it on the back seat. He’d have to get the damn car vacuumed one of these days.

The dog slid back down on to the seat, munching away on the dry food. He appeared to be in mourning if dogs did mourn. Most of the time he just kind of lay there on the seat, whining occasionally. He hardly even barked anymore.

Enjoy the fall and happy Halloween!

Dog training (Obedience): Command: Go at the leash

“Is the dog his?” Pete nodded to where the animal sat with his head on the man’s lap. 

“Yeah, I guess. Behaves like he belongs here.” 

“Yeh, man, he does. Whattcha gonna do with him?” 

“Me? With who? Oh, the dog? How the hell should I know? I figure he might have seen the murder. Hell, he might be our only witness. Don’t suppose downtown will buy into keeping him as a material witness...” Mitch raked his gloved hand over his hair. 

“Doubt it.” 

“How about convincing downtown to pay for kennel fees? Just until we find someone to take him. Think that would work?” 

“Once again, I doubt it. They’d think you were nuts.” Pete said. 

“They think that already. Maybe I’ll try finding a relative, or maybe one of those snoopy neighbors.” 

“Eh man, not very likely. Too bad. He’s a nice dog, but not many people are going to want an Irish wolfhound. They usually like small dogs, or shepherds.” Pete replied. 

“That what he is? A wolfhound? He is damn  big. Maybe I could find the nearest SPCA and drop him off...Someone’s bound to want a great dog like him.” 

“The SPCA will probably put him down in a couple of days, if no one adopts him. That’s what they do, ya know.  You don’t know much about animals, do you?” 

Mitch shook his head. “Nope. Never really interested me. Maybe you could take him?” 

“Sorry, nope. I live with my family. Remember? There’s five of us and Ma has a poodle.” 

Mitch felt his brows furrow. He resented Sanchez for living at home and having a large, loving family. He resented what his own family, and that ex-wife bitch, had done to him and how he didn’t have a home anymore. Anger began to rise inside him as he thought about it. He punched his right hand into his palm. Life outside his work sucked. In fact, he didn’t have one, but that was his choice...at least that was what he told himself. 

“Why don’t you take him?” Pete interrupted. 

“Huh?” 

“The dog. Why don’t you take him?” 

“No damn way. First, my landlady says no pets, and my room’s too small. And second, dogs and me don’t get along too good. One bit me once. Since then, I firmly believe that dogs should always be kept at a safe distance.” 

“This one looks pretty friendly.” 

Mitch scowled. He’d have to figure something out. Right now, the dog was the least of his problems. 

“Yeah, well I’ll worry about him later. Right now I better call this in, then we’ll check the roof. You might want to pick up that umbrella in the hall. It might belong to a witness, or the murderer. The lab guys can dust it for prints when they get here.” 

He picked up the receiver and dialed the number. The guys uptown weren’t going to like this. They weren’t going to like this at all. In fact, they were going to be downright pissed off. The idea had been to keep the guy alive, at least until after he testified. That’s why he and Sanchez had been assigned this damn babysitting job. They’d even had a heads-up there might be an attempt on his life and the guy still got knocked off. 

Damn, it was hot. Mitch wiped his forehead again. He probably wasn’t even going to get time to change his damn shirt. This thing would take all night and probably straight through the next week or two. He’d screwed up. The case would be dismissed due to lack of evidence and the racketeers would be back on the street by tomorrow. No way should the killer have gotten to the perp, not if they’d been doing their job. It was almost like the guy had inside information. 

Mitch sighed. He knew he should mention the girl, but this looked like a professional hit. If she saw anything, the shooter would probably be looking for her, too. Mitch wanted to get to her before the killer did. 

He was convinced there was an information leak in the department. There had been too many coincidences, even before his brother was shot. Dom’s death had just reinforced his conviction. IA had investigated but never come up with anything. Mitch didn’t want any information leaked that might give the killer a headstart in locating the witness. Mitch wanted to find her first and see what she had to say, either about the murder or what she had seen. 

Damn, maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe he just wanted to see her again.  

Happy Summer!

Happy Victoria Day to my fellow Canadians

and

Happy Memorial Day to my US friends!