Three Dog Day (3 page)

“
George, honey, could you help me out for an hour or so?”

“
Um, what do you need, Miss Dory? I'm kind of busy right now. I have stuff to do on the computer.”

Dory just refrained from rolling her eyes. The laziest person in the office, George used his computer mostly for playing online games. She had discovered this one day when she was snooping through his “Favorite” sites. After that, she felt it was important to monitor his work to ensure that his mind was on his job. She paused in chagrin, realizing she wasn't exactly on the job at the moment herself.

“
I just need you to get the phones for a while, sweetie. I'm taking my deputy exam soon and I need to study. I'll use the conference room, so I'll be here if you need me. Please, George?”

George gave her a hapless stare and without waiting for his assent—which Dory considered a foregone conclusion—she left the room quickly, her leopard-patterned stiletto heels clicking. George sighed and sat down at Dory's desk. The phone rang again, almost immediately.

“
Sheriff's office,” she heard George say dolefully as she entered the conference room and closed the door.

Early that afternoon—after the sheriff had evicted George from her desk, sent him out on a routine call, and returned her to the phones—Dory turned on her computer and Googled the Tennessee statutes for the definition of a commercial breeder. It read:

Any person who possesses or maintains twenty or more adult female dogs for the purpose of the sale of their offspring as companion animals.

She wished she had asked Ray how many animals were in the kennel. She was still troubled by his cracking voice. “Poor kid,” she said quietly to herself, “he just wants to do the right thing and I can't even help him. Some deputy I'm going to be.”

She did some more reading, finding the basic standards for animal care. The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA) could order a raid, using animal cruelty statutes, but probably needed more information than an anonymous tip from some boy in the throes of a voice change. She walked down the hall to Sheriff Ben Bradley's office and knocked on his half-open door.

“
Yes,” he answered, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“
I got a call this morning asking us to look into a puppy mill. The person who called said there was neglect and possible cruelty going on. The property belongs to a Mr. Jerrod Clifton. Should I call the ASPCA and report it?”

“
Definitely,” he said. “Please call before you leave today. If Mae December found out somebody in Rose County was being cruel to dogs at a puppy mill, she would never get off my case. In fact, you should probably ask her what she knows about standards for breeders. Hey, Dory,” Ben looked at her with eyebrows raised, “I've been thinking about you. I know you're going to take the deputy exam soon, but would you want to do the investigating on this one? I could make you the investigator in charge of the puppy mill case if you'd like that.”

“
Really?” Dory ran around to Ben's side of the desk and grabbed her boss in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you!”

“
Don't thank me yet. If the ASPCA does a raid, I'll expect you to go to the site and assist. You'll have to write up a report. And check to see if this Jerrod Clifton guy who owns the puppy mill property is in the system, will you?” A corner of his mouth rose in a lopsided grin.

Miss Dory Clarkson floated out the door on a cushion of air. Back at her desk, she called the ASPCA and spoke with the director of the Nashville office, a Mr. Lawrence Gunderson. He said he would dispatch an agent to check out the facility immediately. He would let her know if they raided the facility. Dory intended to go with them.

On her way home that evening, Dory thought back over the months since the successful closing of the Tom Ferris case last August. That was when the idea first occurred to her to become a deputy. Her subtle questioning of Evangeline Bontemps about Tom Ferris' Last Will and Testament and the night she went to the biker bar with Detective Wayne Nichols had been eye-opening. She had always excelled at ferreting out background data, but learning how to establish rapport with people for the purpose of eliciting information was intoxicating. When Sheriff Bradley thanked her on TV in the press conference, she knew her days as the office manager for the Rosedale County Sheriff's Department were numbered. A sense of satisfaction came over her every time she remembered her boss' words thanking her for her contribution to the “solve.”

The journey from office manager to deputy, however, was proving challenging. There were both physical and knowledge tests she had to pass. Now, half a year later, she had been working out in a gym for months. The standards were surprisingly high. The candidate needed a high school diploma. That wasn't a problem. The person had to be fingerprinted by the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. She had taken care of that part and her fingerprints did not turn up any criminal record. She was relieved. There had been that one time in high school when she'd found that perfect lipstick and had been just the teensiest bit short of money ….

The required session with a psychologist had been a breeze. Its purpose was to certify that she was mentally fit for the duties of a deputy. She had enjoyed chatting with the man and passed with flying colors. In fact, he told her she was almost “too well adjusted” to enjoy chasing criminals. Her medical exam was also a breeze. “You're going to live to a hundred,” the doctor told her. The drug screen urinalysis showed no trace of drugs, as she knew it wouldn't. Dory hated what drugs did to people and never used them.

The problem was the two-phase test of physical ability and agility. There was a broad jump, sit-ups, push-ups, chin-ups, and a dummy drag. Then there was a mile-long run. Dory had hired a personal trainer, Alex Compton, a good-looking young black guy who worked diligently with her for months. He was encouraging, although he frowned whenever she had to stop to catch her breath. Passing the physical challenge was going to be tough.

When she saw the chart stating the physical requirements, Dory learned that the age for women only went up to age fifty-nine. Miss Dory was just a tad bit over the age limit. To her irritation, she found that males could take the test up to the age of sixty-nine. After a quiet, confidential chat with Evangeline Bontemps, her dear friend and attorney, she raised the issue with the sheriff, biding her time until Ben was in a good mood—after a night he spent with his girlfriend, Mae December. She showed him the chart that specified upper age limits for both men and women.

“
See, Sheriff, this just isn't right,” Dory said. “Look at this table here. Old guys can take these tests up to the age of almost seventy, but fit women of a certain age have been excluded. Ms. Bontemps says its discrimination.” Sheriff Bradley sighed.

“
Dory, I'm impressed with your commitment to becoming a deputy, but I'm not willing to enter a lawsuit over this.” He shook his head. “We might even win, eventually, but it would cost a bundle and it could take years. You could be dead by the time we won the case.”

“
Can't you have your auntie, the judge, help with this?” she asked. “We don't need to change the rules for everybody, just for me.”

The sheriff shook his head. “How old are you anyway, Dory?”

“
I know your mama raised you better than that, Sheriff,” she told him. “Asking a woman's age is off limits.” Lowering her eyes so he wouldn't notice her evasion, she said, “I'm eligible, just wanted to get your reaction.”

In fact, Dory was above the listed age, but when she completed the online application for the deputy test, to her surprise it didn't ask
her age
.

They probably knew asking was discrimination, Dory thought. She called Evangeline to tell her the good news.

“
Of course, they could ask your age when you check in for the test,” Evangeline said cautiously.

“
With my youthful good looks?” Dory asked. “I doubt it. Luckily women of color don't age as fast as white women do.”

“
It's odd, isn't it?” Evangeline mused. “There's still so much prejudice against black skin, yet it ages better and stays youthful-looking longer. I just hope they don't ask you for your driver's license.”

“
Me too,” Dory whispered. All the months of effort would be wasted if she didn't get a chance to take that exam.

When Dory got home, she called Mae—Ben Bradley's girlfriend as well as the daughter of Suzanne December, one of Dory's oldest friends. Dory quickly acquainted Mae with the details of what young Ray had reported.

“
A puppy mill! In Rose county? It just makes my blood boil. I have no idea why they aren't against the law. That's nothing like what I do, breeding one or two litters a year. My females only have three or four litters before I retire them. Those poor females have litter after litter until they die.”

“
I know. It's awful. I'm going to do something about it. Ben appointed me as an investigator and told me I was in charge of the case.”

“
Will you be able to assist the ASPCA when they raid the place?” Mae asked.

“
That's the plan,” Dory answered with determination.

I
n all the seventeen years that Mae December had known her best friend Tammy Rodgers, she had never seen her like this. Even when she was a thirteen-year-old with braces and no figure to speak of, Tammy was a well groomed, high-energy morning person. Mae had returned from the barn after doing her kennel chores to find Tammy sound asleep on her sofa.

Mae stood in the kitchen, quietly helping herself to coffee as she studied her friend, who lay sprawled on the living room sofa. Tammy was wearing ratty sweats. Sweats! And no makeup. With disheveled hair. She was also snoring.

“
Tammy, wake up,” Mae said, touching Tammy's shoulder.

Tammy sat up with a sudden snort, staring at Mae.

“
What's that awful smell?”

“
That is not an awful smell. I might not be a gourmet cook, but I scrambled some perfectly fresh eggs a little while ago and made toast,” Mae answered. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“
I don't feel good.” Tammy's forehead glistened with sweat and she had dark circles under her large brown eyes.

“
I'm not going to lie, you don't look good.” Mae shook her head. “I don't think I've ever seen you so un-glamorous. Where did you get those sweats?”

Tammy looked down at the oversized stained pants with a frown of disgust. “These are Patrick's. All my pants are too tight in the waist. I don't understand it—I've actually lost weight—but it's like my proportions are all off.”

Something was definitely wrong with Mae's dear friend, who suddenly bolted from the room and ran down the hall. She heard the bathroom door slam. The unmistakable sounds of retching followed soon after. A few minutes later, Tammy emerged. She shucked off her sweatshirt.

“
I'm going to throw this disgusting thing in your washer. Can I borrow a shirt? I must have the flu or something.”

Looking at her friend standing there in sweatpants and a bra, Mae could have counted her ribs, but there was a tiny swell to her abdomen. And her bra was barely getting the job done.

“
You do look thinner, except in the chest.”

Tammy nodded. “I know. Usually I can barely muster up a B-cup. These are not my normal boobs. They're sore, too.” She sighed and walked into the laundry room. She came back out in her bra and panties “Can I just go upstairs and find something of yours to wear? I decided to wash those gross pants, too.”

“
Help yourself,” Mae told her, with a smile, “and while you're up there, I have an early pregnancy test you can use. It's under the sink in my bathroom.”

Tammy stopped dead in her tracks, whirled around and stared furiously at Mae, her eyebrows rising high under her silver-blonde bangs.

“
No, it can't be.” She gave a vehement shake of her head. “We've been very careful.” She plunked down on the bottom step. “If I'm pregnant, I'm going to kill Patrick.”

“
Well, you should probably pee on the stick first,” Mae pointed out cheerfully. “I'm going to bet it'll be positive, but you might as well find out.”

Tammy rose without another word. After shooting Mae a slit-eyed glare, she stalked upstairs. Mae went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Ten minutes later, Tammy was back, wearing a pair of Mae's ancient Levis and a brown sweater. The jeans were rolled up, and the sweater was too long on her petite frame, but at least she had found Mae's lipstick and brushed her hair.

“
You look almost human. Feel better?”

Tammy held the stick in her hand. She showed Mae the plus sign on the end. The two women looked at each other in silence.

“
I guess I better call Patrick and let him know.” Tammy sighed.

“
Here, put that stick down.” Mae put a napkin out on the kitchen counter. Tammy put the stick on it and washed her hands.

“
Your phone's on the coffee table. I'll give you two some privacy. I'm going to take little Tater outside.”