Three Dog Day (7 page)

Dory could see Ray handing puppy after puppy to a young woman who put them into a labeled crate. The two young people were working together well. When the mother dog was alone in the cage, Ray grabbed her collar with authority and led her out, speaking to her quietly.

In a surprisingly short time, all the mother dogs and puppies were crated and in the ASPCA truck. Gunderson and Ray approached the adult male dogs, which were in a back room in the barn. The ASPCA Investigators stood near the crates, discussing how to remove the dogs.

“
Hey Allie,” Mr. Gunderson called and the young woman who had helped remove the puppies came over. “Did you remember to bring the kibble?”

“
Yes, sir,” she said and brought over a sack of dog food.

“
Let Ray here feed them,” he said.

“
Here you go, Bubba.” Roy tossed dog food to him and the other male dogs. When the dogs quieted down, Ray opened the door to Bubba's cage and Mr. Gunderson expertly captured his neck with a ring on the end of the long pole. The dog went meekly into the cage one of the agents had brought over.

“
Mr. Gunderson,” Dory called. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“
Yes, of course.” His voice was pleasant enough, but his face was tight with disgust and anger. “I hate these puppy mills. There's barely enough room for these mother dogs to stand up. A lot of these places keep the females in cages for years. They never get out. They are bred, give birth, nurse their offspring and are bred again, sometimes for years before they can't reproduce anymore. And then they're
put down
.”

“
What's going to happen to the puppies and the mother dogs now?”

“
The usual routine, I suppose,” he said. “Although we're a little short of space in the ASPCA facility. We'll have to advertise on TV for some help from our fostering community. A lot of them won't take pit bulls. And my wife has drawn the line. She says we don't have room for another dog.” He sighed.

“
I know someone who might be able to help,” Dory said, smiling for the first time since she entered the cold, filthy barn. “Her name's Mae December. She's a local breeder and I talked to her already about this case. She said that she could take care of some of the puppies and would work on finding good homes for them. Unfortunately she broke her wrist yesterday. I know she'll help if she can, though.” Dory took one of Mae's business cards out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Mr. Gunderson, who glanced briefly at the card before pulling out his wallet and tucking it inside.

“
December? I've heard of her. She's got a good reputation. If she'll foster some of the pups, it'll be a big help. Sorry, Ms. Clarkson, I have to get that last dog.” Gunderson opened the cage and swiped the long pole with a neck ring toward the largest male. The dog ducked, pushed past the cage door and darted out free. He rapidly disappeared into the tree line.

“
Damn it,” Mr. Gunderson said. “Can I have some help here? The big male is loose.”

They fanned out from the barn, calling to the dog. Dory followed what she thought was his trail, although the snow was mostly gone
now
and it was hard to see tracks on the frozen ground. After about fifteen minutes of yelling, calling and salting the ground with treats, the team came upon the dog Ray called Big Daddy. The male pit bull was back out in the open field, digging eagerly into the ground, piling dirt up behind him.

Mr. Gunderson warily approached with the neck pole, but Big Daddy was intent on his digging. Dirt and snow were flying behind him. Gunderson waited, watching the powerful dog. When he stopped digging and lifted his muzzle up, Gunderson quickly got the loop around the dog's neck. The male fought hard, growling and nearly standing on his back legs in his desperation to be free. As everyone else returned to the barn, Dory and Ray stayed a few minutes longer. Looking down into the hole the dog had been digging, Dory noticed something that caught the light.

“
Ray, could you come here a moment, please?”

Together he and Dory moved aside some more dirt, slowly unearthing a rag soaked in what looked like dried blood and a vicious looking hunting knife.

“
You don't need to look at this stuff, Ray. Just stay here and don't let anyone touch anything. A dead body was found in the river behind this property yesterday. Please don't tell anyone. This material might be evidence. I'm calling the sheriff.”

Allison Ware walked over and asked her what was going on. Dory told her they had found a rag and a hunting knife that looked to be covered in blood. The young girl trotted off in the direction of the reporter and camera crew, and Dory made her call to alert Sheriff Bradley. Moments later, a young woman with dark hair and striking features, wearing what Dory thought was a little too much makeup, hurried over. A man with a video camera and another guy with sound equipment were right behind the brunette.

“
Carrie Allen, Channel Three News.” She stuck her hand out and Dory shook it.

“
Dory Clarkson. I'm an investigator for the Rose County Sheriff's Office.”

The reporter glanced at the skinny cameraman behind her, and he turned the video camera on. The shorter, balding soundman handed Carrie a microphone. She held it up and said, “We're on site today with Investigator Dory Clarkson from the Rose County Sheriff's Office. She has been assisting the ASPCA investigating reports of animal cruelty, but something else has been uncovered.” Carrie Allen stuck the microphone in Dory's face.

Dory spoke directly into the microphone, feeling like a movie star. “I found a knife that was wrapped in a bloody rag and buried over there. One of the dogs actually dug it up.”

“
Can you comment on whether that blood is from a person or an animal?” Carrie Allen's brown eyes gleamed, and she leaned closer to Dory.

“
I don't know what or who the blood came from,” she answered. “But I do know that the sheriff's girlfriend found a ….”

Dory clamped her mouth shut at a sudden flashback of her boss during a murder investigation last spring, saying, “No one but myself or Detective Nichols is to talk to the press.”
Oh, shit. What have I done?

“
I can't tell you anything else,” Dory blurted. “The sheriff's on his way here. This interview is over.”

“
That's it then. Come on,” Carrie told her crew. She flounced to the news van without looking at Dory again, the two men in her wake. Dory watched the van pull away with some relief. At least her boss hadn't shown up while she was being interviewed. She was grateful for that small blessing.

When Ben arrived later with Detective Rob and Deputy George, they had lab tech Emma Peters with them. They took pictures, then bagged the rag and the weapon. Everything would be taken back to the lab for processing.

“
There's an awful lot of blood on the rag.” Ben looked from Emma to Dory. “First thing we need to do is find out if it's human or animal blood. Maybe it was somebody killing a dog.” He grimaced. “Or maybe we got lucky and this is the murder weapon for our John Doe from the river. If he fought off the attacker, we might get fingerprints. If he's in the system, we might get an identification. Good work finding this, Dory.”

Investigator Clarkson gave him an uneasy smile, but didn't respond. Hopefully that interview would never be aired.

D
etective Rob Fuller's complexion had taken on a pale greenish hue, and Ben didn't think it was due to the lighting in the morgue. Knowing it was much easier to get a full report from Dr. Estes on his own turf, Ben had gone to the morgue with Rob to garner any helpful details for their new murder case. He hoped Rob wasn't going to throw up or pass out, but it wasn't looking good. Dr. Estes was reading aloud from his report.

“
Do you need to go outside?” Ben whispered, touching Rob's shoulder.

“
Am I
interrupting
you two gentlemen?” Dr. Estes asked, peering intently over the top of his bifocals. He was aware that he did not have Ben's complete attention. The man was proud and touchy; he hated any sign of disrespect.

Rob blinked and took a deep breath. “No, sir, not at all, sir. I've never been in a morgue before. I apologize.” He looked at his boss and whispered. “What should I do so I don't get sick?”

Dr. Estes looked disgusted, “As you well know, Sheriff, I have no time for neophytes. You will leave.” Dr. Estes inclined his head toward Rob and glanced at the door.

Ben gave the ME a reproving stare, which Dr. Estes ignored.

“
Can we have a moment please, Dr. Estes?” The sheriff turned to Rob and said, “Get a paper towel from the dispenser over there, wet it with cold water and put it on the back of your neck.” Rob walked to the other corner, away from the body on the slab. Ben turned back to Dr. Estes. “Please continue.”

Dr. Estes lowered his eyes to his report and began a lengthy discourse concerning the stab wounds and the condition of the body of their as yet unidentified victim—a white male in his mid-forties.

“
He was in good health, but his teeth were bad. He was five feet, eleven inches in height and slightly overweight at one hundred and ninety-two pounds. No significant scars on his body. And he has had no dental work done except for one cavity that was filled probably twenty years ago. Doubt we'll be able to ID him that way. With these floaters fished from rivers, it's tough to get a precise time of death.”

“
Could you make an educated guess, Doctor?” Ben asked.

“
Guess?
Guess?
You know better than that, Sheriff. I never guess.” There was a brief pause and narrowed eyes. “However, I can
estimate
that the man has been dead for a week to ten days. Today is the ninth, and he was found on the seventh. So somewhere between January first and January sixth, I'd say.”

Rob Fuller walked back to stand beside Ben. His color had improved. “I'm okay,” he whispered.

“
I'll send you a copy of the written report by email,” Dr. Estes said, “but I can tell from these wounds that his attacker was at least six feet tall and left handed.” He pointed to one particularly deep gash in the victim's chest. Rob glanced at it, clapped his hand over his mouth and rushed out the door. Dr. Estes rolled his eyes. “That young man is not welcome in my laboratory again,” he said coldly. “As I was saying, the cuts were made with a five to seven inch blade, possibly ceramic. It was very sharp.”

Ben took out his phone and showed the ME the picture he had taken of the knife Dory found the day of the puppy mill raid. “Could this knife have made those wounds, Dr. Estes?” he asked.

The ME glanced at the photo. “Yes, if the size of the blade matches up. I can't tell the blade size from your photo, so there's no way to be sure.”

“
Our lab is still running tests on the knife, but I can have them send you the measurements today.”

“
That would be helpful.” Dr. Estes continued with his report. “He has defensive wounds on his hands and some bruising, as you can see here. This was a fight, not an ambush.”

“
Thank you, Dr. Estes. I apologize for my colleague. Please get your report to me as soon as you can and we'll try to get him ID'd.”

Rob was waiting outside the patrol car when Ben left the building. “Feeling better, Detective?”

“
Yes, I'm better now. Sorry, boss.” His complexion had gone back to its normal, somewhat pasty white hue.

“
That's all right. I felt sick too, the first time I went to the morgue. It gets easier. Dr. Estes can be a crotchety old pill. But he's the real deal. Very thorough. You better not go back to his lab until you're totally under control. Try taking some Dramamine first next time.”

“
Do you think the bloody rag and knife that Dory found during the ASPCA raid belonged to the killer?”

“
Certainly could have. That Clifton property is pretty extensive, almost forty acres, and the Little Harpeth River runs through the back of it. Once the report comes back from the lab, we'll know for sure. If the knife Dory found was used to kill the guy, it's a lucky find. There could be DNA evidence from both the victim and the perp on it.”

Rob was driving back to the office when Ben said, “At least solving this case is going to be easy, compared to either of our last two murder cases. John Doe was thrown into the river from somewhere near Jerrod Clifton's property and Clifton's not around. He's obviously the killer. All we have to do is ID the victim, locate Clifton, and we can sew this thing right up. I'll have Dory get a BOLO out on his vehicle.” Ben quickly texted Dory with the request, then called Emma to tell her to send the knife measurements to Dr. Estes.

Detective Fuller was quiet for a few minutes and then said, “What about our other big case—the copper pipe theft investigation?”

“
Did you find Wayne's contact, Jacko, yet?” When Rob shook his head, Ben said, “I'd like you to go back to finding Jacko, at least until we get the fingerprints and DNA typing back from the lab for our John Doe.” Rob pulled into his parking spot and put the car in park. He opened the door and chilly air rushed in.