ONE
The orange-yellow waterfront lights shrouded the dock in a surreal atmosphere. Fog so
thick it seemed to be a wall, impenetrable by sound or ship, rolled across the harbor. The
muffled moan of a fog horn, clanging bell of the warning buoys and the shaft of light trying
to pierce the darkness, reminded him commerce stopped for nothing, not even weather.
The tiny town that kept the light house working rarely saw much nighttime movement on the
pier where Garett Noitif stood as if suspended in time.
The four men poured out of the Ford Galaxy like an oil slick. They looked like aliens with
their knit caps pulled down so tightly that their heads resembled balloon shaped pumpkins
on their shoulders.
“Get those crates unloaded and the animals into that warehouse before someone spots
them.” Garett barked the orders like a gunnery sergeant. He had no patience for men who
were all brawn and no brain. The answering grunts proved his point. They knew the power
of the man they were working for and they also knew crossing him would be worse than
simple death. They hurried about their business as quickly as the dim atmosphere would
allow them to.
No one wanted to be responsible for having the law come down on Montgomery “Hammer”
Graves. Their punishment would be lethal. There was a definite reason they called
Montgomery Graves “Hammer.”
Swiftly, the four men unloaded the crates. The Chows were already heavy dogs and their
extra load made them even more so, or was it the lateness of the day, perhaps instead.
Was it what they carried that weighed on Garett? Importing dogs was one thing, but these
dogs carried contraband that could bring resounding consequences to everyone involved.
He had to muse at the cleverness of “Hammer.” What drug sniffing dogs would or could sniff
out drugs on another dog? The right dogs, the right time of their cycle and no self-
respecting male dog could refuse their special scent. No, drug sniffing dogs would not be
detecting what these dogs carried, even if, and he wondered if, the cops even think to
employ drug dogs on a shipment of dogs?.
How any man with a conscience could use his niece’s business to further his own ends was
beyond Garett. He had been in on a lot of get rich quick schemes with Hammer but, either
Hammer was getting old, or more sinister with every new way he saw to make money or
both. Whatever it was, Garett knew which side his bread was buttered on. It would do no
good to second guess the man who helped him afford the lifestyle he had become
accustomed to.
Once the animals were all secured, Garett called Hammer. The rest was up to the doctor he
had on the payroll for just such occasions. The four men got in their sedan and quietly
exited the dock while Garett took the manifest sheet to the dock master to sign that the
shipment was all intact and accounted for.
Hammer’s words echoed in his mind. “Get the papers signed, lock that warehouse and get
out of there before someone spots the car and you. We leave no finger prints you know
that.”
“Right. I’m on my way out the gate right now.”
A patrol car on its nightly rounds slowly passed going in the opposite direction. Garett’s
mouth went dry. He pulled his hat down tighter, not feeling at all like he’d like to explore what
the cops might be looking for on this particular dock. He ticked his hat with his forefinger as
a salute to the officers as he passed. Taking a deep breath of relief, he proceeded to drive
out of the gate toward the freeway. Routine drive through, he repeated trying to convince
himself to stay calm, not to look suspicious, not to do anything to attract attention to himself.
When the black cat darted out from between two warehouses, he couldn’t avoid hitting it.
The yowl the cat made woke the dead, at least in his mind. Garett gunned the Camry and
prayed the cops didn’t hear the cat. The fog, the darkness closed in on him as he tore up
the steep ramp and slid into traffic on the freeway, nearly causing and accident in his haste
to meld with the traffic. Better an angry driver then a suspicious cop, he reasoned.
Two
February England, Ary to her friends, gulped in an expectant breathe as she opened the
cardboard box that was sitting on the snow covered doorstoop at the Fin, Fur and Feathers
when she arrived to open it for the day. Her heart squeezed nearly refusing to beat, “Why?”
Quickly she turned the key in the lock, and jerked opened the door. The kittens slid to one
end as she moved the box inside where it was warm. She prayed she would be able to save
the kittens. Dialing the veterinary clinic emergency number, she released the breath she
hadn’t even realized she was holding. It was Thursday so she knew the office would be
closed, that was exactly why Dr. Rocci had the emergency after hours number.
It made no sense to her. Why take out your anger and frustration on a helpless creature
that offers nothing but love in return. The ringing phone intensified her angst. What if the
doctor was out of town? What if she...? Finally, a voice on the other end of the phone
brought her back to the moment.
“This is Ary at Fin, Fur and Feathers. I’ve got a boxful of newborn kittens, at least I think
they are newborn, that were dropped off on the store’s door step sometime last night or
early this morning.”
“I’ll be right there,” Rocci’s voice sounded hoarse like she had been woke up from a deep
sleep. Ary knew never hesitated when anyone called no matter what the hour or the
emergency, or how tired she was. Ary told her what she had and her reaction was swift and
comforting.
Thank heavens for Dr. Downs she may have needed a day off more than anyone. But she
always responded to a call for help or a critter in need.
After Ary filled a hot water bottle with steamy tap water, she wrapped it in a towel and went
back to the kitten’s box. She tucked the soft rubber bottle into the box between the kittens
and moved it nearer the heat register. She had no idea how long it had been since they
were born, if they had nursed at all. A few more minutes and they probably would have
frozen to death on her doorstep. Ary felt the tiny little bodies, barely any warmth exuded
from their sides. Warmth was more important than food right now she decided. A few more
minutes until Dr. Rocci got there couldn’t hurt. She placed the cold little bodies closer to
each other over the hot water bottle’s warmth as she stoked each tiny fur mass with all the
love she could transfer to their barely breathing bodies. Their heaving sides were the only
sign they were still alive. She covered the box with her jacket. How could anyone be so
cruel? The little balls of fur so tiny, so fragile, so vulnerable—it made her furious.
Trying desperately to quell her anger, she went into the front of the store and prepared to
open for business-as-usual. Her favorite part of the store was the serenity of the aquariums.
Feeding the fish always soothed her. Brilliant colors undulating through the water, racing to
get the morsels she dropped for them. Soothing movements of the fish constant movement
in gentle waves, no hurry, no worry, just movement always calmed her. She needed calm
now to dispel the anger she felt over the kittens dropped off in the winter cold. At least the
people who dropped them off attempted to find them help, but they were too chicken to
hang around and take the tongue lashing they probably were well aware that they
deserved. By the time she finished feeding all the fish, Dr. Rocci was knocking at her back
door.
“The kittens are over here.” They had begun to make soft tiny meowing sounds and stir.
“They were silent when I brought them in. There seemed to be barely any warmth to their
little bodies at all. The heat must have helped revive them.”
Six multi-colored kittens vied for a warm body, at the moment the hot water bottle seemed to
be that body. They nuzzled one another as if it looking for their mother’s milk everywhere. It
tugged at Ary’s heart to watch them knowing their chances of survival were minimal at best.
She picked one up. It looked like a calico cat with all her colorful markings. Ary held her
against her cheek. Calico tried to suck there. Was this her mother, she seemed to say.
Dr. Rocci shook her head. “It may be too late. You were right, they are only hours old. I’ll
take them back to the clinic and try to get them fed and cleaned up.”
Reluctantly, Ary replaced the whimpering kitten in among her siblings. She watched as the
doctor removed
Ary’s jacket and replaced it with a thermal blanket that she wrapped around the box.
“I warmed this blanket a few seconds in the microwave, so it will keep them warm until we get
to the clinic.” She prepared to take the box out the back door to her truck.
“Do you need anything?” Ary knew she most likely didn’t but she felt so helpless.
“I’ve got it covered for now. Could you catch the door, please?”
Ary opened the pet shop door and then Doctor Rocci’s truck door. Warm air spilled out from
the truck. The doctor placed the box on the front seat and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Thank You,” Ary said feeling like a mother must when her children head off to school or
camp that first time without her.
She turned back to the store and went inside. Business as usual, she told herself. Only, it
wasn’t. It never was when some helpless creature is made to suffer for human blunders. If
they didn’t want kittens why didn’t they have their cat altered so she wouldn’t have that
chance?
The door chimed. Its cheerful music alleviated a bit of her concern. Thankful for the
customers that would certainly take her mind off things for a while, she pulled a smile from
inside her and walked to the front of the store. She hadn’t finished checking on the other
animals or feeding them. She shook the memory of the box of kittens from her mind and
greeted her customers. An older couple nervously scanned the premises as they entered.
“We’ve mourned long enough,” said the woman, under her breath to her male companion.
“We’ll never replace Sugar, but we are lonesome without a feline companion.”
He pointed to what Ary assumed was his wife, “She’s lonesome. Not me. I’m glad to be done
with the cat hair and the meowing at all hours.”
“Aww, he’s all bluster. Can’t tell you how many times I caught the two of them napping side
by side or Sugar lying on his chest, on the couch.” She laughed with a melodious tinkle that
seemed to bubble from deep inside her and sparkle in her eyes.
Good pet people, Ary felt like she could read that in them. She felt good when she stood
near them. The perfect companion for them would be Mabel. The adoring older cat that
roamed freely in the pet store since she had rescued her, greeting customers and pretty
much loving every other critter from fish to bird in the process. “I think I have the perfect
match for you. We rescued Mabel a couple months ago.” She spoke as she led the couple
toward the back room. “She’s affectionate and so easy going. I’m sure you will love her.” Ary
undid the latch on the cage where Mabel usually spent the night.
The woman’s eyes lit up when she saw Mabel It was instant and mutual attraction. A tear slid
down her cheek as she snuggled Mabel into her neck. Mabel’s purring was as loud as an
engine in peak running condition. “She’s perfect! We’ll take her.”
“I’ll get the carry case.” The man went out to the car to get their carry case. “How much do
we owe you,” he asked upon returning. He reached for his wallet.
Ary held up her hand. “She’s a rescue cat. If she gets a good home, that is payment
enough for me. She has all her shots. And now that she is strong enough she should be
altered so she won’t have batches of kittens no one wants.”
The couple exchanged glances. A worry of crinkled lines crossed the woman’s face, her
eyes went dull. Ary could sense money was a concern. She reached under the desk at the
cash register. “Here is a coupon for you. Doctor Rocci Downs is an excellent, caring
veterinarian. She does wonderful work. If you take Mabel to her we’ll pick up the tab.”
Both of the couple’s jaws dropped as they exchanged glances. “I... we couldn’t... I mean it’s
wonderful of course, but...” The beaming response from the woman was better than any
payment Ary could ever receive.
“Please, if Mabel gets a good home... That’s all we are about here is finding a loving, caring
home for rescued pets. I know Mabel likes you already, it’s a match made certain.”
“Oh thank you dear! I don’t know what to say. Being on a fixed income has its draw backs.”
They bought food for their new charge. Mabel seemed content to leave with them.
Ary wondered if other pet store owners or rescue stations became attached to their pets like
she did, or if it gets any easier to let them go. Even though she knew Mabel would have a
good home, she would miss her.
A petite redhead with a carrot topped little boy in tow entered as the couple left with Mabel.
Ary saw sadness in the huge blue-eyes of the little boy locked tight to his mother’s coat
sleeve. She smiled at him, and he lowered his gaze avoiding eye contact with her.
“What kind of a pet are you looking for?” she asked crouching down to speak at his level.
“You’re lucky you get to have all these pets,” he said waving a tiny arm to encompass the
whole store.
“I am. I really am. But you know what makes me even happier is to see a little boy find a pet
he can love and care for.”
Ary lifted a white and tan gerbil out of the cage and placed it near Dusty. He pulled both
hands to his chest. “Go ahead pet him.” Ary said.
He looked up at his mother as if asking permission. “Go ahead, if you want him you have to
hold him so he knows you will take good care of him.”
She smiled at Ary, but it seemed the sadness Ary felt earlier only grew deeper for the
woman. They decided the golden brown and white gerbil was a perfect fit.. The little boy
shyly cuddled it near his neck. “I can hear his heart sighing, he loves me.” He said to his
mother, a broad smile showed a missing front tooth.
“He likes me.” As a smile lit up his denim blue eyes as if no one else in the world liked him.
“His name is Sparky,” he said as if the name made him his for sure.
“He sure does,” Ary felt compelled to say. “And Sparky is a great name for him.”
Ary saw to getting them everything they would need to take Sparky home. She had a return
policy for all her pets. She stuffed one of the fliers with the return policy on it into the bag
with the food for the gerbil. “Bring him back if he doesn’t work out,” she said to the young
woman. The little boy with eyes as big and bright as she’d ever seen reached for the box
with the gerbil.
“He’s the perfect pet for an apartment,” the woman said. She lowered her voice. “His daddy
won’t be coming home from Iraq and I felt he needs something to love and be loved by. To
help him over this. It certainly won’t replace his daddy, but it will help.” Tears threatened to
spill from her sad green eyes. She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Thank you!” she
said as she turned to leave.
Ary’s heart felt about ready to explode. So much tragedy. If only pets could fix it all. Maybe
at least they give us hope.
“I’m so sorry. Thank you for your sacrifice.”
“We’re very proud of him,” she said hugging her little boy.
Ary watched them leave, the little boy skipping next to his mom, clinging to her hand like he’
d never let go. Abandoned kittens and puppies, orphaned children, widowed women, where
will it all end? At least she could do her share to add a little hope wherever she could. She
needed to call her uncle about the dogs he promised. Chows were hard to get around here,
but he always seemed to know where to get whatever she wanted. She had two of them sold
and the people were waiting.
The phone rang pulling her from her thoughts back to the business at hand.
“I need help,” a male voice in a coarse rasp whisper intoned His voice, regardless of the
words, sent a chill through her entire being.
Three
After being involved with ASPCA investigations for two years now Jason thought he had
seen the worst side of human nature already. Starved and deprived animals were as sad as
the distended stomach, bones barely covered by skin of the starving children he’d seen in
photographs. Both were cruel, one from abject poverty the other—he shook his head.
Human stupidity. There was no rhyme or reason for what he’d seen.
Now this, gathering enough information, enough photographs, enough video footage, so
that these people would never again make money from some animal’s misery was at times
too much. He wanted to grab a whip and give something back to these people that maybe
they would understand. Then he thought they still wouldn’t understand that money isn’t what
life is all about. His stomach churned with anger and revulsion.
The slaughter house was bad enough. The filth, the smell, the animals smelled the fear of
the others, smelled death in the air now coupled by terror and pain. Sick and injured
animals already down with broken leg, bloated from not emptying their bowels, charged at
with cattle prods. Jason videotaped the cow too sick to move on, being jabbed repeatedly
with the tongs of a fork lift trying to move the animal, roll it or get it to get up on its feet and
move on its own. After he videotaped this one, he hurried away to vomit in the nearest field
where fresh air reminded him only of the stench of the stock yard. He drove the narrow trail
to the river.
Jason stripped off his tainted clothing and bagged them. He pulled fresh clothes from his
car. The stench had penetrated his skin. He dove into the river and swam like his life
depended upon it. The picture of those animals bawling and beaten was more then he
could stand. Getting out of this business before he became too calloused to care anymore
swept through his mind as he swam.
Nearly exhausted, he pulled himself up on shore and fell back in the grassy knoll. Let
Mother Nature dry him, blowing a gentle breeze over him, erasing the pictures from his
mind, as he watched fleecy clouds play tag across the teal blue sky. In childhood those
clouds entertained him for hours, he wished they could again. But, he needed to get those
pictures and video’s back to his office and sent off to the ASPCA office. Urgency propelled
him. The irony of the whole thing, a large portion of the beef from those slaughtered, sick,
broken bovines was funneled to the educational institutions for the school lunch programs.
That thought created pressure and he squirmed into his jeans and dragged his t-shirt over
his head as he rushed to his vehicle. He wanted to shout, “enough,” to the world at large.
Jason’s office, a room in his renovated old farm house, housed everything from computers
to surveillance cameras, camcorders, printers and more. He loaded the pictures from his
digital camera onto the computer. Saved a copy to a disk, he didn’t trust anything anymore,
not even the hard drive of his computer. He sent the pictures on to ASPCA headquarters.
He emailed Natasha, his contact with the gory details and told her he’d drop the video tape
in overnight Fed Ex. He prepared the film to be shipped. His job was done, at least on this
project. Until or except when law enforcement got involved, he’d probably have to testify. His
mug shot, time and date stamp on the video and on the video introduction should be
enough, but it never was.
The blinking light on his telephone answering machine caught his eye. How could he have
missed that? It must have been when he was so intent on what he was doing that he never
allowed himself to see it. Sitting down in the desk chair he tried to stifle a yawn. Eight hours
in the stock yard and the slaughter house, not to mention the emotional adrenalin-pumping
anger had worn him out. He realized only after he sat down for a minute, just how
exhausting it all had been. Weeks of documenting this had finally come to an end. Jason
thought how he needed a vacation, but there was no time. The blinking light reinforced that
thought. It seemed to scream emergency, emergency. He stretched through a yawn and
punched the button on the answering machine to hear what the blinking red light was all
about.
The mechanical female voice responded, “You have three messages.” One: A message
from his vehicle insurance provider reminding him a premium was due at the end of the
month. Two, a recorded message from Vista Print about a new business card offer he
couldn’t afford to miss. Jason chuckled. As a private investigator he didn’t need business
cards. He was so busy with ASPCA he had little time for anything else and they paid good.
Though, he wondered how long he could continue to record animal abuse and not attempt
to extract a little revenge on the perpetrators on behalf of the critters who couldn’t defend
themselves.
Message number three pulled his attention back to the phone. “Would you mind being
arrested?”
His ears perked up, arrested? Who? What? Why? The message continued after a brief
pause. “You’re name has been submitted as a prime candidate for our jail and bail
challenge next month. Call me for details please. We could use your help and it’s for a good
cause.”
Jason wrote down the number. That may just be the way he’d get the break he needed.
Who would bail him out? His friends were probably delighted to see him behind bars. It
would be good for a laugh anyway. He wondered which one of them had turned him in, so to
speak.
Jason went back to the computer to check his emails. He couldn’t call about the Jail and Bail
until morning anyway. He would call and be jailed, though. It sounded like a break he would
enjoy.
He scanned his emails. The sender Fin, Fur and Feathers caught his eye. It had been a
while since he’d had any work from Ary. Opening the email thoughts of February England
forming a picture in his mind. Her slender, not skinny, body moving with the grace of—‘don’t
go there!’ The message clicked open. Help! I have a job for you. Could you stop by the
store tomorrow? No, wait; meet me at 12:30 at Steamer Joe’s Pantry.
Why email? Why not the phone? Wouldn’t that have been quicker? He read on. Why
Steamer Joe’s? Don’t want to use the phone. Think my phone line is tapped. I’m being
watched. The messaged continued and answered his question.
Why would anyone tap a pet store’s phone line? She signed the message just FFF, no
cheerful ~Ary~ signature. No light talk, no how are you, where have you been.
Jason’s mind raced. Who would be watching Ary and why? She’s involved in animal rescue
too, could that be it? Has she stepped on some heavy weight’s toes? He toyed with the idea
of calling her at home. Would her home phone be bugged too? If so, why, who? After his
already trying day, he didn’t need this last straw niggling at his mind.
Ary was good people, more than once over the years their paths had intertwined. They’d
been friends forever, but every time he tried to take it farther she found some reason to
push him off. Not the first of which was Troy Lansdale. Jason didn’t have any answers for
any of it and decided he just needed to go to bed and let the day close itself out. He clicked
off the computer. Ary, the slaughter house—all of it melted into the night.
FIN, FUR AND FATAL by Billie A Williams
an Ary England Mystery/Suspense
The First Three Chapters
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