Chapter 27

The dog man, whose name was Jack, picked up Skeeter while Helen and I tried to keep her calm. Jack brought a thick plastic case, with no sharp edges, to transport the dog. Helen had words with him right from the start.

"What exactly are you going to do to her?" she demanded.

"Well, Ma'am, the first thing I'm going to do is to teach her how to be a dog again. I got a run about fifty feet square. Inside the run I have a pack of bird dogs that I train. They all live together and they all get along with each other, and with me and my kids. I have lots of strangers that wander through the kennel. She will get a lot of exposure to people who love dogs."

He looked at Helen for second, then he said, "I'm going to teach her what she needs to know to be a good companion for you; how to sit and come when you call her. Those things are important to keep her safe. I'm going to teach her how to walk on a leash and how to be a good citizen."

"You aren't one of those trainers who is rough with his dogs are you?" she asked, obviously still not convinced.

"No, Ma'am, we train with rewards, not punishment. Anytime you want, you can come and watch." Helen nodded her head. I was sure that she would be keeping an eye on Jack. He might be sorry that he agreed to help Ed.

Neither Helen, nor Skeeter, met me in the mornings after that. After Jack took Skeeter, things returned to normal around the office. Lucas was no longer chasing shadows, and I was no longer trying to play humanitarian of the year.

About two weeks later, I was bored silly. I was actually glad when I got a call from Anya, "How would you like to do me a favor?"

"You mean, since I have gone two weeks without threatening or demanding anything, you think you can trust me?"

"Something like that," she replied.

"You can't trust me, but what's the favor?"

"Margie is arranging a big party for Saturday Night,"

"What has that to do with me?" I asked.

"She wants to invite you, but she knew she should check with your pimp first." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm going to do my hair Saturday," I replied.

"Do it earlier in the day. It won't take five minutes to do your hair anyway."

"That was just plain mean," I said, pretending to be hurt.

"Look, Bitch, can I count on you or not?" She paused a moment, then continued, "So how was that for a pimp holler?"

"Not very convincing," I replied, smiling.

"It would be to anyone else. I have big, old, hairy men back up when I talk like that to them."

"Yeah, they back up to get a running start to kick your ass," I said, smiling again. It was a shame she couldn't see me.

"Well, it does work sometimes."

"Yeah, if Jerry and Blevins are behind you," I commented. "Seriously, why do you need me for a party?"

"It's a girlie party, and we don't have a girlie informant."

"Margie is throwing a gay bash, and you want me to infiltrate it. Real nice, Bostic," I snapped.

"Maxine, they laid in a lot of Russian Vodka. I thought in light of your granny client, you might want to know what that's all about."

"Why would they come here for a party?" I asked.

"Margie," Bostic answered.

"I guess Margie and the B&B would have some appeal. She is from money and the place is pretty far off everyone's radar."

"Gonna be kind of like that mob convention in the New York mountains back in the fifties. They took their convention there because nobody was supposed to notice, but they had an informer there as well. The FBI took photos of them all. It was a bonanza of information."

"But you said it was a girlie party," I commented.

"Yeah, that part we haven't worked out yet."

"Maybe it's just a bunch of horny Russians who want to see a girlie show?"

"Not according to Margie; she says they want lesbian and bi women available and they would prefer that they not be pros."

"And, of course, you thought of me. You have no idea how proud that makes me."

"Yeah, I figured you could get into it. You can thank me after the party."

"Send me the details, and I'll give it some serious thought."

"We aren't quite sure what the details are. I mean we know the time and place, but not what is expected of you. For that you need to talk to Margie. She said she would tell you, but no one else."

"Well, that's not a good thing."

"It gets worse. You can't wear a wire, and you will have no backup. If it goes wrong, you could really get hurt."

"And you expect me to do this?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why?" I asked, almost ready to say hell no.

"Because you love this shit. I heard how they brought down that gang and the two wetback killers. You were dead in the middle of it. You didn't have to do any of that. You just plain love this shit. Me, you, and even Blevins, are alike in that way, if no other. It isn't win or lose, it's just being in the fucking game. It's the 'Put me in, Coach, I'm ready to play syndrome.'"

"Have Margie call me." I didn't even try to deny it. I hated that she knew me that well in just a few encounters with me. Those, and the stories that went around about me, were all she needed. I wonder what she thought about Sarah taking a bullet meant for me. That seemed to be a big deal, even if I didn't understand why.

Since it was almost a full week until the party, I went back to work on my own shit. I sent Lucas to pick up the court papers we could get before lunch. We had two from the day before and two new ones he could get before lunch.