Lawyers, Dogs, and Money (eBook)

Chapter 6

A peek out my bedroom window early the next morning reveals the universal clear blue Colorado skies, and the dogs and I enjoy a long jog up the Doudy Draw trail. Ripley and Leda show Dash the best spots to sniff and he does well on his retractable line. His copper-colored coat and the white swath of fur running down his neck and across his chest gleam brightly in the morning sunshine. I keep my promise to myself from the day before and add bonus inclines to my run. Leda’s abilities require her handler to stay in tip-top shape in preparation for arduous backcountry rescues.

The dogs and I return to the dog training facility, and I usher Dash back into his kennel run. My invaluable assistant, Michael Fletcher, a tall, muscular nineteen-year-old Black teenager, exits his attached apartment and comes over to greet me with his usual cheerful expression. I crane my neck to smile up into his affable brown eyes, since he towers over me by at least eight inches. He is wearing his favorite black Keds, blue jeans, and a black-and-white T-shirt we found at a flea market pronouncing “I Confess. I Let the Dogs Out.” Makes me laugh whenever he wears it.

Michael joined our crew last year after helping me out of a tight spot down in Denver, and frankly, he has been a godsend. Michael shows an innate talent for dog training and absorbs the new things I teach him at lightning pace. On top of that, he has true empathy for both animals and humans. His liver-and-white-spotted Llewellin Setter, Cocoa, sticks right behind him. She likes to keep a close eye on her partner.

“Good morning. How did the search go in Cavan County? Bob told me you found the guy.”

“Hello, Michael, and Cocoa. I see you, silly.” I baby talk to Cocoa as she throws herself down for a tummy rub. “Leda found him partway down a shaft in an old silver mine. It was a rugged and remote location for a lone miner or partners to create such a deep mine shaft over a century ago in pursuit of a vein of high-grade silver ore. But that county is renowned for possessing scattered large ore deposits. Tim and I pulled him up, and we got out before the fire could move in. I even survived the chopper rides, so it was all positive. What do you have planned for today?”

“Great job,” Michael enthuses. “I’m going to keep working with Ferro on his drug searches. Sgt. Tim said I could use the empty rooms at the sheriff’s office building to hide the sample drug packets today. I guess there is a tower of extra office furniture where I can stash the drugs and challenge him thoroughly. He’s doing awesome. Another month and I think he will be ready to join Leda on our drug detection team.”

Ferro is a black-and-tan German Shepherd with light brown eyebrows, making him look perpetually quizzical. Michael pulled him from a shelter in neighboring Denver County when we were looking for another dog to help Leda cover our plentiful school and corporate clients wanting regular drug searches performed on their properties. He has that typical German Shepherd drive and has blossomed during the learning process. Fortunately, he and Cocoa adore each other, so Michael is often to be found with two dogs at his heels—one large and black, the other medium and white. Ferro has a fabulous nose and he is now reliably able to distinguish the scents of methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin, and fentanyl.

Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid, and the new drug of choice in many states. Unfortunately, just two milligrams can kill a person and it is thirty to fifty times more potent than heroin. In other words, it is desperately lethal. The training aids for fentanyl vary slightly from the other drugs, as we use safer training aids to imprint the odor on the dogs. Cotton pads are simply saturated with fentanyl to absorb the drug’s odor and contained in a metal disk with tiny side slots, thus obviating the need to use the actual drug. Michael and I wear masks and gloves when searching for genuine fentanyl and have Narcan on hand, because fentanyl powder is unstable and can lead to an overdose or even death for the searchers.

The publicity Leda garnered in a high-profile international drug case last fall has directly contributed to a huge upswing in our business. Leda and I will both be thankful when Michael and Ferro take a portion of the load off our shoulders. A backlog of shipping companies awaits Ferro’s graduation from training and official certification as a narcotics detection dog, as they would like packages to be scanned by one of our dogs at their facilities weekly.

“That is wonderful news, Michael. I’m going to feed these dogs and eat breakfast. Please do me a favor and hide a bunch of peanut butter packets and individual peanuts inside your apartment and around the property outside. Just let me know the total count of what you hide.”

“No problem,” he responds readily. “I’ll take care of that before I leave with Ferro for training.”

Ripley bounds inside upon our return to Dad’s cabin. My father is seated at his computer typing furiously, probably right in the middle of a product review article for highly specialized hunting or hiking gear. He is extremely well-respected in the outdoor world for his exhaustive and accurate reviews. That is his main bread and butter, along with writing articles for nature magazines. He sends me a distracted salute as I back out the door. My cell phone rings during my walk back up the hill to my house.

The caller ID shows that it is Ricardo Cruz calling, a recent client, and incidentally the All-Star third baseman for our MLB team. He hired me previously to train his red rescue Doberman, Jinx, in obedience and protection for his mother, Marisol, for the times when he is on the road playing baseball. He owns a sprawling fifty-acre property on the outskirts of Louisville, Colorado, with a spacious guesthouse for his mother. Jinx absorbed the training like a champion, first at my facility and then at her new home. I must admit, I always look forward to my chats with Ricardo. He has a calming manner and an appealing zest for life. Jinx has been happily ensconced with Marisol for months now and they are inseparable.

“Hi, Ricardo. How are you? And nice grand slam against the Pirates the other day, by the way. Their pitcher really hung that slider.”

“Hola, Verónica. I am doing great, gracias. That homer was sweet. His pitch looked like a softball coming over the plate,” Ricardo responds in his trademark warm Hispanic accent.

“Are things going well with your mother and Jinx?”

“Yes, yes. She’s just perfect. Mama loves her and feels totally safe while I am gone. However, another issue has come up and I would like your opinion. You know my niece, Esmeralda, works with Tim’s daughter, Jane, part-time at that import/export business in Denver. They are very concerned about one of their co-workers, a lady named Kadri Ilves. She is a slightly older woman, originally from Estonia, and the girls adore her.”

“What’s going on with Kadri?”

“The girls are not exactly sure, but they both said that Kadri seems apprehensive about something now—which is out of character for her. She grew up in Estonia when it was part of the USSR and was an extremely active protestor. I believe she was even imprisoned by the Soviets at one point before she immigrated to America; she’s one tough lady. However, she did mention to the girls that she was thinking of contacting you to get a trained personal protection dog like Jinx. Kadri has heard all about your exploits from Jane and Esmeralda, apparently.”

“It sounds like I need to hear about her exploits,” I exclaim. “I bet her life is fascinating! Is someone stalking her at home or has something happened at work? Do you have any idea what’s up?”

“It is not entirely clear to Esmeralda what is going on. Kadri is tight-lipped but obviously worried and stressed out. Has Jane mentioned anything to her father about her concerns?”

“I don’t believe so, Ricardo. Tim would have told me. It only makes sense for us to get him involved, though, since he’s a policeman. I am not a private detective.”

“That may be easier said than done. Kadri apparently harbors a strong mistrust of the police, going back to her days under totalitarian rule. The authorities and the police were not her friends for the first twenty years of her life. I understand this, coming from Venezuela originally myself. As you know, the government and security forces there have actively participated in violent repression against its citizens who stand up for human rights, like my family did. You know what I went through to get Mama, Esme, and myself out of that hellhole. Kadri went through a similar thing. Could you just come and meet her first to find out what the situation is? I need to be sure my niece and Jane are safe being around her at their workplace…” Ricardo trails off slowly, the worry palpable in his voice.

“Of course I will come. How about tomorrow afternoon? I have a drug sweep at Sherman Brothers Trucking in the morning. Leda and I are scanning the cargo trucks on their property. Just tell me where I need to be and when.”

“You can come out to my house in the late afternoon. The girls will be there as well to make her feel more at ease. They are off tomorrow since it is Saturday. I have a twelve o’clock game against the Padres, but I should be able to get home by four thirty, unless we go into extra innings.”

“Sounds good,” I confirm. “I’ll arrive at your place tomorrow by four thirty. Let’s see if we can sort this...