Above the Paw Page 3

  Brigit’s eyes met those of the pony. I feel for you, buddy. Perhaps their species should consider joining together, rising up, and overthrowing the humans. Then again, while Megan might technically be her boss, she was pretty much at Brigit’s beck and call, feeding her, taking care of her poops, and reaching those hard-to-scratch areas, like the one at the base of her tail. Hmm. She’d have to give the idea more thought before fully committing to a coup.

  As they approached a garbage can, Brigit spotted Derek standing in front of it. Derek was one of the few officers who never talked baby talk to her or gave her so much as a pat on the head. Brigit didn’t like him at all, and she could tell Megan didn’t like him, either. Her partner tended to stiffen when the guy came around and to hold Brigit closer, both of which the dog recognized as defensive postures.

  For some reason, Derek was digging through the garbage can, tossing the contents onto the ground around the bin. Brigit’s nose detected all of the tasty tidbits people had thrown away. Bits of barbecue. Nacho remnants. Pizza crust, her favorite. She’d love nothing more than to run over to the pile of food scraps and have a feast. But she knew Megan wouldn’t be happy with her, even if she offered to share the smorgasbord. Sometimes there was just no pleasing people.

  FOUR

  NIP IT IN THE BUD

  The Dealer

  He cast a glance over his shoulder. She was gaining on him, virtually nipping at his heels. Bitch. But if she thought she’d ever get the best of him, she was sorely mistaken.

  FIVE

  STARS AND STRIPES

  Megan

  As Brigit and I approached the stage, I spotted Derek Mackey digging through a trash can, hurling food waste, dirty diapers, and other miscellaneous detritus to the ground. I wondered if whatever he was looking for was the reason he’d appeared so ticked off earlier.

  “What’re you doing?” I called as we drew near.

  “None of your damn business!” he snapped, waving me away with his meaty hand.

  He was acting like an ass, but I wasn’t going to let his sour mood and disrespect get to me. Why give the jerk what he wanted? “Alrighty, then,” I said cheerfully as my partner and I moved past. “Enjoy those scraps.”

  We continued on to the stage, where a band was setting up for a performance that was to begin in a few minutes. A lineup of politicians had gathered at the back of the platform. They ran the gamut from the city’s mayor, to a member of the state House of Representatives, to a United States senator who was back from Washington, D.C., to spend the holiday with his family. No doubt many in Congress went on break for the Fourth, returning to their home states to make appearances, assure their constituencies that they remembered from whence they came, and eat hot dogs and barbecue with their supporters.

  Though not technically a politician, Police Chief Garelik had even turned out in uniform for the event, realizing it made an excellent PR opportunity for the department. With his broad, bulky build, silver hair, and chest adorned with medals, the chief looked both formidable and dignified. While the others took seats in an area at the back of the stage shaded by the broad tarp that hung over it, the chief stood at the front in clear view, letting those in attendance know that he and his officers were keeping an eagle eye on things.

  When Chief Garelik spotted me and Brigit, he motioned for us to join him on the stage. As his golden boy’s nemesis, I was far from the chief’s favorite officer. But Brigit and I had played a major role in nabbing a number of violent criminals, and even he couldn’t deny that the two of us were local heroes, our presence providing those in attendance something to rally around. The chief didn’t like me but he did respect me, even if he disguised that respect in a wrap of snide comments and squinty-eyed sideways glances. I’d much prefer being respected to being liked, so all was good here.

  As Brigit and I headed for the steps, my ears picked up comments from those in the crowd.

  “Look! That’s the K-9 team who took down that bomber!”

  “Isn’t that the two who caught that killer who was burglarizing houses?”

  “Hey! It’s the cops who captured the Berkeley Place Peeper!”

  “Can I get a pic with you two?”

  Given that the last statement was directed at me, I stopped and replied, “Sure.” I stepped into place next to a thirtyish woman, instructed Brigit to sit at our feet, and smiled at the cell phone her companion had aimed our way. Click!

  Far be it from me to gloat, but Brigit and I were minor celebrities around these parts. We did our job, and we did it with a dedication bordering on obsession.

  “Thanks!”

  “Anytime,” I replied.

  Brigit and I ascended the fold-out staircase on the side of the stage and took places next to the chief at the front. “Good afternoon, Chief.”

  He responded with a grunt. “Good? I’ve got sweat running down my ass crack, the sun in my eyes, and the mayor breathing down my neck. There’s nothing good about this afternoon.”

  Every party needs a pooper. Looked like the chief had volunteered for the role today.

  Any glory I’d expected from being featured on stage was short-lived. When the chief noticed Derek stepping away from the garbage can, he squeezed his shoulder mic. “Officer Mackey, report to the stage.” In seconds, Derek was on the stage with us, standing on the other side of the chief, giving me his own squinty-eyed sideways glances. So much for my metaphorical moment in the sun.

  On cue, a Boy Scout color guard presented the American and Texas flags, placing them in stands on the stage. One of the boys stepped to the microphone. “Please join me in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  Derek, the chief, and I turned toward the flags, placed our right hands over our hearts, and murmured in unison with the crowd as they recited the pledge. Brigit took advantage of the opportunity to sniff the chief’s shoe.

  As the last line of the pledge was carried away on the breeze, five F-16s from the 301st Fighter Wing at the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base roared up in the sky and performed a low-altitude flyover, impressing the crowd with their precision turns and noisy engines. Brigit yelped—Arp!—and dropped to the floor of the stage, cowering in alarm.

  “It’s okay, girl.” I knelt down next to her and ran a hand over her back. “It’s just airplanes. They’re loud but they won’t hurt you.” Why I felt the need to explain things to a dog that couldn’t understand was beyond me. I think sometimes I forgot she was a dog rather than a person. At any rate, the soothing tone of my voice seemed to calm her and I could feel her stiff body relax under my touch.

  I stood as one of the festival organizers stepped up to the mic. Dressed in red and white striped pants and a blue blouse emblazoned with white stars, the woman epitomized patriotism at its best—or worst, depending on your viewpoint. “Hello, everyone!” she cried. “Welcome to Fort Worth Fourth at Panther Pavilion!”

  Lethargic from heat and humidity and hot dogs, the crowd offered only a smattering of applause. They’d come to the stage to hear the band, not a bunch of blowhards.

  The woman didn’t let the lukewarm welcome deter her from her mission. “We hope you all are having a wonderful time today. Don’t forget to reapply your sunscreen! And be sure to stick around for tonight’s fireworks followed by more live music. Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce the mayor of Fort Worth, Mr. John Normangee!”

  Another smattering of applause ensued, followed by the squall of a toddler whose snow cone had rolled out of its paper cup and fallen to the ground. Tragic.

  While the kid’s parents ushered him off to get a replacement, Mayor Normangee stepped up to the microphone and issued a greeting with the same practiced cheerfulness as the woman who’d introduced him. “Good afternoon to the fine folks of Fort Worth! So glad to see all of your faces here today. If you haven’t tried the zip-line, be sure to give it a go! Lots of fun! Some exciting things are on the city council’s agenda for the upcoming week. We’ll be voting on the acquisition of land on Helmick
Avenue for a new city park, contracts for infrastructure improvements, and rezoning requests for land along Bluebonnet Drive for a proposed multifamily development.”

  The lack of response from the audience indicated that they did not share the mayor’s enthusiasm for city business.

  The mayor gestured to the fortyish Latina woman standing behind him. “We’re privileged to have our state representative here today to share a few words with us. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Esperanza Espinoza!”

  While the crowd’s response to the mayor had been lukewarm, the audience now threw their fists into the air and broke into chants of “Ess-ie! Ess-ie!”

  Esperanza “Essie” Espinoza stepped forward, raising a hand to wave to the crowd. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt featuring a sequined American flag, her signature dark curls gathered in a bushy ponytail at the nape of her neck. Before running for the Texas House of Representatives as an independent candidate six years ago, Essie had practiced labor law in Fort Worth, representing plaintiffs in wage disputes, discrimination cases, and other employment-related matters. The fact that she fought for the little guy, along with her sincere smile and approachability, had made her a popular politician. She’d earned my vote. She’d gone on to gather fame and fans when she filibustered against a proposed bill that would have established a school voucher system.

  “Happy Fourth of July, everyone!” She repeated the sentiment in Spanish. “¡Feliz cuatro de julio a todos!”

  Her wishes earned her three times the applause as her predecessors, and one cry of “ay yi yi!” to which she responded with a laugh and “Ay yi yi, indeed. ¿Hace mucho calor hoy, no? It’s very hot today!”

  Despite the fact that she’d merely stated the obvious in two languages, the crowd cheered her on. Esperanza lived up to her name, which meant “hope” in Spanish. She was a bright-eyed optimist, a woman of understated brilliance, a consensus builder who brought people together rather than dividing them.

  “I’m so glad to be home for the holidays so that I can spend the day with my husband and children.” She blew kisses to her husband and three daughters, ranging in age from seven to thirteen, standing in the front row. She looked back up. “I’m also glad to spend the day with my constituents. I consider each and every one of you to be part of my extended family, and I’m proud to represent and work for all of you. I encourage you to contact me with any of your concerns. My office is only an e-mail or phone call away.” She swiped her windswept bangs out of her eyes. “Senator Sutton will address you now and update us on what’s going on in our nation’s capital. Let’s give him a nice welcome, shall we?” With that, she cast a look back at Senator Montgomery Sutton and motioned for him to step forward before applauding him and stepping aside.

  Essie was definitely a class act. Though she’d tossed her hat in the ring for the U.S. Senator spot Monty Sutton now held, she’d made no snarky comments about her attempts to unseat him in the upcoming election in November. If only every politician could be so gracious and professional. Of course her restraint could also be due to the fact that Monty Sutton was a well-respected and well-liked politician, with impressive approval ratings. He’d held his office for four full terms so far. He, too, had earned my vote. At sixty-eight, he was older and more old-school than Essie in his appearance and demeanor, but he had an everyman quality about him, a grandfatherly sense of humor, and a record that proved him a thoughtful legislator. With his calm, reasonable demeanor and good people skills paired with his determination, he was a proven consensus builder and expert negotiator, able to bring the parties together to get things done. His integrity was beyond reproach, too. Unlike some of the more notorious members of national governments, he’d never slept with an intern, sent a dick pic to anyone, snorted cocaine off the breasts of a prostitute, or made implied references to blow jobs or the size of another politician’s gonads. He’d also never accepted campaign contributions from special interests, as reflected in his slogan “Montgomery Sutton—The Best Representation Money CAN’T Buy.”

  Senator Sutton stepped up to the microphone. He, too, had set aside his business suits for more comfortable attire, though his navy pants, short-sleeved red polo shirt, and loafers leaned more toward business casual. The typical politician’s American flag pin graced his collar. His white hair gleamed in the sun and he dipped his head to give a polite nod to the crowd.

  Not to be outdone by Essie Espinoza’s supporters, Senator Sutton’s small entourage near the stage raised fists in the air and chanted. “Sut-ton! Sut-ton!”

  When the chants subsided, Senator Sutton launched into his speech, giving the crowd a quick update on the latest news from Washington. “As y’all may have noticed, our middle class is shrinking, due in large part to jobs moving overseas. To put Americans back to work, I’ve proposed a bill known as the China–U.S. Partnership, or CUSP for short.”

  He went on to explain that the bill posed a challenge to China’s tradition of mercantilism under which it exported far more goods to other countries while enacting protectionist measures, such as high tariffs, to limit imports. Sutton was a longstanding member of the Senate’s Foreign Relations Committee, as well as chairman of the Subcommittee on East Asia, the Pacific, and International Cybersecurity Policy. Barbara Boxer and former presidential candidate Marco Rubio served on the subcommittee with Sutton. Among other things, the subcommittee’s duties included promoting U.S. trade and exports.

  “I’ve done so much walking up and down the halls of the Senate Building in Washington to drum up support,” he said, “I’ve just about worn out the soles of my shoes.” When he lifted up one foot and wiggled it, the crowd chuckled. He waved a hand dismissively. “But that’s enough shop talk. Y’all are here to have a good time and celebrate this glorious Independence Day.”

  His reference earned a few whoops and whistles.

  “On this date in 1776,” he said, shifting from current proposed legislation to a history lesson, “our forefathers dared to declare independence from England. We owe a lot to Benjamin Franklin, Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and those other rebellious upstarts.” He paused for laughter, which the audience again provided. “Let’s think about their words for a moment.”

  “Do we have to?” hollered a beer-bellied man, causing his buddies to erupt in laughter.

  Senator Sutton, having dealt with hecklers for decades, was unfazed. “We sure do,” he replied with a smile. He leaned closer to the mic and whispered. “Looks like we’ve got some rebellious upstarts here today, too.”

  Again the audience laughed.

  When the senator spoke again, his words were slow and deliberate. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”

  He paused a moment to let the words sink in. “What does this mean?”

  The beer-bellied man hollered again. “It means it’s time for another beer!”

  At that point, Chief Garelik motioned for an officer at the perimeter of the crowd to move in and let the heckler know his jackassery wasn’t appreciated.

  “What this means,” Sutton said, “is that every person is entitled to live, to be free, and to pursue those things that will bring them joy, purpose, and satisfaction. Serving you all has brought me such joy, purpose, and satisfaction. Of course it’s brought me quite a few headaches, too.” His own chuckle echoed those of the crowd. “It’s my hope that each of you will find your own particular source of joy, and that you will find it in abundance. I wish I could do it for you, but as Benjamin Franklin noted, ‘The Constitution only guarantees the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself.’”

  “I caught happiness once!” the man in the crowd yelled, undeterred by the cop standing next to him. “Took two rounds of penicilli
n to clear it up!”

  Sutton smiled. “You might want to find a different source of happiness, son.” His speech complete, he raised a hand. “Enjoy the music, folks!”

  As the politicians descended from the stage, the band launched into a rock version of “America the Beautiful.”

  Brigit and I followed Derek and the chief down from the stage. While the chief headed for the air-conditioned trailer that served as FWPD’s mobile command center, Derek stalked off. Neither bade me and my partner good-bye.

  I, on the other hand, took advantage of the opportunity to rub elbows with the senatorial candidates. Or at least I tried in Essie’s case. As I walked toward her, an assistant with an earpiece swooped her away without so much as a glance in my direction. Hmm. Senator Sutton, on the other hand, put his hands on his knees and called out to Brigit. “Hey, there, girl!”

  She tugged on the leash, knowing a “hey, girl” often came with a butt scratch.

  I led my partner over and held out my hand, my pulse pounding. Given his tenure and success in Washington, D.C., Sutton was no stranger at the White House, often called in to offer advice and consultation. Standing here now, I was only one degree of separation from several U.S. presidents! “Hello, Senator Sutton. It’s a p-pleasure to meet you.”

  He eyed my name badge. “You, too, Officer Luz. What a fine-looking K-9 you have here.”

  Brigit wagged her tail as he ran a hand over her head and neck.

  “I couldn’t ask for a better partner,” I said.

  He stood full upright. “You two enjoying yourselves today?”

  Only if you call being on your feet for hours in the broiling sun enjoyable. “We sure are!” I lied.

  He gave me a pat on the shoulder and a “you take care now” before stepping away to round up his wife.

  I spent the rest of the day rotating duties with the other K-9 teams. Between drunken brawls, heatstroke, and lost children, first responders were kept busy all afternoon. Each time I passed the people floating in the river on inner tubes, I fought the urge to dive in. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, it was all I could do not to send up a cheer. Of course the temperature was still in the nineties, but at least the sun was no longer scorching my skin and Brigit’s fur.