Dog Tags (14 page)

“So he takes out the envelope, Billy gives Milo the signal, and he springs into action. Then the killer reaches into his inside
jacket pocket, and Billy’s surprised to see that it’s a gun.”

“How did he see it?” she says.

“He says there was a gleam of light off the barrel.”

“You see much light here?”

I shake my head; that could be a problem at trial. “No, but it’s
possible. It’s pretty cloudy tonight, maybe it was clear the night of the murder. I’ll check that out.”

“Let me check that,” she says.

I nod. “Great. Anyway, Billy says he thought the killer was taking out an envelope or something like that of his own, since
bad guys don’t usually carry guns in that pocket.”

“Maybe Erskine thought he was there to make a trade,” she says.

“If it was a trade, he got the bad end of the deal. So Milo jumps into the picture and grabs the envelope out of the killer’s
hand as Erskine’s hitting the ground. Billy gets there as the guy is trying to shoot Milo, who’s taking off down the street.
Billy grabs the gun as it goes off, knees the guy in the groin, and the guy doubles over. Billy goes to Erskine, and in the
meantime the killer jumps up and runs to his car before Billy can see him and react.”

“You ever get kneed in the groin?” she asks. “I would imagine that would slow you down.”

“I haven’t, and this is not the time for a reenactment. I take it you don’t believe Billy’s story?”

“I have my doubts,” she says. “But it’s going to be tough to prove. What about the witnesses?”

“A few came running when they heard the shot, but all they saw was Erskine lying there with Billy holding the gun. Nobody
noticed the guy getting away, but they did see Milo running by them with the envelope in his mouth. Scared the shit out of
them.”

“And they connected Milo to the shooting?” she asks.

“No, the cops did that once they knew Billy was involved. There were a couple of similar robberies in the general area the
month before, and they put two and two together. They caught Milo a couple of hours later, without the envelope.”

After we’ve spent about twenty minutes on the scene, placing ourselves at both Billy’s and Erskine’s vantage points, we’ve
learned all we’re going to learn. “Seen enough?” Laurie asks.

“I think so,” I say. I point to the bar, which is still going strong. “You want to go inside and have a drink?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to overdo it.”

On the way home Laurie says, “Thanks for letting me come, Andy. It felt good.”

“I know what you mean,” I say. “When I’m feeling down, there’s nothing like a murder scene to cheer me up. For some reason
I don’t get the same emotional boost from robbery and assault scenes.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she says.

“Yes, I do.”

S
ONDRA AND
M
ILO LEFT THE HOUSE AT SIX THIRTY IN THE MORNING.
That was standard procedure on the days that the foundation was open. There were always at least twenty-five dogs in runs,
waiting their turn to be adopted, so there was much to be done. Feeding, walking, cleaning up… it all had to be done before
prospective adopters started showing up at ten o’clock.

The foundation had grown considerably in size and reputation since its inception three years before, and had attracted a number
of unpaid, dog-loving volunteers to help with the work. But for most of them, their dog loving didn’t kick in until at least
nine
AM
, and Sondra was always in long before that.

Sondra loved the work and felt that there was nothing more rewarding than seeing a dog who had recently been in the shelter
going off to a new, loving home. The only part she didn’t relish was the process by which she and Willie had to determine
if that home was dog-friendly enough. They weren’t about to send a dog off to be tied to a tree in some backyard, or used
as a guard. But telling people that they could not adopt one of the dogs still made Sondra uncomfortable.

Willie couldn’t care less about offending anyone. If they weren’t
offering the kind of home for the dog that Willie felt acceptable, he had no qualms in letting them know it, often in graphic
terms.

Since Milo had come to their home, Sondra had been taking him to the foundation each morning. He stayed in a back room, unseen
by the volunteers or potential adopters, to protect his safety and security, just in case.

Sondra spent as much time with him back there as she could. Not because he needed the company; he could amuse himself quite
well with a chew toy, and he was happy to sleep the day away or play with dogs who were brought back there to keep him company.
It was because she had already grown to love him, as had Willie, in the brief time he’d lived with them.

Not only was Milo playful, affectionate, and hysterically funny, but he was as smart as any dog they had ever been around.
He had already learned to manipulate their dog Cash, and Cash had clearly accepted him as his leader.

When Willie and Sondra would sit on the couch watching television, Cash would be up there between them, accepting petting
from both. Since there was then no room for Milo, Milo would suddenly start to bark and move toward the doggy door to the
outside as if he had heard something out there.

An excited Cash would run outside to see what was going on, whereupon Milo would immediately take Cash’s position on the couch.
When Cash returned, disappointed by the lack of action outdoors, he would be relegated to a place on the floor, or another
chair, with no one to pet him.

As Willie had directed her, Sondra pulled up to the back of the foundation building, so that Milo would not be seen by cars
passing by on the street. She got out of the car and looked briefly around, then reached into her bag for the keys to the
building.

Once she had them in hand, she opened the door to let Milo out. He jumped out of the car, tail wagging, since he enjoyed his
time
there. She didn’t put him on a leash; it would have been unnecessary and maybe even a little demeaning. Milo was not a dog
to run off or disobey commands.

“I’ll take the dog.”

Sondra heard the words and whirled around to see Ray Childress, all six foot two and 230 pounds of him, holding a gun on her
and not looking too pleased to be there. Dog-napping was beneath his dignity as a hit man, Childress felt, though the money
he was getting for it certainly was more than enough to soothe his ego.

Unfortunately for Childress, Milo also whirled around and saw the gun, and he immediately sprang into action. Without hesitation,
he raced the four strides toward Ray and launched himself into the air.

Childress was blessed with very quick reactions, and physically he would have had the time to point the gun and shoot it at
Milo. His hesitation was mental, as he had been specifically told to take the dog, not to kill him.

But Childress would be damned if he’d let the dog bite him; he’d rather kill him first, no matter what the instructions.

Sondra watched Milo as he moved, so she didn’t see the other activity that rendered moot any decision making by Childress.
As he raised the gun, and before Milo arrived, the left side of his skull was crushed by the side of Willie Miller’s hand,
much in the way Willie used to break bricks at the end of his karate instruction classes.

Childress was dead before he hit the ground. Milo, recognizing that there was no longer a live assailant to disarm, immediately
paused and waited for further instructions, though none were forthcoming.

Sondra was sobbing softly, and Willie put his arm around her. “I’m gonna go in and call nine-one-one,” he said.

“What if he gets up?”

Willie took a look at the fallen Childress and shook his head. “He ain’t getting up.”

I
AM THE SECOND CALL
W
ILLIE MAKES, RIGHT AFTER 911.
I dress quickly and drive down to the foundation; Laurie is at the gym, and though I call her, I don’t want to wait for her.
I’m worried about Willie; since he’s an ex-con, even an exonerated one, I’m concerned about the treatment he will get.

When I get there I find that Pete Stanton is on the scene and has already taken over the investigation, which pleases me greatly.
Pete knows Willie well, and will not have a knee-jerk reaction against him.

Laurie pulls up as I get out of the car, and we go straight over to Willie and Sondra, who are in the office. Once we make
sure that Sondra is okay, I ask Willie to describe what happened, which he does.

“Was he going to shoot Milo?” I ask.

Willie shakes his head. “I don’t think so. If he were gonna do that, he wouldn’t have had to hold the gun on Sondra, or even
come out in the open. The worm could have hidden in the bushes and shot Milo.”

“What were you doing here?” I ask.

“Watching Sondra and Milo, just in case.” He goes on to say
that he hadn’t even told Sondra about it, because he didn’t want to make her nervous.

“Have you told the story to Pete?”

Willie nods. “Yeah, but he said he wants to question us more, and that we should wait here. He’s acting like a cop.”

“He is a cop.” Willie and Pete are friends, and Willie expects special treatment. I know that Pete is first and foremost a
terrific cop who will do his job the way it is supposed to be done. Dead people with crushed heads and guns make cops very
careful.

I go over to Pete, walking by the body still lying on the ground. The medical people and the coroner have arrived, and they
will no doubt be removing it in a few minutes. It is not a pretty sight; the deceased man’s head looks like a cantaloupe that
came in second in an argument with a bazooka.

I have to wait ten minutes while Pete talks to his forensics people, who are photographing the scene and looking for physical
evidence. When he’s finished, he comes over to me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, leaving the question open-ended.

“What’s going on? Your partner killed a guy with a sledgehammer that’s attached to his shoulder.”

“A guy who was attempting a kidnapping with a deadly weapon,” I point out.

Pete nods. “Don’t worry; you don’t have another client on your hands. Willie’s clean on this.”

I’m surprised that he’s making such a definitive statement so early in a situation like this. “Who’s the dead guy?” I ask.

“Name is Ray Childress.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” I say.

“It rings plenty of bells,” Pete says. “You just can’t hear them.”

“Enlighten me.”

“He is, or was, available for hire. Not usually for kidnappings, almost always for hits. And believe me, he didn’t come cheap.”

That explains why Willie is finding a receptive audience for his recounting of the events. It’s completely credible that Childress
had bad intentions, and Willie’s reactions were perfectly logical and legal. “Any idea who hired him this time?” I ask.

“I could ask you the same thing. You know more about this situation with the dog than I do.”

I shrug. “Anything I might know is protected by attorney–client privilege.”

“I got you the damn client,” he points out.

I nod. “I know; I’m so grateful my eyes are filled with tears. You can take comfort in the fact that I don’t have a clue what’s
going on.”

“What a surprise,” he says, and goes back to work.

It’s another three hours until I can get Willie and Sondra out of there. We spend the time taking care of the dogs, which
is especially important since the volunteers are turned away from the crime scene.

As we’re getting ready to leave, I tell Willie that I’m going to keep Milo at my house for a while. “He can stay there without
having to leave, and the backyard is fenced in and protected.”

“Andy, I want to be a part of this,” Willie says.

“Part of what?”

“Finding out what the hell is going on. Somebody sent that piece of shit to hold a gun on Sondra; I want to find out who that
is and deal with him.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the look on Willie’s face that I see now. If I don’t get him involved, he’s going to go off on
his own. “I hear you,” I say. “You can be a big part of it.”