Chapter Three

Stoicism seemed to run in the McGovern family. Danny pulled back the cloth covering Patrick McGovern’s face and his son Bobby, a short, stocky young man whose bulk was primarily muscle, didn’t blink. Tisha had a trash can on hand in case he needed to throw up, but the young man only turned a little green.

“Yeah,” he said thickly. “That’s my dad.”

Danny, who had been watching Bobby’s face intently, quickly covered Patrick again. Tisha led Bobby to the chairs outside the morgue. He collapsed bonelessly into one, and she settled next to him.

“What happened to him?” Bobby asked.

“He was shot twice in the chest,” Tisha said as gently as she could.

“By who?” Bobby asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Tisha said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t think I can tell you anything,” he said. “My dad and I weren’t exactly close.”

“Did you have a falling out?” Tisha asked.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Bobby said quickly. “We just… he just wasn’t the kind of person you could get close to. Anyone. He played things really close to the chest.”

“Did he have any enemies?” she asked.

“What? No!” He laughed, an edge of hysteria in his voice. “He was a freaking pet shop owner!”

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?” Tisha pressed.

He shook his head. “No. Wait. Maybe. Yes. He was the target of a bunch of animal rights freaks. You know, PETA types. Because he sells puppies.” He shrugged. “Evidently that’s a thing.”

“Was there anyone in particular who targeted him?”

“No,” Bobby said. “I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, we didn’t talk much.”

Tisha made a mental note of that. “When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“I dunno…week, week and a half ago?” He shrugged. “Me and my girlfriend went up to the house for dinner.”

“Did he seemed upset or worried about anything?”

“My dad didn’t get upset.” There was a sharpness in his voice, a blade hidden between two sheets of paper.

“Is there anything else you can think of?” she asked. “Anything. Even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Tisha handed him her card. “If you think of something, please call me. At any time.”

Bobby took the card. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she added, and he nodded. She walked him down the hall to the exit, then headed back to the morgue.

“Man, sucks to be that guy,” Frank said when she entered. Tisha glared at him. Frank translated as Danny signed “I keep Frank around because of his tact.”

“And this is why we keep you with the corpses,” she said.

“Corpses have an excellent sense of humor. They’re brilliantly deadpan.” Tisha arched an eyebrow and Frank pointed to Danny. “Hey, I’m just the messenger.”

“Well, if you’re done with your comedy act,” Tisha said, “maybe we can get on with this autopsy.” Before they could even try, Roy poked his head inside.

“Guess we don’t have to pay you overtime,” Tisha sighed.

“Oughta pay me extra for wasting my time,” Roy retorted. “Nobody saw nothin’. Nobody heard nothin’.”

“I’m assuming there’s another reason you’re interrupting my autopsy,” Tisha said, ignoring Frank’s - Danny’s? - protests.

“You know that research you were having David do?” Roy asked.

Tisha just waited for him to continue.

“Well guess who’s had not one, not two, not three -“

“Get to the point, Roy,” Tisha said.

“SEVEN complaints in the past two years?” Roy finished.

“Officer Rona Mendoza,” Tisha said.

Roy pouted. “I wanted to say it.”

“Sorry,” Tisha said.

“She’s got a real reputation among the animal nuts at MHS,” he continued. “A coconut among walnuts, you might say. They say she talks to animals.”

“Like Dr. Dolittle?” Frank asked.

“Exactly,” Roy said.

Tisha was less than impressed. Every institution had rumors like that about somebody, especially in the high-stakes ones. Every cop she knew had some kind of “lucky” token, and rumors had been swirling around for years that Bennie in the other division could read minds. Life and death situations bred superstition. What exactly was life and death about investigating animals, she didn’t know, but they claimed to be cops, so she figured it worked the same way.

She turned back to Danny and Frank. “Do you think you’re gonna find anything interesting?”

“Doubt it,” Danny answered. “Double gunshot wound is pretty simple.”

“Have you seen CSI?” Roy asked.

“We’re not that kind of story,” Danny responded. “If we were, you’d be much, much prettier.” Frank giggled a little as he translated.

Tisha rolled her eyes. “In that case, I’ll leave you two with your corpse and his deadpan humor.”



Rona tapped her foot nervously on the floor of her truck as her phone rang. Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up. If Karen didn’t answer, she was screwed. There was only so long she could linger by the side of the road before somebody either pulled over to ask if she needed help or, more likely, reported her behavior as suspicious.

“There is now horse poop on my jeans and my phone. You get to do my laundry tonight.”

“Karen!” Rona ignored her roommate’s grumping. “Look, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Horse poop, Rona.” The other woman huffed in irritation. “What is it?”

“I need you to cover for me tonight.” Hopefully Karen wouldn’t -

“Why?”

- ask any questions. Rona struggled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t get her in trouble. If she told Karen the truth, Karen would try to talk her out of it. If she told Karen that she couldn’t say, then Karen would know it was something she would disapprove of and try to talk her out of it anyway.

Evidently her silence went on too long. “This is about Patrick McGovern, isn’t it?” Karen said. It wasn’t really a question.

Life would be so much easier if her roommate didn’t know her quite so well. “I’ve got a possible lead,” Rona said.

“Did Detective Wiles find something?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Rona said, hoping Karen would assume that the detective had given her a gag order.

“So what do you need me to do?” Rona breathed a quiet thank you to the heavens.

“You know the Miller farm? I was supposed to swing by and check the fencing. Can you do it for me?”

“That’s an hour out of my way,” Karen protested. Rona held her breath. Finally, her roommate sighed. “You owe me a week of laundry.”

“I will give you two,” Rona told her. “You’re the best.”

“I’m gonna get that in writing,” Karen said, and Rona chuckled a bit as they hung up.

Her evening was covered. With Karen covering her official case, and Mindy the operator agreeing to say that she had gone out on a new call if anybody asked, her superiors had no reason to wonder where she was, or why she was clocking out late. She glanced at the clock. At this time of night, it would take her about forty minutes to get to Your New Best Friend. If the crime scene was still closed, she could talk the cop in charge into letting her in. If they had opened up, then it would be locked shut and she was screwed.

Remember what Rebel always said, she remind herself. Think positive. The Rhodesian Ridgeback had picked up the phrase from hours and hours of watching Dr. Phil with his previous owner; it had served him well when his owner had died and he had bounced from foster home to foster home until he finally landed in Rona’s care. Rona herself was skeptical of the power of positive thinking, but at this moment, it was all she had.

So she thought positive with all her might and turned her truck to Towson.



David leaned back and kicked his feet up on the desk as Tisha and Roy walked into the pen.

“Guess what I found?” he asked.

“Mendoza’s been stalking our victim,” Tisha said. “I got it.”

“Nope!” David said. “While Roy has been off delivering my news, I have not been resting on my laurels. I went through the backup we made of the vic’s computer. Our boy spent a lot of time on Craigs List…and he wasn’t looking for couches.”

He pulled up the relevant files, and Tisha and Roy read them off his shoulder. Roy quickly looked away, making a face.

“People are disgusting,” he muttered.

“That’s what makes it fun to be human,” David said. “And from the looks of it, Patrick was having quite a bit of fun. There’s no way Mrs. McGovern didn’t know about this. Who wants to bet she got sick of being cuckolded and decided to do something about it?”

“Do you have any records of responses?” she asked.

“Quite a few,” David said. “He seemed to be going for quantity rather than quality.”

She nodded. “Get as much contact information for these women as you can. I want to talk to them.”

“You don’t think one of them did it?” Roy asked. “I mean, there are some nutters on Craigs List, but we’ve already got a suspect.”

“We’ve got two,” Tisha said. “If Mrs. McGovern found out about her husband’s affairs, she might have tried to confront one of these women. They might know something.”

Roy snorted. “Fine. But dollars to donuts, that animal loony did it.”

“No way,” David said. “It’s gotta be the woman scorned.”

“What is it with you and married people?” Roy asked. “You and Terry had a perfectly amicable divorce. Y’all met for lunch just last week!”

Tisha cut in before they could continue. “David, get the contact information for those women, then you and Roy talk with them. I’m going to talk with Officer Mendoza. We will get to Mrs. McGovern,” she said over David’s protest. “But I want to cover these bases first before I confront a possibly grieving widow.”

David mock saluted. “Got it, boss.”



Rona was halfway to Your New Best Friend when she remembered her appointment with the lawyer. Cursing, she pulled over again and quickly dialed the number on the card. It picked up on the second ring.

“Carrie Lindhal,” a woman’s high pitched voice chirped.

“Hi, this is Officer Rona Mendoza. Is Ms. Lindhal available?” Rona asked.

“Seek and ye shall find, honey, that’s me,” Carrie said cheerfully. “You havin’ trouble finding my office?”

This was the department’s lawyer? She sounded like she was twelve!

“Uh, no,” Rona said. “Actually, I need to reschedule. Something’s come up.”

“Something, huh?” Carrie said. “Can’t you get one of your fellow officers to handle it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Rona said. “I’m really sorry.”

She held her breath, wondering if the lawyer would call her on it.

“How does tomorrow at one sound?” Carrie asked finally. “Think you can make it then?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rona said, relieved. “Thanks. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Yeah, well, life of a lawyer,” Carrie said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at one. No more rescheduling.”

“No more rescheduling,” Rona promised.



Tisha didn’t often get out this far into the countryside. She didn’t consider herself a city girl, but there was something eerie about the wide expanses, and she found herself missing the city crowds. In a city, people may ignore your screams, but out here, who could even hear you? She checked her gas tank periodically to make sure it wasn’t getting low. The last thing she wanted to be was stranded out here.

At the end of the rough dirt road, she finally reached the farmhouse where the MHS lieutenant told her she could find Officer Mendoza. She wasn’t at home or answering her cellphone. Before getting out of the car, she checked her gun, and then immediately felt silly. What kind of trouble was she expecting? But its weight on her hip still comforted her as she got out of the car and knocked on the front door.

“Mrs. Miller?” she asked of the woman who opened the front door. “Is Officer Mendoza still here?”

“You mean Officer Beaudry?” Mrs. Miller asked. “She’s out in the fields with Eddie.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not here with some new complaint? Because my Eddie - “

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Miller,” Tisha interrupted. “I had been told Officer Mendoza would be here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Mrs. Miller said. “But Officer Beaudry said she wasn’t able to make it and she’d be taking over. Who’re you?”

Tisha pulled out her badge. “Detective Tisha Wiles, BCPD. Do you know when they’ll be back?”

“Shouldn’t be but a minute,” Mrs. Miller said. “Eddie worked real hard to fix up those fences. Is Officer Mendoza in some kind of trouble?” From the tone of her voice, Tisha could tell that the woman wouldn’t mind if the answer was yes.

“I just have some questions for her about an ongoing investigation,” she said.

Mrs. Miller opened her mouth to further interrogate her, but something caught her attention. Mr. Miller and another officer - presumably Beaudry - were coming up the drive. “There they are! Eddie! This is Detective Wiles. She’s looking for Mendoza.”

“Is she in trouble?” There was clearly no love lost between Mendoza and the Millers. Tisha noticed that they didn’t seem to care much for Officer Beaudry either. Legitimate grievance, or were they just upset about being in trouble themselves?

“I just have some questions for her,” she said again. “Officer Beaudry, can we speak in private?”

“Sure,” the other cop said. “Mr. Miller, Mrs. Miller, the fence looks great. Maintain its current condition and you will never have to see me again.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Mr. Miller grumbled. Beaudry tactfully ignored him and bid the couple good night. The two officers walked out to the parked cars.

“So what can I do for you, Detective?” Beaudry asked amiably.

“Your superior told me I could find Officer Mendoza here.”

“I took this case for her,” Beaudry said. “She said she was following a lead.”

“A lead?” Tisha asked.

“The puppy mill case,” Beaudry said, and frowned. “I thought she had gotten it from you.”

“Officer Mendoza and I have not been in contact,” Tisha said. “I’m not in the habit of sharing leads with suspects.”

“She’s a suspect?” Beaudry clearly regretted saying anything. “You’re kidding me. She would never!”

“Are you aware that Patrick McGovern had filed seven complaints against her in the past two years?” Tisha asked.

“Yes, I was.” Beaudry’s tone was closed, guarded. “Many of the people we investigate try to file complaints to deflect the investigation.”

“Was Patrick McGovern under investigation?”

“Is this an official questioning?” Beaudry asked. “If so, I would like to do it at the station, with my lawyer present.”

“Just tell me where I can find Officer Mendoza,” Tisha said. “That’s all I want to know.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Beaudry said. “She just said she was following a lead.”

“And you have no idea what that lead was?” Tisha pressed.

“I’m not going to say anything else without a lawyer,” Beaudry said firmly.

Time to try a different tack. “Look, Beaudry. Cop to cop. I’m not out to get her. I just need to talk to her so I can eliminate her as a suspect. You gotta realize this doesn’t look good for her.”

Beaudry didn’t seem impressed with her heartfelt plea.

“Fine,” Tisha said. “I guess you’re coming with me down to the station for an official questioning. Go ahead and call that lawyer of yours.” She was fairly certain that the lawyer tactic had been a bluff.

But Beaudry pulled out her cellphone. “Can I drive myself there?” she asked.

Tisha felt like she was caught in some strange game of chicken. “Of course,” she said. “Once I write down your license plate number.” She walked over to the other woman’s car, writing down the plate number and trying surreptitiously to listen in on her conversation. Either she and Mendoza were talking in code, or she really was talking to her lawyer. Ballsy.

She gave Beaudry the station address to put in her GPS and slid into her own vehicle. She quickly dialed David.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to put an APB on Mendoza,” she said. “And if you could somehow make sure Roy doesn’t find out and crow too loudly, that’d be great.”

“Is she our guy?”

Tisha sighed. “Nothing’s certain yet. But she’s not at home or answering her phone, and she lied to her boss about her location. I think she might have fled.”

“Roy’ll be thrilled.”

“That’s why I said keep it from him as long as possible. I’m in the middle of nowhere right now. I’ll be back in about an hour, hour and a half.”

She was about to hang up when David said: “Hey! What about the crime scene?”

“What about it?” she asked.

“Chief wants to know if we’re ready to release it.”

Tisha wanted to say no, but they couldn’t afford to keep it closed. The cost of feeding the animals alone was extraordinary.

“Tomorrow morning,” she said. “I want to give it one last pass tonight.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sending a person of interest your way. One of Mendoza’s fellow officers, who covered for her absence. Can you continue the questioning while I check out the crime scene?”

“Can do,” David said.

“She’s a tough nut,” Tisha warned him. “And she’s gonna be lawyered up.”

“Already? Jesus Christ. Don’t worry about it. We can handle it.”

“Thanks.” Tisha snapped her phone shut and started up the car.



The officer they had babysitting the crime scene looked young enough to need a babysitter himself. He leaned against the store wall, tracing patterns on the sidewalk with his flashlight. His youth would either make him easy to intimidate, or his boredom would make him pugnacious.

Rona parked her truck at the other end of the parking lot and adjusted her spare uniform, like a cat puffing up its fur to look bigger and more intimidating.

The heels of her work boots clacked loudly against the pavement. The officer quickly swung his flashlight at her, directly into her eyes. She cursed and held up her hand.

“Watch where you point that thing, Officer!” she snapped.

He lowered it just enough to get it out of her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Officer Rona Mendoza, MHSPD.” She reached for her badge, and he reached for his taser. “Jesus, put that thing away! We’re not in some kind of cop movie!”

Abashed, he re-holstered the taser and took the proffered badge. “What brings you here, Officer?”

“I’m here to inspect the animals,” she said. “And to ensure that they have been adequately cared for.”

“I water them every hour!” the young officer protested. “And I make sure they always have food.”

She smiled tightly at him. “You understand that I can’t just take your word for that. Please unlock the door.”

She felt a flush of victory as, scowling, he complied and gestured for her to enter. She stepped inside…and he followed her.

“As you can see,” he grumbled, “the animals are all fine.”

“Shouldn’t you be standing guard outside?” she asked him.

“It’s my job to guard this crime scene,” he said. “I can’t let you walk around it unsupervised.”

In other words, she had pissed him off and this was his revenge.

Red Rover had begun barking the moment they walked in. The cops had changed his food and he didn’t like it at all. The cats, who generally refused to agree with the dogs on anything, agreed that the food provided was substandard. It gave poor Miss Daizy diarrhea. Rona squatted down and scratched Red Rover under his chin. Your humans will be back tomorrow.

When’s tomorrow? Red Rover asked.

Soon, she promised.

“How’s the inspection going?” The young officer’s arms were crossed tightly against his chest. Rona shot him a glare.

“I didn’t get your name,” she said.

“Wilkins,” he said slowly.

“Officer Wilkins.” She turned her attention to the Buddy, who whined piteously in the next cage. “Animals need more than just food and water. They need exercise and affection. These animals, especially, have suffered a traumatic event -“

He snorted derisively.

“They were the only ones here when your victim was murdered,” she snapped at him. “God only knows how many hours they were left here, trapped with the smell of his dead body. They deserve your compassion.”

Wilkins failed to be impressed. Rona clenched her jaw, and Buddy reached a paw through the mesh of his cage, trying to soothe her. She scratched behind his ears, and reminded herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Who came to visit the alpha last night? she asked.

A stranger, Buddy answered. This wasn’t particularly helpful. There was a fairly quick turnover for all the puppies; whoever came could have been a store regular that simply hadn’t stopped by while any of the pups had been here.

Angry! Red Rover supplied, sensing Rona’s disappointment. It was very angry.

Now that was interesting. If the puppy mill had sent someone after Patrick, it would probably be a professional. Why would a professional be angry?

Was it male or female? she asked. The dogs looked at each other and whined helplessly.

Miss Daizy yawned loudly, showing all her teeth with clear disdain.

Male, she informed Rona haughtily. Her superior position in relation to Patrick’s office had given her a scent advantage. And not a stranger. I’ve smelled him before.

You know him? Rona asked eagerly.

Miss Daizy narrowed her eyes, the very picture of lazy disinterest. I’ve smelled him before, she said again. That was clearly the extent of her knowledge.

Rona rocked back on her heels and thought. Could it have been one of the animal terrorists? Patrick had been a target for plenty of them. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help her case at all.

But she needed to be sure that his death had nothing to do with the mill.

Could you smell dog on him? she asked Miss Daizy.

I smell dog everywhere, the cat sniffed. She licked her paw as Rona glared. But no, not especially.

What about cat?

He smelled like dirt, Miss Daizy said. Dirt and oil and sweat.

Who didn’t spend any time with animals, who would be angry enough with Patrick McGovern to kill him?

Did anything else stand out? she asked.

Red Rover barked excitedly. Back back back back back!

Rona whirled around, thinking that the killer was back.

“D-detective!” Officer Wilkins stammered.

Detective Tisha Wiles stood in the doorway, her hand not far from her holster.

“What are you doing at my crime scene?”

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