~ Fin, Fur and Fatal ~

by

Billie A. Williams

One

The orange-yellow waterfront lights shrouded the dock in a surreal atmosphere. Fog so thick it seemed to be a wall, impenetrable by sound or ship, rolled across the harbor. The muffled moan of a fog horn, clanging bell of the warning buoys and the shaft of light trying to pierce the darkness, reminded him commerce stopped for nothing, not even weather. The tiny town that kept the light house working rarely saw much nighttime movement on the pier where Garett Noitif stood as if suspended in time.

The four men poured out of the Ford Galaxy like an oil slick. They looked like aliens with their knit caps pulled down so tightly that their heads resembled balloon shaped pumpkins on their shoulders.

“Get those crates unloaded and the animals into that warehouse before someone spots them.” Garett barked the orders like a gunnery sergeant. He had no patience for men who were all brawn and no brain. The answering grunts proved his point. They knew the power of the man they were working for and they also knew crossing him would be worse than simple death. They hurried about their business as quickly as the dim atmosphere would allow them to.

No one wanted to be responsible for having the law come down on Montgomery “Hammer” Graves. Their punishment would be lethal. There was a definite reason they called Montgomery Graves “Hammer.”

Swiftly, the four men unloaded the crates. The Chows were already heavy dogs and their extra load made them even more so, or was it the lateness of the day, perhaps instead. Was it what they carried that weighed on Garett? Importing dogs was one thing, but these dogs carried contraband that could bring resounding consequences to everyone involved. He had to muse at the cleverness of “Hammer.” What drug sniffing dogs would or could sniff out drugs on another dog? The right dogs, the right time of their cycle and no self-respecting male dog could refuse their special scent. No, drug sniffing dogs would not be detecting what these dogs carried, even if, and he wondered if, the cops even think to employ drug dogs on a shipment of dogs?.

How any man with a conscience could use his niece’s business to further his own ends was beyond Garett. He had been in on a lot of get rich quick schemes with Hammer but, either Hammer was getting old, or more sinister with every new way he saw to make money or both. Whatever it was, Garett knew which side his bread was buttered on. It would do no good to second guess the man who helped him afford the lifestyle he had become accustomed to.

Once the animals were all secured, Garett called Hammer. The rest was up to the doctor he had on the payroll for just such occasions. The four men got in their sedan and quietly exited the dock while Garett took the manifest sheet to the dock master to sign that the shipment was all intact and accounted for.

Hammer’s words echoed in his mind. “Get the papers signed, lock that warehouse and get out of there before someone spots the car and you. We leave no finger prints you know that.”

“Right. I’m on my way out the gate right now.”

A patrol car on its nightly rounds slowly passed going in the opposite direction. Garett’s mouth went dry. He pulled his hat down tighter, not feeling at all like he’d like to explore what the cops might be looking for on this particular dock. He ticked his hat with his forefinger as a salute to the officers as he passed. Taking a deep breath of relief, he proceeded to drive out of the gate toward the freeway. Routine drive through, he repeated trying to convince himself to stay calm, not to look suspicious, not to do anything to attract attention to himself.

When the black cat darted out from between two warehouses, he couldn’t avoid hitting it. The yowl the cat made woke the dead, at least in his mind. Garett gunned the Camry and prayed the cops didn’t hear the cat. The fog, the darkness closed in on him as he tore up the steep ramp and slid into traffic on the freeway, nearly causing and accident in his haste to meld with the traffic. Better an angry driver then a suspicious cop, he reasoned.

Two

February England, Ary to her friends, gulped in an expectant breathe as she opened the cardboard box that was sitting on the snow covered doorstoop at the Fin, Fur and Feathers when she arrived to open it for the day. Her heart squeezed nearly refusing to beat, “Why?” Quickly she turned the key in the lock, and jerked opened the door. The kittens slid to one end as she moved the box inside where it was warm. She prayed she would be able to save the kittens. Dialing the veterinary clinic emergency number, she released the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. It was Thursday so she knew the office would be closed, that was exactly why Dr. Rocci had the emergency after hours number.

It made no sense to her. Why take out your anger and frustration on a helpless creature that offers nothing but love in return. The ringing phone intensified her angst. What if the doctor was out of town? What if she...? Finally, a voice on the other end of the phone brought her back to the moment.

“This is Ary at Fin, Fur and Feathers. I’ve got a boxful of newborn kittens, at least I think they are newborn, that were dropped off on the store’s door step sometime last night or early this morning.”

“I’ll be right there,” Rocci’s voice sounded hoarse like she had been woke up from a deep sleep. Ary knew never hesitated when anyone called no matter what the hour or the emergency, or how tired she was. Ary told her what she had and her reaction was swift and comforting.

Thank heavens for Dr. Downs she may have needed a day off more than anyone. But she always responded to a call for help or a critter in need.