Maximum Security (A Dog Park Mystery) (29 page)

“A mistake many couples make is to
believe that their partner is all they need. When they do that,
they start closing themselves off to other relationships. They may
even take on a ‘you and me against the world’ mentality. Then they
begin to expect things from each other that the other person just
doesn’t have the capacity to give. No one person can be all things
to another human being.

“I think, on some level, you’re
aware of this, above and beyond your intimacy issues. It’s critical
that you build a definition of intimacy that has a place for
community. Your community, Peter’s community, and the community you
share.

“Does Peter have friends of his
own?”

“He’s got Brent,” Lia said. “He
likes Jim and Jose at the park, but they’ve never done anything
together away from the park. They’ve got a softball team at the
station and he plays.”

“What does he do on his days
off?”

“If we’re not doing something
together, he mostly watches sports on TV.”

“Normally I would be concerned
about him spending all his personal time vegging out. However,
Peter has a very demanding job and he’s interacting with people
much of the time. It’s quite possible that he needs time to himself
to regenerate.

“Whereas you spend your working
hours alone and need stimulation and social engagement when you’re
not working. It’s a fundamental difference. In many couples, it
would be a major source of conflict. In your case, your needs may
be complimentary. Peter might need private space as much as you
need your autonomy.”

“It’s not just that. He’s also
very protective. I find it a bit stifling.”

“Protective, how?”

“He’s concerned that something
will happen to me again. He gave me a kubotan for my birthday.” Lia
fished her keys out of her pocket and handed them to Asia. “It’s
got pepper spray, too.”

Asia examined the rose-colored
tube. “I’ve seen these before. This is designed for police duty.
How do you feel about having it?”

“I’m thinking it’s his way of
protecting me when he’s not there, so he doesn’t worry about me so
much. He also signed me up for self-defense classes.”

“That may be so, but how do you
feel about it?”

“Kinda warm and fuzzy, in an odd
way.”

“Has Peter ever attempted to limit
who your friends were or your contact with them?”

“There was last year. He didn’t
want me being around anyone alone.”

“Are you referring to the ‘Bucky’
situation?”

“Yes, back then.”

“How do you feel about that in
retrospect?”

“I didn’t like it at the time.”
She shrugged. “Turns out he was right to be concerned. If I had
listened to him, I might not have a bullet hole in my
leg.”

“Does he still try to restrict
your friendships?”

“No, why?”

“Sometimes controlling behavior is
misinterpreted as ‘protective’ and it winds up isolating a woman
from her other relationships. It’s one of the first signs of an
abuser.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. He
wants me to keep the screen door locked if I have the front door
open, park near streetlights at night, stuff like that.

“He’s unhappy about me associating
with this woman, Kate, but that’s because she’s connected with a
murder he’s investigating. She’s a person of interest. Someone
stashed evidence in her car. He says he doesn’t want me near
someone who has drawn the attention of a murderer.”

“How do you feel about
that?”

“He has a point. I like Kate, and
I can't help running into her since she’s staying with my best
customer. But I’m willing to take precautions.”

“Does Peter get angry when he
knows you’re seeing her?”

“He’ll sigh, but he lets it
go.”

“Sounds like you think his concern
is reasonable. Is that correct?”

“Pretty much.”

“Does he ever suggest that you
don’t need to work so much and that he would like to take care of
you?”

“No, huh-uh.”

“How would you feel about it if he
did?”

“I wouldn’t like it. My art isn’t
just about money, it’s my life. Anyone who loves me should
understand that. Why do you ask?”

“I haven’t talked to you in a long
time, so I don’t know how things have been going with Peter. This
is another one of those red-flags for an abusive partner. Sometimes
the offer is perfectly generous, but other times it’s a way for a
man to make a woman totally dependent on him, so he can gain
control.”

“No, it’s nothing like
that.”

“Okay. I just had to make
sure.”

“You’re scaring me a bit. Peter is
not abusive or controlling. He’s just old-fashioned and he’s a
cop.”

“I don’t want to alarm you. Most
likely, an abuser would have started showing his true self by now,
and he would not have given you a weapon that you could turn
against him, not unless he was very sure of his control over
you.

“I think you’ll be fine,” Asia
concluded.

“Boy, that sure makes my issues
with Peter sound petty.”

“Your issues are not petty at all.
You have an absolute right to pursue the kind of life that is going
to make you happiest. It’s so much better for you to be asking
questions at this point instead of jumping into a commitment and
finding out the terms later.”

Terry point an authoritative finger
in the air. “As Samuel Johnson said, ‘Marriage is the triumph of
imagination over intelligence. A second marriage is the triumph of
hope over experience.’”

Lia leaned over and whispered to
Bailey, “Wasn’t that Oscar Wilde?”

“Don’t tell Terry he’s quoting
Oscar Wilde,” Bailey whispered back. “He’ll have to wash his mouth
out.”

“When I lived in Alaska,” Terry
continued, “I had a bumper sticker that said, ‘In Juneau, you don’t
lose your woman, you lose your turn.’ Relationships there are
extremely inbred.”

Bailey leaned over to Lia. “The way
I heard it, in Alaska the women say, ‘The odds are good, but the
goods are odd.’”

Lia stifled a snort.

“What’s that you said, Bailey?”
Jose asked. “I couldn’t hear it.”

“Never mind,” Bailey
said.

“When anyone bugs me about how
many times I’ve been married,” Terry soldiered on, “I say, ‘You
fall off a horse, you can either sit on the porch sniveling, or
hitch up your pants, go out to the corral, and saddle something
else.’”

“But four times?” Bailey
asked.

“What can I say? I like women,”
Terry declared.

“Apparently, they don’t like you,”
Jim observed.

“I’m glad you said that. I wasn’t
about to,” Bailey said.

“Hey, my average relationship
lasts longer than most TV series. Or NFL careers, for that
matter.”

“I don’t want to be a TV series.
Did you learn anything from your four marriages?” Lia
asked.

“Sure. I can now repeat my
mistakes perfectly, every time.” Terry ended the topic by turning
to Jose and launching into his thoughts about the registration of
ammo and the latest commentary by Rush Limbaugh.

“Looks like the sensitivity
portion of today’s programming is over,” Bailey said.

“Speaking of sensitive, I can’t
believe you didn’t warn me ahead of time about Sunday,” Lia
said.

“Warn you about what?” Bailey
asked.

Lia turned to Jim. “I let her do
her astrology thing with Peter and me and she pops out all this
stuff about financial interdependence and domestic partnership.
Some birthday present.”

“You wanted me to lie?” Bailey
asked. “I thought you wanted to know if it made sense to go to the
next level.”

“I don’t know what I wanted,” Lia
grumbled. “It was just a shock, hearing that.”

“Astrology is powerful stuff,”
Bailey said. “Besides, I said all that stuff about Uranus meaning
you had to have a nontraditional relationship. Doesn’t that make up
for it?”

Lia’s phone beeped. She pulled it
out of her pocket, checked the display.

“Hey, Jerome. What’s
up?”

“I meant to call you yesterday,
but I got busy and forgot until this morning.”

“No problem. What’s going
on?”

“I saw a German Shepherd when I
was out making deliveries. She looked like the dog in your
poster.”

“You saw Daisy?” The voices around
her hushed.

“I think so. I’m sorry I wasn’t
able to stop and check her out, I was running late.”

“That’s okay, tell me everything
you remember. Where was it?”

“It was on Knowlton, where Fergus
ends. This skinny dark-haired woman was walking her. They were
headed toward Hamilton Avenue.

“I was thinking, most people walk
their dogs around the same time every day, and they usually have a
route they stick to. If you hung out at the right time, you might
see her.”

“When was it?” Lia
asked.

“It was right around
eleven.”

“That’s great Jerome. Thanks for
calling me.”

Lia stuck the phone back in her
pocket. “Okay, who’s up for surveillance?”

Bailey and Jose had to work all day
and couldn’t help. Lia pulled the first shift, 10:30 a.m. to 12:30
p.m., Terry was on next from 12:30 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. Jim drew the
late shift. He met Terry a few blocks down from the end of
Fergus.

“No luck,” Terry said. “I had to
fend off an amorous Chihuahua and I met a couple of pit bull mixes,
but no German Shepherds to speak of.”

Jim sat in his Caliber, working on
his third crossword of the afternoon. Fleece sat at his side,
occasionally pawing his arm for attention. He figured Daisy’s
current owner had been headed to Hoffner Park when she was spotted.
That was where he’d take a dog if he lived in the neighborhood. He
was positioned so they would have to pass by him, whichever
direction they had come from.

He was puzzling over the clue,
“Image on Irish euro coins,” when he spotted two children with a
large dog crossing Fergus on the north side of the street. He
quietly got out of his car and took Fleece up the sidewalk so he
would intersect with them.

As the children approached, he
could see them more clearly. The eldest was a girl around eleven or
twelve with dark, stringy hair and jeans that were too short. She
wore her tennis shoes without socks. Her brother was about five or
six, with a round face and an intense look about him. The dog did
indeed look like the picture of Daisy in his pocket.

When they got within range, Daisy
started straining toward Jim and Fleece. Jim walked closer so the
dogs could sniff each other. “Friendly dog you have,” he said.
“What’s her name?”

“Xena,” the girl said. “Mom says
she’s like the warrior princess on TV.”

“She does look like a warrior
princess. You must be really strong to walk her all by
yourselves.”

The girl shrugged. The boy, who was
petting Fleece, looked up and grinned. “Yeah,” he said.

Jim stroked ‘Xena’s’ head. “Sure is
friendly. How long have you had her?”

“Since she was a pup,” the boy
piped up. “That’s what Mom says to say, since she was a
pup.”

The girl gave her brother a
quelling look. “We gotta go, Mister. We’re not supposed to talk to
strangers.” She moved to go past him.

“You going to the
park?”

“Yeah!” the boy said. “The park!
The park! The park!” He hopped up and down for emphasis. His sister
rolled her eyes.

He moved aside. Daisy craned her
neck as she walked by, watching Jim with intelligent eyes. He
wondered if she remembered him.

He walked Fleece down the block,
then turned around and headed toward Hamilton Avenue, keeping the
children in sight while they crossed at the light and turned South.
He arrived at the corner in time to see the children cutting into
the park.

Jim went back to his car, then
circled the block. As he drove, he examined the array of modest
Victorian era, clapboard shotguns. He passed a vacant lot and noted
an overgrown greenbelt running behind all the houses.

The renaissance that was spreading
through Northside was just starting to take root on Knowlton. A few
houses were fully refurbished. A couple had scaffolding on front, a
precursor to coming improvements. Some were slipping into ruin in
the clash of income levels that was characteristic of the
area.

He wondered which of the pastel
colored houses was theirs. Not one of the rehabs. He noted the ones
with peeling exteriors, listing porches and dull colors, zeroing in
on one painted an unfortunate shade of Pepto Bismol pink with a
cyclone fence in front and a rusty bike chained to the porch. The
original porch columns with their gingerbread trim were long gone,
replaced sometime in the Seventies with scrolled aluminum supports.
Broken concrete steps led to the porch.