Unleashed- Case of the Hound About Town Read online

  Unleashed: Case of the Hound About Town

  By Erik Schubach

  Copyright © 2019 by Erik Schubach

  Self publishing

  P.O. Box 523

  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

  Cover Photo © 2019 Vadymvdrobot & FotoJagodka / Depositphotos licenses

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  FIRST EDITION

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 – Flight

  Chapter 2 – Belfast International Airport

  Chapter 3 – Settling In

  Chapter 4 – Sydenham Home for Girls

  Chapter 5 – Rules

  Chapter 6 – Supervised Visit

  Chapter 7 – Bed Time

  Chapter 8 – Mortal Enemies

  Chapter 9 – Hound

  Chapter 10 – Adventure

  Chapter 11 – Oh Fin

  Chapter 12 – Quarry Road

  Chapter 13 – Grand Dog Niece

  Chapter 14 – Going Home

  Epilogue

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  Chapter 1 – Flight

  Damn, this was going to be a wild ride! I sat on the Boeing 777-200 going through the pre-flight flows. I downloaded the charts and NOTAMs, or Notices to Airmen, and took a second to study them before downloading the latest weather and forecasts between New York and Belfast, Ireland.

  There were a couple of storm cells over the Atlantic but we'd avoid them unless their projected path changed during the nine-hour flight.

  Next?

  PAX, cargo, fuel. I looked out the window to see cargo and fuel being loaded while the passengers continued flowing in to fill the seats.

  And last on the pre-flight flows before moving onto the pre-flight checklist, IVAO/VATSIM flight plan. I pulled up the new software I had loaded last night and looked over the flight plan. Then just to make sure all our bases were covered, I pulled up recent traffic patterns over both New York and Belfast to... huh? Wha? No no no, I'm not a pilot. I guess I should introduce myself, the name is Finnegan Temperance McLeary-May, dog walker extraordinaire, at your service. No really, at your service, you can hire me online in the Manhattan area at FinneganWalks.com. Though there is a substantial waiting list.

  I'd strike a pose for you but I'm currently trying to keep the rising panic attack of flying for the first time in my life from overwhelming me and putting me into a catatonic state. Gah! Humans were never meant to fly, if we were, we'd have wings! I started to hyperventilate again like I had at the boarding gates.

  My faithful sidekick, and second in command whined. I looked down at my feet in the first class section to my adorable border collie service dog, Calvin, and gave him a strained smile. I didn't need to stress the poor boy out with my irrational fears.

  I exhaled slowly as I smoothed the skirt of my long sleeve, black sweater dress, trying to control my breathing and get the roiling knot tightening in my gut like a fist to relax as my wife, Jane, placed a hand on my arm.

  She looked at me in concern and asked, “Are you sure you don't want a tranquilizer, Fin? You're as white as a ghost.”

  I leaned in and whispered, perhaps a tad too sharply, “I don't want to be drowsy or asleep if the plane spirals out of control over the Atlantic.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Love, statistically speaking...”

  I gleeped out to her under my breath so the other passengers moving past to the coach seats couldn't hear, “I know, it is two thousand times more likely we would all die in a car accident than in this flying tin deathtrap which will be held up only by rushing air... something we cannot even see. And that's another reason I prefer to walk everywhere back home. So wipe that smug cop smirk off your jerk cop face, woman.”

  She said haughtily, “Fine.”

  I growled back, “Fine!” Then she offered her hand to me and I took it in a white-knuckled grip as she kissed the top of my head. Ok, that made me feel just a little bit better.

  If someone would have told me just a year ago that I would willingly; well as willingly as I had been a few minutes ago; get on an airplane flying anywhere, let alone across the ocean, I would have laughed myself unconscious. Then maybe giggled a bit while unconscious. But here I was, and it was for the only reason under the sun for which I would do it. Jane and I were heading to Ireland to meet Luce, the girl who might just become our daughter if all went well with the orphanage.

  The process has been long and grueling and emotionally taxing. And now we needed to spend some actual time with her, instead of on FaceTime and telephone or text conversations across an ocean. My excitement for the possibility of becoming a mother just barely out-edged the sheer terror that was welling up inside of me at the thought of flying.

  A little girl with a cute Irish accent called out from the aisle, “A doggie!”

  I looked past Jane to see a little one, no older than about four or five years old, pulling at her mother's hand, trying to get to Calvin, who stood, his tail wagging as he cocked his head at the girl. The man behind the woman and child said, “Abbey, that's a working dog, you can't just...”

  I smiled at the young Irish family who was likely heading back home after a vacation in New York City. “No, it's alright. Calvin here loves children, and he's sort of off duty until we land.”

  Not entirely true, I trained him as an emotional support dog originally so that he could ride public transportation with me and go into buildings that normally restricted animals, but irony caught up with me and he has truly become my emotional support when Jane or the girls weren't around. And I was sure he was going to help me from becoming a gibbering mess on this flight.

  The man softened at the excitement on his daughter's face and he sighed as they moved out of the way of other first-class passengers coming in. “Just for a second.” Then to me, as the mother let go of the girl who squealed as she almost tripped over Jane's feet and engulfed an excited Cal's neck in a hug, “She's got us wrapped around her pinky.”

  I beamed a smile at him. “Of course, just look how adorable she is in her little green dress.” Then I told Abbey as she started patting Calvin's head as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, “His full name is Sir Calvin Cornelius Fluffytoes.”

  She tried to repeat it. “Sir Calvin Cornnell... corn.”

  I offered, “Cal for short.”

  She smiled since that was easier for a tiny one like her to say.

  The mother put her hand out, grasping. “Ok, Abbs, let's get to our seats.”

  The little girl started to reach for her mother's hand, then looked back at Calvin and launched back into a hug and then took her mom's hand as she said, “Goodbye Cal, I love you.”

  The father mouthed, “Thank you,” to me and I winked as he led his girls toward their seats in the first class section.

  I had to giggle when I heard an excited Abbey telling her parents like they hadn't just witnessed
the whole thing, “I petted a doggie. Cal is so big and so nice...”

  Jane looked down to a pleased-looking Calvin, looking smart in his service dog bib. He loved kids. “Don't get full of yourself, buddy. You gotta fit your head out the door when we land.” Then belying her words, she reached over to give him some good scritches behind his ears. She was such a soft touch for the detective they called the Ice Queen back at the precinct.

  I whispered, “They're such a cute family.”

  Jane's face softened and I could see her own hope in her eyes as she said, “We might come home a family too, pipsqueak.” I laid my head on her arm and just thought about the excitement of it all.

  If everything went well with the supervised and unsupervised visits, we could be flying home with Luce for the thirteen week trial placement period before the judge signs off on the adoption to make it final. I don't know why nobody has adopted Luce before this. She's so smart, sensible, organized, and cute as a button.

  Originally we had been looking for orphaned toddlers or young ones from impoverished nations, none older than five. Not once had we thought of adopting an older child like Luce, who is almost twelve now. But then we got a call from the legal firm who was representing us in the adoption process, about this girl in Northern Ireland. She's an eleven-year-old who has a few quirks, that among them is pronounced obsessive-compulsive behavior. It isn't too severe, but is enough to scare off most prospective parents.

  Most people looking to adopt, can't look past her quirks, as she is on the spectrum, signs of Asperger syndrome. They say older children like her, especially with unusual quirks, are usually in the system until they age out of the system when they become adults, and never find a family of their own.

  I know most people believe I'm on the spectrum too, with my borderline OCD, and need to organize and label everything... but that is just good sense. Fine whatever, I may be on the spectrum but my parents never saw the need to get me tested. So shut up and let me tell you the story.

  I got lost in Jane's big, dark eyes, they had the slightest almond shape to them, indicating a dash of Asian heritage as she raised a hand to cup my cheek, the sun through the window glistening on her shiny black hair. How in the seven canine lords of Nebula B had I gotten so lucky for her to have chosen me?

  I squeaked in distress, almost jumping out of my seat in a panic when I heard the doors being closed and sealed on the plane. By the swishing tail and lolling tongue, she had been distracting me! The smirk on her face was all the confirmation I needed, the... the jerk!

  She held me down, a hand on my shoulder as I started to rise, not knowing what to do as I found it hard to breathe in quick shallow breaths. My eyes darted around and locked on the materials haphazardly stuffed into a slot by the large tv screen in front of us. I reached out and pulled it all out and organized it in alphabetical order, placing the placard with the flight safety protocols, which I had already downloaded and memorized last night, up front. Or should I have sorted by size?

  I looked around and whispered in a shaky voice as adrenaline flooded my system, “It's so cramped in here... is it supposed to be so cramped?”

  Jane chuckled fondly at me and assured me, “This is first class, love, the only seats with more space on the plane would be the two private first class cabins just behind the mess there. Even such a petite woman like yourself would find there is no legroom in coach.”

  Her brow furrowed as she prompted, “I'm afraid to ask how much these tickets set us back.”

  I had to smile at that. It was the first time she had said 'us' when talking about finances since we got married. I know she felt a little insecure at first, what with me making more money offering my dog walking services to the elite than she did as a detective with the NYPD. Heck, even our handsome fuzzy boy made more than both of us combined with the fortune his prior mother left him before she was killed and I adopted him.

  I felt awkward because she felt awkward, but after we sat down and combined our finances and disclosed all of our holdings to each other, she started to ease into how marriage worked. It wasn't a competition or anything, as we both contributed to our happiness and security as a couple. It is how a marriage, and soon, a family worked.

  But of course, we agreed that she keep her old bank account, where she can stuff what she calls her 'mad money' into. Why would money make you mad, unless you owed it to someone else? Hey, don't look at me like that.

  She knows how much I like planning. I had printed out a checklist and laminated it for this trip to make sure we didn't forget anything or get surprised by anything unexpected. So she had gladly allowed me to organize while she drank a beer from the refrigerator with the girls, from the crisper drawer I had labeled 'Jane's Contraband.'

  I shrugged and shared, “Nothing. I used the points we've accrued on the Central Park Tails business cards. We split the points up between the employees as a sort of bonus.”

  CPT was the dog rescue that Calvin and I owned just a block from Central Park. We had used some of his inheritance to set it up and our stipend from the trust account. The rent we get from the dog walkers who rent the little apartments above it, as well as the donations we receive as a nonprofit, are more than enough to run the shelter and give us emergency funding. What monies are left over go into a few select charities which support worthy causes.

  Jane's eyes widened. “How many points did it cost for two first class international tickets?”

  “One hundred and six thousand.”

  Now she was blinking in shock. “And your share of the points covered that much?”

  Again I shrugged. “The rescue is sitting on just over four million points now, so our share is just over one point three million.”

  She stared at me gape-jawed for a moment, then shut her mouth as she took that in. Then she seemed to shake herself out of the shock and smirked. “Just over one point three? That's not very precise.”

  I tried to fight it, but I blurted out quickly, “One point three three ad infinitum!” I exhaled then said with a smirk of my own, “I just rounded down for your tiny little cop brain to understand.”

  The smile she beamed at me made me weak in my knees and caused a heat to rush through me. She enjoyed our arguments as much as I did. I suspect she enjoys the makeup sex that usually follows as much as I did too.

  She was the most stubborn, aggravating, grating, thoughtful, loving, intelligent woman I knew. And she is mine. Cue up swoon mode. I sighed.

  Then I almost leapt out of my seat again when a flight attendant standing in the aisle started saying over the intercom, “Welcome to British Airways flight 405. Before we are pushed back to taxi, I need to go over some safety...”

  I listened as I dove onto the placard with the same safety procedures printed on it and read along, then checked my seatbelt five times, readjusting it each time. I hesitated as the woman was finishing, and I narrowed an eye at the overly pleased looking copper beside me. Hey... she had just been distracting me from my panic. Ok... I loved her for that.

  When the other passengers started moaning after I had asked a few questions for clarification on some procedures and asked about some of the redundant and backup safety systems this particular model of 777 was equipped with, I whined out to everyone, “What? She asked if anyone had any questions. Safety is nothing to be lax about and it is only prudent to establish...”

  Jane's hand on my arm and an expectant look on her face made me zip my lips. I sat back and pouted. Then the attendant assured me, “I could ask the captain to come back and speak with you about the safety equipment once we get to cruising altitude if you wish ma'am.”

  I paled and whispered out in shock, my eyes wide, “The pilot leaves the cockpit when the plane is in flight?” I could feel all the blood drain from my face.

  Jane assured the woman when she looked concerned as I started mumbling to myself, “It's her first time flying. She has a touch of anxiety about it.”

  The woman nodded, casting one las
t concerned look at me, before nodding once again and moving back to the intercom controls to do her greeting and introduction speech which followed the safety procedures. I growled to myself, causing Calvin to look up from where he was laying down, as a passenger behind us complained about me, “This is going to be a long flight.”

  Except for the little scream I had to smother with my hand a little later as we took off, I think it went well. I may or may not have passed out for the first quarter of the flight across the Atlantic. You weren't there so you can't prove a thing.

  Chapter 2 – Belfast International Airport

  When we landed early in the morning, Belfast time, I was totally convinced that I had been right about flying from the beginning. It was everyone else that was nucking futs.

  The whole time I could feel us moving through the air, but it was dark outside and no lights from below made it seem as though we were in a never-ending tunnel, and I couldn't tell if we were flying or falling.

  The couple bouts of turbulence we experienced, had me cowering in my seat, holding a magazine above my head as if it could protect me from fiery doom.

  I do admit though, as the sun rose and I could see the ocean below then the cities of Ireland passing beneath us as we flew into Belfast, that I was amazed. Calvin and Jane? Cool as cucumbers through the whole ordeal. They may be sadists.

  Jane had snored gently through the bulk of the trip. How could she sleep when we could die at any moment?

  Calvin even took the time to wrap the flight attendants around his fluffy paws, and he had to go back to visit little Abbey twice.

  The moment I stepped out of that plane, I felt all the anxiety which had been suffocating me, just bleed away into excitement, knowing that we were in the city where Luce was waiting for us. I hesitated as we made our way up to customs when a realization hit me. I whispered to Jane, “We're in a different country.”

  She nodded, knowing I had never really ventured far from the Liberty or Manhattan area my whole life. Mostly because I had always refused to fly, but I had never even headed upstate to Buffalo and Niagara Falls to cross over into Canada.