“He’s our detection dog. Just like Blaze hunted down Officer Harris, Snoops is going to track a certain scent. I’ve covertly given one of you a handkerchief to hide on your person.” I gave it to Boots because she got here first today, not because it gives me pleasure to watch a firefighter’s wife get implicated as a criminal. Even though it might. “Please line up along the fence to see how quickly Snoops can track it down.”
I glance at Boots out of the corner of my eye to see where she decides to stand. Far end. That will drag out the demonstration. Make everyone wonder if Snoops is really doing his job or not.
I nod toward the same trainer, waiting by the kennel. She leads out a basset hound with big floppy ears and a long belly that rocks ridiculously close to the ground. Snoops doesn’t move with Blaze’s energy or precision, though he will perform just as well by waddling right down to the end of the row and alerting on Boots.
He doesn’t. He never makes it past Gemma, but rather, he sits in front of her and stares up.
Gemma looks at me, her baby blues asking for help.
Blood pulses through my ears. I close my eyes. If she has so much as a leftover peanut from airline travel in her purse, I am kicking her out of the class. We specifically told her the food rule when she arrived late.
“Hey,” Charlie calls. “Is that why you were late, Gem? You were stashing the handkerchief in your purse?”
If only.
Harris jogs out from the kennel, wearing his standard movie star smile. “Snoops is definitely alerting us that he’s found what he’s looking for. Good boy, Snoops.” My classroom assistant has removed his bite suit, but he still has some catching up to do.
The trainer looks at me. She knows this was not the plan.
Boots steps out from her spot as the last in line, waving the handkerchief I gave her. “I thought Snoops was supposed to alert on me.”
A line of faces swivel toward Boots then back my way. Kai and Charlie continue their head-swivel all the way to Gemma.
Kai groans. “I was only joking about you wanting to be frisked, Gem.”
“You said that?” Gemma’s hands rise to press against pink cheeks. “I don’t wanna be frisked.”
And I don’t want to have to frisk her. I roll my eyes toward heaven, questioning God’s sense of humor.
“Whoa, boy,” Harris hoots. Thankfully he’s now caught onto what’s happening and can take over the class while I have another little chat with my nemesis. “Follow me, folks.” He leads them away on what I assume will become a tour of the kennels.
The line of students straggles past, shooting Gemma and me curious looks.
Larry slows to hand her a business card. “I’m a defense attorney. I can get you out of whatever trouble you’re in.”
Gemma stares at him, too shocked to reach for the card. “What?”
“Move along, Wolfman.” His moniker fits this situation. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
He tucks the business card back in his shirt pocket. “You can find me online. Larry Murphey at Murphey’s Law.” He smirks once more before jogging to catch up with the group.
Kai and Charlie stay behind, flanking a rather pale Gemma. Either she’s scared or her coconut-scented sunblock has proven very effective.
“I swear Gemma doesn’t do drugs,” Charlie vouches. “Though she might have some vitamins in her purse or something. She’s super healthy, and you didn’t say anything about vitamins.”
I swipe my flashlight off my belt and stride toward her. “Open your purse, please.”
That’s a safer place to start than having her face the fence and “spread ’em.”
She lifts the purse’s long strap off her shoulder and over her head without a word, then flips the top flap open. It’s still pretty bright outside, but there are shadows inside her bag that could hide a forgotten ketchup packet or protein shake mix. I should have made all the women leave their purses behind.
My beam of light instantly reflects against something silver and shiny. Something T-bone shaped. My stomach drops.
Gemma gasps with dismay at being caught. I know she’s guilty, because there’s no way this was an accident.
I reach inside and pull out the foil packet. Who puts a steak in their purse and forgets about it? Or rather, who even puts a steak in their purse?
“Nefarious,” Kai says.
