“Don’t have it. So fuck you,” and the line went dead.
Frank slammed the phone down hard enough to pull the top of the base away from the wall. Baby spiders, stung by the sudden light, crawled sleepily out from under the base, setting out for the nooks and crannies of the vet hospital.
Frank knew he didn’t have a choice. He went back up front and opened the front door. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned with exaggerated gestures. “Morning.”
“Good…” Herschell checked his watch. “… afternoon, sir.”
Olaf Halford fixed his stare on Frank. “Wondering if we could come in and take a look around.”
Frank said, “Sure,” but didn’t move. “What are you officers looking for? Maybe I can help you out.”
“Some of the neighbors have expressed concern over the use of the facilities,” Olaf said.
“Neighbors? Didn’t realize I had any,” Frank said, eyeballing the empty, dead houses down the street.
Herschell’s smile was thin and forced. “This whole town is your neighbor, sir.”
“And these concerns…concerned…?”
“The illegal captivity and holding of non-licensed animals.”
“Well, this is a vet hospital. Didn’t realize that sick animals needing my help needed licenses to be treated.”
“We’d like to take a look around,” Herschell said. The “sir” attitude was gone. “We can come back with a search warrant, if you’d like.” Herschell’s tone suggested that this would be a bad idea.
Frank knew it was useless to pretend anymore. “Of course, just curious, that’s all. The animals are back here. Mr. Sturm had ’em brought in special.” There was a distant hope that by mentioning Sturm’s name, these deputies would understand he was simply following orders, same as them.
“Mr. Sturm is subject to the same laws regarding exotic animal captivity as anyone else,” Herschell said, stepping inside. “If these are actually indeed his animals.” Olaf followed, both removing their hats with their left hands. Their right never left the butt of the sidearm.
Frank said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” stalling for time.
“We’ve got these reports. From concerned citizens,” Herschell said, standing solidly in the middle of the room while Olaf wandered around, looking nowhere and everywhere at once. Herschell held his hand up and snapped his fingers, a snapping, dry crack that stabbed Frank’s brain like a dull icepick. When he had Frank’s attention, he said, “I think you know why we’re here.”
Frank shrugged. “I don’t understand the nature of the complaints.”
Herschell brushed past Frank saying, “I think you do,” and followed Olaf through the door to the back of the office. He poked his head in the bathroom, the second examining room, and the back room filled with books. But this was a quick, cursory scan, making sure Frank didn’t have any company.
Frank wondered if Herschell or Olaf had been with Annie.
“Seems like there’s been a whole hell of a lot of different animals in and out of this place in the last few weeks, not to mention the shooting in town, we want to know just what the hell is going on. We got the safety of this town to think about.”
“Yeah. So you’re looking for…?”
“Besides the monkeys out in the barn? And that thing, whatever it is, some kind of retarded elephant?” Herschell opened the door to the cats. “And of course, these little darlins.” He motioned for Frank to follow. Herschell stopped halfway down the cages, triumphant now that the game was up, fishing in the back pocket of his uniform. The cats shrank to the back of their cages, tails flicking, eyes darting.
He held up a sheaf of official looking paper, skipped through a few parts with his index finger, and read out loud, “…here…’for exotic specimen, including, but not limited to, lions, lionesses. Both of ’em. In fact, both male and female for any other species named or unnamed, from henceforth within. Tigers. Cheetas. Any other kind of big cat. One big rhino. A barn full of monkeys.’”
As Herschell read on, Frank knew the cops had been through the hospital, had seen everything. They had already taken a good long look at all of the animals. They’d been in the back room. They’d been through his stuff. And just like that, Olaf brought Frank’s shotgun up from behind him, bringing it up to that peculiarly soft stretch of skin up behind his ear, between his neck muscles and the back of the jawbone. The sharp coldness of the barrel hit his skin back there, strangely gentle, as Olaf’s voice said, “And what the living fuck are you doing with a loaded firearm?”
Frank lifted his arms and spread his fingers wide. “Easy. Easy does it. I’m no criminal.”
“Where you from, Mr. Winchester?” Herschell asked. Olaf pulled the shotgun back. But he remained behind Frank.
“I was born in East Texas. My mom and me, we lived all over the Midwest, we—”
“Where you working now, dipshit,” Olaf said.
“Ohio. Cleveland.”
“Bullshit,” Herschell said. “You seem a little on the slow side, so let me help you understand just how deep the shit is that you have just found yourself in. One,” Herschell counted on his fingers, just to help Frank comprehend. “You got fugitive written all over you. Here you are, no identification, no nothing. You ain’t from Cleveland, I’d bet my badge on that. Two. You seem to be running this vet hospital, but I’ll be damned if I see any of your degrees or certificates or any other crap like that anywhere around. Even the head rat catcher over at the Dole sugar plant has got a certificate of somesuch. What do you got? Fuck all, that’s what. But for whatever reason, you seem to be living here. And treating patients, I might add. Of course, from what I can tell, you ain’t too good at your job. Last I heard, you killed a poor housecat. And that brings us to three and these animals here.” Herschell tapped the cages with the official documents. “This is California, not some jungle village in deepest, darkest Africa.” He shook his head. “You’re in some serious trouble here and you’re just too goddamn dumb to know it.”
Frank didn’t say anything. Herschell seemed disappointed.
“Fine. Fine. Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Herschell said. “We’re gonna take you down to the station, take a pretty picture. Then we’re gonna send that picture out all over the country and I’d be willing to bet somebody, somewhere has a big time hard-on for you.”
Olaf grabbed Frank’s arms and Frank heard the distinct clicking and muted jangling of handcuffs in the small of his back. Real ones this time, not the plastic ones the quiet gentlemen used. There would be no breaking these with a screwdriver.
As if sensing the sudden tension in Frank’s arm muscles, Olaf said, “Give me any trouble and them cats’ll be licking your brains off the floor.” The handcuffs locked into place like a pit bull’s jaws.
* * * * *
They’d gotten Frank out to the cruiser and were just about to lock him in the backseat when Sturm’s pickup bounced into the parking lot in a storm of dust. Herschell and Olaf exchanged glances.
Sturm ambled up like he was being social after church, bare-chested except for the wide swath of bandages strapped around his upper torso. The milky skin on his shoulders had started to glow red in the relentless sun. He had his black cowboy hat squarely over his bald head and the Iron Mistress swung at his hip. “Howdy boys. No trouble with my employee, I hope.”
Herschell nodded. “I’m afraid so. This man has no ID, no license to practice veterinary medicine in California, no nothing. But we got all these animals, none of ’em native to this state, supposedly under his supposed care. Then there’s the animal that got loose. Tiger, I believe. Operation of a firearm on a public street is a violation of County Code 43 and is punishable by fine of not less than three hundred dollars and not more than six hundred dollars,” Herschell recited in a flat, dull voice. “We’ll have to take him down to Redding for this,” he added and nodded at Frank. “I’d hate to think he was taking advantage of us. For the safety of the community, we’re gonna take him in, see if we can’t find out who he really is.”