“Where have you been?” Carla asked as I entered the K-9 kennels again.
“Acclimating, just like Miguel suggested. Ricco is your dog?”
“Yeah, he rides shotgun for me in the back seat.”
“You want to go patrol that school? I have some ideas. Tom checked out some of them, and he suggested we talk to the kids, see how they are doing after the shooting, see if anybody will talk about anything fishy. Are kids allowed to pet Ricco?”
“Sure, he may look fierce but he is also well socialized. He doesn’t just bring down fleeing suspects. He sniffs for drugs and he’s learning how to find people in situations like avalanches and earthquakes. You two have a lot in common. You’ve got the eyes and he’s got the nose.”
“Look! A dog!”
“It’s a police dog!” Carla said brightly.
“Hey can I pet him?”
“Sure, and thank you for asking. It’s always smart to ask before you pet any service dog,” Carla said. “He might be working and you shouldn’t interrupt a service dog when he’s at work.”
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Ricco.”
“Hi, Ricco, what are you doing at school?” the boy asked.
“We’re just keeping an eye on things, seeing how the school is reacting to the things that happened last week.”
“What’s Ricco doing?”
“He’s just visiting the students. He likes kids.”
“That’s cool, Ricco, you get a uniform and everything. I wish my dog had a uniform. My mom puts bows on his ears. But a uniform, that’s cool!”
More kids talked to Ricco than they did to us. Ricco basked in all the attention. I was beginning to think the day was a waste of time when we met a little girl on the playground. She was timid, afraid at first that the big dog was as mean as he looked. Boys thought Ricco was cool. Girls stayed back for some reason. This little girl was an animal lover. There were bunnies on her sweatshirt and her shoes had Dalmatian spots.
“Will he bite?” she asked.
“No, he won’t bite. He only bites bad guys and only when he’s told to.”
“Hey doggie, you should have been here when we did have bad guys. It was scary. But you’re lucky you weren’t. He’d probably have shot you too.”
“Did you see the man?” Carla asked reluctantly. Well, it seemed that way but she didn’t want to appear eager to hear something that bothered the girl so much.
“No, my teacher locked the door so he couldn’t get in. But she was scared. She was real scared and she kept saying, ‘How did they know?’ which I didn’t understand at all. If Mrs. T was scared, I was scared, too, because Mrs. T is a smart lady. She is the nicest teacher. I used to hate school until I got in her class. She tells us interesting stories and she grew up on an island far away.”
“I bet all the teachers were frightened. It’s scary to have people shooting nearby.”
“Yeah, I think most of them were, but not the same as Mrs. T. She called in sick two days in a row and we had to have a sub. The sub was no fun. It was just work, work, work. Does the dog shake hands?”
“Yeah, just say, ‘Ricco, shake.’”
The little girl shook Ricco’s hand then ran off to play.
Carla and I looked at each other. We patrolled the grounds for the rest of the school day and when the kids lined up we asked where we could find Mrs. T’s class. We watched Mrs. T as one by one her students were released to their parents or sent to the bus. She was a middle-aged Filipino woman, dressed conservatively in navy blue slacks and a colorful tropical-patterned blouse. Her long black hair was pulled up into an immense ponytail and she smiled broadly when she spoke of the students. She greeted each parent warmly and ruffled the hair of the kids as she spoke. When she wasn’t busy, though, she seemed nervous, glancing around her as though she was expecting an ambush.
“What do you think?” Carla asked me.
“Technically, this is Tom’s case. I don’t think we should interfere.”
“Right, I just wish we had a name.”
We went to the front desk and after asking for Mrs. T we were told that Miss Tumibay had left for the day. Apparently Mrs. T was single and in a big hurry or possibly she was refusing visits from outsiders. We left the office satisfied that we at least had a name. Then Carla and I walked the halls until we found the classroom of Miss Kima Tumibay.
“I say Tom takes it from here,” Carla suggested.
Riding back to the station, Carla radioed for Tom’s twenty and found out he was not at the station. She left a message for him to call one of us when he returned to his office.
When we arrived at the station I headed for Rusty’s office. I knocked quietly and peeked in the window. He recognized the knock and came to the door. His smile lit up the room. He glanced at my uniform and sidearm. I’d had to be in cop mode for the day even if I was just talking to kids.
“I didn’t expect you in town today. What have you been up to?”
“Information gathering. Carla and I patrolled the school to see how the kids were coping. Since we decided we spend too many quiet evenings at home, I thought you might like to stay in town for a while.”
“It’s still early. I just stopped by the office for a file. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes. Can I catch you back here in an hour or two?”
“Sure, but it’s going to cost you,” I answered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m going to see if I can find an outfit I can enjoy the evening in.”
I was tired of this always happening. I was beginning to think I needed a closet in my Jeep. If I wore my uniform I ended up needing civvies. A couple of times I had stopped at the station to take out my frustration on the punching bag only to find myself dressed all wrong. I needed a dress, a jeans outfit, my uniform and exercise clothes at the station. What I really needed was a locker but maybe a gym bag in the back of my Jeep would do for now.
I am not Ms. Shopper by a long shot. I don’t enjoy shopping unless I am with my mom or sister and they help get me in the proper shopping mood. When I’m shopping alone I’ll decide on precisely what I need and only look for that one item. This time I decided that whatever I wore would tell Rusty what kind of an evening he was in for. But I also decided that I wanted something wrinkle resistant that would pack easily so that if I kept it folded and stored in a gym bag maybe it would remain wearable for when it was needed. Finding outfits that fit had never been a problem. Anything in a 5 or 7 usually worked well. The
