CHAPTER 12
MY ASSAILANT SLAMMED AGAINST ME, hitting me right in my chest. Fortunately for me, I’d spent years in kung fu and tucked my head automatically. Which was good because I didn’t hit my head. It was not so good because it put my face far closer to my assailant’s.
I was instantly covered in dog slobber.
“Prince, buddy, chill out,” I managed to get out between happy German Shepherd love licks. I tried giving him the rough petting a manly dog such as Prince felt was the right kind of greeting in order to sort of flip him so I could get to my knees.
Did not achieve this goal because my speaking alerted Prince’s pals, Riley and Duke, that I was fine and, therefore, needed to be licked as well while they, too, received their enthusiastic petting from me. So, I was at the bottom of a dog pile. Prayed there were no reporters lurking about, because this would be, for me, the typical kind of press that I got.
Three men barked three sharp commands and three German Shepherds reluctantly stopped assaulting their perp with love and backed off. Officer Herman Melville trotted over and helped me up.
“Kitty, I’m so sorry. They were waiting for you and were being really well behaved. They were acting like someone was skulking around, though, so we had them on alert.”
“Yeah, thanks, it’s okay, Officer Moe. I was said skulker. Nancy’s short, spy-speak call seemed skulk-worthy.”
Melville winced. Due to how we’d met during Operation Assassination, I’d nicknamed him and his closest pals in the D.C. K-9 unit after the Three Stooges. Larry, who handled Duke, and Curly, who handled Riley, didn’t seem to mind their nicknames. Or else those were their real names and they just hadn’t ever felt the need to tell me I was a good guesser. Melville, however, really hated being called Moe. Under the circumstances, though, I felt he could take the hit for the team and find the will to go on.
“I’m sorry. Prince knows your scent.”
Bent down and gave him more loving. “Yes, he does. Yes, he does! Who knows Kitty? Who does? Prince does! And Riley does! And Duke does!” Gave all three dogs more loving, which they received enthusiastically while pretending they’d gone deaf and couldn’t hear their handlers telling them to back off.
Doggy greetings finally over, and me ready for a shower and a change of clothes, I got fully into my office. Mrs. Maurer wasn’t alone with a quarter of D.C.’s K-9 team—Colette and Abner were in here with her—and everyone was having tea and cookies.
“Squeaky, why all the stealth? And where are all the interns?”
Mrs. Maurer shrugged. “The stealth you’ll find out about. It seemed prudent to tell all the children to go see to things in the lower levels.” The White House had a lot going on underground. Not as much as an A-C facility, but still more than the average place that wasn’t a Disney theme park. “And you do have a package. It was here when I came into your office.” She pointed to my desk, which had a very large cardboard box sitting on it.
“The stealth can’t be because of the dogs. They love you.” Prince had, in fact, saved her life during Operation Defection Election.
“Oh no, not at all.”
Clearly I wasn’t going to get anything specific out of Mrs. Maurer about why she’d been all Moneypenny with me. Meaning it was time find out what was really going on.
Chose to find out what was really going on with the box first. “Did anyone check this for bombs?”
“Yes,” Melville said. “The dogs all sniffed it. Nothing dangerous.” Prince had the best nose east of the Mississippi, so if he felt the box was safe, then the box was safe.
Opened it up to find a rather large turtle statue, about three feet tall, though it was lying down, made out of what appeared to be bronze. At least I thought it was a turtle. It looked kind of like one, though also a lot like Jiminy Cricket, but a frog-like Jiminy Cricket with a turtle shell. Decided to go with turtle and call it good.
Picked it up and only managed it because I was enhanced. “Wow, this is heavy as lead. Well, bronze, I guess.” Put it on the floor next to my desk. Did not plan to keep it there, but figured I should find out who the giver was—and send them pics of me looking thrilled with this gift—before I put it away in storage forever. That was me, FLOTUSing like a pro.
Prince padded over and took a deep sniff of my new statue. Snorted. Per Prince, this smelled like metal. Nothing to see here and nothing to worry about. He dutifully trotted back to Melville.
“What a . . . lovely gift,” Mrs. Maurer said, clearly trying for the positive spin.
“Yeah, and I wonder who sent it. Does some country count weird turtle frogs as their mascot?”
“Sports team, maybe,” Officer Larry suggested.
“Good point.” I was into sports. Perhaps some team wanted me to endorse them. Any team who were called The Weird Turtles or similar could probably use all the help they could get.
Looked inside for a note. There was none. Looked at the box. No return address. No mailing label, either. Was about to ask about this when Vance entered the room.
Vance did not get the same greeting as I had. Vance got eyed by the three dogs, sniffed suspiciously from a distance, then snorted at, so he was aware of their feelings on the subject of him. He was not the K-9 Favorite.
Vance, being Vance, did indeed find the will to go on. “Officers,” he said with a nod, “Nancy sent me a text sharing that you needed our First Lady and only our First Lady. I’ve kept those in the LSR unaware of who’s come to call, but why are you here? More to the point, why are you here undercover?”
By now, anyone who I considered to be in our Circle of Friends knew that Vance was my Chief of Staff. So, Melville wisely didn’t argue about Vance being with us. He just shrugged. “We have a . . . situation at the main precinct and I don’t want to cause the usual media circus.”
Decided this could take a while. Moved the box off my desk and put it in front of the statue because why get into the whole “who sent this?” thing now, then grabbed some tea and cookies for myself and indicated that Vance should do likewise. “Usually the crazed lunatics come right to me.”
“I agree. Not that we’re complaining about you using discretion.” Vance shot Melville a friendly look. “Which puts you in the vast minority. What circus that wants to center around the First Lady are we avoiding?”
“We’re not sure, and this one might have come straight to you,” Melville said. “But she made another stop first, which is why we have her.”
Wondered if the “she” in question might be Stephanie. She was an A-C, though, and it was unlikely that she’d give herself up to anyone, let alone human police officers. And only humans working with and trained by Centaurion would have a chance of catching her if she didn’t want to be caught.
“She went to Harvey Gutermuth, dear,” Mrs. Maurer said, presumably to hurry Melville up. Apparently he wasn’t allowed to be a part of the Anticipatory Statement League today. “That’s why I knew you’d want to be involved as soon as possible.”
“Good thinking. So, who out of our Rogues’ Gallery do you have? My bet would be Casey Jones if Gutermuth was her first stop.”
Melville nodded. “We think that’s who it is. She won’t give her name.”
“She’s been arrested a ton of times.”
“She has. However, she doesn’t . . . match up to our records.”
“How so?”
“Altered fingerprints for one. And she doesn’t look the same as the photos we have of her from the P.T.C.U.”
“As you said, she’s been arrested more than once,” Officer Larry added. “And while those pictures show a natural age progression, how she looks right now . . .” He made a face. “It’s not good if it’s really her.”
“How do you mean?”
“She was a decent looking woman before,” Officer Curly replied. “Now?” He shook his head. “Now, it looks like she’s been rode hard and put away wet for the past decade.”
“Kudos for your likely apt Old West saying. Being from Pueblo Caliente, I really appreciate, and understand, the description.” This earned me a big grin from Officer Curly.
“How did you get her into custody?” Vance asked, presumably before Officer Curly and I could start bantering.
“Gutermuth,” Melville replied. “He called us to share that he had a stalker with a gun following him around. He’s a public person who espouses some nasty views, so it’s not a shock that he could have someone following him, and after the last few months, our Chief takes any complaint like this more than seriously.”
“Did he send you guys to apprehend her?”
“No, K-Nine was not involved. Six cars were sent, she was surrounded and apprehended easily, without a fight. The moment she was captured she started asking for you, Kitty. By name and title.”
“We haven’t received any calls from the D.C.P.D.,” Mrs. Maurer said. “At least not officially, and all calls come through me.”
“I’m sure you haven’t.” Melville shrugged. “Half of the crazies we arrest ask to talk to the President or First Lady.”
“So your Chief sent you to bring me down to the station?”
“No,” Melville said, sounding just a little angry. “We’re not supposed to be here.”