Deke Devlin Dog Detective - The Case of the Hit and Run Hubcap

Chapter 6 - The Junkyard

The junkyard was fascinating. Wrecked and rusting cars of all kinds were were lined up in rows, some stacked four cars high. There was a large metal shed where the parts of many cars had already been stripped off. Engines, transmissions, fenders, hoods - just about every part of a car you could imagine - were sitting on racks and ready for sale. I even found some tail lights that looked just like the ones I'd seen driving off the night before.

While Mike and the Colonel haggled with the junkyard's owner, Mr. Haney, over the price of some car parts, Josh and I walked up and down the aisles of cars. We made sure not to touch anything because Mike said a junkyard was a dangerous place. When we turned a corner into an open area, a large rottweiler jumped up and ran toward us, growling ferociously. It was Scrapper, the leader of the pack of stray dogs that roamed our neighborhood. Several of his gang started to surround us.

"Well, who do we have here?" Scrapper growled. Josh stepped back as I jumped forward to meet the threat.

"I'm Deke Devlin," I growled back while I raised the hackles on my back. Scrapper and I had never met before, but we knew each other by reputation. I knew he was a biter, but I wasn't afraid of him. I'd heard he was almost put down for biting a kid, but his Mr. Haney was somehow able to buy his freedom.

"The famous Deke Devlin - big hero war dog. What are you doing in my junkyard?" Scrapper barked.

"My owner, Mike, came looking for some car parts", I growled back.

"And this boy," Scrapper snarled, "is he with you or is he my lunch?"

"Back off, Scrapper," I roared as I bared my teeth right in his face. If Scrapper wanted any trouble, he was going to get it from me. After a few seconds, Scrapper stepped backwards.

"You're on my turf, hero. But, hey, I'm feeling generous, today, so I'm gonna let you go," Scrapper said. "And you can take that boy with you." He was trying to sound tough, but it was clear that he really did not want to get into a fight with me.

One of Scrapper's strays chimed in, "Yeah, you get outta here before we change our mind."

I wasn't about to turn my back on this crowd, so I slowly backed out with Josh by my side. Before we turned the corner, a chihuahua and a shaggy terrier mix ran past us, almost knocking Josh down.

"Scrapper. Look what we got. A bag of ch-ch-chicken scraps, a half a loaf of bread and, and, and this old shirt," stuttered the chihuahua.

"Yeah, the bread's a little moldy, but it's still good," said the shaggy dog.

I hadn't seen the shaggy dog before, but I knew the chihuahua. His name was Pablo. I had chased him out of my yard a couple of times. I, also, recognized the shirt. It was one of Mike's old tee shirts. It was so full of holes that Carol made him throw it out. If Pablo had Mike's shirt, he got it out of the Devlin's trash. And if he was in the Devlin's trash, he may have witnessed the crash.

"Hey, Pablo. Where'd you get that shirt?" I asked.

Pablo was so startled that his eyes bugged out. He hadn't expected to see me at the junkyard. "What?" he said.

"That is Mike's old tee shirt. You were my trash again!" I barked.

"No I wasn't. I f-f-found this shirt over on, on, on Sixth Street, nowhere near your house," Pablo lied.

"Did you see the car that crashed into Mike's car?" I said.

"Yeah, it almost killed me," said Pablo. He realized he'd been caught in a lie, so he tried to backtrack. "I mean, no, no, no, I didn't see anything. I don't even know w-w-what you're talking about."

"Tell me what happened, Pablo," I growled.

"He doesn't have to tell you anything, hero" Scrapper barked. "Pablo! Don't say nothing."

I needed that information, so I decided to make a deal. I told Pablo and the shaggy dog they could raid the Devlins' trashcans for a month if they would tell me what they saw.

"You don't deal with them. You deal with me!" said Scrapper, "And a month's worth of garbage is nothing. I want more. How's about you letting us raid two months. But not just your cans. We get to raid the cans of that idiot next door neighbor of yours."

"Done," I said. I knew it would be hard to convince Boomer to allow the strays to go through his trashcans, but I didn't see where I had any choice. I would have to find a way to make it up to him later. "But, one more thing. The cat, Chloe, is now under my protection. You have to leave her alone. That is not negotiable. If you mess with her, I am coming after you, deal or no deal."

There was total silence. I am not sure if they were thinking about upping the ante on our deal, or if they were just dumbfounded that I would want to protect a cat. Adding Chloe to the pot was a calculated move on my part. I knew Scrapper could not leave the junkyard. If he ever got picked up by the dog catcher again, he'd be done for. And without Scrapper, none of the strays would have the courage to cross me.

"Okay, hero. We have a deal," said Scrapper. "Pablo, tell the dog what he wants to know."

Pablo told me he was in the trashcan when the Cadillac screeched around the corner. He popped his head up just as it crashed into Mike's car. The collision threw Mike's car up onto the curb and into the trashcans. Pablo said he was thrown twenty feet and hurt his leg when he landed. He really played up his injury, limping around like his leg had been broken. It was funny, since he'd been walking just fine a few minutes ago.

"Did you see the driver?" I asked.

"No, but I saw the g-g-guy riding shotgun," said Pablo.

"There was another guy? What did he look like?" I asked, excitedly. This was great clue. Pablo was an eyewitness who actually saw somebody.

"He had long hair, a g-g-great big nose, a-a-and big arms, like a body builder. Oh, and s-s-skull with a sword in it," said Pablo.

"A skull with sword in it?" I asked, perplexed.

"Well, it could've b-b-been a spear," answered Pablo. "It was on his arm."

"Oh!" I said. Now I understood. "It was a tattoo."

"Yeah, yeah, a t-t-tattoo", Pablo confirmed. "I could see it real g-g-good in the streetlight."

So now I knew I was looking for a burgundy 1990 Cadillac Sedan Deville and a guy with burly arms and skull tattoo with a sword or a spear in it.

"Hey, I saw a guy like that this morning. He pulled a headlight, a bumper, and a radiator off one of the cars over there," said a bulldog named Winston, another of the gang. I looked in the direction Winston pointed. It was a Cadillac Sedan Deville.

"Did you happen to see which way he went?" I asked.

"Sure. He and two other guys took a few parts and walked away across that field toward those houses," said Winston.

Rochester was right. They never made it to the highway. Now I knew there were three of them, and I knew where they were holed up in the neighborhood across the field - my neighborhood. Their car was too damaged to continue, so they came to the junkyard for parts. I didn't have much time to solve this case. Once they got the Cadillac running again, they would be gone.