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

Chapter 7 - The Trail of Fluid

I slept well that night, even with Boomer's constant howling. I told him about the deal I'd made with Scrapper. Boomer was not at all happy about it, but he did say he would do it for Mike. Of course, that didn't mean he would suffer in silence. And, Pablo didn't make it any easier. He wasn't content to just raid the trashcans. He had to make fun of Boomer while he did it. I knew I owed Boomer - big time. I would make it up to him once I solved this case.

Sunday morning was cloudy and drizzly. While the Devlins were at church, I thought I could sniff around a bit. I checked in with Fergus and Fanny. They reported a quiet night, but mentioned that Mr. O had made some progress in the Liberty State Bank robbery case. A security camera had footage of a late model luxury car leaving the scene. The image was grainy, but they could make out part of the license plate. It ended in either a '237' or an '287'. That was good news for Mr. O. I knew he was as determined to catch those bank robbers as I was to catch that hit and run driver. I thanked Fergus and Fanny for their help and left.

Winston mentioned the guys at the junkyard left carrying a radiator. Theirs must have been damaged in the crash. That means it may have been leaking radiator fluid. I remember smelling something strange near Mike's car, but I didn't think to follow it. I felt stupid. If I would have followed the trail of radiator fluid yesterday, I may have already found the burgundy 1990 Cadillac Sedan Deville. I only hoped that the rain hadn't washed the trail away, and I could still pick up the scent.

I looked around where Mike's Ford Focus had been. In the gutter, I detected a green, sweet smelling rivulet of radiator fluid. I followed it to its source in the street, but a honking car chased me back onto the sidewalk. If I was going to follow the trail of radiator fluid, I would have to be a lot more careful. Another set of eyes is what I needed. I stopped by Boomer's house, but he was dead asleep after a long night of barking at Scrapper's strays. I decided to follow that old saying and 'let a sleeping dog lie'. The only thing worse than a cranky Boomer was an exhausted, cranky Boomer. But, as luck may have it, I found Pablo passed out in a pile of trash. That old saying clearly didn't apply to him.

"Hey, Pablo! Get up!" I barked loudly, right in his ear. He jumped about five feet into the air. He landed on his already moving feet and proceeded to run in figure eights looking for a hiding place. He didn't even see me until he ran head first into my leg and knocked himself head over tail.

"Ay, Caramba," Pablo exclaimed as he got back to his feet. "What did y-y-ou do that for, Deke. You almost g-g-gave me a heart attack."

"I wanted to get your attention. You need to help me with something," I said. Normally I would ask nicely, but when dealing with Pablo, it was better to be forceful.

"Why should I help you. That's not p-p-part of our deal," said Pablo.

"I didn't make a deal with you, Pablo. I made a deal with Scrapper."

"Well, I'm gonna t-t-tell him you're trying to change the d-d-deal and push us around."

"Fine. Let's go together. And maybe you can also explain why you've been out all night raiding trashcans and don't have anything to show for it. I don't think he'll be too happy with you. He might think you're taking advantage of him." I could tell by his little, round belly that Pablo had eaten his fill last night and had nothing to take back to the junkyard.

"N-n-no need to do that. I'll h-h-help you," Pablo groveled.

"Good choice, Pablo," I said.

"B-b-but not because of Sc-Sc-Scrapper. That's just the kind of d-d-dog I am. Always willing to h-h-help a friend," Pablo added, trying to save face.

"Of course," I said. "It's just the kind of dog you are. But, I didn't know you considered me a friend."

"Sure, I do, D-D-Deke. Now, how can I h-h-help you?"

I explained my predicament. I needed to follow the trail of radiator fluid in the street, but I needed him to watch out for cars. I didn't exactly trust him, but I counted on his fear to keep him in line. Of course, he may wait to the last second to warn me, just for fun.

When we returned to the spot where the trail of radiator fluid started, most of it had washed down into the sewer. All that remained of the trail were small droplets every few feet. My sniffer wasn't what it used to be, but it was still good enough to follow the trail of fluid. It was difficult, but I kept at it. I knew when I found the end of the trail, I would find the house that the burgundy 1990 Cadillac Sedan Deville would be.

Pablo was surprisingly helpful. He followed me from the sidewalk all the way to the end of the street and gave me plenty of warning when cars would come up behind me. Well, for the most part, he followed me. He did take off after Chloe one time, and I had to run him down and remind him that she was under my protection. Chloe smirked and laughed. She looked at me like she owned me. I think she said something to Pablo to make him chase her, just to make me come to her rescue. I knew it was a bad idea to make a deal with a cat, but what choice did I have.

The trail ended near an old, rundown two-story house at the end of the street. It reminded of the spooky houses in the TV shows that Josh and Jenny liked to watch. They were always abandoned and usually had a ghost or something haunting it. I wasn't sure about a ghost, but this house definitely looked abandoned. There was a 'For Sale' sign lying next to the porch, like someone had given up trying to sell the place. I had seen plenty of run down houses when I was out on patrol with the Army, but nothing compared to this place. It gave me the creeps.

Abandoned or not, spooky or not, ghost or not, this had to be the house. The trail didn't go any further, and this was the last house on the street. The entrance to the highway was only a hundred yards further, and Rochester was absolutely sure the car had not gotten on the highway. I trusted his ears more than my nose. But there were two problems. There was no Sedan Deville anywhere in sight, and this house did not have a garage.

I looked around the yard of the spooky house, just to see if there were any signs of life. Pablo stayed on the sidewalk. He didn't want anything to do with this house. He said all the strays stayed away from it. He said he'd heard that a crazy dog-catcher used to live there, who rounded up strays and performed terrifying experiments on them. I was pretty sure it was just a story someone cooked up to have a little fun scaring the strays. For all I knew, Scrapper may have made it up himself to help keep his gang in line. I could almost hear him saying "If you don't do what you're told, I'm gonna take you to the spook house and give you to the crazy dog-catcher." I chuckled to myself at the thought. Scrapper could never leave the confines of the junkyard, because if he did, the real dog-catcher would get him and put him down - no doubt about that.

I went up on the porch and sniffed at the door. Instantly, I knew what I was smelling - bacon - fresh bacon. This house was not abandoned after all. Someone was here, and they were cooking bacon. This could be the hit-and-run driver, or the passenger with the skull-and-dagger tattoo. I tried looking through a window, but they were covered by thick, gray drapes. I hopped off the porch and went around back. There were fresh footprints in the mud. They were going away from the house to a broken down shack hidden behind overgrown bushes. There was definitely someone here. And the shack was definitely big enough to have a 1990 Cadillac Sedan Deville in it.

I was close to cracking this case. I knew it. All I had to do was confirm that the Sedan Deville was in that shack. Using my military training, I approached the shack slowly, keeping low and not making a sound. I made my way to the front, which had a pair of carriage house doors. They were closed and locked from the inside. Above them was a gable with an open window. That was the way in, but it was much too high for me to jump. This was a job for a cat.