The Zookeepers

By Doug Maranto

When a female cop with psychic premonitions and a history in voodoo gets partnered with a gruff conventional cop, the two must learn to coexist in order to catch a kidnapper. Their adventures will lead them into bizarre cases with action, suspense and some surprising romance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9780991022007

Book preview

1598

CHAPTER 1

Deena is in the early stages of REM sleep when it begins.

It's a grand old New Orleans style apartment with very high ceilings, shiny wooden floors and long narrow windows on one side. The furniture has been moved back to make room for the short shapely redhead to dance wildly to the rhythm of the loud rock 'n roll music. The woman is young, beautiful, smiling and dressed in a skimpy exercise leotard.

A door from the dark foyer behind her opens slowly. A bulky male figure partially enters, stopping to watch the woman for a while before slowly moving towards her as she dances with her eyes closed. One of her wild turns causes her to slam into the man. Her eyes open in alarm when he attempts to embrace her and lift her from the floor.

She lets out a short shriek, then screams, What the hell? Put me down, asshole, before I call a cop. She starts to squirm and kick, flailing her arms to get free. The man laughs and swings her around. A large police badge is pinned to his belt.

Hold still you little hellcat. I'm not hurting you and in case you forgot, I am a cop.

She suddenly stops fighting him at the sound of his voice. She smiles wickedly before she wraps her arms around his neck. He is well built, strong across the shoulders, dressed in jeans, boots and a snug black tee-shirt.

Oh God, Brian, you scared the hell out of me. Make a noise next time, will you? She giggles when he hugs her tighter. She snuggles into his shoulder while he begins to kiss down the side of her neck.

You would never have heard any noise, sweetheart, he says. This music is loud enough to make your neighbors call the cops.

She looks up at him and says, I got the cop I wanted. So maybe it worked. The he kisses her, a long passionate kiss. She responds instantly. She runs her tongue along his lips and lets it dart inside for a sweet taste. She arches against him as she runs her hands down his back and lingers at his belt. She feels a small pouch. She pulls back from the kiss to grin at him.

So what have we here? Handcuffs… Then she growls. Another giggle erupts from her. She shows the cuffs to the cop. He laughs loudly, picks her up and heads for the couch.

The scene fades as Deena awakens. Whew, glad that didn't go any further. What the devil was that one all about? She can't remember feeling the emotions or actual sensations of the people in her visions. She felt the kiss and was aroused by it. Usually her visions, as Mamma called them, have some meaning for someone she knows and cares about. She did not recognize either of those people. Sometimes her gift was not a gift. It took a while to calm her breathing and heartbeat. She lies down hoping for a restful night's sleep without any more interruptions.

No such luck. It starts again.

This time it is a smoky, dimly lit room with an old army cot. On the cot a slender white arm is handcuffed to the frame. It struggles with the cuff. A hazy figure in a white lab coat approaches with a syringe in the left hand.

The figure leans over the cot and whispers Shhhh, there, there little one….. The needle enters the arm at the shoulder and the struggling stops.

Deena moans in her sleep as she feels the sting of the needle. The dream fades but she is restless the remainder of the night

**************

Across town, the scene that Deena thought was a dream unfolded in real life. The couple that had been so amorous just moments ago was now embroiled in a shouting match. Brian (Bulldog) Smallen is refastening his jeans. With jerky, exaggerated movements he shifts the handcuff case around the back of his belt and pins on his badge holder to the right side of the belt. He reaches for his holster and weapon which he clips to the inside of his left boot. He pulls the black tee-shirt on and tucks it into his jeans.

Dammit, Maggie, you picked a hell of a time to start talking about a job at your dad's plant. We've been over this before. I'm not ready to leave the force. I like my job.

Maggie sat in the bed, holding the sheets around her. "I know you do, Brian. That's why I thought the Loss Prevention job would be perfect. You would still be in law enforcement.

Bulldog stomps his boot as he put his foot into it. That's a desk job for a suit. It's not me. I don't tell you what to do for a living, do I?

She kneels up and leans forward. No, you don't. But I don't work 24-7, and carry a hand cannon on my belt. I don't end up in the hospital every year. No one is constantly trying to kill me. I just want….

Bulldog looks at her sadly. I know what you want, and it's not gonna happen with me. This is who I am, what I do, finished business.

Maggie pouts, But Brian.

He smiles, says, No buts except your cute little …

Oh no you don't buster, don't even go there. In fact just get out, she shouts throwing a pillow at the door he is ducking through.

The next morning, Bulldog sat at the kitchen table at home, cleaning his weapon, a .44 special. He derived his nickname as much from this pistol as he did from his initials BD, what his mom called his Christian name, Brian Douglas. The .44, called the Bulldog because of it' s short, ugly frame, was the perfect weapon for this particular cop; lightweight, compact, and, next to the .44 Magnum, the most powerful hand gun made. The senior member of the Metro Squad, he could carry whatever weapon he could qualify with. These days, he didn't feel comfortable leaving home without this one.

While Bulldog was rubbing the barrel with a soft, clean cloth, his cell phone rang. A quick glance at the wall clock told him it was not yet lunch time. He had been off for a few days after several weeks of the third watch, or the 'dogs'. His heart raced. Maybe it was Maggie. Their relationship had suffered a major setback last night. He tapped the side of the earpiece he wore activating the smart phone on the dresser.

He smiled, Good morning, sunshine. I figured you couldn't stay mad at me too long.

Why, you smooth talkin' devil. What woman in her right mind could stay mad at you? That'll teach you to date civilians.

The voice was female, but much too deep to be Maggie. Only a female cop would refer to another woman as a civilian.

Alright, Tricia, he snapped, cut the crap. It was my mistake. I thought it was a lady on the phone.

It's OFFICERLeBlanc to you, Sergeant. I thought you might have found a sense of humor since the last time I saw you. Obviously, you haven't changed, so I'11 keep this short. Your assignment has been changed …

Like hell it has, he bellowed, slamming his hand on the table. It cracked like a gunshot.

Hey, hold on she shouted back, It's only the watch that's been changed. You'll need to report to second watch today. There is a new Squad member assigned to you for training. HQ has transferred two from Headquarters to Metro. One of 'em is all yours.

Bulldog slumped back in his chair, relieved. Oh, that's different, he said.

The ice in the policewoman's voice was obvious as she said, Evidently that temper of yours hasn't improved any, either. Good luck to your new partner, the poor bastard. The phone went dead.

So my temper's a little short, sometimes, Bulldog muttered dropping the phone in it's cradle. His temper wasn't the only thing about Bulldog that was short. He was famous for his temper and his patience, or the lack thereof. Not that anyone was foolish enough to make reference to his shortcomings while he was within hearing distance. Bulldog had a special method of dealing with those who made judgment calls on anything he did.

He looked around the room to a photo of eight men on the mantle. He and his brothers were standing in a semi-circle with their right hands extended towards the middle one on top of the other. 'All for one, one for all.' It was what kept them together while growing up in the Irish Channel, uptown New Orleans. Being the shortest of the clan when he was younger, he had once been taunted with an unwise play on his last name, small-n-ugly, by some of his larger playmates. Those unsuspecting fools found that small-n-mean was a more appropriate handle. After his brothers pulled him off of the offender the hapless idiots quickly decided to focus on others closer to their own size. Then he came into his own when he shot up to 6'3. The 4 years of Marine chow had a lot to do with that he thought.

That neighborhood in the tenth ward was long ago named the Zoo by the local cops. They didn't mean the Audubon Zoo either, even though that was only several blocks away, on St. Charles Ave. The two neighborhoods, while side-by- side, had little in common. St. Charles Ave was lined with magnificent homes over 150 years old or more. Two major universities fronted onto the world famous boulevard where the original trolley cars ran every few minutes. The restaurants, shops, and historic Audubon Zoo were shaded by ancient moss covered oaks, a setting that drew visitors from all over the world. The affluence of the residents was evident. The zoo, on the other hand, hardly knew the meaning of prosperity. The houses were time worn, little more than basic shelter. Any one of a dozen languages could be heard on the streets, an indication of the racial mix that had one common denominator, poverty.

The Metro sergeant assigned several of his units, including his own, to his old district. The Metro Squad was a controversial anti-crime unit, designed to function where the traditional blue and white uniform units were ineffectual. Uniforms were not welcome in certain areas, but a high crime rate required cops. The Metro Squad blended in, answering every type of call. They saw more action in one shift than TV cops did in one show. Only this was real. It was the kind of work that Bulldog loved.

He slipped on his ankle holster, inserted the .44, and pulled the jeans over the butt, and over his boot. In the other boot he inserted a spring loaded sap. Now he was dressed for work. He might as well get to the office and check out the new man's sheet.

*************

In a high rise apartment near the lake front, the new man was still in panties and bra. The selection of a suitable outfit for the first day was taking longer than she anticipated. It had to be right. Not too fancy, still comfortable and able to hold up to whatever might come up in the tour. Deena had heard about some of the cases that Metro handled. There was definitely the opportunity for some real action. The clothes had to fit the climate, as well as the work. There was still so much to learn, so much to do. It had taken awhile to get this assignment and she wanted it to begin with the right impression. This unit could put her in the perfect position to accomplish her goals. She wasn't going to let this assignment deteriorate into a side show. Not again. When Deena surveyed her image in the mirror, she smiled, perfect, professional efficient and just a little nervous.

If only Jeffery could be here to see her. That had been his special talent, instilling confidence. Of course, if he were here, she wouldn't be doing this. Slinging the large purse over her shoulder, she was off to meet her new partner. Before she could get to the door, she got a strange sensation. She pulled her iPhone from her purse and hit the slide on the screen before it rang.

Good morning Momma. How are you this bright day?

Good morning, my Princess. I am highly agitated at this moment. I have not slept much of the night. I am very concerned for you. You are about to be involved with danger and evil.

Momma, I'm a police officer. I'm always in some degree of danger. It comes with my job. Please don't worry about me.

You have been working in that big police building all this time. Your aura is changing and I see greater risk and conflict in your future. You must take precautions. You know better than to ignore my feelings. You must have some sense of what is to come, unless you have been blocking your gifts again.

Yes, Momma, I have some idea of what's ahead. But, I'm causing much of this to occur. I am on a mission. I have to get on with my career. I have been isolated at Headquarters far too long. I can learn much more on the streets, and can actually do more good there.

You know what is best, my Princess. I trust your judgment. After all, you will be the next Mambo and Queen of our family. Your gifts are not to be ignored. Just be aware of the Loa involved in whatever you're up against.

Deena flared when she responded, Momma, you know I am not going to be any such thing. I don't practice your beliefs and will not be part of any rituals. You're the Queen of my heart and the head of our family, but that does not make me any Princess. We have been over this time and time again.

A sigh comes over the line loudly. Yes we have my daughter. But, you cannot change your destiny. I will be patient. You just pay attention to the signs and do what your instincts tell you. Let me worry about the spells.

Deena hears the clinking of rosary beads and crosses herself absentmindedly. Her mother hangs up without a goodbye.

***************

The office lobby was muggy inside, with over 85% humidity outside. A moldy smell permeated the foyer. The air conditioning in the ancient office on St. Peter was only evident in the inner recesses of the building. The compressors were straining, as they were long overdue for an overhaul. For April to be this steamy was a bad omen for the summer ahead. South Louisiana weather was merciless. Second watch usually checked in at 2:45, but Bulldog arrived a little before two.

Since Maggie wasn't around as much to keep him distracted, he felt more at home in the squad room. After his disappointment with it not being her on the earlier phone call, he had been thinking about calling her and trying get together. He would be willing to patch up their problems, if only he could figure out what the problems were. Women were such a mystery. He wished that there had been sisters in his family to teach him about women. But he had no role models, other than his Mom, to reflect upon. With today's modern woman, there was no resemblance between his Mom and the few women he found attractive. Most of them had caused a dull throbbing ache in a spot near the base of his skull. The one constant in those relationships came down to this; the minute he thought he had a woman figured out, she changed. Women were just too complex for him to deal with, Maggie more so than most.

He dialed Maggie's apartment on his cell. It rang twice. Then voice mail. Hi, this is 830-5322. I am unavailable at the moment. Please leave your name and number at the sound of the beep. I will return all calls except those of a certain pigheaded cop. He just wasted his time.

Bulldog stared at the receiver, dumbfounded. He heard the beep followed by the static of the voice mail system.

Aw, C'mon Maggie, he said, I guess you think that's cute. Let's get together soon and talk. You know where to reach me.

As he hung up, he shook his head. Things were not off to a good start. What else could go wrong today? He headed for the squad room.

Metro Division occupied almost all of the offices in the decrepit building. A hint of lilac wafting through the hall told Bulldog that the front desk was in the capable hands of Mrs. Filman, the Division secretary. She was the backbone of this special unit. Her husband, a police Lieutenant, had been killed seven years before trying to keep a black kid from knocking over a local drug store. For his trouble the Lieutenant got a .32 slug in the head while his family got a pension that barely paid the rent. For his trouble, the kid got some time in the juvenile training center, and became a hero to the current crop of animals there. Mrs. Filman took over this job soon after the funeral. The portly widow had information lines into every level of the department, a resource that Bulldog had often exploited.

What's the grapevine have on this rookie I'm being saddled with? he asked, as he perched on the corner of the desk. He unwrapped a burrito he had picked up at Taco Bell. The chili aroma drifting from the bag was strong with red peppers. Bulldog's passion for hot spicy foods was often blamed for his alleged nasty disposition.

Get your butt off my desk, Brian. she said evenly. This isn't the squad room. Don't you dare drop chili sauce on my desk. The transfer sheet's on the Captain's desk and I've not seen them. You'll know soon enough. Now scat! I've work to do. she told him and she playfully pushed him away from her desk. Mrs. F was the one person who could kid Bulldog about anything, and the only one to call him by his first name. Even his Mom used his nickname now. Mrs. F got special privileges from everyone in the department, Bulldog was no exception.

As Bulldog headed for the hall, he turned, How do you stay so fresh in this oven? I never see you sweat.

I don't sweat I perspire, and kindly keep your observations to yourself. The maintenance supervisor promised to look at the Freon in the air conditioner this week, so something may soon improve.

Bulldog said, Bet that old hound dog over in Engineering is sweet on ya. Nobody else can get 'em to answer the phone.

Mrs. F's normally pink complexion flushed rosy red as she began to shuffle several sheets of paper from stack to stack. Bulldog smiled at her blush, then turned back toward the hallway. The bulletin board ran the entire length of the hall. Every cop on the squad spent a lot of time at the board checking new memos and bulletins. There was even a stack of incident reports from previous watches to go over. Information could make a big difference to a good cop. He glanced up and down the hall as he rummaged through the various forms. He hoped the new kid would come in early.

On the opposite end of the hallway Captain Plauche was reading some very interesting reports of his own. The first of the new Metro members was reporting for duty. The second officer would be assigned to third watch in Smallen's slot. The personnel dossiers had been forwarded from HQ. Plauche had just a few moments to go over it before he interviewed the officer in question.

What he read impressed him. A college degree in psychology, a year assigned to Sex Crimes, then HQ Liaison all of this at 27. More officers were getting degrees than ever before, but most of them got it while on the job, in night school. Very few finished a degree then joined the force. The assignment to HQ so quickly was unusual. It was an indication that someone higher up had recognized some real potential in this officer, or there was a hook in the upper ranks, someone watching over her progress. There was a note from Captain Stark. Call me when you get this. The folder label read Officer Deena Domingue Prince. Plauche wondered if she was one of the Jefferson Parish Domingue's. They were a very influential Creole family, with several politicians and church leaders among their ranks. That might explain some things.

Why would she become a street cop, with a background like that? he thought. No matter, she had a good work record. That was all that counted. He was glad he had decided to let his best man break her in. Sergeant Smallen hadn't done any training in a long time, but he was the best one to show her the ropes.

There was a knock on his door, to which he barked, It's open.

When the door opened Captain Plauche's eyes widened as he inspected his newest squad member. Oh Lord, he muttered, now what have you sent me?

Come in, Officer Prince let me welcome you to Metro. We should have a few minutes to get acquainted before your partner gets here.

Bulldog gossiped with several of the squad from first watch, all the while keeping an eye out for a new face. The Metro teams didn't have a formal roll call like the district uniform officers, so when the new man got in, their unit could roll. Sitting around the office was not Bulldog's idea of action. Then he wondered if the Captain might know what was keeping his partner.

The small outer office was empty, and the Captain's door was closed. Bulldog knocked. Come in, Sgt. Smallen, came from within the larger office. Bulldog wondered how the Captain always knew it was him at the door.

When Bulldog entered the office, he was startled. Standing in front of the Captain's desk was the most striking woman he'd ever seen. She easily stood 5'11 with a rich mane of raven hair to the middle of her back. From his angle the back was all he could see, not that there was anything wrong with that viewpoint. His cop's glance took in every detail; the white, sleeveless blouse, trim waist, flaring hips and long legs encased in grey slacks, and sensible short heeled black shoes. Classy stuff, too, very expensive perfume.

Uh, 'scuse me, Cap. Didn't mean to interrupt Just lookin' for the new man. I'll come back later. he stammered.

The visitor turned at the sound of his voice, giving him the once over. Her expression was unreadable. Her eyes were very large, very brown and beautiful. She watched his eyes as he checked her out the high cheek-bones, wide full lips, a slim, elegant nose.