Boomer Ang: Part 4

“Chief, I got a witness who gave me a credible lead,” he said to a rather big man who wore suspenders over a white shirt and had a bolo tie drawn partially down to allow his top button to be opened. I sniffed his cotton trousers; he owns a poodle and a cat. He drinks coffee and just ate a donut. I was also getting hungry and so I sniffed the air for those same donuts.

“Why is he here?” Chief asked. I looked up and wagged my tail up at him. His face gave me a serious, abet curious expression. A bushy beard covered most of his face and his eyes were warm and gray. His beard was white.

“He’s our prime witness and he led me to a part of that street about four houses down. A man named Walt Jones told me an 80s or 90s model Honda came in front of his house and man came out and walked up the street. The man has a limp.”

“I see, well I guess we could deputize him and make him your partner until we get this person arrested and off the street.” He bent down to me and brushed the hair on my neck and back with long and smooth strokes. “You did good, didn’t you?” He abruptly arose. “Go and see if you can get CCTV footage of a similarly described car from the last couple days or so. Besides the limp, anything else?”

“He mentioned that he wore his pant down like gangbangers do so their boxers show.”

“I hate when they do that, except when we’re running after them in pursuit. I remember one time when that happened up in Kennewick before I got this job, a Mexican illegal gangbanger who was wanted for killing his girlfriend tried getting away on foot after we crashed into his getaway car. He didn’t get far because his trousers were so low pass his hips he tripped and fell, losing his pants in the process and me and another officer had no problem arresting his punk ass.” He laughed heartily at what he said. Detective Mike chuckle along with him. I am hungry and thirsty now.

I whine up at Detective Mike pleading with him to give me water and a donut or something. All that dog biscuit did was make me hungry for more and thirsty. “Come on Boomer, let’s do some detective work.” He tugged on my leash to get me going where he desired.

“When was the last time you gave him water?” Chief ask Detective Mike. “Water?” He asked as if the thought never occurred to him.

“It’s kind of important to survive. We need it, plants and trees need it and this dog most definitely looks like he needs it.”

“I’ll get right on that sir.” “You do that.”

He led me to an area that looked like a kitchen at Master Bob’s house with a sink and a white cubular thing that store cold food. Next to that was another cubular thing they put cold food in and it makes an odd noise for a minute or two before beeping and they bring the cold food out smelling hot and tasty. Master Bob had one of those too. I heard he called it a microwave but I don’t understand that means.

Detective Mike search in the cabinets and drawers for something. He found a large bowl and set it inside the sink and turned a tap the poured-out water. He then shut off the faucet and brought the bowl down to me. I sniffed it briefly, looked up at him, wagging my tail in appreciation and began drinking noisily from the bowl, lapping at the water voraciously as though I hadn’t drank in days.

Detective Mike watched me. I don’t understand why humans like watching me drink water or eat my kibbles. It must be a habit for them, as though maybe they’re envious or something. Master Bob did that too, even when I was hunched down and unloading last night’s dinner, Master Bob stopped what he was doing and watched me. Could I have some privacy please? I so wanted to tell him. If only I could talk like a human, things would be so much more simpler for me. At least I could have told Detective Mike when I was thirsty and hungry.

I finished and looked up at him, trying to tell him I was still hungry by whining up at


“No, you can’t go outside,” he said to me, totally not understanding what I wanted. He tugged me and went to another room that was cold and smelled of wires and bright shiny lights flashed off and on. There were what appeared like TV sets, but much smaller than what Master Bob has. Each TV showed cars going back and forth and a human wearing a uniform watching this screen. But he didn’t look happy at this job he had. He had thinning black hair and wore glasses.

I panted and he stopped what he was doing and turned around, giving me a surprised look. “What is this dog doing in here?”

“He’s mine, Frank,” Detective Mike said. “Lay down over there, Boomer.” He pointed at the corner of the room far away from the sad man and the TV set he was watching. “I need you to find any surveillance video of a blue Honda Civic or Accord, lates 80s or early 90s. It was after noon, closer to two yesterday.”

He gave me an indifferent expression and Detective Mike a scowl. But he got up from a chair that stunk of his farts. He went to a long box about his height which was shorter than Master Bob or Detective Mike. He opened a drawer that had numbers on it and looked inside. He then pulled out a round and shiny disc inside a clear plastic case. He handed Detective Mike the disc and said, “Good luck. Give it back when you’re done.”

“I was hoping that you could look at this,” Detective Mike protested.

“You can hope in one hand and spit in the other. See which one grows faster. I don’t got


“Thanks for nothing,” he said with anger in his voice. “Come on Boomer, let’s not take up anymore of Frank’s precious time.” I followed Detective Mike but turned around as Frank

held up a middle claw from his paw or hand. I guess these humans have hands instead of paws and fingers instead of claws. At any rate Frank seemed upset by whatever it was that Detective Mike said.

I follow him to a table and he sat on a chair. I laid down underneath his feet. I close my eyes while I sniff the environment of this work place. There were many human odors I had to distinguish as well as that of food and sneakers that were in need of replacement, a toilet that might need to be plunged, more food…I was getting more and more hungry. I sighed heavily.

It seemed like a long time passed before Detective Mike yelled out, “Chief, I found something.” Chief came over and I smelled ham and cheese and mustard and bread. He has a sandwich! I raised my head up and wagged my tail energetically, hoping he’d get the hint that all I’ve ate today was a stale old dog biscuit.

Instead, he placed the sandwich further away from me and used his other hand to scratch my ears. I wasn’t complaining but that sandwich was what I really wanted. I whine in frustration. Both men look at the screen seeing a blue colored car. It looked familiar to me too. I remember it came by sometime recently, maybe last week or last month, I don’t remember exactly, but two men were inside and one got out and walked to Master Bob’s house and rang the bell, but that day Ginny Fur took him some place and they didn’t come home until later. They left. I remember the one who drove that car got out, while the other stayed inside and waited. Were they the killers?

“Did you get a license on that car?” Chief asked.

“No, not yet, but I’m hoping maybe when he drives back out by Ridleys we’ll catch it


“Use the camera at the highway intersections of US 26 and Main Street,” Chief commanded.

I saw him pressing his fingers over this thing with multiple buttons that he also used something that looked something like a giant mouse attached to a cord that he clicked. I noticed the next image came up and sometime later that same car drove through. “There he is. Okay, I’ll stop it here and see if I can zoom in on that license plate.” He kept clicking the mouse thing until he stopped. “That’s as good as it gets.”

“Send out a bolo for that car to the State Police. He came in from the south so he might be from Wendall or Jerome.”

“You got it Chief,” Detective Mike told him.

I’m still hungry and Chief laid the sandwich down on the desk next to Detective Mike’s cup of cold and stale coffee he must’ve had yesterday. I help myself to the sandwich, swallowing it whole while they continue finding out about that car.

“Hey!” Chief yells. I sheepishly look at him, wagging my tail, feeling it hit the desk leg repeatedly. “Maybe you should feed your dog. He just ate my sandwich,” Chief told Detective Mike.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he apologized. “Bad dog! Go lay down.” I felt sad he called me a bad dog twice in one day. Master Bob never did that. I laid on the floor underneath the desk. It felt cool on my belly. I lick my paws to give me something to do while they continue looking at that car, frozen on that TV screen.

I heard him punching on that board thing some more. “It’s registered to a Julio Rodriguez. It’s in Jerome alright,” Detective Mike said. “I can call the sheriff there and see if we can go to his house.”

“That’s what the BOLO is for. Knowing a lot of those kinds of people, he’ll screw up somehow and get pulled over for some traffic infraction and we got him.”

“Right, Chief. I do see two men inside. But the image gets blurry as I try to zoom in on


“Use the filtering. Better yet, Hey Frank, come over here a sec.”

I heard foot falls from heavy boots approach, and then stop just inches from my right flank. “What is it?”

“We want to sharpen this image,” Chief said.

“Excuse me,” Frank said and I heard the chair Detective Mike sat on, retreat and Frank took his spot, just inches away from my back paws. I felt nervous and growled a warning. I heard Frank rapidly punch those buttons, I guess that’s what they’re called and grabbed the mouse, clicking, clicking, clicking until he stopped. “There you go. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thanks for your help,” Chief told him. I farted a ripe one.

“Oh my god!” Frank states because he was closest to me. He bent his head down and saw me. I barked and he jumped. “What is this dog doing here?”

Doesn’t he remember? “Woof, woof.” I reminded him.

“He’s mine and helping in this investigation,” Detective Mike said.

“I got allergies and don’t like big dogs anyway. They’re nasty, disgusting creatures.” He scowled at me then abruptly left.

“I could say the same thing about you, Frank,” Detective Mike called back.

“Don’t worry about him, Mike, he’s always been like that. That is a lot better image. You said the passenger was the suspect?”

“That’s according to Walter Jones.” “That’s the old man you talked to?”

“That’s right. It’s the house across the street from that one that got busted a year or so ago just after you came on board. It’s still shut down.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it. The homeowner was using it as a rental and lives out of state. He didn’t know a thing about this. That it was a gang house and a drug house,” Chief informed him. “Is it up for sale?”

“No, I think the bank foreclosed on it. The house is all boarded up.” I finished licking my front paws and gravitated to the rear area. “That’s too sad.”

Funny, he didn’t say that with sadness in his voice. He sounded rather happy about that. Was he being funny? Humans are a funny animal. They say things they don’t mean and expect who they’re talking to get the part that’s supposed to be funny. I watched both men above me, giving them curious expressions. Detective Mike didn’t give him a reply. Perhaps it wasn’t

funny. He was tapping on those buttons again and then asked, “Does that look like a gangbanger to you?”

“Not unless he’s the founding member from 60 years ago.”

That elicits a chuckle from Detective Mike. I sniff the TV screen and see with unfocused eyes a long-faced man with brown skin and white hair. I wag my tail at Chief to acknowledge yes that is funny. “I don’t believe that is our unsub.”

“No, but it might be a possible relative like his grandson. Those families that come here, stay together through generations, pool their money they earn to survive and well, I’m envious we forgot how to do that. There were families from other countries that do the same thing. I bet they don’t have half the issues we have when it comes to caring for the elderly.”

Published by Jerry Schellhammer

Jerry, a published author of both published and self-published books, is devoting his time and efforts to his craft after having retired from the previous job as a janitor at Northern Quest Resort and Casino. He now calls Gooding, Idaho his home. Writing is his passion and he now has a successfully published book and another on the way to being published later this year. He has a BA in English with emphasis in professional writing from Washington State University. His website: is available for everyone to see. In it are the lists of published books available both through Amazon and Barnes & Noble in eBook and print format.

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