Page 14 of Jasmine Street Blues

The boys looked up at him with fear on their faces. Mean little shits, to harass the dog, but they were just kids and at the moment they were scared. Good. They needed to be scared. “I should haul you all down to the station, lock you up and beat on the bars with a baseball bat.” He reached out and took the metal bat from one scared looking little boy. “Ever think of using this for, you know, baseball?”

“The season’s over,” one of the kids whispered.

“Maybe I’ll keep this until the season starts back up again.” No one argued with him. “Your folks can retrieve the bat at the station, if they think you should have it back.”

He wasn’t sure the boys breathed, as they looked up at him wide-eyed and terrified.

One whispered an aside to his buds. “Don’t tell him our names.” That brave one took a step back, getting ready to run again.

Mac raised an eyebrow, then pointed, moving left to right, “Brant Hill, Billy Wallace, Brendan Story. To save time, I’ll call you the Three Bs.”

“Do you know our parents?” Brendan asked in a whisper.

Mac nodded.

“Don’t tell,” Billy said. “We won’t do it again, I promise. We all promise!”

Brant said, “You can keep the bat.”

These kids needed something besides mischief to keep them busy during the summer, preferably a productive activity. They were too young to get jobs, and they’d outgrown the local playground. Idle hands, and all.

Not his problem.

“Go,” Mac said. “Don’t let me catch you…”

That was as far as he got before the Three Bs turned and ran.

Sue Eldon carefully stepped out of her back door. She’d probably been watching since he’d arrived. Even a year ago he’d seen her out and about, walking downtown, shopping and having lunch with friends. But now she moved carefully, as if she was afraid her next step might send her to the ground. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. “Those boys… I don’t know why they get enjoyment out of messing with Bubbles.”

Bubbles? The big black and brown mutt with skinny legs and floppy ears didn’t look at all like a Bubbles. Maybe Thor, Tank, or Bruiser. Not Bubbles. Four Bs.

“If they give you any more problem, call me,” Mac said. Ms. Eldon reminded him a little of his own grandmother, the kind but tough woman who’d raised him from the age of twelve after her daughter, his mother, had died. Cancer, which had come out of nowhere and taken his mother from him far too soon. He hadn’t exactly been a joy for those first couple of years. There had been a time in his life when he might’ve joined in to torture a dog behind the safety of a fence. He’d been so angry.

“I will,” Ms. Eldon said. “Thank you so much. Would you like a glass of lemonade? It’s so hot out.”

“No, thank you.” Mac turned away, but the older woman called out after him.

“If you know of anyone who wants a dog, let me know.”

Mac stopped and looked back. “You’re getting rid of Bubbles?”

“I have no choice. I’m moving to Jackson at the end of the month to live with my daughter and grandson. Freddie is allergic, which is why I ended up with Bubbles in the first place. They didn’t know about the allergy until Bubbles was in their home. Freddie already loved the puppy and couldn’t bear to give him to strangers. But now… I can’t take him with me.”

“There’s a shelter on the highway.”

“I called.” She sighed. “They’re full. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll find someone,” Mac said. “You have a nice day.” He returned to his patrol car, ready to make his escape. He’d opened the driver’s door but hadn’t yet stepped inside when he realized that dammit, he was going to be that someone.

5

Sue Eldon had been almost giddy as she’d handed over Bubbles and all his doggie stuff. Food, bowls, a leash, a handful of toys, and a folder of paperwork from a Biloxi vet. She offered the doghouse, which had seen better days, but Mac declined. The relief on her face as she’d handed off the dog, the wide smile, the sparkle in her eyes, made her look years younger. What was he getting into?

Mac gave a little thought to changing the mutt’s name. Bubbles didn’t suit the big, mixed breed dog with an impressive scowl and a deep bark. Those floppy ears, though…

He’d scowl, too, if someone called him Bubbles.

Too late. Bubbles was the dog’s name, even though he looked more like a Tank or a Bruiser. Maybe he could shorten it to Bub, see if that fit.