Sphinx and Maci

By Jessica Bertrand

As Sphinx rolled over, the pain ripped at his side. He whimpered and stretched out one big, clawed Dutch Shepherd foot to touch the kennel gate. What good was being in a spacious den if he couldn’t move around? Besides, there were bad guys out there to catch.

“Easy now.” The gentle nurse with springy hair came into the cage and checked the tube snaking out of his forepaw. “Give crime fighting a rest for one night.”

She scratched behind his ear and his tail thumped on the blanketed floor. “It’s time for me to go home, but Joey’ll take good care of you. Dax will stop by in the morning and if the vet approves, you’ll be able to go home.”

She eased the door of the post-op kennel closed.

“Hey, Mona!” a male voice called out from a different room. “Have you seen that dachshund pup?”

Sphinx straightened his head. The hair on his neck went rigid.

That voice.

“Maci or Tink?” Mona replied, disappearing from view.

“The longhaired cream-and-black dapple.” Joey sounded annoyed.

A sharp twinge worked its way down the stitches on Sphinx’s side. Why did his wound ache when the man spoke?

Mona laughed. “Maci’s our little Houdini. Poor abandoned puppy, wish we could find her owner.”

“Probably ran away from them. The Department of Wildlife officer found her in the middle of nowhere and we get stuck with her at our pet hospital.” Joey grumbled under his breath. “Besides, why would anyone want a weird looking mutt like her?”

Memories echoed in Sphinx’s mind. Footsteps. Running. Yelling.

“Hey, be nice. Maybe she’s in with the Dutch Shepherd.” A cabinet closed somewhere. “What happened to your arm, Joey?”

“Chihuahua bit me today. I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

Sphinx sniffed the air, trying to catch the man’s scent.

The bundled blanket near his paw moved and a puppy’s head popped out, her snout covered in red sores.

“Is the coast clear?” Maci tumbled out wagging her tail. “I don’t like that man. My back hurts when he picks me up.”

He growled, “I’m harboring a fugitive.”

“Please don’t bark. I’ve been alone all day. They stuck me next to the rabbits. I can’t even chase them down a hole. It’s no fun here.” She whimpered.

“I’ll be quiet, for now,” Sphinx huffed. In truth, he wanted the company too. Dax not being there left a cold space in his heart. “What happened to your nose?”

“Pine-u-porkias are very grumpy when you say hello.”

“A porcupine?” Sphinx snorted.

“Yeah, that.” Maci sniffed his side and put her head on his paw. “Why’d you need surgery?”

“Dax—my human partner—and I were off duty and went to the bank. I bit and pulled down one robber only to be stabbed by his partner. The first one got away, but we arrested the other.”

“I want to be a cop too.” She tripped over his leg and toppled by the cage door. “I’m smart too. The little girl next door to my old home talked to me with her hands all the time.”

“Maci,” Joey bellowed. “Where are you? Come. Here. Now.”

The pup dove under the blanket.

Joey rounded the corner. He was in work scrubs and blood seeped through the bandage on his forearm. Sphinx bared his teeth and rotated to his belly.

Bank robber number one.

“You!” His face flushed crimson. “I’d be free of this place if you hadn’t messed up our heist.”

Joey yanked open the wired door. Sphinx snapped his jaws, but his legs refused to move. Joey landed a kick to his nose.

Disorientated, Sphinx shook his head and poised to bite at the intruder again. The felon crouched near Sphinx. A scalpel glinted in the fluorescent light. All that police-dog training, only to die—

Maci shot out from her hiding place and bit Joey’s rear. Joey howled and turned toward the door. He flung Maci. She landed on her feet and slid.

Sphinx snarled and barked.

Joey pivoted toward him, a malicious sneer crossed his face, then he screamed.

Maci latched onto his ankle.

“Drop the knife!” A deputy glided around the corner, gun drawn. Another followed on his heels.

Sphinx howled, like he always did on a bust.

Both men forced Joey onto his stomach. Maci tugged on his pantleg.

“We’re clear, Dax. Come get the dog.”

Dax, in plainclothes, eased into view. He came up behind Maci, stooped low, and pulled her back.

“Who’s a good girl?” Dax cradled her under his arm and strode toward the kennel. Maci licked his chin.

Sphinx whined.

Dax sat down next to him, Maci in his lap, and stroked Sphinx’s neck. Warmth sluiced through Sphinx’s veins, even if his nose throbbed. His tail thwacked the floor.

The two deputies hoisted Joey to his feet and radioed for an ambulance.

Mona entered and gave Joey an evil glare. Pulling gloves on, she squeezed into Sphinx’s lair and knelt to examine his snout and the clear tube at his leg, and peeked under the bandage at his side.

“Thanks for calling in about Joey. What made you do it?” Dax’s voice was nasally, like when he had a cold. Sphinx rested his head on Dax’s foot.

“Joey totally lied about getting bit by a chihuahua. Amie texted me about you and Sphinx at the bank. Joey talked about coming into money soon. And Maci wouldn’t go near him. All the pieces fit, I guess.”

Dax exhaled. “I’m glad it did.”

“Me too. The vet’s on his way to check over the pups.”

Maci yipped and crawled out of Dax’s lap. Mona gestured and the puppy sat.

“This one’s a smartie. My deaf friend wants a pup to train as a service dog, and I think Maci’s perfect.” Mona scratched the puppy’s head. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Tressa.”

Maci spun around. “You hear that Sphinx? I get to be a working dog too.”

“It’s the best,” Sphinx sighed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jessica Bertrand spends a large quantity of time lost in the stacks at the library, whether it’s helping patrons discover their next read or her own research. She’s also a dedicated detective solving the everyday whodunnits — like finding missing keys — and weaves mystery into her writing whenever possible. Now where did that notebook go?

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