Great Mystery

“STOP, STOP SHE SCREAMED as she ran into the street waving her hands. She ran to the door of my police car as I pulled into the parking lot. Her fingers gripped my window as I rolled it down. Her wide eyes mirrored something unspeakable, as she frantically tried to tell me something. “He-he-he is up there!” pointing up the highway. “He’s in a pick-up, pulling two mules down the highway. They’re screaming in pain. I think he has a little girl with him.” She said through rapid breaths, “He’s going to kill those mules!!
With a shaky voice she told me her name and phone number, and before I could get back on the highway, the faded old red Ford pick-up roared into the large dirt parking lot of the feed store and came to a stop in a cloud of dust. Through the billowing cloud I saw the mules. My hand dropped from the steering wheel to my radio. “Springs, P-4, I might need some help with a citizen complaint, involving animal abuse at Martin’s Feed Store.”
I drove slowly toward the truck and when I got behind it, I stopped and cautiously got out of the car. The sides of the mules tied to the old red truck, were heaving in and out trying to pull in enough air. They were wet with sweat in the cold November night and the shrillness of their braying sounded like a strange scream. The whites around their wide-open eyes showed terror and pain.
The very large driver opened the door and got out of truck, stumbling as he took the first step. He hung onto the truck door, to steady himself. His crew cut light hair topped a round red face that bulged out of the top of a hunter orange jacket.
“You God damn worthless pieces of shit!! I ought to send you to the dog food factory. You stubborn fuckers!!!” The animals were straining against the ropes that held them trying to free themselves. With a big outgoing rush of breath, one of the creatures fell to the ground rolling over on to his side. Syrupy pools of oozing blood were forming around his feet. This poor animal had fought back against the monster that was pulling him down the road wearing off the pads of the hooves. The mule’s eyes closed as he struggled to take in enough breath. Blood was starting to pool around the hooves of the other animal. He still had strength enough to stand and bray that high pitched eerie sound.
“Sir, what seems to be the problem?” I almost shouted as I walked around the mules and up to the left side of the truck. Surprise showed in his face and the demon that was cursing at these animals, became the low talking gentleman. “Well, ma’am, I didn’t know you were standin’ there. Sorry, for the cussin’. I was just tryin’ to get these guys back home. They got out and somehow, ended up on the highway. It’s a wonder they didn’t get heeit.” Saliva spit out of his mouth with the “T”. Tobacco stains from chew slid down the crack on the side of his chin. That sweet chemical odor of alcohol was already hitting me in the face.
“Sir, may I see your driver’s license and registration, please?” “What for ma’am, I got to geeit these guys home!!” “Sir, it appears that the mules might be injured, and they might need some help getting home. Could you please, get your license and registration?”
He turned around, wobbling to the side and took two uncertain steps to the open door of his truck. I followed and watched as he reached inside. As I followed his hands to the glove box, the beam of my flashlight met the frightened eyes of a little girl. Her long dark silky hair hung over her shoulders in soft curls. Her angelic piercing crystal blue eyes looked out of the fur around the hood of her little pink coat. She was about five years old and her tiny doll like white hands were folded dutifully in her lap.
The man reached over the little girl and pulled the glove box open. She sat frighteningly still as he thumbed through a bunch of old papers. With the beam of my light on his hands, he finally connected with an old plastic cover that held a registration. With wavering hands, he handed it to me. He reached in the back worn pocket of his wrangler jeans and took out a wallet. He thumbed through the wallet carefully looking at each paper in a way that I knew he didn’t have a driver’s license. “Ma’am I must have left it in my other wallet.” I pulled the small yellow notebook and pen out of my pocket. “Sir, your name and birth date, please?” “Toby Whittaker, October 1, 1950”.
“Toby, could you step to the front of the truck, please.” “Yes, ma’am.” He staggered around the dented bumper of the old truck. I reached inside the aging truck that smelled of oil, cigarette smoke and alcohol, and took the keys from the ignition and put them in the pocket of my jacket. The child was still sitting as quietly as though she were sitting in church with her little hands still folded in her lap.
“Honey are you all right?” I asked in my quietest voice. Those clear pools of blue came up and met mine. The tears were welling, and before she could answer huge droplets were running down her cheeks. “I’m so scared.” She said with a little shaky voice that was barely audible. Oddly her hands stayed dutifully folded as though she were afraid to unfold them. The tears kept coming until sobs erupted. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Would you like to get out of the truck?” “Her little head under the pink hood moved slightly up and down.
I reached my hand in, and finally the little hands came unfolded as her hand took hold of mine. I slid her across the seat, knocking over Toby’s Budweiser. It quickly formed a smelly pool on the floor. I lifted her up and out of the truck. Her little arms wrapped tightly around my neck. The sobs were deep, and the tears came as though a dam had broken.
Sgt. Jay had arrived and was standing with Toby. Deputy Johns was leaning down near the fallen mule. I carried this innocent one to Sgt. Jay’s car and opened the front seat door. She still clung to my neck, as though this was the only safe place in the world. I held her for a minute until the sobbing lessened and then gently lifted her into the sergeant’s car. “Where you goin’ with my God damn kid?” I straightened up and walked back to Toby. My mother instinct had fired at the sight of the little girl, fueling some anger that was about to unleash like a bomb. With a few inches separating our faces I said, “Toby Whittaker, your daughter is safe at this moment, so I would advise you sir”, and I paused as I stared into his eyes, “to be quiet until this is resolved!!” The edge in my voice, and the look in my eye as I looked eye level into his, left him with his mouth open exposing the brown muck under his lower lip. By this time, Deputy Mathias who had a wonderful way with little ones was kneeling down to talk to the little girl sitting in the police car.
My professionalism that had been at risk because of the little girl, came back. With cold steel in my voice, I said, “Toby, could you step this way, please.” We walked to the level concrete surface at the entry of the feed store. “Toby, from the odor of alcohol on your breath, the presence of an alcoholic beverage in your vehicle and the uncertain way you are walking, I suspect that you have possibly consumed too much alcohol to be driving.” “Only had two beeeirs!!’ he lamented. “If that is the case then you won’t mind doing some maneuvers for me, will you.” “Some what?” he said with dumb eyes and mouth open. “Could you please, do some walking for me?” He was st