After dark I returned and parked near the Ment and Neatby houses. A few cars passed by and once a couple paused between streetlights for long, passionate embraces and kisses. If either had a parental curfew, he or she would violate it, and once a pedestrian stopped a hundred yards – or ninety Trudeauian metres – down the street to affix something to a lamppost. Curious, I went to check, first carefully locking my car because it would be embarrassing to have it stolen while on a stakeout. Or maybe, considering its age and condition, theft would be a compliment. In the illumination from the streetlight, I managed to read the notice which warned me that if I did not convert immediately to the poster’s religion, I would spend an eternity or longer in Hell. Hell, I imagined, might be an endless stakeout. I returned to my car.
Some time after midnight, a darkly clad figure moved stealthily along the deserted sidewalk and darted onto the General’s lawn where he quickly lowered a large flag and took it. I got out of my car and said: “Don’t move!” I spoke quietly because it sounded more threatening and I didn’t want to waken the neighbours. “Get into the car,” I ordered.
I locked the doors because I didn’t want to have to chase my suspect on foot, although I had once run the second leg in my high school’s B relay team when a runner had a sudden case of food poisoning. I have always wondered how we would have done if I had not stumbled and fallen and dropped the baton.
I looked at my prisoner. “You’re the dog-walker.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Why are you stealing General Ment’s flags?”
“I can’t afford to buy coats for my dogs and it’s getting colder. The flags make neat jackets and blankets. Besides, he has lots of them.”
Because he keeps replacing the ones you steal, I thought. I like dogs, so I had some sympathy, but theft is still theft.
“And are your dogs using Mrs. Neatby’s lawn as a…?”
“Yes, but she deserves it. She hates animals. She circulated a petition to have all dogs and cats banned from the neighbourhood. I refused to sign it.” I would have too.
Now I was in a quandary: I didn’t want to turn him in to the police, but my clients expected me to produce the culprit.
“First,” I said, “I want you to stop stealing the General’s flags and … desecrating Mrs. Neatby’s precious lawn. As for your dogs, here is some money to help clothe and feed them. ” I gave him the entire contents of my wallet.
“Thank you, but –”
“It’s all right. I’ll get it back in fees from my clients.” I was probably lying; I doubted that I would get any fees because I was not presenting them with any criminal.
“Jesse and Frank will be very grateful.” He added hesitantly: “May I keep this flag?”
I agreed, adding aiding and abetting to my crimes.
The next morning, I phoned my clients and told them that there would not likely be any more thefts or vandalism on their properties. I also waived my fees and they did not object.
I was trying to decide whether to regard this investigation as one case or two, since there was one malefactor but two clients, when I heard music from Hank’s radio. “I like that song,” I said. “What is it?”
“It’s a group called Three – Dog Night.”
I thought for a moment: it surpassed my just completed two – dog night.
