Page 25 of The Vampire and the Case of the Perilous Poltergeist

‘Marijuana is perfectly legal in Alaska,’ he sneered. ‘Or, being a foreigner, didn’t you know that?’

Sergeant Marks turned around and looked like he was going to say something but I put up a hand. I didn’t need him to intercede on my behalf; I needed to show everyone, including myself, that I could handle this.

I gave Frederick a flat look. ‘It’s only for demonstration purposes. Besides, I didn’t think you’d appreciate me borrowing your cocaine.’ I gave him a saucy wink and the class burst into laughter. Miller turned a pleasing shade of red.

Visibly dismissing him, I turned back to the class. ‘Which item should we find first?’ I asked the others.

Jones raised his hand. ‘The chicken leg?’ he asked timidly.

‘Absolutely. The chicken will be easy for a dog to find since they have incredible noses, plus food is necessary for us all. It’s useful to know that your dog can always find you sustenance, no matter where you are.’ Despite myself, my mind wandered to surviving beyond the barrier.

I cleared my throat again and forced my brain to focus, then pulled out three plastic bags from my backpack. ‘Scent tracking is different from other kinds. We want to start with showing the dog what scent he is looking for,’ I explained.

I held the bag with a piece of raw chicken in it out to Fluffy and gave him the verbal command ‘smell’. He obeyed although, truth be told, if I’d said ‘headless chicken’ he’d still have found it. But this was a class and I wanted to do it properly. ‘Seek,’ I ordered.

Fluffy turned and, nose down, began searching for the chicken leg. He snuffled this way and that along the earth, wandering around in a circle. It was immediately clear when he caught the scent because he froze, lifted one of his forepaws and looked in the direction he thought the object was. ‘This stance is called pointing,’ I explained. ‘He’s showing us where he wants to go. To confirm his instructions, I’ll tell him again. Fluffy, seek.’

Obediently, Fluffy’s nose shot down to the ground again and he snuffled forward to an area where it had been disturbed.He stood over it, turned to me and whined. ‘Fluffy, retrieve,’ I commanded.

He began digging; the chicken hadn’t been buried too deeply and in a moment he’d uncovered it. He turned, barked at me, then sat next to his prize looking chuffed.

I confirmed that he had indeed found the chicken and patted him on the head. ‘Good boy.’ I turned to the class. ‘Dinner, anyone?’ I joked. There was a gratifying array of chuckles.

‘You’ll note,’ I said, ‘that Fluffy has found the chicken but he hasn’t picked it up, mouthed it or eaten it.’ There were a few appreciative nods, no doubt from the recruits who knew how much willpower and training it took for a dog not to devour food on the spot. ‘Anyone else want to choose what comes next?’

‘Yeah, the marijuana,’ one of Thorsen’s sidekicks said, eyes still flashing with challenge.

I sighed inwardly but forced my face into a pleasant expression, picked up the scent bag for Fluffy and repeated the process. Marijuana had a strong scent so it was easy for a dog to locate. Fluffy had his nose to the ground in a moment and his stance set to pointing only a few sniffs later. I repeated the command to seek and he hastened forward. It wasn’t a large area to search and in moments he’d uncovered the bag.

This time the recruits seemed a little more impressed. Everyone could appreciate how handy it was for your dog to be able to locate contraband, especially with such lightning-fast precision.

‘Good boy,’ I praised Fluffy again and passed Marks the baggie of weed. He pocketed it, and I resisted the urge to joke about him making me some special brownies.

The last item to be found was an old shirt that I’d worn for a day during Commander’s Weekend. My scent on it was strong and I let Fluffy sniff a scrap of it. It had been hidden well, awayfrom the immediate area around the side of the building, yet Fluffy shot to it with no effort.

I praised him calmly, but inwardly I was jumping up and down and cheering. He had totally smashed it and I was prouder than a mum when their child performed their first nativity play. Keeping a handle on my exuberance, I turned back to my audience. ‘Any questions?’

‘How do you teach them to do that?’ a recruit asked.

‘I’m not an expert on teaching handling,’ I admitted, feeling an utter fraud. But I’d seen Gunnar train Fluffy back in the days when he’d thought Fluffy was a dog, so I did have some knowledge. ‘But it’s basically the same way the academy trains us – with a shit tonne of time, effort, treats and repetition.’ There were some appreciative titters.

‘How old is Fluffy?’ someone else asked.

Since I couldn’t say he was a nineteen-year-old former werewolf, I made up a number on the fly. ‘He’s five.’

‘Has he brought down any perps?’

I nodded proudly. ‘Oh yes. He’s stopped several crimes.’

I was nervous that someone would ask something I couldn’t answer and I stifled the urge to end question time. Another hand was raised. ‘You used hand signals and vocal commands. Why is that?’

‘Sometimes your dog will be working in a noisy environment and he’ll still need to correctly interpret your commands. Similarly, there’ll be occasions when stealth is required. Silent signals are a lot better when you’re tracking a perp.’

‘Has he ever located a dead body?’

I thought of the Savik brothers; both had been dead and Fluffy had helped find them. ‘Yes. Yes he has.’ That took the happy atmosphere down a notch or two, but it also felt right to end the session on a sombre note. We weren’t out there to play with a dog, we were there to talk about a K-9 unit and its benefits.

It was starting to rain but luckily my hour was up. I dismissed the students and they jogged back inside. Marks turned to me. ‘Great job,’ he said, giving me a nod. ‘You’ll hand the dog off now to Mackenzie?’

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