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“I guess so. I damn sure can’t imagine my life without Rose, Liz, and the boys. Who would have ever thought I’d be a grandfather?” he smirked.
“I’m sure your mama did,” laughed Pork.
“You’re probably not wrong about that,” nodded Baptiste. “That woman sure seems to know a lot. More than a lot. In fact, it seems she’s always ten steps ahead of us.”
“Maybe we should ask her where these men are,” grinned Otto.
“Maybe.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Antoine, Sven, and George walked through the gates of a licensed breeder of labrador retrievers. The facility, called First Cut, was listed as one of the best in the nation. The home was a pretty Acadian-style home with a wrap-around porch and green shutters. They could hear dogs barking in the back of the home, so they made their way around the house. What they saw was not what they expected.
A woman and man held a thin whip in each of their hands, lashing out at a dog.
“Get back where you were!” yelled the woman.
Antoine moved so quickly Sven and George thought he might kill the woman. But as the man raised the whip toward him, George gripped his wrist, twisting his arm until he dropped the whip.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? This is private property. Call the sheriff, Roy,” screamed the woman, lying in the dirt. Antoine snapped the whip in half, walking toward the dog.
“It’s alright, boy. No one is gonna hurt you anymore.”
“Stay away from him! You’re ruining our training,” said the man.
“I don’t know what you folks think you’re doin’, but it ain’t trainin’,” said George. “So, I tell you what. You go ahead and call the sheriff, and we’ll wait right here. We’ll tell him everything we just witnessed, and we’d be happy to take these dogs from here.”
They looked at one another, then back at the men.
“Why are you here?” asked Roy.
“Well, first introductions. Roy,” frowned Antoine. “My friends and I are out investigating a possible puppy mill and abuse to animals. Seems like we found it.”
“No,” said the woman. “No, not at all. I’m Della, and that’s my partner, Roy. We run a training facility for animals used in films.”
“Your website says you breed labs,” frowned Sven.
“We do, but that’s a different part of the business. The animals aren’t actually being whipped. We snap the whip near them to get them used to sounds and sudden movement,” said the man. He walked toward a table, lifting the cover off. Beneath was a tambourine, a drum, a starting pistol, and two pieces of wood.
“We use those things to mimic sounds on a movie set. The firing of a gun, something falling, anything.”
“I saw you whip that dog,” said Antoine.
“No. You saw me crack the whip near the dog. We’re trying to get him to stay in place even though he hears the sound. I yelled at him to get back because I didn’t want him to be hit by Roy’s whip. We would never whip the dogs. They’re very expensive and very well-trained.”
Antoine ran his hand over the dog, not feeling any cuts or bumps. His coat was healthy, his teeth a bright, shiny white. He seemed happy and content.
“My apologies,” said Antoine.
“It’s okay,” smirked Della. “I’m glad to find so many other animal lovers. Our methods might seem strange, but these dogs are very good at what they do. They have contracts to appear in a number of upcoming films. Believe me, it wouldn’t do anyone any good if they were harmed.”
“I understand,” said Antoine.
“We apologize for thinking the worst,” said Sven. “As my friend said, we’re looking into a possible ring of people abusing and breeding puppies illegally and trying to sell them.”
“Oh, no. That’s not something we would ever be a part of,” said Roy. “People know that we only use the dogs that we breed here, and they’re very well taken care of. We have a veterinarian on staff, and the dogs have twenty-four-seven care.”
“It sounds like you’re doing everything right,” smiled Antoine. “Any idea who might be doing this, and why?”
