Ruby and Duke stumbled into their house, exhausted after flying from Shreveport to their home in Juneau. Duke carried Jamie’s kennel.

“Jamie seems disturbed, Duke,” Ruby said. “She usually loves her kennel but doesn’t seem to like it today.”

Their King Charles Cavalier leaped out of her kennel when Duke opened the door. She quickly gave him a King Charles hug, defined by a well-trimmed paw on each shoulder and a puppy kiss on the cheek followed by her face pressed against his.

“You’re right,” Duke said. “She seems very upset.”

“This isn’t Jamie’s kennel, Duke.”

Jamie was staying as far from the kennel as she could get. It was so unlike her.

Duke looked the kennel over.

“There’s a false bottom here,” he said.

Working the false bottom open, Duke found two bags of a white powder.

“Cocaine,” he said. “I’ll call the cops. You get Jamie to the vet. We have to make sure she didn’t ingest any of the drugs.”

Less than twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. The man at the door introduced himself as Jake LeMaster. Assuming he was a cop, Duke let LeMaster in without question. It was only after he was in the house that Duke realized LeMaster was carrying Jamie’s kennel. It must be, Duke thought, that the kennel with the drugs belonged to LeMaster.

“This is your kennel? Your drugs?” Duke questioned.

“So what?” was LeMaster’s surly reply

Duke’s fist shot out with all his force, knocking LeMaster to the ground. The man tried to stand up. It was a mistake. Duke hit him again. This time he was down for the count.

Duke looked around until he found some rope. He tied LeMaster’s hands behind his back.

Ruby called from the vet’s office. A blood test showed no drugs. Jamie had smelled the drugs and was only frightened. She wasn’t harmed in any way.

LeMaster stirred, struggling as he realized he was bound.

“Let me explain something to you,” Duke said. “Don’t ever mess with my dog.!”

Duke hit the man again.

Homicide Detective Michael Harris arrived in time to prevent Duke from hitting LeMaster again. He entered with his Glock sidearm drawn, not knowing what he’d find

“I’ll take it from here,” Harris said, holstering his Glock and quickly replacing the rope binding the man’s hands with cuffs. “You’re lucky. This is a bad one.”

“He went down easy,” Duke said.

“You caught him by surprise,” Harris said. “Before he came here he murdered Marian Dunn, his partner in this drug deal. She’s the one who mixed up the kennels. Apparently LeMaster didn’t like that. And it’s a good thing you got the drop on him. He has a Winchester 70 with a scope in his car. It’s a heavy-duty rifle used for hunting the largest bears in Alaska. He would have shot you through the window.”

“Here’s our angel,” Ruby said as she returned with a healthy Jamie.

Jamie was a beautiful, tricolor King Charles Cavalier. Black and white with brown spots on her muzzle. She immediately ran to Duke.

“He’s lucky. He should learn that you don’t mess with my dog.”