Dog Tags by David Rosenfelt Page A

subject, since this particular subject is going nowhere. “Did you find out why they were guarding Milo?”
     I ask.
    “Andy, I must have missed that day in law school when they taught how before a case the prosecutor is supposed to tell the
     defense everything he knows.”
    “Where did you go to law school, the University of Mars? It’s called discovery.”
    “Discovery relates to evidence. Any conversations that I may or may not have had with federal authorities are not evidence.
     Which reminds me, are you Zimmerman’s attorney? Because there is a lot of actual discoverable material to turn over when and
     if he gets himself a lawyer.”
    This is the moment of truth, at least for me. “Yeah. Send it over.”
    He nods. “Will do. And unless he’s willing to accept the forty years, I’ll see you in court, counselor.”
    As soon as I leave Eli’s office, I get a call from Rita Gordon telling me that Judge Catchings has approved the release of
     Milo to me.
    Within the space of five minutes, I’ve added a klepto German shepherd and a client to my life.
    Oh, happy day.

W ILLIE, F RED, AND I COME UP WITH AN INGENIOUS PLAN TO SPRING MILO FROM THE SHELTER.
    Actually, “ingenious” may be too strong a word. We’re not talking
Mission: Impossible
here, but for us it qualifies as high-level tactical maneuvering. And because the media have jumped on the case, we want
     to make sure that it goes off without a hitch. Since a dog getting out of prison is a surefire ratings and circulation booster,
     members of the press will certainly be there in full force. We want to get Milo out safely while keeping his future whereabouts
     a secret, so in this case the media must be seen as the enemy.
    The plan is for Willie to arrive at the shelter at least twenty minutes before me. The assembled reporters will pay little
     attention to him, but will wait and mob me when I arrive.
    Fred will keep them out of the shelter and give me a different German shepherd, one who was found stray two weeks ago, for
     me to take out through the front door. This other dog and I will go out, I’ll talk to the press for a couple of minutes, and
     then we’ll make our way to my car and drive off. I’m certain the reporters will theneither follow me home or disperse to cover another earth-shattering news event.
    This will allow Willie to slip out the back with Milo, and once he’s safely gone, he’ll call me. I’ll then return my German
     shepherd to the shelter, so that the media will know Milo is not at my house. We’ll then re-rescue the stand-in shepherd in
     a couple of days, and find him a good home through our Tara Foundation.
    It’s a win–win for everybody.
    Unfortunately, the plan works better on paper than it does in real life. When I arrive at the shelter, Willie is nowhere to
     be found, and I ask Fred what happened to him.
    “He called and said he was going to be twenty minutes late,” Fred says. “I was supposed to call you and tell you, but I didn’t
     have your cell number.”
    “Is Milo okay?”
    Fred nods. “He’s fine. They pulled the guard off this morning, but nothing seems to be happening.”
    We wait for Willie to arrive, and finally I see his car pull up in the back. “What happened to you?” I ask.
    “I stopped to get Milo some biscuits and a few really cool chew toys. Didn’t Fred tell you?”
    I don’t want to keep talking about this; I just want to get Milo safely out of here. Fred gets me the other German shepherd,
     named Snickers, and I gear myself up to take him through the crowd. “Is Snickers okay?” I ask. “I mean, he’s not going to
     bite any reporters, is he?”
    “How the hell do I know?” Fred asks. “He’s only been here two weeks, and he’s been stuck in a cage. As far as I know, this
     is going to be his first press conference.”
    I once again tell Willie that he is to wait ten minutes after I leave, make sure the press has followed me, and then sneak
     out the back with Milo.