Suckers - J.A. Konrath

WHELP WANTED
A Harry McGlade Mystery by JA Konrath
I was halfway through a meatball sandwich when a man came into my office and offered me
money to steal a dog.
A lot of money.
“Are you an animal lover, Mr. McGlade?”
“Depends on the animal. And call me Harry.”
He offered his hand. I stuck out mine, and watched him frown when he noticed the marinara
stains. He abruptly pulled back, reaching instead into the inner pocket of his blazer. The suit he
wore was tailored and looked expensive, and his skin was tanned to a shade only money can buy.
“This is Marcus.” His hand extended again, holding a photograph. “He’s a Shar-pei.”
Marcus was one of those unfortunate Chinese wrinkle dogs, the kind that look like a great
big raisin with fur. He was light brown, and his face had so many folds of skin that his eyes were
completely covered.
I bet the poor pooch walked into a lot of walls.
“Cute,” I said, because the man wanted to hire me.
“Marcus is a champion show dog. He’s won four AKC competitions. Several judges have
commented that he’s the finest example of the breed they’ve ever seen.”
I wanted to say something about Marcus needing a good starch and press, but instead
inquired about the dog’s worth.
“With the winnings, and stud fees, he’s worth upwards of ten thousand dollars.”
I whistled. The dog was worth more than I was.
“So, what’s the deal, Mr...”
“Thorpe. Vincent Thorpe. I’m willing to double your usual fee if you can get him back.”
I took another bite of meatball, wiped my mouth on my sleeve, and leaned back in my
swivel chair. The chair groaned in disapproval.
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