her.
Al muddied her pretty pink suit in an effort to get after his new true love, and as her master turned away to shield her, Al did the next best thing-he started to hump away at her leg. Hey, at least he had good taste.
I pulled Al off and apologized profusely. I got a teary “hrrmph” and the pair hurried away.
“Kid, you lead an interesting life,” Rudy said.
I had Al back on a leash but he wasn’t in a good mood. He sat and I had to pull him over to the bench.
“So how do I turn this doctor in?” I asked.
“Turn him in? It’s like any other criminal activity. You can’t just turn him in, the cops have to get proof. Usually, docs who get involved in this short of shit cover their tracks pretty well. They’re smarter than the average street jerk.”
“Ahh shit.”
Rudy thanked me for the sub and patted Al on the head as he got up to leave.
“Al, sometimes it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” he said as he headed to his car, oblivious to the oil spots that made an asymmetrical polka-dot pattern on his shirt.
31
Being a modern-day Robin Hood was complicated. I had set out to graciously defend my buddy, Hackin’ Howard, from the injustice of being falsely accused only to be thanked by him confessing and threatening me. Now, I’d uncovered what I believe is a dirty shrink dealing drugs, maybe even to the kids under his care. So do I continue to search for Howard with the legions of law enforcement professionals doing the same thing, or do I try to expose the born-again criminal poisoning the kids? These are the tough decisions facing today’s superheroes.
I cracked open a Schlitz and lay down on the couch, propped up enough to not dribble my beer. I flipped through SportsCenter, Law amp; Order, Law amp; Order SVU, and Law amp; Order Criminal Intent, past Lifetime, which was showing a movie about a guy who disguised himself to seduce his ex-wife and steal the kids, and to an infomercial about a product in which you could put your clothes in a plastic bag and suck all the air out to make it really flat. Then there was a show about really cool motor homes, a black comedienne’s special, and a show about animal cops in Detroit. VH-1 was showing something about the best one hundred booty songs, and Bravo had that guy with the bad beard interviewing a skinny actor with greasy hair whose name I didn’t know. Finally, I turned to the local cable news channel, my default channel to nap to.
Al had joined me, making a fort out of the crook in my knees and rolling up in a ball. The news was doing a traffic report, which I found absurd because Crawford was a medium-sized town without any real traffic problems, but the reporter did everything he could to emphasize that everything was moving along without any major slow- downs. The enthusiastic traffic guy was about to turn it over to the up-to-the-minute-Doppler weather guy when the anchor abruptly broke in.
I got that weird chilly feeling.
They split the screen with an on-scene reporter. She was in a field with an ambulance, several police cars and a lot of activity behind her. You could see guys with those windbreakers with the big “FBI” on the backs milling around her. She was a bit shaken, more so than a reporter should be.
“… One body recovered consisted only of a torso, and it was drained of blood through a series of punctures on the sides of the torso. It was the body of a teenage girl. The second body was decapitated and emasculated but the limbs were intact. In both cases, the missing body parts were not found by the bodies…,” she said.
I sat up, which forced Al to do the same. I could feel the sweat on my palms and I had the instinct that I had to rush and do something, I just had no idea what. I grabbed my coat with the intention of heading to AJ’s when the phone rang. The chilly feeling, which hadn’t gone away, multiplied, and I had a weird premonition about who it was going to be.
“Duff? It’s me. What I told you was the truth, and it is imperative that you mind your business,” Howard said.
“How-” It was too late, he was gone.
I flew the Eldorado to AJ’s and didn’t have a cogent thought the whole way. It was like my mind overheated and couldn’t function properly. I was going to see Kelley; I didn’t even care about drinking.
The Foursome were at it, having been watching the special reports all afternoon. Even their mood was somber, but it didn’t make their conversation any less idiotic.
“I thought it was because Berkowitz’s father was named Sam,” Jerry Number One said.
“No, it was his neighbor’s Rottweiler,” Rocco said.
“Labrador,” Jerry Number Two said.
“Rottweiler,” Rocco said.
“His father was a dog?” TC said.
“Son of a bitch,” Jerry Number One said.
“No, he was psychopharmic and believed the Labrador was talking to him,” Jerry Number Two said.
“Rottweiler,” Rocco said.
“What did the Rottweiler say to him?” TC asked.
“Labrador,” Jerry Number Two said.
“He didn’t say anything to him. Dogs can’t talk, stupid,” Rocco said.
“What about those dogs that sing the Christmas carol?” TC said.
“That was spliced,” Rocco said.
“Most dogs are today. It helps with the overpopulation,” Jerry Number One said.
Kelley was there and he wasn’t watching TV, he was just staring straight ahead drinking his Coors.
“He called me,” I said.
“You need to call Morris right now, no bullshit,” Kelley said.
“All he said was that he was telling the truth and that it was imperative that I stay away.”
“You need to call Morris, now.”
“Why would he call me moments after doing this?”
“Call Morris, now.”
“Fine,” I said.
I went home and called Morris and he came over, this time by himself. He asked what, where, when, and how questions and left. Al remained calm and I guess Morris’s fascination with me as a source of information had diminished. It was now heading toward eleven; I didn’t feel like heading back to AJ’s and there was no way I felt like sleeping. The Yankees were off and there was nothing on the tube and I didn’t feel like drinking much, so I decided to take a ride.
Al came along and we headed out Route 11 West just to go someplace different. Elvis was doing his rocking gospel number “I’ve Got Confidence,” from the early ’70s, and he was doing an outstanding job. Forty-five minutes into the ride I decided to head over to where they discovered the bodies just to see. A half an hour later, I pulled up to a field lit by portable spotlights that, along with the misty late-summer rain, cast a surreal glow over the entire area. It looked like an alien landing spot or a spot being preserved for something supernatural. It just looked out of place.
I parked on the side of the road and walked with Al toward the yellow tape until a uniformed cop stopped me.
“Crime scene, sir. You’ll have to move on,” he said.
“Sure, I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to see this,” I said. The cop didn’t say anything at all. Though there were a handful of police types around it didn’t look like anyone was doing anything.
I moved along and started to head back to the Eldorado when I thought of something. I stopped and Al looked up at me.
What could I lose?
I looked back down at Al and our eyes met.
“Go find!” I yelled.
Al’s nose went to the ground and he worked around a circle. This was weird because although I gave him the
