then locked him in the basement.
Around noon, Charlie became too anxious at work and told Bob that he needed to take a half day off.
When he hurried down into the basement, Kutter ran out of one of the boxes, perfectly fine.
'We can't live like this,' he told Kutter. 'It was just a couple of stupid men playing a joke. They haven't come back. We'll probably never see them again. Only an idiot would keep worrying about them, right?'
* * *
The next evening, as Charlie poured some dry food into Kutter's bowl, there was a knock at the door. He finished pouring the food, walked into the living room, and looked through the peephole.
It was both of the men. And their dogs.
Charlie backed away from the door, slowly and carefully, hoping that the men hadn't heard his footsteps.
The knocking grew in intensity.
'We know you're in there,' said the man who'd done all of the talking before. 'It's rude to leave guests waiting out on your porch.'
Charlie picked the gun up off his coffee table and shoved it into the waist of his pants. He pulled his shirt over the weapon, but it was too obvious--it looked silly. And he still didn't trust it not to go off in his pants. If he opened the door and immediately shoved the barrel into the first man's face, he ran the risk that the man might simply pluck the gun from his fingers and turn it on him.
He decided to keep the gun in his hand and sit on the couch. If they broke in, he'd shoot them. He had neighbors, so they had to know that they couldn't make
Kutter joined him.
The men continued to knock on the door, but didn't say anything else. After a couple of minutes, they left.
'Don't worry,' he told Kutter. 'If they try to hurt you, I'll kill them.'
- 12 -
'Dammit!' exclaimed Charlie as the warm liquid splashed into his face. He wiped the soapy water out of his eyes. 'Quit shaking!'
Kutter tried to jump out of the tub, but Charlie blocked his escape and pushed down on his back. 'This isn't hurting you,' he said. 'You want to be all nice and clean so that people know I'm taking good care of you, don't you?'
The dog obviously had other priorities, such as getting out of the tub as soon as possible. The slippery, soapy animal slid out from underneath Charlie's hands and leapt out of the tub. Charlie grabbed for him and missed. Kutter ran out of the bathroom.
'Not on the couch!' Charlie shouted.
Kutter jumped up onto the couch and shook again, spraying suds all over. This was better than vomit, Charlie supposed. He picked Kutter up, hugged him to his chest, and carried the struggling dog back into the bathroom. He pushed the door closed--which he should have done in the first place--with his foot and then set Kutter back into the tub.
'Don't you want to smell nice?' he asked. 'Not to be rude, but you don't always smell so good. This is expensive shampoo just for dogs. Not every dog gets this kind of treatment, so you should be counting your blessings instead of being a pain in the neck.'
He scrubbed Kutter some more, then pulled out the plug and let the water drain out of the tub. 'Almost done,' he said. He turned on the warm water and filled a plastic bowl, then gently poured it over Kutter. After a few bowls of water, the soap was rinsed out of Kutter's fur and Charlie dried him off with his fluffiest towel.
When Charlie let Kutter out of the bathroom, he ran happily into the living room, then rolled around on the floor. Charlie was glad he'd vacuumed.
* * *
Somebody called in the middle of the night from a blocked number, but didn't say anything. They hung up after about ten seconds. If Charlie'd had a whistle handy, he would have blown out the caller's eardrums.
* * *
Kutter stood at the door and let out one sharp bark, indicating that he was ready to be taken for a walk.
'Why aren't you a cat?' Charlie asked. 'If you were a cat, you could just use a litter box and you'd never have to go outside.'
Technically, he never had to let Kutter outside anyway, but the cleanup would be unpleasant and the dog would be miserable. He wasn't going to let those cretins ruin his relationship with his pet. He put on his jacket, and put the gun in his inside pocket.
Charlie had been altering his route every time these past couple of days, figuring that the men probably weren't watching his home from an unmarked van, and so if he kept his path unpredictable he wouldn't run into them. He hated having to do this. He almost hoped that he'd run into them tonight, put a bullet in each of their throats, and end the problem.
Almost. Not quite.
It was a nice, long walk, and both Charlie and Kutter had a great time. Then, as he dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door, the two men and their dogs ran onto his front porch. They must have been hiding by the side of the house.
He threw open the door and quickly stepped inside. Before he could pull the door shut again, the man with the goatee stuck his foot in the gap and blocked it. Charlie yanked harder on the door, hoping to break the man's foot or even pop it off, but he wasn't strong enough and the man easily forced the door all the way open.
'Can we come in?' the man asked.
'I have a gun,' said Charlie.
'We're not going to hurt you. We just want to talk.'
Charlie and Kutter cautiously backed into the center of the living room as the men and their dogs came inside. The man who hadn't said anything yet closed the front door. The rottweiler and the pit bull (or whatever it was) growled and strained against their leashes, which looked like they might snap at any instant. Charlie wondered if these were the kind of dogs that fought each other while people bet on them.
'Were you worried?' the first man asked.
'What?'
'All this time. Were you worried?'
'About what?'
The man laughed. 'Let's make a rule that during this encounter, we'll all respect each other's intelligence, okay? I'm talking about the way we entered your lives. Were you worried?'
Charlie shook his head.
'Bullshit. Do you know when I was worried?'
'No.'
'When my sister didn't come home.' The man reached into his pocket and took out a piece of folded white paper. He unfolded it and held it up for Charlie to see. 'Recognize her?'
Charlie did. He'd been crying over her eight months ago, when she died on his table too soon. 'No.'
'Sure you do. Think back.'
'I've never seen her.'
'Never? You're saying that you recall everybody you've ever seen in your entire life? People in line at the grocery store? That's a pretty impressive talent. But you know her. She made a lot of bad decisions, and she got
