Authors: Laura Childs
Bedeviled Eggs (31 page)
They walked for
another five minutes on uneven ground.
“Are you ...” Suzanne
began.
But Toni
suddenly threw up an arm and said, “Whoa! You hear that? It was like a
high-pitched yip!”
Suzanne halted in her
tracks. She had heard something.
“Maybe a pack of
coyotes?” asked Toni. “We might
have to, like, throw rocks at them or something.”
“That’s
our self-defense plan?” said Suzanne. “Throw
rocks?”
“I could go back and
grab a tire iron.”
Suzanne grimaced. “Okay,
rocks it is.”
But the yips had
turned to barking.
Loud,
insistent
barking.
“Dogs?” wondered Toni.
“I think so,” said
Suzanne. “But more than just a couple.
It sounds like a whole pack.”
They
wandered farther down the path until they came to
a weedy area, circular, but with
the grass all matted down.
Then the moon slipped out from behind the clouds and
shone down on a low,
wooden building. Now they could
hear barks, woofs, and snuffles coming from what ap
peared to be metal cages.
“It
is
dogs,” exclaimed Toni. “Cool. This must be some
kind of breeding kennel.”
Suzanne was more
tentative. “I don’t know ...”
Toni strolled right up
to one of the cages. “Or maybe
one of those puppy mills you read about.” She peered at
it, speculatively. “Although
these guys look kind of big for
puppies.”
“Oh man!” said
Suzanne, suddenly recognizing the
place for what it was. “You know what kind of
dogs these
are?”
“Cute dogs,” said
Toni, as she reached a hand out and
unlatched one of the cages. “Snuggly dogs.”
“They’re fighting
dogs!” Suzanne yelled, as a brown
furry object hurtled from its cage, caroming into
Toni and
knocking
her down. The canine landed in a scramble of
legs, righted itself, then paused
when it saw Suzanne. The
dog moved in a slow circle, tail down, shoulders hunched,
its fiery eyes fixed on
Suzanne.
“Don’t move,” Suzanne
hissed. “Don’t show fear.”
‘Too late,” said Toni,
“I think I already wet my pants.”
Like a dangerous,
fur-covered shark, the dog turned its
large head slowly and snarled in Toni’s
direction. “Good boy?” she said, weakly. The dog didn’t adjust his attitude
one bit.
“We need to walk out
of here very slowly,” Suzanne cau
tioned. “Don’t turn your back on him or look
directly into
his eyes. No challenges; let the dog think he’s dominant.”
“He’ll get no argument
from me,” said Toni, slowly
pulling
herself to her knees.
“Easy now,” said
Suzanne. Gingerly, she took a step
backward.
Watching Toni struggle
to get up, the canine let loose
a low, throaty growl and advanced a step toward her. His
muzzle was pulled
back in a pile of ugly wrinkles, his eyes
were filled with intensity.
“Holy
crapola!” said Toni, real fear tingeing her voice.
“I think he’s gonna...”
Suzanne threw her
arms up in the air and shouted. “Hey,
dog! Get over here, mutt!”
His concentration
suddenly broken, the dog swung angrily
toward Suzanne. Then he set his
muscular legs in a fighting
stance and rumbled toward her like a steam locomotive!
Suzanne
abandoned her own advice and bolted. Sprint
ing and scrambling, she knew she
wasn’t going to make
it after the first few steps, then stumbled badly as her
toe
caught on something.
The earth
rushed up to meet her as her open hands
slapped hard against a piece of
wire mesh. Quick as a snap
ping turtle, Suzanne staggered back to her feet, holding
up
the
discarded mesh as a kind of shield. The dog lunged at
her, but Suzanne fended it off. “Easy,”
she told the dog.
“Just take
it easy.”
The dog rushed at her
a second time and this time Suzanne pushed the mesh firmly against its muzzle.
Then,
still
positioning the mesh as a barrier between herself and the dog, Suzanne slowly
maneuvered across the dry grass
to
grab Toni.
“Don’t let him bite
me!” Toni chattered, clutching Su
zanne’s arm in a vise grip as the dog jumped and
barked
at them.
“We’re
gonna be okay!” Suzanne shrilled as, together,
they crab-stepped backward.
“Doesn’t he know we
love
dogs?” asked Toni.
“I don’t think
anybody’s ever shown this guy love,” said
Suzanne.
“Well, if he’d just
be nice ...” said Toni.
But the wily dog
continued to snap and dart at them,
driving them at a crazy angle, causing them to
retreat
deeper and deeper into
the nearby woods.
“But my
car’s thataway,” said a frantic Toni. “What are
we gonna do, climb a tree?”
“Then we’ll just be
treed game,” said Suzanne. “No,
look
for a stick or some kind of club.”
“You want
to club him? Doesn’t that constitute animal
cruelty?”
Think of it as
extreme self-defense!” said Suzanne. She was a dog lover, but she loved her own
hide, too.
“Listen,” said Toni,
her hands still clutched around Su
zanne’s waist, “you hear that burbling? We’re
going to end
up at the creek.”
“That’s not good,”
said Suzanne, wishing they could
find a hunk of wood or piece of metal to club the dog
with
and render it senseless.
“Okay,” said Toni, “my
boots just hit mud.”
“I feel
it,” said Suzanne, as dampness started to seep
into her shoes.
“Gonna be kind of
cold for swimming,’’ Toni warned.
“Unless...”
Suzanne took her eyes off the slavering
dog to look around quickly.
“Not even a dock,”
mourned Toni.
“But there’s a canoe!”
“What?”
“Just to your left, an
old wooden canoe.”
“Holy moley!” said
Toni.
They
edged their way left, until Toni was able to reach
out and touch a hand to it.
“Think it floats?”
asked Suzanne.
“We’ll cross that
stream when we come to it!”
“Flip it over,”
Suzanne urged, still fending off the dog.
‘Try to get it partially into the water!”
Toni bent quickly to
her left, let loose an inelegant
grunt, and flipped the canoe right side up. She grabbed
the
two
paddles, tossed them into the canoe, and with a mighty
push, sent it halfway into the river.
“Got it!” Toni
yelled, as she struggled to hold the canoe
in place against the fast-moving current.
“You jump in first,”
said Suzanne, “then I’ll push off.”
Toni made a leap of
faith, landed squarely in the middle
of the canoe, then struggled her way to the bow. “I’m
in!”
Suzanne backed up
into ankle-deep water, took one last look at the angry canine, then in one
swift move, thrust the
screen
at him as she jumped in, too.
Grabbing
a paddle, Suzanne pushed off hard, just as the
dog splashed in after them.
But the current of the
Catawba River caught them,
mercifully spinning them around and pointing them down
river. In seconds
they were carried swiftly away.
As they floated down
the Catawba River, buffeted by the various eddies and swirls, Toni glanced back
nervously and
asked, “Can dogs
swim?”
“You’re
lucky you didn’t get rabies,” Petra scolded.
They were all three
sitting on a hard wooden church pew
in Pilgrim’s Church, waiting for Wilbur Halpern’s
funeral to begin. Wilbur’s family had elected to forego a funeral
home and have a final
viewing at the church.
“I guess the dog’s bark
was worse than his bite,” said
Suzanne, trying to make light of what had been a harrow
ing situation.
“How did you two even
get home?” Petra asked.
“That
was the easy part,” said Toni. “Eventually we
just floated into town. When we
hit Bluff Creek Park, we
ditched
the canoe and walked home.”
“What about your car?”
Petra may have been worried,
but
she was also curious.
Toni grinned. “I
called Junior and told him to go out
there and tow it.” She paused. “And pick up some
pump
kins, too.”
“Good thinking,” said
Suzanne.
“You called Doogie?”
Petra asked. ‘Told him about the dogs?” She glanced toward the front of the
church where
Sheriff Doogie, sitting ramrod stiff in his dress uniform,
shared a pew with
Wilbur Halpern’s family. They were, in
turn, surrounded, by other
sheriff’s deputies, state patrol
officers, police officers, and firemen from the
tri-county
area
and beyond who had shown up this morning to bid
farewell to a fallen brother.
“I spoke to one of
his deputies first thing this morning,”
said Suzanne. “He promised to
tell Doogie as well as rustle
up animal control and the local humane society. He said
they might even try to
stake it out—figure out who owns those poor creatures, since dogfighting is a
felony.”
“Shh,” said Toni,
putting a finger to her lips. “The
funeral.”
The double doors in
the back of the church suddenly
creaked open, a cue for the organist to hit the first
bars
of
the “Funeral March” from Beethoven’s Sonata no. 12. Mourners scrambled to their
feet, shuffled, and turned to
watch
the sad procession file in.
Six uniformed sheriff
deputies, looking both stricken and solemn, wheeled the flag-draped mahogany
casket
down the aisle.
“Oh dear.” Petra
lifted a crumpled hanky to her mouth.
Toni oozed a silent
tear.
Suzanne thought,
Doggone,
if I’d only gotten to Wilbur
five minutes earlier.
Reverend Falk came out
to meet the coffin. He laid his hands gently upon it, watched as the
pallbearers seesawed it into place, then launched into his opening benediction.
Suzanne folded her
arms across her black funeral suit and hugged herself tightly. Today, Wilbur
Halpern was
being celebrated as a true hero. A man who had died in the line of
duty. But what a terrible price to pay for that honor!
Suzanne wanted to cry,
but didn’t. Crying was a fine
release of emotions and endorphins, of course, but it
did
nothing
to help bring about justice. And that’s what Su
zanne was most interested in for
Wilbur. And for Chuck Peebler, too. Capture whatever madman was lurking out
there and bring him to a swift and awful justice.
Letting loose a
silent sigh, Suzanne saw that Toni was
digging in her purse for
Kleenex. In fact, there didn’t seem
to be a dry eye in the house. Except for her.
This funeral
was a necessary tribute, of course, but she was more anx
ious for closure in
the form of arrests, sentencing, and
prison terms.
Harsh, but true.
As Wilbur’s uncle
took the podium to talk about Wilbur’s life and devotion to family, Suzanne’s
mind contin
ued to race. She thought about Chuck Peebler again. About
his sad, empty house
and his strange note about Tortuga.
She thought about poor Scruff, the dog she’d
picked up the night she’d discovered Deputy Halpern. Scruff must have
been one of a number
of hapless dogs tossed into the ring to
tangle with the fighting dogs. A
sort of sparring partner
except poor Scruff, who was a docile, gentle guy, had
been
expected to lose!
Doogie’s cough, meant
to clear his throat, brought Su
zanne back to the moment at hand. Doogie stood poised at
the podium now, gazing at Wilbur’s casket as he ner
vously unfolded a single sheet of
paper. Smoothing it out,
he glanced about the church, then began his tribute to
Wil
bur
Halpern. He spoke of Wilbur’s patriotism and civic
pride. Of how proud Wilbur had
been to serve as a deputy
and how he’d glowed with happiness at earning his vari
ous medals. How Wilbur
had gone out of his way to help
people, even driving a couple of elderly residents to the
Westvale
Medical Clinic when they couldn’t find a ride.