Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection (84 page)

“Hu-hu,” Parker chuckled at Simpson.

“No, Tony, don’t do it!” Simpson exclaimed as he turned and tried to make an escape.

Parker was right behind, attempting to shove the banana up Simpson’s pants.

“No, Tony, no!” Simpson pleaded. “I thought you were learning to be a vet, not a proctologist! Ouw!”

A near miss and a clever maneuver and Simpson smashed the banana in Parker’s hand. Parker tossed what was left at Simpson and caught him on the cheek with a small piece that Simpson quickly wiped away with his forearm. After a couple of playful shoves, they both laughed it off and decided that was enough. Parker cleaned himself off with a paper towel and took a new paper plate behind Simpson’s lead. The potato salad didn’t seem appealing this time, and he looked over the table, undecided. In all the excitement, he hadn’t noticed Julie and Sarah had finished their
talk
and Julie was on her way back to the group. She walked with her head up and a slight smile in a kind of pleased, victorious stride.

Julie arrived as Parker reached for the baked beans. She beat him to the serving spoon, and he submitted, expecting her to serve him like she had many times in the past. He smiled at her. She smiled at him.

“Would you like some baked beans with your potato salad?” she asked, holding the spoon over his plate.

He just smiled until he realized what she meant. The spoon slapped against his chest, direct center, just above the neckline of his shirt. The beans and juice rolled both underneath and over the front of his shirt. Laughter again broke out. His smile still curled the corners of his mouth but lost its sincerity.

CHAPTER 13

“H
ey, everybody, how about some volleyball?” Simpson said in an obvious attempt to take the attention away from what was becoming a tense moment. “Come on, Tony, help me get the equipment out of the trunk.”

Parker grabbed a handful of napkins and followed Simpson to the parking lot.

“What’s up with you two?” Simpson asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I think Julie’s a little jealous of Sarah.”

“Does she have reason to be?”

“No! Not really. I mean nothing’s going on between us. We haven’t done anything. She’s just a friend—a damn good worker, and we work well together. I guess she’s jealous of that.”

“Uh-huh,” Simpson said, sounding unconvinced.

Parker looked around the park, searching for a better explanation as they walked. The wind rustled through the trees, and he could hear children playing and laughing.

“There’s been another dog attack,” Simpson said, opening the trunk. “That’s the reason I was late.”

“Jack, why didn’t you call me?”

“Are you kiddin’, and have Julie pissed at me? No thanks. Besides, we took care of everything like the last time. You can read the report and go to the scene later. They just removed the bodies. No one touched anything else.”

“Bodies?” Parker asked, as he watched a child running a couple of hundred feet away.

“Yeah, a blind man in his late twenties living alone.”

A large, dark image ran through the trees in the same direction as the boy.

Tony stared as he asked, “Was it Jezebel?”

“No, it was the guy’s own sight dog. A German shepherd. The man had been dead for a couple of days. Since before MacGreggor. The officer first on the scene found the dog lying on top of the man like he was protecting him or something.”

“You said bodies. You mean the dog was killed?”

“Yeah. The officer had no choice. The dog wasn’t letting anyone come near his master’s body. Tommy Chin took it to Doc’s and left it with his assistant.”

Parker turned to Simpson. “Why didn’t Chin call me?”

“You can give me credit for that. I told him not to bother you since I was going to see you here. You woulda really been in hot water if you’d showed up late, too.”

Parker nodded with a crooked grin and looked back at the running boy. “If this happens again, we need to catch the dog alive.”

“You think it’s going to happen again?”

“I don’t know,” Parker said, becoming preoccupied with the boy. Through the trees, he could barely make out that the dark image chasing the kid was a dog. The boy seemed to be running frantically—running from the dog. He wasn’t laughing. He was screaming.

“Jack, look at that!” Parker pointed.

It took a second for Simpson to see it, but when he did, he acted.

He moved around Parker, dug the car keys from his pocket, reached through the open window of his car and unlocked the glove compartment.

Screams came from behind a large group of trees the boy ran towards. The boy, and then the dog, disappeared behind the trees as Parker stared. A dozen or more children screamed.

Now a Frisbee. The running boy came out of the trees with a Frisbee. He held it up in front of the large black lab, and the dog jumped at it. The children laughed along with their screams. They were playing. No danger. Just a group of kids having fun in the park and a dog playing Frisbee with a boy. A birthday party. Four or five adults sat watching from lawn chairs nearby.

Simpson tossed his .357 back into the glove compartment and slammed it shut.

“Damn!” he said. “We’re too jumpy.”

He went back to the trunk, and Parker joined him. They raised their heads and took notice when Sarah walked toward her car fifty yards away. She opened her car door and pulled out a large-brimmed white hat with a pink scarf tied around it as a band. It looked good on her. Anything would.

Parker smiled when Sarah glanced over. She smiled back and gave a little wave. He nodded and gave back the wave.

“I hope the
nothing
that happened between you two was worth it,” Simpson said, watching her as she turned away and continued her walk back to the picnic tables. “She does have a nice tail.”

“Yeah,” Parker said, noticing her tight jeans. Then he saw that Julie had caught him looking again. He looked down quickly and pulled out a volleyball from the trunk.

“Your vacation’s coming up a week from tomorrow, isn’t it?” Simpson asked.

“Yeah, I guess we’re going to the Ozarks. Gonna spend some time with Julie’s folks. Probably do some bass fishing with her dad.”

“Sounds relaxing. You and the father-in-law getting along these days?”

“Oh, yeah. Haven’t seen him in about six months. Been getting along just fine.”

“Hey, how about having a poker game like we used to this Friday night? We’ll invite the old regulars. See if Doc White Cloud can come.”

Parker smiled. “That’s a coincidence. Doc and I were just talking about that. Sounds good. But it’ll have to be at your place.”

“All right, no problem,” Simpson said, “It’ll give Sadie a chance to go shopping. You might give Julie a couple of bucks to go along with her. You know, they say women shop to relieve stress. It might get you off the hook and make Julie a happy camper.”

“I’m afraid it’ll take a lot more than a couple of bucks to make Julie a happy camper. So, what about this blind man?” Parker asked.

“His name was Steven Johnson. In some sort of industrial accident and lost sight in both eyes a couple of years back. Just moved to town from Omaha two months ago. His neighbors didn’t know much about him. I guess he kind of kept to himself.”

“What about the dog?”

“German shepherd. Had a rabies shot just last week. The vet was Dr. White Cloud.”

Parker cringed.

“You think it’s more than coincidence?”

“I don’t know; I can’t figure it out. I’ll pay Doc a visit on Tuesday. Patsy’s uncle’s funeral is tomorrow, and they’re out of town. What did the blind man’s house look like?”

“West side, in a new addition off of Central. Nothing was disturbed in the house. The victim’s only apparent wound was his left jugular vein. It was ripped open.”

They stood, gazing out at their families and friends back at the picnic tables.

“There’s more, Tony,” Simpson said.

Parker winced. “What?”

“There was another page torn from a
Bible
. This time it was clothes pinned to the mailbox next to the front door.”

“Did it have initials again?”

“Yeah,
T P
.”

Parker’s eyes widened. “Same scripture?”

“No, this time it was, ‘eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’”

“Eye for eye—blind man, tooth for tooth—dog?” Parker speculated.

“Yeah, maybe, but that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it means something else.”

“One thing’s for sure, now. It isn’t just the dogs. There
is
someone else involved somehow.”

“But how?”

“Hell, I don’t know; you’re the detective.”

“And you’re
TP
.”

Parker frowned. “Anything new on the MacGreggor case?”

Simpson recited as if reading from a note pad. “Doc’s assistant is driving both of the dogs’ heads up to Kansas State University first thing tomorrow. The only wound on the dead dog was the one my bullet made, so we’re guessing the blood on the wall—being dog blood—came from the other dog, Jezebel. Looked like she’d been ramming her head against the wall in some sort of rabies fit. Probably right after the old man was killed. Dr. Walker was good enough to examine the bodies before he went on vacation, otherwise they would have been dissected by some recent med-school grad. The cadavers have really been stacking up down there, what with all the OD’s and suicides lately. People are just going nuts this summer—must be the heat. And, with everyone taking summer vacations, the coroner’s office is operating on half-staff. They’re having to put a lot of stiffs on ice.

“Anyway, Jezebel’s the one that killed the old man at around midnight, maybe a little before. Both officers were killed by the male. No fingerprints besides the old man’s and the neighbor lady’s, and no sign of Jezebel. Except, we did find a trace of blood on the cedar fence in the back yard. It looked like she’d left right after banging her head on the wall. Oh, and we made contact with the nephew, uh—Daryl Bailey. He’s flying in from Des Moines tomorrow. Seemed kind of anxious to see the house.”

“Hmm, let me know when he gets here, will you? I’d like to talk to him.”

“Okay, now, tell me what’s going on in that little BB brain of yours.”

“If you want to know the truth, I’m not sure. Things just don’t add up. I am convinced these dogs don’t have rabies, yet they attack. Attack their own masters and kill anyone else that comes along for apparently no reason. Somehow, there’s more going on that we don’t know about. Something is setting these dogs off, and I think they’re only unwilling participants.”

“Sounds nuts to me.”

“Three dogs, in two separate houses, kill four people. A pastor is nearly killed at his church. All within a couple of days in Wichita, Kansas? These
Bible
verses and the initials. You give me your theory.” Parker said as they began walking to the picnic tables with the volleyball equipment. He frowned when he saw that someone, probably Nick, had unhooked Yankee’s leash, and the dog now trotted toward them.

“Coincidence. That’s all it can be. We’re just jumping to conclusions,” Simpson said, petting Yankee as they walked.

Parker smiled briefly, watching Jack stroke the big Saint Bernard. He knew Yankee was the only dog Simpson trusted enough to touch since he was a kid, and it had taken a couple of years of being around his docile pet to do that.

When Simpson was five, a neighbor kept a huge black mastiff in his front yard behind a too short, four-foot picket fence. The ugly old dog would reach its head over the fence and bark and growl continuously at anyone in sight. One day, Simpson and his older brother were riding their bikes home from school, and the dog leaped the fence effortlessly. It chased his brother down and knocked him off his bike. Simpson’s brother was badly mauled before a passing motorist intervened with a tire iron and beat the dog to death.

Simpson’s brother still carried the scars, mostly on his arms and legs, and Simpson still carried the mental scars from watching the attack.

“I’m on call this afternoon,” Simpson said. “You want to do a little patrolling after the picnic? Maybe go by the blind man’s house.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll ride with you. But there’s more to it, Jack,” Parker said. “I know there is. It’s not just coincidence.”

“Hey, easy boy!” Simpson said, yanking his hand back from the dog.

“What’s wrong?” Parker asked and looked down at Yankee.

Yankee growled, and the fur rose on his back. He glared toward the picnic tables.

A commotion. Startled voices.

Everyone looked toward a spruce tree with low boughs. A huge black and brown rottweiler stepped out from behind the tree with its teeth bared. It stared at the picnickers as it took slow guarded steps toward them, drooling in long strings that glistened in the sunlight.

Parker grabbed Yankee by the collar and walked swiftly with Simpson at his side.

“All right now,” he called out. “Everyone, stay calm. It’s okay. Just don’t make any sudden moves.” There was no reason for this animal to be aggressive unless he was sick or had rabies. Maybe he’d killed a rabbit in the trees and was trying to guard it.

Ted Baker, the Parkers’ divorced neighbor, took the initiative and stood up from the table. He picked up a three-foot stick and approached the dog.

“Careful Ted,” Parker said, now at a trot. “Don’t get too close.”

Baker didn’t seem to hear as he stepped even closer, now within six feet of the rottweiler. The dog advanced cautiously, its growls vicious like that of a wolf in a bear trap.

“Damn it, Ted,” Parker yelled as he sprinted, “don’t get so damn close. Get back!”

Baker brought the stick to waist level and began swinging it aggressively.

“Get out of…,” Baker began but didn’t have time to finish as the rottweiler sprang like a leopard and took him by the right wrist. The man wailed and twisted his arm away and the blood streamed. The dog stood its ground while Baker fell back on his seat and scooted backwards to the group.

Sadie Simpson snatched up a tea towel that was covering a pan of rolls, knelt beside Baker and aided him in wrapping his blood-gushing wrist.

The children who had been playing in the clearing nearby came running and screaming back to the group. A large collie and a German shepherd followed, giving angry barks and snarls. A frightened young boy, one of the Thortons’ kids who lived down the street from the Parkers, stopped and tried to retrieve the ball cap he’d dropped. The large collie blocked his way. It headed him off. When the boy went left, the dog followed. The boy went right; the dog was there. The boy went left again, and the dog jogged back into his way, this time growling viciously. The boy finally got the message and ran to the others.