On the Ropes (Duffy Dombrowski Mystery Book 1) by Tom Schreck

Author:Tom Schreck [Schreck, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 2022-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

19

I got back to the Moody Blue just after five, got my rousing greeting at the door from Al, checked my mail, and hit the play button on my answering machine.

“Duff, it’s Jerry, c’mon by AJ’s tonight. I got some stuff. None of it earth shaking, but I think you’ll be interested.”

That was interesting, and I was glad to hear Jerry actually got to the project. I was afraid he’d get lost in Star Trek stuff and get abducted by some Klingons. It was too early to head to the bar and there wasn’t enough time to head to the gym, so I opened a Schlitz and sat on the good side of my couch. The remote wasn’t on the coffee table and it wasn’t between the cushions or on the end table. Having to actually get off the couch to change stations seemed like the equivalent of rubbing two sticks together to get dinner going. It was unacceptable.

I got off the couch to search for the remote. Generally speaking, it had to be in the general area of the TV because there was no reason to bring it away from the television. It wasn’t underneath the living room furniture or behind anything. On my third search through the sofa cushions, as I tried to heft Al from his side of the couch, it dawned on me.

“You better not have,” I said to my new housemate.

Al’s eyebrows went up, his eyes got a little shifty, and he let out a high-pitched sigh. I wasn’t about to accept that as an explanation. I went to the kitchen and lo and behold, there, next to his food dish, on his special mat with the paw prints were Al’s two newest chew toys. Not the rawhide bones I bought so he’d stop eating the couch, not the fuzzy carrot with the squeaky thing in the middle—those objects remained in the spot I left them with absolutely no evidence of slobber. Instead, there sat my multifunction, all-in-one remote covered in slobber with teeth marks up and down its length and missing the six, seven, and nine buttons. I guess this was Al’s version of parental controls. Next to the remote was what was left of my cordless phone. There was no antenna, there were chew marks all over the back of it, and there was slobber on all the keys.

I took the remote and stood over him as he slept on the couch.

“Bad!” I yelled with the remote in my hand. That was what the Dogs for Dummies book I bought at PetSmart said to do. I was vigorously showing my displeasure with Al’s behavior and associating it with the object.

Al opened his eyes, which from his recumbent posture deeply furrowed his brow, and then he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He was either overcome with guilt and couldn’t look me in the eye or he was practicing some sort of deep breathing transcendental basset meditation.

I pointed the remote at the cable box and no matter what button I hit, it returned me to the Lifetime Channel.

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