Cold Rain by Craig Smith

Author:Craig Smith [Smith, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Thriller
Publisher: Myrmidon Books
Published: 2011-10-05T11:25:16+00:00

Chapter 15

‘IS HE OR ISN’T HE?’ WALT shouted when he came back to the apartment that night. He was tuned up. I was already roasted. We turned it into a hell of a night.

On Saturday Walt invited a select crew of debauched professors from across campus, male and female, to join us. Foregoing the usual stages, Walt’s Go to Hell Party, thrown in my honour, was a raunchy affair from the start. Before the night was out, I believe everyone tried to take me into the bathroom for a little look-see, strictly in the cause of truth, of course. I’m not sure how I answered the various inquiries and solicitations, but I had the feeling, shortly before I passed out, I might well face fresh charges come Monday morning.

Barbara came by the apartment at nine o’clock the following morning interrupting a particularly nasty hangover. Walt, so inured to the feeling he hardly noticed, blushed like a schoolboy and started trying to pick the place up. As it turned out I was the reason Barbara was there. Neither Walt nor I had his cell phone turned on, and Molly had asked Barbara if she could drive by and tell me to call Molly’s cell phone.

At my look she explained. ‘Something happened to the dogs.’

I found my phone under a pile of pizza boxes and called Molly a few seconds later. ‘What’s the matter?

What happened?’

‘Someone poisoned the dogs, David.’

By the time I got to the farm the animal control unit had packed all seven carcasses into the back of its panelled truck, and Molly was signing something so they could take off. ‘You’ve got the animals?’ I asked. The driver could see I was as upset as Molly.

He answered apologetically. The sheriff’s people wanted them to examine the animals. They wanted to know what kind of poison was used.

I shook my head. I said I wanted to bury the animals on the farm. ‘It’s our business,’ I said. ‘They’re just dogs. We’ll take care of it. I don’t care what kind of poison it was, and neither does she.’ The man looked at Molly, then spoke to the deputy investigating the case. Finally, he got the bodies out.

They were stiff with rigor and came out of the panelled truck like so many logs. Only the eyes and the fur and the remnant animal smell of them recalled anything of their sad lives. I carried all seven, one at a time, off the hill and down to an area in the pasture where we had buried different animals over the years.

We had two cats that had died on us, Pollock and Picasso, and a hamster named Susie. There were two stray dogs already in the earth. They had got hit before we could adopt them: Gilgamesh and Ulysses. I buried the murdered dogs deep in the earth in seven separate holes. Molly left me alone until I had finished. I was tamping down the last, Melville’s grave, when she came out to join me.

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