“This jobs got perks, I’ll say it does,” Capshaw noted as the cops came to their car parked on a shadow filled side street.
“Get in the car,” answered Knudsen, disgusted and trying not to think about the dead fifty-something divorcee that he had ****** only last weekend.
“I don’t think she had a dog,” he said absently once they were in the car.
He turned the motor over and drove to the avenue.
“What?”
“Doc said it was a dog. I don’t think so.”
“How do ya know?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t think so is all.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know that either. But if there’s a big ******* dog runnin’ around, he’s gotta turn up sooner or later.”
“Sounds like a job for the Humane Society. We ain’t ******’ dogcatchers.”
“Well, Bambi, it’s been nice knowin’ ya.”
“Ya leavin’, Harry?”
“Yeah. I gotta get home before sundown.”
“What happens after sundown?”
“I’d tear ya t’pieces.”
“Oh, ba-aa-by.”
“Sounds good, don’t it? But my wife’s probably wonderin’ where I am.”
“Oh—you married?”
“Yeah.”
I was pulling my clothes on noticing the dried patches of blood on them. Luckily I was wearing a dark suit and the blood didn’t glisten but it was thick like hard tar. The suit looked like **** but that didn’t bother me as much as the ******* flies that didn’t seem to bother Bambi all that much. Besides the flies buzzing around me, I had fleas too. She didn’t seem to mind those either, in fact I watched in horror as she lifted her leg and deftly scratched behind her ear with a jagged toenail.
“That’s a neat trick,” I commented and she looked at me slightly bewildered.
“Huh?”
“Nothin’. Here’s a tip.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty passing it to her. She crawled on all fours and taking the bill, wetly licked the back of my hand. I left.