Блейз Клемент - Duplicity Dogged Тhe Dachshund

Doberman pinschers are among the most graceful dogs in the world. Strong muscular dogs with wide chests, a running Doberman is a picture of fluid movement that is pure joy to watch. But a Doberman leaping to attack you is awesome and terrifying.

Reggie and I had both been traumatized. It had sent me into attack mode, and I figured Reggie might be ready to attack somebody too.

Before I opened the door, I talked to him a little bit. “Hey, Reggie, it’s your friend Dixie. I heard you barking and I thought I’d come see what was up. Okay? Stop barking now, and I’ll open the door and let you out. Okay?”

He stopped barking, but continued to whine and scratch at the door.

I said, “That’s a good boy. Good boy, Reggie. You’re a good boy.”

I sent him pictures while I talked, pictures of the door opening and him trotting into the kitchen and wagging his docked tail. Pictures of me giving him a big bowl of fresh cool water. Pictures of me stroking his neck while he stood calmly grinning at me.

I put my hand on the doorknob. I said, “Okay, now, I’m opening the door. That’s a good boy, Reggie.”

The door opened inward, so I had to push it against him until he got the idea and slipped aside and through the opening. He wasn’t wagging his tail or grinning. Instead, he galloped through the kitchen and disappeared, his toenails clicking on the tile floor as he ran toward the back of the house. There was a desperate urgency in the way he ran that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

19

Suddenly frightened, I ran after Reggie. He made straight for the master bedroom, shoved a partially closed door open with his shoulders, and stopped short with his head turned toward the bed. An icy premonition made me come to a skidding halt behind him. He made a shrill sound so pathetic that my skin crawled, a whimper almost human in its sadness.

Horror was sending slithery tendrils up my spine. I argued with it. Maybe Stevie was asleep. Maybe she was such a sound sleeper that she hadn’t heard the bell. Maybe she couldn’t hear me in the hall.

I called, “Stevie, it’s Dixie Hemingway. Are you in there?”

Reggie looked over his shoulder and made that sound again, and I yelled louder.

“Stevie? Stevie, it’s Dixie!”

I waited another second, then began a slow walk toward something I didn’t want to find. As I neared the bedroom door I could see the side of a king-sized bed with a floral bedspread pulled neatly under a matching pillow sham. That could mean Stevie had got up early, made the bed, and left the house with Reggie in the laundry room. That’s what my brain said, but my pounding heart told me it wasn’t true.

The odor hit me, and I stopped. Violent death has a unique odor impossible to describe. The combined scent of terror and decomposing flesh. Of expelled body wastes and shock. Once you’ve smelled it, you recognize it immediately.

I leaned forward, craning my head to try for an entire view of the room. Stevie lay on the bed with her legs dangling off the end. She was naked, her hands folded over a black-and-white photograph laid on her pubic area like a woman caught nude and modestly covering herself. Her skin was blue-gray, and her engorged tongue protruded dark blue like her swollen lips.

Backing away, I made a guttural whimper low in my throat, then turned and ran down the hall and out the front door. In the driveway, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

When the dispatcher answered, my voice was surprisingly calm. I gave her the address and said, “The woman in the house is dead. It looks like a murder.”

“How do you know she’s dead, ma’am?”

“I’m an ex-deputy. I know a dead body when I see one.”

“Somebody will be right there, ma’am—”

Before she had a chance to say anything else, I clicked her off. A sudden burst of fury made me slam my hand against the hood of the car. Adrenaline hit me, and I stiffened my legs and pushed my back against the side of the Bronco and shook. Violent death is so obscene, so ugly, so outside the way a life should end that it seems to disarrange the natural order of the entire universe. Every human being is diminished by one violent death, no matter how far away it happens. Even distant planets probably feel the hurtful energy coming from a brutal murder and wobble in their courses.

When I could move, I walked to the deputy’s open window and shook his shoulder. He snapped his mouth shut and jerked upright, sweaty and embarrassed.

I said, “The woman inside is dead. I’ve called nine-one-one, and somebody will be here in a minute.”

He gaped at me like a hooked fish. I felt sorry for him. He had just blown any hope of a bright career with the sheriff’s department.

I went to my Bronco and sat sideways on the passenger seat and called Guidry’s private line. When I told him I’d found Stevie dead, he barked, “Where’s the deputy following you?”

“He’s here. He’s waiting.”

“Son-of-a-bitch!”

He clicked off, and a green-and-white patrol car pulled into the driveway behind the tail. The deputy who got out was a woman. Somehow I was glad it wouldn’t be a man who first saw Stevie sprawled naked on her bed.

I said, “She’s in the bedroom at the end of the hall, but her Doberman pinscher is in there with her. I’d better get him before you go in. He’s so upset he might attack a stranger.”

The deputy stood aside while I got a cotton loop leash from the back of my Bronco. I went back inside Stevie’s house, walking down the hall toward the bedroom again. Reggie had lain down on the bedroom floor, and when he heard my footsteps he raised his head and looked hopefully at me.

Without looking at Stevie, I knelt beside him and stroked his satiny neck.

“I’m sorry, Reggie, there’s nothing I can do. We have to go now and let other people come in.”

I slipped the leash over his neck and put my arm under his forequarters to lift him to his feet. Docile now, he let me lead him through the house to the breezeway. I slipped the leash off, gave him fresh water and petted him some more, and left him there with a promise to come back later.

When I went out the front door, Guidry had arrived and was slicing, dicing, and mincing the deputy assigned to follow me. The other deputy was standing off looking at the sky and pretending not to hear.

I said, “The dog’s in the breezeway; you can go in. Turn left at the first hall and go straight back.”

Guidry and the second deputy walked through the open front door together. As they disappeared inside the house, I imagined them making that same walk down the hall as I’d made and seeing Stevie splayed on the bed as I’d seen her.

They were back in two or three minutes, Guidry talking on his phone as he came. His face was unreadable as he hooked the phone on his belt and stood in front of me. A muscle worked at his jaw, but otherwise he looked calm. I don’t know how I looked, but every cell in my body was going off like popcorn.

I raised my hand to push back hair that had come loose from my ponytail, and was surprised to see that my hand wasn’t shaking. A year ago, finding a baby bird fallen from its nest had been enough to make me come totally undone. Maybe the pendulum had swung too far the other way and now I’d lost the ability to feel.

Guidry said, “Okay, tell me.”

“I heard Reggie barking and knew something was wrong.”

His eyebrow went up, and I felt rising anger.

“Don’t give me that look, Guidry. I knew something was wrong because of the way he was barking. I checked the carport and saw that Stevie’s car was here. I thought she must have left with somebody else and unintentionally left Reggie shut up, so I used my key and went in to let him out and give him water. He was shut up in the laundry room. When I opened the door, he ran to the bedroom and I followed him and found Stevie.”