Читать книгу Cruel - Jacob Stone - Страница 14

Chapter 6

Morris called his wife from the dog park. A minute ago Parker had been playing tag with a newly made friend, each dog taking turns grabbing the baseball from the other, then chasing the opponent until they could grab the ball back. The other dog was faster than Parker, but the bull terrier was significantly stronger and could tackle the larger dog if he got close enough. The other dog also couldn’t take the ball away from Parker if he didn’t let him. After twenty minutes of this, Parker either got bored or winded. Whichever it was, he let the baseball drop from his mouth and wandered off to sniff some bushes. Likewise, the other dog trotted off to join her owner.

Natalie asked about lunch with Stonehedge. “You didn’t let Parker mooch up all the food, did you?”

“Not all, but I was weak,” Morris admitted. “And Parker’s ridiculously talented in his wheedling ways. It didn’t help matters that I got distracted.”

“About what?”

“An old case. Not worth mentioning.”

“You don’t sound so sure of that.”

Natalie was a trained therapist and good at what she did. She was especially good at picking up on all sorts of clues, including changes of inflections in Morris’s voice and reading his mood.

“I’m being an alarmist, that’s all. It’s really not worth talking about since the case is as cold as they come and nothing new has happened. It’s just a feeling I have. Anyway, I am at the dog park now with Parker, the one on De Longpre Avenue.”

“Our little guy behaving himself?”

“Like a champ. I threw him a baseball until my arm nearly fell off, then in the nick of time he made friends with one of those tall, thin gray dogs—a Weimer-something. The two of them played tag for a while. Now Parker’s watering some bushes.”

“A Weimaraner. I believe that’s the name of the breed of dog he played with.”

“Yep. Sounds right. I’m thinking of picking up either Chinese, Indian, or pizza for dinner. Your preference?”

“Chinese would be wonderful. Seven Star?”

“Where else? Should I order the usual?”

“Hmm. I’ll try something new tonight. Order me the crispy fish with spicy chili sauce. I’ve been thinking of that dish since seeing it on the menu last time we were there.”

Morris was a creature of habit. It was near sacrilege for him not to order his favorite food at a restaurant. After all, why take the chance? But he didn’t argue with his wife. She was going to be at the office a little while longer typing up client notes, and he told her he should have dinner waiting for them by the time she got home.

He wandered over to where Parker had dropped the baseball. The leather covering was half chewed off, and what was left had gotten fairly well slimed with saliva from both dogs. Still, the ball would be useable at least one more time. Morris did a deep bend on his creaky knees and rubbed the ball against the dry grass until it was merely damp instead of sodden. Then he whistled for Parker, who came charging out of the bushes toward him with a clownish grin only a bull terrier could give.

* * * *

Morris didn’t beat Natalie home as he expected. His wife pulled into the driveway just ahead of him and stood with hands on hips waiting for him and Parker. She was a slender, petite brunette with mesmerizing brown eyes, and after twenty-five years of marriage her smile could bring a lump to Morris’s throat. He still had a hard time believing how lucky he was when she fell in love with him all those years ago.

Parker had spotted Natalie also and was squirming in his seat and grunting excitedly. Morris reached over and opened the passenger door so the bull terrier could rush out, his tail beating at a faster rate than a metronome set to its quickest tempo. This distraction gave Morris time to go around to the trunk and get the bags of takeout food without Parker starting up with his mooching ways. Whenever he picked up takeout food with Parker in the car, he had to store it away in the trunk to keep it safe and keep the dog’s mooching from going into overdrive.

Natalie was on her knees, partly wrestling with the bull terrier and partly trying to keep him from licking her face wet. Her bright smile dimmed with concern as she looked into Morris’s eyes. She disentangled herself from Parker so she could give him a kiss.

“Hon, you’re still worrying about that cold case,” she said. “I can see it weighing on you.”

Morris took hold of her hand. Parker, grinning happily, pushed his nose against the paper bag holding cartons of crispy fish, kung pao chicken, Peking ravioli, and pork fried rice.

“You’re right, of course,” Morris acknowledged. “But I’ve got no reason to be worrying about it. Nothing new has happened.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Morris made a pained face. “I’d rather not.”

They went inside, heading straight to the kitchen. He hid the takeout bag in the oven—a trick so Parker wouldn’t think the delicious-smelling food was imminent, otherwise there wasn’t a chance the bull terrier would’ve eaten his dog food. As it was, he sniffed the ridiculously expensive low-fat, high-protein, and grain-free dry food that Morris had poured into his bowl before consenting to eat it. The veterinarian had recommended a different and cheaper brand, but Rachel had gotten into the act and researched the healthiest food they should be feeding Parker, and Morris wasn’t going to argue about it. If he tried, he’d lose. His daughter was now a third-year law student at UCLA with plans of being a prosecutor, and she was damned persistent when it came to something she was passionate about.

With this subterfuge done, Natalie set the table while Morris got out an already opened bottle of Riesling for Natalie and a bottle of a heavily spiced lager for himself that Stonehedge had recommended. They waited until Parker licked his bowl clean before Morris brought out the Chinese food from the oven and dished it out onto two plates.

Parker’s mooching was halfhearted at best after emptying out a bowl of his food and all of his earlier mooching, and after a while he gave up completely to lie down by Natalie’s feet. As much as they tried to make small talk, a pall hung over the room. After several minutes, Natalie asked whether it was the Nightmare Man case that had Morris so distracted.

Morris put his chopsticks down as he appraised his wife.

She was just so instinctive.

He asked, “Has there been anything on TV about the approaching anniversary of those killings?”

“No, nothing. But no other murders ever tore you up like those did.”

“That’s true,” he agreed.

There shouldn’t have been anyone in the media sniffing around about the Nightmare Man killings. They were never told the significance of the number seventeen to the killer, nor did they know that the killings restarted on the anniversary of the Nightmare Man’s first murder. In 2001 they didn’t find the body until five days after the murder had taken place, and they didn’t bother to correct the media’s misunderstanding about the date of when the killing had happened.

“Nat, I’ve got no reason to believe this killer is still alive, or that he’s coming back. It’s just a feeling I can’t shake. I tried calling Hadley to remind him of what might be coming, and he blew me off. Worse, actually. He threatened to shut down MBI if I made any noise to the media or anyone else about it.”

Her expression became pensive. “But you’re not giving up that easily,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” he admitted.