second.”
“You don’t think I’ve got a calendar and can see that?”
“It will be the seventeen-year anniversary of when the Nightmare Man started killing again.”
There was a fat second of silence, then Hadley’s frog-like voice croaking, “So?”
“You don’t think you should be doing something about it?”
“Like what?”
“How about warning the public? Or maybe sending out extra patrols and checking alleys for anyone collecting rats?” Morris could hear his voice growing harsher as he added, “Or following up on the idea my dad was working thirty-four years ago, and what I wanted to try seventeen years ago.”
“You won’t give up on that, will you? Forget it, Brick, I’m not wasting departmental resources chasing a ghost. If this maniac is still alive, he’s a feeble old man rotting away in either a prison cell or a nursing home. And if you think you can use this to drum up business for your pissant little firm, forget that also. I swear, Brick, if you start showing up on TV worrying the public about this, I’ll find a way to pull your license and shut you down. And don’t even think about calling your slick Boy Scout friend at the mayor’s office.”
“Martin, women could be dying soon. In the worst possible way.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my headache if it happens, not yours.”
Hadley disconnected the call from his end.
A soft groan came from the floor. Morris looked down to see Parker stretching all four legs, the bull terrier’s eyes open as he waited to see what Morris would do next.
What he wanted to do was forget all about the Nightmare Man, but he didn’t think that was possible, at least not entirely. Maybe if October second came and went without the murders starting up again.
Morris checked his watch. A little before five. He got Greta on the phone. Two more insurance fraud cases had come in that day. They still had their share of corporate investigations, divorces, and occasional missing persons, but the insurance fraud cases were becoming their bread and butter. Not the worst thing in the world, and much better than thinking about serial killers. But the work could wait until tomorrow. He used the point of his shoe to lightly rub Parker’s chest. The bull terrier lifted his head to give Morris a questioning look.
“What do you say we cut out early and I take you to the dog park?” Morris asked. “See if we can work off some of that rich food you mooched off me?”
Parker answered by flipping himself onto his feet, his thick, ropy tail wagging steadily.
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
