by Wayne Purdy
“You didn’t kill her? Do you know who did?”
“Nah., I don’t think they ever figured it out neither. What’s this all about? Why are you asking questions about something that happened a long time ago on the other side of the fucking world?”
“Where were you on Friday, two weeks ago?” Heck asked.
“Shit. I don’t know where I was yesterday,” he said, flashing a jagged smile. Heck didn’t return it. “Let me think. I scored some junk and went to my old lady’s place. Had us a good time. I got needs,” he repeated.
Heck noticed Hazel’s disgust and knew he wasn’t going to get anything useful from Estes. It was probably best to end the interview. “Thanks for your time.”
“That it?”
“Yes. We’re done. We’ll see ourselves off.” Estes watched slack jawed as the two made their way back to the truck. He hesitated, then turned the corner of his trailer and into the backyard.
“Creep,” Hazel muttered.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t know he was a tweaker.”
“He wasn’t very useful, was he?”
“They can’t all be winners.” Heck unlocked the truck and opened his door. Hazel had her hand on the handle when she paused, craning her head. She heard something. It was the same yelp they had heard earlier, but it got pushed to the backburner when Estes appeared. It was a sharp howl. Behind the trailer, the plume of smoke bloomed like a terrible rose preceded by the familiar whoosh of gasoline igniting.
“What’s that?” Hazel said to herself more than anything. She turned on her heel and made for the backyard.
“Hazel? Wait. Don’t go alone. It’s not safe,” Heck said, climbing out of the driver’s seat and rushing to catch up to her.
Hazel was already around the corner. She stopped mid-step and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Estes stood in front of an old metal burn barrel. A five-gallon jerry can rested at his feet, dangerously close to the fire. Noxious smoke poured out from the barrel. A few feet away, a large brown and white clump lay on the ground. Hazel squinted. Estes bent down and grabbed a smaller lump lying next to the larger one. Her eyes widened. Estes had a pup by the scruff of the neck. Without missing a beat, he tossed it into the burn barrel. Estes doused the barrel with gasoline. The pup howled as it was consumed by the flames. Hazel screamed.
Heck caught up to her just as Estes picked up another pup and dropped it into the barrel. “Heck!” she cried.
“What are you still doing here? You’re trespassing. Get off ‘a my property.”
“Not bloody likely,” Heck growled. He was running towards the barrel. Estes backed up intimidated by the large man bearing down on him. Hazel followed, frightened.
“This is none of your business,” Estes said.
“What are you doing?” Heck asked. Hazel bent down, examining the brown and white lump. Upon closer inspection, it was a Saint Bernard. The wretched creature had been neglected to the point of abuse. She could see its ribs through the matted fur, like a macabre xylophone. It was clearly the mother of the pups. Hazel could see the teats, like deflated balloons and doubted if she could produce milk. The bitch was dehydrated. Hazel spotted a metal bowl, covered in grime and dirt, but dry.
“Is it alive?” Heck asked.
Hazel placed her hand on the dog’s belly, trying to feel the rise and fall of its breath. The dog’s tongue lolled out of its mouth and flies crawled along it. She shooed them away. Tears came to Hazel’s eyes. She had never seen such cruelty. If she had a gun, she would have put a bullet right between the eyes of Hernan Estes.
“She’s dead,” Hazel said, her voice breaking. She was petting her, as if the animal could still accept comfort. “Poor girl. Poor, poor girl.”
Heck balled his fists and raised them, prepared to beat this man. He hadn’t been in a fight in years. Even at Pandora’s, he was always able to defuse potentially violent situations. In those instances where violence was inevitable, he used restraint. Never punching his opponents, merely subduing them, holding them until police arrived. He wasn’t a violent man. This was different. He wanted to hurt Estes. Anger rose from deep within his bowels. If he didn’t find a way to vent it, he would explode.
“I couldn’t afford to feed her. After the bitch died, I had no way to feed her pups. She was still whelping them because they’re only two months old.”
“You couldn’t give her any water?” Heck kicked the bowl and it somersaulted before resting at Estes’s bare feet. “You could have surrendered the lot of them to the humane society. You could have done something.”
Estes wisely kept quiet. Heck pulled out his cell phone to call the police.
“Heck! There’s still one puppy left.” She pulled out the small pup. It had been snuggled against the corpse of its mother, so weak that it could barely even whimper. It found its voice when Hazel picked it up and it began to whine piteously. Hazel cradled it against her breast. The dog nuzzled her for warmth and was mollified, at least temporarily.
“We’ve got to get it to a vet,” Heck said. He called the police and reported the crime. They said they’d send a cruiser over and asked Heck to wait, but he declined. The pup needed medical treatment, and Heck was determined to make sure it got it. Hernan Estes wouldn’t kill one more animal. Not if Heck had his way.
“Its neck is bleeding,” Hazel said, pulling a reddened hand away. She examined it closer. There was an old clothesline wrapped around the puppy’s throat, a makeshift leash. Estes had never bothered to adjust it as the pup grew. It served as a garrotte, digging into its neck. Heck removed his swiss army knife from his back pocket, flipped up the blade, and cut the line away. The pup yelped as the back of the blade grazed the tender open wound.
“We’re leaving,” Hector said. “The police are on their way. Do not touch the mother. I told them about it, and they’ll know if you try to burn her too.” Then as an afterthought, Heck picked up the jerrycan and poured out its contents.
“You can’t take that puppy. That’s my property.”
“Stop me,” Heck replied, hoping for an excuse, any excuse to deck him. He got one. Estes put his bony hand on Heck’s forearm, trying to stop the bigger man from leaving. It happened so fast that Hazel barely registered it. Heck planted his feet shoulder-wide, swung his right arm and connected with the side of his face. Estes cried out and then fell to the ground, whimpering.
“I think you broke my jaw. I’m going to press charges.”
Heck glared at Estes. “If I’m going to be charged with assault, I may as well make it worth my while.” Heck stepped towards the fallen man. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was gritted.
“No. Please, no. Don’t hit me again. I won’t say nothing. I promise.”
“Don’t touch that dog,” Heck said again. They made their way back to the truck, with Hazel holding the pup in her arms. He punched in the address of an emergency veterinarian into his GPS and sped off, a cloud of dust kicked up like a rooster’s tail.
“He’s so skinny,” Hazel said, petting the pup. “Do you think he’ll make it?”
“I don’t know, Hazel. I hope so.”
“What are we going to do with him?”
“What do you mean? We’re taking him to a vet?”
“After that, I mean. We aren’t just going to leave him there, are we? I’d take him home in a heartbeat, but I’m not allowed to have pets.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
The pup nestled its head against her forearm and began licking her. “He’s so sweet. Can you imagine anything being so gentle after the hell it has lived through?” Heck looked over. The pup had black marks covering its eyes and a flash of white that ran down its forehead to its muzzle. Heck could see its little tongue licking Hazel, giving her puppy kisses. She rummaged in ger purse with her free hand and pulled put a half empty bottle of water. It was tepid, but she doubted the pup would mind. She poured some into the palm of her hand, and he lapped it up. She pour
ed another small puddle into her palm and he drank that too.
“You should take it easy with the water,” Heck said. “If he hasn’t had much it could do more harm than good.” Reluctantly, Hazel agreed but she wasn’t happy. She didn’t want this little guy to be deprived of anything ever again.
A half an hour later, Heck pulled into the driveway of an emergency twenty-four-hour vet clinic. They opened the lobby and were greeted by a friendly receptionist. She looked from them to the puppy, a look of concern growing on her face.
“What have we here?” She asked.
Heck rushed through the situation, and the receptionist called for a veterinary technician. A young man in medical scrubs came into the lobby pushing a large gurney. He took the pup from Hazel and placed it onto the gurney, wheeling it into the operating theatre. The receptionist directed Heck and Hazel to have a seat while they waited. She explained that the vet would do an evaluation, determine what was wrong, and what needed to happen. There was anguished crying from behind a closed door down the hall. Some family had to say goodbye to their pet today.
After several minutes, a young woman called them into a consultation room. She was tall with long, tightly curled brown hair and matching russet eyes. “I’m Dr. Singal,” she said, introducing herself. Heck and Hazel followed suit. “What’s the puppy’s name?”
“He doesn’t have one,” Heck said.
“That’s fine. I understand he came into your care recently.”
“An hour ago. Literally,” Hazel said.
“The police were notified?”
“I called them. I don’t know if they’ve investigated or not.”
“I’m sure they will. This is a serious case of animal abuse. There’s quite a bit wrong with him.”
“Will he survive?” Hazel asked.
“Absolutely. But he needs care, and it won’t be cheap. Will you two be adopting him?”
“We’re not a couple,” Hazel replied. “I can’t adopt him. My apartment doesn’t allow pets. Too bad, because Jaimie would love him.”
“I’m not adopting him either. I don’t have the time for a dog.”
“If no one is paying for his medical bills, then I’m afraid he will be euthanized, unless the humane society takes him.”
“Hector. No,” Hazel said, gripping his bicep. She couldn’t help but notice the steely hardness of it. “He can’t be put down.”
Hector sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Animal welfare is your priority…right after you get paid,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Collins, but this is a business. I know it’s harsh, but the reality is that surgery is expensive.” Heck pulled out his Mastercard, it was getting quite a workout. “I’ll cover the costs.”
“I’ll pay half.”
“That’s great. Saint Bernard pups are supposed to weigh about 15 pounds at this age. This guy is about half that. He’ll need to be fed intravenously for a day or two, get his weight up. He has a nasty laceration on his neck. Thankfully, it didn’t do any arterial damage but its going to take a lot of stitches to close. Finally, we spotted a lot of engorged ticks on him. They’ve probably been feeding on him for awhile. They’ll be removed and he’ll be given a course of medication to prevent any diseases. From the sounds of his living conditions, I doubt that he’s gotten any shots. He’ll need the first round, which covers distemper, measles, and parainfluenza.”
“Do it,” Heck said. Dr. Singal nodded then headed into the back room.
“Wow. You were really rude,” Hazel said.
“I’m just angry.”
“At her? Or at Hernan Estes?”
“Estes. But the doc a little too. I can’t believe they won’t operate without being paid.”
“Would you work without getting paid?” Hazel crossed her arms. She knew that Heck was investigating Gracie and Sandra’s murders free of charge, but it wasn’t a job. It was more of an obsession. “Besides, she was very pretty. You should be working on getting her number, not pissing her off. Dr. Singal? Damn, Not for long.”
“She was pretty, wasn’t she?” Heck said. The admission caused Hazel a pang of jealousy. She and Heck weren’t meshing, but to hear him talk about another woman hurt.
After another hour of waiting, Dr. Singal re-emerged. “Everything went well. He’s resting now. We’re going to keep him for a few days and then we will contact the humane society. He’s a sweetheart. I don’t think he’ll have a long wait before he gets adopted.”
“I don’t think so either. In fact, I’m going to take him after all.” Hazel looked up at him, shocked. “Temporarily. Until he can be adopted,” Heck said.
“That’s wonderful news. It’s always better for a pup to be fostered. I can send some training and socialisation information home with you,” Dr. Singal said.
“I thought you didn’t have time,” Hazel said.
“Hazel, all I have is time. When can I bring him home?”
Dr. Singal smiled broadly. “Wednesday.”
“I’ll be here,” Heck said. “I’m sorry if I was rude earlier.”
Dr. Singal smiled even more broadly, if that were possible. Hazel’s stomach lurched. “I understand. There’s often sticker shock when people see their vet bills. Don’t worry about it.”
When they got back on the highway, Hazel stole a glance at Heck. The weekend had exerted an emotional toll on them both. The sky was darkening, and the truck was cloaked in heavy shadows, but Hazel could see Heck’s face. His cheek was wet. She had never seen him cry before. She rarely saw any emotion from him at all. It reminded her, inexplicably, of her mother.
When Hazel was a little girl, her family had very little money. One year, at Christmas, her mother and father took her to a Christmas tree lot to select their tree. It wasn’t until years later that Hazel realised that it wasn’t a tree lot, it was part of a landscaped yard outside a plastics factory in an industrial park in the city’s southwest. Her mother selected a fine, if scraggly, cedar, proclaiming with confidence that it would fill out nicely once it was decorated with garland and tinsel. Her father dutifully removed a bow saw from their car’s trunk and cut it down.
It wasn’t until they got it home, placed it into its stand, fed it warm, sugary water, and waited for its boughs to drop, that Hazel noticed it. Inside, she was a tiny bird’s nest. It was abandoned, of course, it being December, but something about that nest triggered something in her mother. She spent the rest of the evening sullen, worrying that she had left a family of birds, goldfinches maybe, homeless. Hazel kept the nest on her bookshelf. It was a trophy, the sort of collectible that children will always covet, but it was also a physical manifestation of her mother’s love, something she rarely experienced, but now knew existed. One day after school, she found it in the trash, torn to pieces.
Hazel watched Heck for a moment, trying to think of something to say.
“What?” He asked, sensing her eyes on him.
“Nothing.” She patted him on the bicep and let the silence engulf them.
16
Hector
A week had passed since we’d gone on our road trip, and four days since I brought the pup home. He was still nameless. I couldn’t think of anything that fit him. So, for now, he was just called Puppy. Anyway, once he was adopted, his new family would want to give him a name. There was no sense in Puppy getting used to anything with me.
Hazel was right. He was a sweetheart. When Heck first brought him home, Puppy cried the whole night. I sat up with him, petting his silky fur, comforting him. Puppy nuzzled his nose against my chest, and we stayed like that for most of the night. I liked the feeling. It was foreign but familiar, a maternal instinct I wasn’t aware I even had.
I was worried about housetraining, but he seems to be catching on fine. I have to take him out every couple hours and he’s had a few accidents, but he’s only two months old. I think he’s going to get the hang of it quickly. Dr. Singal has me feeding him an expensive milk formula mixed
with some dry kibble, to help him get his weight up. I don’t think there’s going to be a problem there either. He’s gluttonous. I’m a little afraid of what is going to happen when he’s fully grown. A male Saint Bernard can grow to be about a hundred and eighty pounds. Puppy already thinks he’s a lapdog.
I recalled Bob Nowak feeding, Major the raw meat, and asked Dr. Singal about that going forward. She said that raw food can be great for dogs, but you have to make sure that you give them the right blend of meat, organs, and bone so that they grow to be healthy. She suggested some commercial brands. Yikes. Sorry, Puppy. It costs more than my weekly grocery bill, and judging by his appetite, I’d go broke trying to do it. So, Dr. Singal recommended a dry kibble that has good reviews. It’s also pricey, but doable.
Puppy played with a chew toy while I reviewed my notes. All in all, the road trip was a worthwhile venture. I’d gleaned some good intel. Zaki answered on the second ring, and I quickly updated him, leaving out Bello’s statement. Zaki may have known about the order to haze Gracie. That made him a suspect.
“So, what are you thinking?” He asked. I could hear activity and voices in the background. I wondered if he was at a crime scene. A pang of jealousy clawed at my heart. Damn. I missed the hunt.
“There’s something more going on. I don’t know what.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Nothing adds up. I’m missing something. Who knows, maybe Sandra Mack can give us hard evidence.”
“What have you got?” He sounded cautious.
“Bello confirmed that he assaulted Gracie the night she died. He said Cutler ordered him to do it.”
“You think Frank Bello did it? Bello killed Telford under orders from James Cutler?”
“No. I don’t think so. Bello assaulted Gracie. He admits that but says he didn’t kill her, and I believe him. Besides, he couldn’t have killed Sandra Mack. He was in prison.”
“If not Frank Bello, then who?”
“Bello saw Cutler walking his dog right after the beating. He may have been the last person to see Gracie alive.”