The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock

by Edward Coburn

  “That darn dog attacked me,” the Redcoat said, “and now he won’t let me near my rifle.”

  Adam would have laughed except the soldier absolutely did not look amused. “Ah, he won’t hurt you,” Adam said leaning over to take the flintlock out of Bagel’s jaws. Bagel simply wagged his tail as Adam gave the flintlock back to its owner. Adam picked up the leash hanging from Bagel’s collar. “He must have thought you were trying to kill me.”

  “Who are you? I don’t even know where you were so I have no idea if I was even firing in your direction or not.”

  “Well, you must have been. Bagel wouldn’t have snatched your flintlock unless he was concerned for me. And I’m Robert Madigan, reporting on the reenactment for the Tweet.”

  “That dog’s a menace. What’s he doing here anyway,” the Redcoat pointed at Bagel.

  At that moment, Marti and Judy walked up. “What happened?” Marti asked.

  “Apparently Bagel thought the Redcoat was firing at me because he snatched the flintlock out of his arms. What’s he doing on the battlefield? I thought you were watching him.”

  “He broke away from me when the shooting started. I don’t know how he ended up on the field. He actually ran the other way. I thought he didn’t like the noise and ran away to hide like most dogs do. I’ve been looking for him all over the place.”

  “Yeah,” Judy added, “We missed most of the show.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that. Bagel doesn’t usually…”

  “Hey,” the Redcoat said, “what about my musket.” He pointed at the stock. “There are teeth marks on it that certainly weren’t there before.”

  Adam fished a business card out of his pocket and held it out. “Here’s my business card. Get the flintlock checked out and send me an email at the newspaper with the estimate for repairs. The newspaper will take care of whatever it costs.” Adam actually thought Larry would balk at paying to have the flintlock fixed. However, if Larry wouldn’t pay for the damage, Adam would gladly pay whatever it cost for the repair. He thought this experience well worth some minor expense. However, because the paper would get an excellent article out of it, he would present the case that the paper should pay to have the flintlock repaired.

  Just then Adam’s attention was attracted by a commotion in the field where the battle first began. There was some type of small gathering where the British had initially been positioned. Marti, Judy, and the Redcoat all turned in the direction of the disturbance as well. Adam heard someone yell, “Somebody call an ambulance.” Adam’s small group all hurried to the cluster of actors milling around, and Adam saw that a Redcoat was still lying on the ground. Adam thought he saw blood seeping into the ground, but it was a bit hard to tell as the man was wearing a red uniform.

  “Has anybody called for an ambulance?” Adam asked handing Bagel’s leash to Marti. She took it without comment.

  One of the Redcoats gathered around the body held up a cell phone and said, “I did. They said they’d be here in just a couple of minutes. They were waiting in Bearcave in case they were needed. They said they didn’t want to spoil the illusion by being too near the field. We sent someone to the parking lot to direct the ambulance in this direction.”

  A siren filled the air, and everyone turned to see an ambulance enter the field through the parking lot. Adam turned back to the body as the ambulance bounced along the ground.

  Chapter 27

  “Does anyone know who it is?” someone asked.

  All of a sudden, Adam was sure he knew. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was confident the body on the ground was that of Phillip Mardoff. “I think I do,” Adam said. He leaned down to give Phillip’s body a gentle nudge and all at once his mind was back before the reenactment began. Everyone around the body saw Adam’s face turn red and his shoulders twitch. Anyone who knew about Adams abilities would have recognized those behaviors as a sure sign Adam was having a vision. However, the reenactors gathered around would have no such knowledge and would undoubtedly wonder what was happening to him. In his mind’s eye, Adam saw someone on the side of the hill well away from the actions. He could clearly see the large man, huge might have been more apropos. What stood out most were the man’s huge hands that were wrapped around a rifle Adam thought must be an AR 47 or one of the many other military weapons he’d seen used in overseas wars and in urban gang warfare in one or more of the cities where he’d been a reporter. Adam came out of his vision when someone shook him. Phillip hadn’t moved when Adam nudged him. Adam stood up, groaning for effect.

  The man who’d shaken Adam nervously asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, of course, I am. Why?” Adam knew why. He knew what happened to him physically when he went into one of his infrequent visions.

  “When you leaned down your face turned very red. I thought you were having a seizure or something.”

  “No, nothing like that. I just get woozy at the sight of blood. I always have. I didn’t notice the blood until I leaned over.” Adam was good at coming up with half-truths or downright lies on the spur of the moment.

  “Does anyone know what’s wrong with him?” Adam asked to no one in particular.

  “I think he’s been shot,” one of the men dressed in a blue uniform said. “I thought he was just playing dead, so I started to roll him over but changed my mind when I saw all the blood. I think he may have a hole in his chest underneath all the blood.”

  “Is he dead?” Someone else asked.

  “I have no idea,” Adam said although he really did think Phillip was gone. His instincts were telling him it was so. He now knew why his nose had been itching.

  At that moment the ambulance arrived and one of the paramedics jumped out, Gerald according to his nametag, opened the rear door, and pulled out a gurney, its wheels dropping automatically. The other paramedic, his badge listed him as Joseph, helped Gerald pick up the gurney rather than try to roll it across the rough ground. They settled the gurney by Phillip’s body. Joseph took his kit off the gurney and set it on the ground before pulling out a stethoscope. He put the stethoscope on Phillip’s back and listened for a heartbeat. Then he put the stethoscope on Phillip’s neck. He held it there a few seconds and then turned to his partner and shook his head. “I think he’s gone, but we better put him on the monitor to confirm.”

  Gerald returned to the ambulance to get the heart monitor and then, together, they rolled the body over, and opened Phillip’s shirt so they could place the leads on his chest and connected the leads to the monitor. Gerald watched the monitor while Joseph put a dressing over Phillip’s wound. After watching the monitor for about a minute and noticing no heartbeat, he turned to his partner and said “Nothing.”

  Joseph pulled off the dressing, gaped at it, and said, “He’s no longer bleeding.

  “Call the wagon, Gerald.” Then he said to no one in particular, “I’m afraid he’s gone. Does anyone know what happened?” When the paramedics had rolled the body over Adam’s conviction was confirmed. It was, indeed, Phillip Mardoff.

  “I think he was shot,” the man in the blue uniform said. “Perhaps someone loaded a ball in his musket and forgot about it in all the excitement.”

  “He was definitely shot. I meant does anybody know how it happened,” Joseph said. He waited while nobody said anything. “We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to know whether it was a musket ball or something else. Does anyone know who he was?” He looked directly at the man in the blue uniform.

  The man in the blue uniform grabbed Adam’s arm, none too gently, and pulled him forward. “This man does,” he said.

  “I do,” Adam said before Joseph had a chance to ask again. “His name is…or was, Phillip Mardoff. He used to be a cop in New York, but I don’t know what he was doing here so far from New York.” Adam’s reporter’s instincts kicked in. “Maybe he was into something that got him killed.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Joseph asked seriously, frowning up at Adam.

  “I’m
sure you’ve heard the old saying, Once a cop always a cop,” Adam said. “So again I say, maybe he was investigating something, and someone didn’t like him nosing around in their business.” Adam knew first-hand how that could get someone in trouble.

  “Okay,” Joseph said. “I guess we’ll let the cops sort it out.” He glanced up at the group gathered around the body. “For the time being, why don’t the rest of you go about your business. We’ll handle it from here.”

  Everyone slowly started to move away murmuring to each other. The only ones who didn’t were Adam, Marti, Judy, and, of course, Bagel. While they were standing there wondering what to do, Larry arrived. “What’s going on,” he said looking at Adam and then at the body.

  “A cop I knew from my days in New York was murdered,” Adam said.

  “Who?” Larry asked looking at Adam for the answer he had a hunch would be forthcoming. He was right.

  “His name is, or was, Phillip Mardoff. You didn’t know him,” Adam said.

  Larry focused on the body again. “You’re right. I don’t recognize him, and that name’s not familiar. Do we know what happened?”

  Joseph had to crane his neck to peer up at Larry but didn’t say anything. He moved his gaze to Adam and asked, “Why did you say murder? It might have been an accident.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Adam said. “Perhaps I misspoke.” He really didn’t think he was wrong about Phillip being murdered, especially considering what he saw in his vision, but he didn’t want to start an argument.

  “All right!” a man in uniform walked up. His badge informed everyone he was a deputy sheriff and his name tag gave his name as Frank Jeffers. “What’s going on here?”

  Joseph shifted his gaze to the newcomer. “We think someone was killed during the reenactment.”

  “How?” Frank asked.

  “I think he was shot based on the wound obvious in his chest,” Gerald said.

  Frank knelt by the body and eyed at the wound. “Yea,” Frank said. “I’d say that looks like a gunshot wound.”

  Adam could tell by Frank’s demeanor that he had no idea what he was looking at other than a bloody hole in Phillip’s chest as well as blood all over his uniform vest and shirt. Adam seriously doubted Frank had ever seen a gunshot wound and maybe not even a dead body. However, no way would he ever question anything the deputy said.

  “All right, folks,” Frank said getting to his feet, “I think you’d better move along. The forensics people should be here shortly. Until then, we need to clear the area.”

  Larry turned to the deputy and pointed at Adam. “We’re with the Canary Corners Tweet, and we’d like to hang around if we can.”

  “Me too,” said a tall man walking into their midst from behind Frank.

  Frank turned, smiled, and said, “Tom. What are you doing here?” He also shook the proffered hand.

  “I’m covering the reenactment for the Times Argus.” Adam knew the Times Argus was the Charleston newspaper. He generally read the paper at least once a week. More often if he found the time. He also read the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal when he could which took some time away from the local papers. He had met Tom Bridger once though he couldn’t remember where. They probably met at a gathering of newspaper reporters at some newsworthy event. Adam could think of a number of occasions he’d attended as a Tweet representative but had no idea which of those events Tom had also attended.

  “I see Canary Corners is well represented,” Tom said holding his hand out to Larry who carefully stepped several feet from the body to shake Tom’s hand. Tom glanced at the body and then at Frank. “What’s happening here?” he asked.

  Frank turned to Gerald and then Joseph before he said, “We think this guy was shot—maybe with a musket.”

  “But that…that’s,” Tom stuttered as he took a better look and finally realized who was lying on the ground.

  “I take it you know him?” Frank asked.

  “Very well,” Tom said. “That’s Phillip Mardoff. He’s a private eye in Charleston.” He looked at Joseph. “Is he dead?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Joseph answered. “Was he a friend of yours?”

  Tom shook his head. “I wouldn’t call him a friend. Just somebody I dealt with from time to time. He occasionally researched a story for me.”

  This seemed to pique Frank’s interest. “Was he working for you today?”

  “Nah,” Tom said. “I didn’t even know he was here. I guess he must have been part of the reenactment.”

  “He was,” Adam said. “As you can tell from his uniform, he was part of the British contingent. I ran into him a couple of weeks ago at one of the meetings, and he was proud he was going to be a Redcoat.”

  “So you knew him?” Frank asked.

  “I did…” Adam said.

  “Hey, what’s up,” another person joined their number before Adam had a chance to elaborate on Frank’s question.

  “Hello Bridget,” Tom said. “Bridget is a reporter for the Bearcave Torch.”

  “I am, and again I ask, what’s up?”

  Tom explained the situation. “Hold on,” Bridget said pulling out a notebook. “Again, please.”

  Tom started again and gave her all he knew. Frank added a couple of pertinent points, and then Bridget asked a few questions some of which got answered but others for which nobody had an answer.

  The final additions to the growing crowd were a rather fetching news reporter and her cameraman from WCHS. Frank immediately jumped beside her and began explaining what was going on. She shushed him and signaled the cameraman. After he turned the camera on, she introduced herself and then asked Frank a series of questions that covered a lot of the information he’d already given her before the camera had been turned on.

  I guess he wants his fifteen minutes of fame, Adam thought. This will probably be the only time in his life he’ll have this kind of opportunity. I don’t suppose much happens in Bearcave that warrants this kind of attention. Adam moved far enough away so he was at an angle from the camera where he could be sure the camera wouldn’t pick him up. He had been able to keep away from media attention since living in Canary Corners, and he didn’t want to take the chance someone who knew his face would see the WCHS broadcast. This was especially important if the local broadcast was picked up by the networks. Even though he wrote a blog and column for the Tweet, the paper’s photographer and other staff had been given explicit instructions to never post pictures of Adam in the paper claiming he was camera shy.

  Adam walked over to where Larry was standing. “I don’t like the camera.”

  Larry nodded in understanding.

  “I’m leaving. If the deputy or anyone else wants me, you can tell them how to reach me.”

  “Will do,” Larry said. “I’ll hang around here and get whatever additional information I can. I’ll see you back in Canary Corners. I’ll call you when I get back, and we can put something together for the Tweet. “

  “That’s what I had in mind. I’ll start working on the reenactment story when I get back home, and we can add a bit about the murder unless you want me or Alex to write up a different article about the murder. See you.” He signaled to Marti and pointed at the camera. She understood immediately, and they both began walking toward the parking lot. Adam had wanted to tell Larry he’d probably seen the killer’s face but thought he’d better save that tidbit until he and Larry could talk alone.

  The deputy called after Adam, but he and Marti kept walking. Frank started in Adam’s direction, but Larry stopped him before he’d gone more than a step or two.

  “But I need to talk to him,” Frank whined. “He knew the victim.”

  “I’m sorry, but he has to get back to Canary Corners. He has an emergency there.” Larry lied with a straight face handing Frank one of his and one of Adam’s cards. Larry always carried cards of all his reporter’s for situations like the one he currently was in.

  Frank glanced at Larry’s card first and t
hen at Adam’s. “So you’re the owner and editor in chief of the Tweet, and he works for you.” Frank realized what was on Adam’s card. “Gosh, he’s Ram. I’ve read his columns.”

  Larry nodded. “Yes, he’s Ram. I’ll make sure he gets in touch with you as soon as I get back to the Tweet.”

  “I guess that will be okay since I don’t seem to have a choice anyway.”

  “You really don’t. As I said, he has an emergency in Canary Corners, and he has to get back. If you’ve got a card, I’ll have him call you when I get back to Canary Corners.”

  Frank nodded, reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a card which he handed to Larry. “Just be sure you do. I don’t want to have to track him down.” If need be, Frank could always call Sheriff Stibbens the county sheriff and his boss. Because he was also the chief of police in Canary Corners, Stibbens would be able to corner Ram if it came to that. Reporter or not, Ram might have some vital information. Maybe information he didn’t even know he had. Frank had seen it before.

  “I’ll tell him.”

  Frank nodded again before turning back to the body and the paramedics.

  Chapter 28

  Adam put Bagel into the back seat, opened the passenger door for Marti, and settled himself in the driver’s seat. As he drove away, Marti asked, “How well did you know the guy who got killed?”

  “Pretty well, I’d say. We worked a bunch of cases together in New York. He was the only one in New York who knew about my abilities.”

  “So this was when you worked as a reporter in New York before you won the lotteries.”

  “Just so. I revisited New York a couple of times after the lotteries to help out where I could, but I originally knew Phillip before that. I ran into him a while back at one of the reenactment meetings, but we didn’t have time to talk. He said he wanted to tell me something, but he was gone before I got out of my meeting and I never saw him at any of the other meetings.”