Mr. Sandman: A Thrilling Novel

by Lyle Howard

  He held up his hands. “Hey, pal, everyone’s entitled to a lunch hour.”

  Kaplan held out his wristwatch at arm’s length and lifted his glasses above his eyes straining to read the dial. “It’s almost four o’clock. A tad late for lunch, wouldn’t you say?”

  He reached over to roll the window back up. “You eat when you want to eat, and I’ll eat when I want to eat!”

  Kaplan backed away from the door and paused momen­tarily. Something about this guy wasn’t kosher. He tapped on the window again and then made a circling motion with his finger. “Don’t you think you should be driving around the neighborhood trying to find this rabid dog?”

  “I said I was on my break. You deaf?” came the muffled response.

  “What’s this dog look like?” Kaplan asked through the window.

  “Golden retriever.” It was the first breed that came to mind.

  Kaplan scanned his eyes up and down the block. It was just like any other summer afternoon, temperature about 87 degrees, winds out of the southeast, chance of rain … 30 percent. “I’ve been living in this neighborhood for fifteen years and I’ve never seen a golden retriever roaming around here.”

  He shook his head. Wouldn’t this guy ever leave? “It’s probably not from around here. Rabies affects the nervous system and the animal becomes disoriented … lost.”

  It sounded logical to Kaplan. “So how much longer are you going to just sit here?”

  Just then, Julie Chapman’s car turned into the driveway. It came to a stop in front of the garage as the overhead door began to open automatically. Stepping out of the car, Julie walked to the trunk, unlocked it and began unload­ing grocery bags.

  “Can I give you a hand with those?” Kaplan called out, suddenly shifting his attention away from the driver of the van.

  From behind the wheel, he watched the old man shuffle across the street to help the young woman empty the trunk. Quickly, he pulled out the notes he had jotted down about Cutter. Nowhere did it say anything about him being married!

  He turned the key in the ignition and slowly pulled away from the curb. So, Cutter was a sinner, too! All the more reason he would have to die!

  THIRTEEN

  Update from the National Weather Service

  TROPICAL STORM ANDREW Tropical Storm Andrew at a glance:

  Latitude: 16.6 N Longitude: 54.4 W Date: 8/17/92 Time: 11 p.m. EDT Velocity: 50 mph Movement: 18 mph Direction: W-NW To Antilles: 460 miles From Miami: 1,808 miles

  The first tropical storm of 1992 maintained its strength Tuesday evening with winds of about 50 mph, but was moving more slowly. Forward move­ment slipped from 25 mph to 18 mph. A reconnais­sance flight into Andrew is scheduled today. The National Hurricane Center forecasts slow strengthen­ing with steady wind speed hitting 63 mph this after­noon and 69 Thursday. Minimum hurricane speed is 74 mph.

  FOURTEEN

  WEDNESDAY, 8/19/92, 10:30 a.m.

  It started off like any other day. Esther Paulsen stood behind her desk, impatiently tapping her fingers on the edge of her computer keyboard while the young woman com­pleted the adoption forms. “It’s taking you an awfully long time to finish those forms, isn’t it?”

  The young woman looked up from the paperwork and flashed a toothy smile. “I’m a perfectionist. I want to make sure that I dot all of my Is and cross all of my Ts.”

  Esther managed a sour, patronizing smile. “Yes … of course you are.”

  The woman continued to write slowly and methodically as if she were trying to torture poor Esther on purpose. “Will my kitty be fully vaccinated?” she asked, never looking up from the forms.

  Esther shot her a caustic expression that could have melted steel. “Your kitty? Oh, by all means. We wouldn’t want your kitty to get sick and die on you!”

  “That’s good.”

  Esther was just about to buzz for Eddie Dolan when he came strolling into the office from the kennels in the rear. His face looked flushed as he held the back of his hand against his forehead to check his temperature.

  “I was just about to call you,” Esther said.

  Eddie let out a deep puff of air. “Do I look alright to you?”

  The woman filling out the forms glanced up at Eddie, saw his off-color, and moved a few feet further down the counter. Esther waved him closer and placed her hand on his forehead. “You don’t feel warm, but your skin is clammy.”

  Eddie lifted the baseball cap off of his head and untied the rubber band holding his ponytail in place. “I just feel achy all over. My leg’s bothering me, my head hurts…”

  Esther glanced over at the woman completing the forms and noticed she had started writing considerably faster since Eddie had entered the office. “Almost finished, sweetheart?”

  The woman was pressing so hard on the page that the tip of her pencil snapped. Esther smiled and handed her a replacement. “What’s the matter with your leg?” she asked, turning her attention back to Eddie.

  Dolan began to massage his right thigh. “I must have banged it on the hull last weekend while I was cleaning out the cabin. It’s an old injury that flares up every so often.”

  Esther shook her head. “When are you going to get rid of that floating deathtrap and find regular living quarters?”

  Dolan wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his jumpsuit and replaced his cap. “There’s nothing wrong with the boat, Esther. A little fixing up and she’ll make a fine place to live.”

  The old woman shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  “You wait and see.”

  “Can I have my kitten now?” the young woman inter­rupted.

  Eddie studied her as she slid the forms across the desk. “You’re here for the white mixed-breed?”

  The woman didn’t know whether to smile or not. “Why yes, is everything all right?”

  Dolan leaned against the counter. “You were supposed to be here the day before yesterday. You filled out a form last week for us to hold it for you.”

  The woman began fumbling in her purse so that she wouldn’t have to look at Dolan. “I was busy.”

  Esther paused while typing in the woman’s name, just in case Eddie started to get too far out of line. She had seen this all before. He was a nut when it came to the mistreatment of animals.

  Dolan rubbed his chin. “Well, that doesn’t say too much for your really wanting this kitten.”

  The woman looked over at Esther. “Who is this man?”

  Eddie held up his hand to silence Esther before she even got the chance to speak. “I’m the person who raised that kitten from birth. It’s my responsibility to ensure that it’s placed in a good home.”

  The young woman held her hand up to her chest in shock. “Are you insinuating that I may not be suitable to raise a damned cat? I’ve got three children, mister, and I resent you casting doubts upon my competence!”

  Eddie began gnawing on his lower lip. Visions of tiny children tugging and pulling on the poor kitten flooded his thoughts. “Three children, eh? How old?”

  The young woman turned to Esther and slammed her fist down on the counter. “I don’t have to put up with this garbage! Lady, am I getting the cat or not?”

  Eddie pulled off his cap and slapped it against his hip. “Esther, you can’t let this woman have the kitten. Her kids will torture it!”

  Esther had never seen Eddie so irrational. She waved both of her hands the way a referee would separate two boxers in a clench. “Back off, Eddie. Mrs. Tanner, here, has every right to take the kitten. She is a fine, upstanding woman.”

  The young woman’s hands were trembling as she squeezed her purse against her chest. “I can’t believe this! How can this man be allowed to work here? He’s crazy!”

  Esther tried to calm her down. “Relax … relax. Everything will be all right. I’ m sorry for Mr. Dolan’ s behavior. Let’s just all settle down, okay?”

  “Look at me! I’m shaking!” the Tanner woman com­plained.

  Dolan shook
his head. “See what I mean? The smallest little confrontation and she falls to pieces. What’s going to happen the first time the kitten misses the litter box?” Esther put her finger over her mouth to quiet Eddie down. “Mark my words, Esther. I know people. You’re sending this animal to its death.”

  Tanner slammed her purse down on the counter. “Forget it! Forget the whole thing! Keep the damned cat! I’ll buy one at the pet shop!”

  Dolan nodded his head. “You see that? She didn’t really care about it in the first place!”

  Tanner pointed at Eddie. “When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you had never laid eyes on me! This is a county facility and I have every right to come in here and take any animal I want.”

  Eddie growled, “Over my dead body!”

  Esther felt like she was watching her career cascade down the toilet before her very eyes. “Now hold on … hold on,” she said, trying to pacify the two antagonists.

  “Hold on nothing,” Tanner snapped, “I’m not staying here another minute.”

  “Let me ask you a question, Miss Know-It-All,” Dolan called out to the retreating woman. “Ever own any other pets?”

  The young woman stopped in her tracks. All Esther could do was hang her head and pray that Tanner’s lawyers only went after Eddie.

  “As a matter of fact, I did! Two dogs. That shows you how much you know!”

  Eddie casually rested his elbow on the counter. “They still alive?”

  Tanner’s bottom lip twisted a wounded worm. “No.”

  “How did they die?”

  Tanner took in a deep sigh. “Both were hit by cars.”

  “Because you let them run loose?”

  “Because they ran out into the street,” she said defen­sively.

  “Because you let them run loose?” he repeated.

  Tanner shook her head. “Not because I let them run loose. One of my children let them out accidentally.”

  Esther lifted her head. Suddenly, she realized the weight of the exchange had shifted.

  “Kids can be pretty irresponsible, eh?” Dolan inquired.

  Tanner swallowed hard. “Perhaps.”

  “Dogs are a lot more resilient than kittens, you know.”

  The young woman took a step closer. “So what are you saying?”

  Eddie shrugged. “What I’m saying is, that maybe the time isn’t right to adopt a pet right now. Perhaps you should wait until your children are a bit older and more trustworthy. Pets aren’t human, but they are living creatures.”

  Tanner toyed with her lips and then relented. “Maybe you’re right. Let me discuss it with my husband, and then I’ll call you back.”

  Eddie smiled. “You’re making the right decision for everyone involved.”

  Tanner nodded. “You could be right.”

  Eddie held out his hand with remorse. “I’m sorry I flew off the handle there. I can be a bit possessive when it comes to these animals.”

  “I guess someone has to be a voice for them,” she said, shaking his hand. “Thanks for helping me see the light. I’ll be in touch.”

  Esther couldn’t believe the about-face that had just taken place. Trying to be as courteous as possible, she ran around the counter and held the door open for the young woman as she departed. After she watched the car back out of the parking lot, she slowly turned and glared at Dolan. “Do you want to tell me what the hell that was all about?”

  He casually examined his fingernails. “I knew she wouldn’t want the cat if she took the time to think about what she was doing.”

  Esther crossed her arms on her chest. “She’s a taxpayer, Eddie. She’s entitled to take the animal if she wants it.”

  “But I knew she would change her mind.” Esther smirked. “Yeah…how did you know?” Dolan reached over and patted the computer monitor. “I looked it up.”

  Esther held up her hands in exasperation. “Why is every­one always using my computer?”

  Dolan smiled. “It was quite simple, really. After she left last week, I looked up her name in the data bank and found out that she had adopted two dogs in the last six months. Two German shepherds. Now, she wanted a kitten. Who in their right mind would bring a kitten into a house with two huge dogs?”

  “So you assumed that the dogs were dead?” Dolan drew back. “Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t let her bring a helpless kitten into the house with two guard dogs if they were still alive!”

  “But you couldn’t have known about the children.” Dolan shrugged. “I just guided her conscience on that one. Pets and tiny children are a lethal combination, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Esther chuckled to herself. “You never cease to amaze me, Eddie. It’s incredible how much you care about these animals.”

  “No more than Jacob, or anyone else that works here.” Esther took the Tanner woman’s completed forms and slipped them into a manila envelope marked “pending,” then she hit a button on the keyboard to erase the screen. “So what did you want before you decided to come in here and start World War III?”

  Dolan let his body slump over the counter. “The rest of the day off. I’m not feeling too well.”

  Esther grinned slyly. “Are you sure you aren’t going to play hooky just so that you can go and work on your boat some more?”

  Dolan smiled halfheartedly. “That’s not true. I’ve got some errands that I have to run, and then I’m just going to take it easy the rest of the day.”

  “What about your shift at the photo shop?”

  “I’ll have to see how I feel later.”

  Esther surrendered. “Then go ahead and take the day off. You bust your butt around here. I’m sure Jacob can cover for you.”

  Dolan agreed. “Jacob knows his stuff. He works twice as hard as I do.”

  Esther watched as Dolan headed for the kennel again to clean up. “You just take care of yourself, Eddie, and stay out of trouble.”

  Dolan opened up the door to leave and smiled shrewdly. “Trouble? Me? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  FIFTEEN

  WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, 3:25 p.m.

  Lance huddled listlessly over the water fountain on the fourth floor of the County Fire and Rescue Department in the Broward County City Hall Building. He was tired from a long day of sifting through rubble, and disappointed by the lack­luster evening he had spent with Julie Chapman the night before.

  After building up his hopes to absurdly unattainable heights, their dinner together never managed to rekindle any sparks that he might have had smoldering for her. Everything had started out like it would be terrific between the two of them, but as the evening wore on, the same old problem began to rear its ugly head. There was a voice in his subconscious that wouldn’t allow him to get close to her, to share the story of his past with her. It was a warning whisper, for the lack of a better definition, cautioning him that she wasn’t what he was searching for in the way of a commitment in his life.

  After putting in another grueling sixty-hour week, he couldn’t fathom that investigating fires was how he would spend the remainder of his existence. He felt like a gerbil on a treadmill, running fast, but not getting anywhere. He was depressed because he lacked some type of goal in his life. The shine on this lifestyle was quickly wearing off.

  He had been out all morning, rounding up evidence against a twice-convicted arsonist by rummaging through the burned-out husk of a crack house in one of the seedier sections of town. Even that hazardous assignment didn’t prepare him for what lay behind his office door. Although it was still early in the day, he was dead on his feet and the thought of spending the rest of the day crowded behind his desk made him want to run away to some secluded island in the Bahamas. He would rather walk through a three-alarm blaze dressed only in his underwear, than face the dreaded monolith he called … his desk!

  Lance was never one to lose his perspective by exagger­ating to extremes but in this case, he was positive that it would take a minimum of ten men with miner’s helmets and shovels to help h
im dig through all of the toppling stacks of files cluttering his desk. If the new county budget wasn’t passed soon, he just knew that one day his secretary would come into work, open his office door, and drown under a flood of manila file folders. More than once he had consid­ered putting an “enter at your own risk” sign on his office door. It was a wonder he got any work done at all, considering that it usually took him half an hour to find anything.

  Stepping through the glass doorway that led to the outer office, he was greeted by a much-too-perky-for-this-time-of-day, Stephanie Rose. Under any other circumstances Stephanie’s well-contoured figure and sea-blue eyes would have perked up anyone’s afternoon. “Weil,” she said, looking at the worn expression on his face, “the soldier returns from the front.”

  Lance summoned up a condescending smile. “Anyone call?” Compared to his desk, Stephanie’s was immaculate. She brushed her long blonde hair off her shoulders and began sifting through the rubble of note pads and typing paper that covered the surface of her desk like a protective layer guarding the wood. “I think so. Hold on a second…”

  This was a daily ritual. Every day he would ask, and every day she would search. The standing record for retriev­ing messages was just shy of eight minutes.

  “I’ll be in my office.”

  “They’re around here somewhere.”

  Lance frowned. “Sure.”

  “Just give me a minute.”

  Lance shook his head pitifully as he stepped into his office. He had crossed his fingers that some cataclysmic event would have hit his office while he was out … that the desk would have been sucked deep into the bowels of the earth … but luck just wasn’t on his side today. The monstrosity was still there in all of its chaotic glory. Walking over to the window, he stared out through the vertical blinds at the jagged skyline of Fort Lauderdale.

  It wasn’t like him to become maudlin and introspective, but he couldn’t help wondering why, with all of the wonder­ful and extraordinary abilities he possessed, his life was such a mess. He glanced back over his shoulder at the disorga­nized desk that seemed to exemplify his personality. He lacked a direction and a purpose in his life.