Yarnell stared at Beaumont’s slobbered-up shoe.
“What do you think?”
“I got an idea,” whispered Beaumont. “Throw the damn thing as far as you can into the front of the store. When he takes off after it, we’ll make a run for the back door.”
“How fast can you run with only one shoe?”
“Throw it and see. Just don’t get between me and the exit.”
“Get ready then, ’cuz here goes nothing.”
Yarnell gingerly took the wet shoe out of the dog’s mouth and underhanded it down the passageway and into the front office. He was gathering himself to jump to the floor when he noticed Beaumont was already down and high-stepping it for the supply room in the back. By the time Yarnell made his way into the supply room, Beaumont had thrown open the back door and turned into the alley.
Yarnell rounded into the alley three strides behind his partner, grabbed the edge of the open door as he passed it and slammed the door shut behind him.
No longer having a latching mechanism where the doorknob used to be, the rear door bounced back open.
Yarnell heard toenails clicking on the cement behind him and heavy breathing much closer than he liked. He screamed a warning.
“Dog!”
Beaumont immediately swung himself up on top of the nearest trash dumpster and stood ramrod stiff with his back against the building’s brick wall.
Having gained a step on his partner, Yarnell followed suit and took safety alongside Beaumont on top of the same dumpster.
The large dog from the vet’s business stood up and rested his front paws on the edge of the container. His long, wet tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. No shoe was visible.
“You think he ate it?” asked Yarnell.
Beaumont moved as far away from the beast as he could.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“Give me your other shoe,” said Yarnell.
“What?”
“It worked once, let’s try it again.”
Beaumont took a step sideways.
“No way. I’ve already got one sock dripping water from running down this wet alley. We’re supposed to be partners, share and share alike. So, use one of your own shoes.”
“You’re kidding, right? We both have to have a wet foot?”
“Trust me, I’m deadly serious.”
Reluctantly, Yarnell untied his left shoe and slipped it off his foot.
“Throw it way down there at the far end of the alley,” said Beaumont. “I don’t see any more trash dumpsters for us to jump up on if he retrieves your foot gear too fast.”
Shoe in hand, Yarnell stretched his right arm as far behind him as possible, quickly rotated his arm overhand and flung his shoe in the opposite direction of where they wanted to go.
The beast took off in a flurry of sturdy legs and large paws.
Yarnell and Beaumont immediately dropped down to the cold cement of the alley floor and commenced a loping, one-shoe run for safety.
They hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when Yarnell heard an “ouch,” a “damn,” and a “come back here” in quick succession. He started to turn his head to inquire, but then saw a small blur streaking for the nearby mouth of the alley. Whatever it was seemed to be chewing on a glove.
“Sarge’s dog is getting away,” exclaimed Beaumont. “We gotta catch him before he gets too far.”
“How’d he get loose?” panted Yarnell.
“When I jumped off the dumpster that little guy bit me. After that, it seems the force of me landing on solid ground slid him out the bottom of my jacket, so he escaped.”
“I think I saw him go off to the right after he ran out of the alley,” said Yarnell.
The two burglars loped to the sidewalk, turned right and came to an immediate halt. They watched as the little dog kept on running. Two fingers of the glove dangled from its mouth, dragging along the sidewalk as it went.
“Uh, that’s a patrol car down at the corner waiting for the stop light to change,” said Yarnell.
“And, the cop on the passenger side is opening the door,” added Beaumont. “Looks like he’s trying to catch the mutt.”
“I think we’d better let this one go,” said Yarnell.
“No argument here,” replied Beaumont. “We already rescued him once, so we did our job.”
Both men quickly stepped back into the mouth of the alley and peeked around the brick wall.
Down the street, the patrolman scooped up the Chihuahua-terrier mix off the sidewalk and spoke to it in a soothing manner.
“Where’d you get the glove, little fellow?”
Looking back up the sidewalk, the cop paused and then got into the patrol car, still holding onto the dog. The stoplight turned green and the squad car drove away.
Yarnell and Beaumont watched the vehicle move on, until Yarnell felt a wet nose nuzzling his hand. He stifled a jump and slowly turned around.
“Beaumont, we got company.”
His partner gradually straightened up and eased his body around, moving very carefully with no sudden movements.
“Is it who I think it is?”
“Yep,” whispered Yarnell. “He found us again.”
“Does he still have your shoe?”
“Yep.”
“Then throw it again. Farther this time and we’ll get the hell out of here.”
Yarnell wound up and tried to put the shoe down the alley and nearly into the next block.
The yellow-eyed beast was gone in a flash.
Beaumont and Yarnell took off up the sidewalk in a fast lope, headed in the opposite direction of the patrol car. When they got to their van, Beaumont yanked open the passenger’s door, slid onto the seat, closed the door, clambered over the console and plopped down in the driver’s seat. He put the keys in the ignition and started the engine.
Yarnell quickly slid open the panel side door and jumped into the interior. He was in the process of leaning forward to close the side door when a large furry creature leaped over his back and into the vehicle. With his muscles already programmed to shut the door, Yarnell completed the process and immediately scrambled for the front passenger seat.
Oblivious to any extra cargo in the rear, Beaumont pulled away from the curb and barreled down the street. Two quick turns and he hit the on-ramp for the thruway. He floored the accelerator, sped up the incline and slid into a narrow space between a speeding semi and a furniture delivery truck amidst a flurry of honking horns.
Perched stiffly in the front passenger’s seat, Yarnell looked out of the corner of his vision to see the yellow-eyed beast taking a position behind the van’s center console. The dog sat straight up with a shoe in its mouth, its long white teeth bared and strings of saliva dripping off the wet footgear.
Yarnell was reluctant to bring up the matter, so he focused his eyes straight ahead through the windshield.
When Beaumont finally did look into his rearview mirror during the early hours of what was now Veteran’s Day, he was merely checking to see if they were being followed. The image reflected back to him in the glass inadvertently caused both of his hands to rotate the steering wheel far left. He suddenly found himself swerving across two lanes of heavy traffic. More horns blared.
One thought briefly crossed his mind. All those years ago in Iraq he’d never been involved in anything serious enough to become eligible for a Purple Heart. But the way things were going tonight, on this last mission he’d taken up for his old sergeant, he stood a good chance of getting a few dings in his helmet. Problem was he wasn’t wearing one. Maybe his karma was finally catching up with him.