I scurried out of my sleeping bag.
‘Two.’
‘Hey, can’t you wait till I get dressed?’
‘Three. Come out with your hands empty, four.’
I stuck the knife down the side of my sweatsock, handle first to keep it from falling out, and crawled through the flaps.
‘Five, you just made it.’
I stood up, feeling twigs and pine cones under my feet, and looked into the grinning, bearded face of a man who bore a disturbing resemblance to Rasputin. He had no shotgun. Only my hand-ax. I scanned the near bank of the stream behind him. No sign of Sadie.
‘Where’s the shotgun?’ I asked. Then I clamped my mouth shut to keep my teeth quiet.
The man gave a dry, vicious laugh. ‘Take that knife outa your sock.’
I looked down. I was wearing only shorts and socks, and the moonlight made the knife blade shine silvery against my calf.
‘Take it out slowly,’ he warned.
‘No.’
‘Want to see your wife again? If I give the signal, my buddy will kill her. Slit her open like a wet sack.’
‘You’ve got Sadie?’
‘Back in the trees. Now, the knife.’
‘Not a chance.’ I pressed my knees together to keep them from banging against each other. ‘You’ll kill us both anyway.’
‘Naw. All we want’s your food and gear. See, we gotta do some camping. You understand, pal.’ He grinned as if a glimpse of his big crooked teeth would help me understand better. It did.
‘What did you do?’ I asked, trying to stall for time. ‘Rob a bank?’
‘That, too. Now are you gonna get rid of that knife or do I signal Jake to start cutting?’
‘Better signal Jake,’ I said, and grabbed my knife.
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure. Just one favor, though. Do you mind if I tell my wife goodbye?’
He grinned again. ‘Go on.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. Then I yelled, ‘Goodbye, Sadie! Sadie! Goodbye, Sadie!’
‘Enough.’ He came forward, holding the ax high, shaking it gently as if testing the weight of its head. All the time, he grinned.
My knife flew end over end, glinting moonlight, and struck him square in the chest. Hilt first.
He kept coming. Finally I backed into a tree. Its bark felt damp and cold and rough against my skin.
‘There’s no Jake,’ I said to distract him.
‘So what?’ he answered.
I raised my hands to block the ax and wondered if it would hurt for long.
Then a chilling, deep-throated howl shook the night. A mastiff splashed through the stream. Huge, brutish, black as death. The man had no time to turn. He only had time to scream before Sadie, snarling, took him down and began to rip his throat.
Stiff intruders
‘What are you doing here?’ Charlie demanded of the dead woman.
She didn’t answer. She was leaning back in Charlie’s lawn chair, the very chair he wanted for himself, the chair he sat in every morning to drink his first two mugs of coffee. This was his favorite part of the day: so quiet, the air still cool and fresh from the night, the sun gently warming. But now, this!
‘Hey!’ he shouted.
She didn’t stir. She simply sat there, hands folded on her lap, ankles crossed casually. Charlie sipped his coffee and walked around her. She wore a sleek, blue evening gown. Inappropriate wear, Charlie thought. A sun dress or swimsuit would be just the thing, but a formal, off-the-shoulder gown was unsuitable, even pretentious. Not that she could be held accountable.
Charlie went into the kitchen for a refill of coffee. As he pushed through the door to the backyard and saw her still sitting there, the injustice of it overwhelmed him. He decided to nudge her off the chair and let her fend for herself.
That’s exactly what he did. The woman flopped and sprawled, and Charlie took his seat.
After a few moments, he moaned in despair. He simply couldn’t enjoy his coffee in front of her.
Emptying his cup on the grass, he got to his feet and rushed into the house. He wanted to pound roughly on Lou’s bedroom door. That might rub Lou the wrong way, however, so he rapped lightly.
‘Knock off the racket!’ Lou yelled.
‘May I come in?’
‘Suit yourself.’
Charlie opened the door and stepped into a room stinking of stale cigar smoke. Lou was in bed, covers pulled high so that only his face showed. The chubby face, flat nose and bulging eyes always reminded Charlie of a pug named Snappy he’d once owned. Snappy, who nipped anything in sight, generally had a sweeter disposition than Lou. Especially in the morning.
‘Get up, Lou. I want to show you something.’
‘What?’
‘Get up, get up!’
Lou moaned and sat up. ‘This better be good,’ he said.
‘Oh, it’s not good, but you’d better see it.’
Muttering, Lou climbed from bed. He put on his slippers and robe, and followed Charlie to the backyard.
‘See,’ Charlie said.
‘Who is she?’ asked Lou.
‘How should I know?’
‘You found her.’
‘Just because she was sitting in my chair doesn’t mean I know the lady.’
‘What was she doing in your chair?’
‘Not much.’
‘How come she’s on the grass?’
‘She was in my seat, Lou.’
‘You shoved her off?’
‘Certainly.’
‘That was rude, Charlie.’ Lou knelt down beside her. ‘Nicely dressed, isn’t she?’
‘Certainly better dressed than you left yours,’ Charlie said.
‘I won’t quibble with that.’ He tipped her head back and touched her bruised throat. ‘A nylon stocking,’ he said. ‘Maybe a scarf. Not my style at all.’
‘I haven’t accused you of anything,’ Charlie protested.
‘No, that’s right. Thanks. You’ve gotta be wondering, though.’ Charlie shrugged.
‘You read my book, right?’
‘Certainly.’
In fact, Charlie had not read it. He hadn’t read any book since Silas Marner in high school. But Lou was proud of Choke ’em Till They Croak. The True Story of the Riverside Strangler in his Own Words. He had every right to be proud. The book, written during his last two years in prison, had been a hardbound bestseller. The paperback rights went for $800,000, and Ed Lentz was signed to play Lou in the Universal film.
‘First,’ Lou said, ‘if she wasn’t a blonde, I left her alone. Second, I took the clothes home to dress up my mannequins. Third, I didn’t use no scarf, I used my thumbs. That’s how come they called me Thumbs.’
‘Certainly, I know all that.’
‘Fourth, I didn’t dump ’em in other people’s backyards. That’s rude. I left ’em on the freeway exits.’ He poked her with his foot. ‘Not my style at all.’
‘But the police?’
‘Exactly. We’ve gotta get rid of her.’
‘What’ll we do with her?’ Charlie asked.
Lou pulled a cigar out of his robe pocket. He peeled off the wrapper and tossed it into the grass. He poked the cigar into his mouth and lit it. ‘What we’ll do,’ he said, ‘we’ll deposit her at the bank.’