Invasion

  “You’re joking,” Jesse said.

  “Nope,” Vince said. “Doc said he’d decided to go back and take a bone marrow sample, and when he opened up the refrigerator where Charlie Arnold’s body had been placed, it was gone.”

  “Holy crap,” Jesse voiced. He hauled himself to his feet. “We better go down there. This is getting too bizarre.”

  PITT CHANGED INTO HIS BASKETBALL GEAR AND USED HIS bike to travel from the dorm to the courts. He and Beau played frequently in the intramural three-on-three league. The competition was always good. A lot of the players could have played intercollegiate had they had the motivation.

  As was his custom, Pitt arrived early in order to practice his shooting. He felt it took him longer than others to warm up. To his surprise Beau was already there.

  Beau was dressed to play but was off to the side, behind a chain-link fence, conversing intently with two men and a woman. What was surprising was that the people appeared professional and in their middle to late thirties. All three were dressed in business suits. One of the men was carrying a fancy leather briefcase.

  Pitt picked up a ball and began shooting. If Beau noticed him he didn’t give any indication. After a few minutes something else about the situation seemed surprising to Pitt. Beau was doing all the talking! The others were simply listening, occasionally responding with nods of agreement.

  The other players began to arrive including Tony Ciccone who made up the third person on Pitt and Beau’s team. It was only after everyone had arrived including the opposition team and had warmed up that Beau wound up his conversation with the three businesspeople and joined Pitt. Pitt was now doing some stretching exercises.

  “Hey, man, good to see you,” Beau said. “I was afraid after that marathon you put in at the ER you weren’t going to make it today.”

  Pitt straightened up and lifted a basketball in the process. “The way you were feeling the day before yesterday, you should be surprised you’re here,” he said.

  Beau laughed. “Seems like ages ago. Now I feel terrific. In fact, I’ve never felt better, and we’re going to cream these pansies.”

  The other three players were continuing to warm up down at the other basket. Tony was tightening the laces of his high-tops.

  “I wouldn’t be too cocky,” Pitt said, squinting against the sun. “See the muscle-bound guy in the purple shorts? Believe it or not, his name is Rocko. He’s a ball-breaker and a good shot to boot.”

  “No problem,” Beau said. He snatched the ball away from Pitt and let it sail toward the basket. It went through the goal with a snapping sound having hit nothing but net.

  Pitt was impressed. They were standing a good thirty feet away.

  “Best of all, we have a cheering section,” Beau said. Putting the tip of his thumb and index fingers together and puckering up his mouth, he let loose with a shrill whistle. About a hundred feet away an enormous light-brown dog got up from where he’d been lying in the shade and sauntered over. He collapsed at the edge of the tarmac of the court and lowered his head on his front paws.

  Beau squatted down and gave him a series of pats on the top of the head. The tail wagged briefly then went limp.

  “Whose dog?” Pitt asked. “If you can call it a dog. It looks more like a small pony.”

  “He’s mine,” Beau said. “His name is King.”

  “You got a dog?” Pitt asked incredulously.

  “Yup,” Beau said. “I felt like some canine companionship, so I went out to the pound this morning, and there he was, waiting for me.”

  “A week ago you said you didn’t think it was fair to have big dogs in the city,” Pitt said.

  “I changed my mind,” Beau said. “The moment I saw him I knew he was the dog of my dreams.”

  “Does Cassy know?”

  “Not yet,” Beau said. He scratched King enthusiastically behind his ears. “Won’t she be surprised?”

  “That’s an understatement,” Pitt said, rolling his eyes. “Especially a dog that size. But what’s the matter with him? Is he sick? He seems lethargic and his eyes are red.”

  “Ah, he’s just having trouble adjusting,” Beau said. “He’s just been let out of his cage. I’ve only had him a few hours.”

  “He’s salivating,” Pitt said. “You don’t think he has rabies, do you?”

  “Not a chance,” Beau said. “Of that I’m certain.” Beau cupped the dog’s large head in his hands. “Come on, King. You should be feeling better by now. We need you to cheer us on.”

  Beau got to his feet, still gazing at his new companion. “He might be lethargic, but he’s a good-looking dog, don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose,” Pitt said. “But listen, Beau. Getting a dog, much less a huge one like this, is an awfully impulsive act, and knowing you the way I do, I’d have to say very unexpected. In fact, from my perspective you’ve been doing a number of unexpected things lately. I’m concerned, and I think we should have a talk.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “About you,” Pitt said. “The way you’ve been acting, like not going to class. It seems like ever since you had the flu…”

  Before Pitt could finish Rocko had come up behind Pitt and given him a friendly slap on the shoulder that sent Pitt staggering forward several steps.

  “Are you dorks going to play or forfeit?” Rocko jeered. “Pauli, Duff, and I have been ready to take you guys to the cleaners for the last half hour.”

  “I think we better talk later,” Beau whispered to Pitt. “The natives are getting restless.”

  The game commenced. As Pitt guessed, Rocko dominated the play with his bulldozer tactics. To Pitt’s chagrin the burden of covering him had fallen on his shoulders since Rocko had selected to guard Pitt. Every time Rocko got the ball he made it a point to crash right into Pitt before dropping back to put in a jump shot.

  Halfway through the game with Rocko et al. in the lead, Pitt called a foul after Rocko purposefully elbowed him in the gut in order to get a rebound.

  “What?” Rocko demanded angrily. He threw the ball forcibly against the ground so that it bounced some ten feet into the air. “Is the little chicken-shit going to call an offensive foul? No way. Our ball! No way I’m going to honor a call like that.”

  “It’s my call,” Pitt persisted. “I say you fouled me. In fact, it’s the second time you pulled the same cheap trick.”

  Rocko stepped over to Pitt and purposefully butted him with his chest. Pitt took a step backward.

  “Cheap trick, huh?” Rocko snarled. “All right, tough guy, talk is cheap. Let’s see the crybaby take a swing. Come on! I got my arms at my side.”

  Pitt knew better than to get into a fight with Rocko. Others had tried only to end up with chipped front teeth or black eyes.

  “Excuse me,” Beau said congenially. He stepped between Pitt and Rocko. “I don’t think this issue is worth any hard feelings. I tell you what. We’ll give up the ball, but we’re going to change who guards whom. I think I’ll take a turn guarding you, Rocko, and you can guard me.”

  Rocko gave a short laugh as he looked Beau up and down. Although they were both about six feet, Rocko outweighed Beau by more than fifteen pounds.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Beau asked Pitt.

  “Hell no,” Pitt said.

  With that settled, the game resumed. Rocko’s thin-lipped, hard face had settled into a slight smile of anticipation. The next time he got the ball, he charged directly at Beau with his heavy thighs pumping.

  With uncanny coordination, Beau managed to step out of the way at the instant Rocko expected contact. The result was almost comical. Expecting the collision, Rocko had his torso way out in front of his center of gravity. When no contact occurred, he sprawled on the pavement.

  Everyone, even Pitt, winced, as Rocko skidded across the asphalt. He suffered several large abrasions that were liberally sprinkled with embedded gravel.

  Beau was at the downed man’s side instantly with an extended hand.
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  “Sorry, Rocko,” Beau said. “Let me help you up.”

  Rocko glared up at Beau. He ignored the gesture for help and got to his feet under his own power.

  “Oww,” Beau said with a sympathetic wince. “You got some nasty scrapes there. I think we’d better call the game so you can go over to the infirmary and have them cleaned.”

  “Hell with you,” Rocko said. “Give me the ball. We’ll finish the game.”

  “It’s up to you,” Beau said. “But it’s our ball. You lost it with your little tumble.”

  Pitt had watched this interchange with growing concern. Beau didn’t seem to realize what kind of bully Rocko truly was, and Beau was taunting him. Pitt was afraid the afternoon would end with trouble.

  As play resumed Rocko continued to try to use his strong-man tactics, but on each occasion, Beau was able to avoid contact. Rocko fell several more times, which clearly irritated him, and the angrier he got, the more easily Beau was able to deal with him.

  Offensively Beau turned into a dynamo. Given the ball he could score at will despite Rocko’s efforts to restrain him. On several drives, Beau had gone around Rocko with such a sudden burst of speed, Rocko was left in the dust with a confused expression. By the time Beau put in the final basket to win the game, Rocko’s face was suffused with an angry blush.

  “Hey, thanks for letting us win,” Beau said to Rocko. He stuck out his hand but Rocko ignored it. Rocko and his fellow teammates slunk off to the sideline to towel off.

  Beau, Pitt, and Tony walked back to where King was lying in the grass. King seemed even more lethargic than before the game.

  “I told you King was going to help,” Beau said.

  Tony broke out some cold drinks. Pitt was particularly glad to get some fluid, and despite his panting, downed a can in record time. Tony handed him another.

  Pitt was about to start on his second drink when he noticed that Beau was casually staring off at a couple of attractive co-eds coming along the track. They were wearing skimpy running gear.

  “Great legs,” Beau said.

  That was when Pitt noticed that Beau was not out of breath like he and Tony were. In fact Beau wasn’t even sweating and had yet to take a drink.

  Beau caught Pitt staring at him out of the corner of his eye. “Something the matter?” Beau asked.

  “You’re not sucking air like we are,” Pitt said.

  “I guess I was loafing out there, letting you guys do all the work.”

  “Uh oh,” Tony said. “Here comes the Sherman tank.”

  Both Beau and Pitt turned to see Rocko sauntering across the court in their direction.

  “Don’t taunt him,” Pitt whispered forcibly.

  “Who, me?” Beau asked innocently.

  “We want a rematch,” Rocko growled when he reached the group.

  “I’ve had it for today,” Pitt said. “I’m through.”

  “Me too,” Tony said.

  “I guess that’s that,” Beau said with a smile. “It wouldn’t be quite fair if I played all three of you guys.”

  Rocko stared at Beau for a beat. “You’re mighty arrogant for a little prig.”

  “I didn’t say I’d win,” Beau said. “Although I’m sure it would be close, especially the way you guys were playing toward the end of that last game.”

  “Man, you’re looking for it,” Rocko snarled.

  “I’d rather you didn’t raise your voice,” Beau said. “My dog’s sleeping right next to you, and he’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

  Rocko glanced down at King, then back up at Beau. “I couldn’t care a twit about your bag of turd of a dog.”

  “Wait a sec,” Beau said. He got to his feet. “I’m a little confused. Are you calling my new dog a ‘bag of turd’?”

  “Worse than that,” Rocko said. “I think he’s a f—”

  With hand speed that shocked everyone, Beau reached out and grabbed Rocko by the throat. Rocko reacted quickly as well, clenching his left hand into a tight fist and unleashing a powerful left hook.

  Beau saw the blow coming but ignored it. It struck him on the side of his face, just in front of his right ear. The sound was a solid “thunk” that made Pitt wince.

  Rocko felt a stab of pain from his knuckles after hitting up against Beau’s cheekbone. The punch had been a hefty one and right on target yet Beau’s facial expression didn’t change. It was as if he’d not felt the blow.

  Rocko was shocked by the seeming ineffectiveness of what heretofore had been his best weapon. People never expected a powerful left hook to be the first contact in a fight. It had always worked for Rocko, and more often than not, finished the fight. But with Beau it was different. The only change in Beau’s appearance after the punch was that his pupils dilated. Rocko even thought they began to glow.

  The other problem Rocko was experiencing was lack of oxygen. His face got redder and his eyes began to bulge. He tried to twist out of Beau’s grasp but couldn’t. It was as if he were being held by a pair of iron tongs.

  “Excuse me,” Beau said calmly. “I think you owe my dog an apology.”

  Rocko grabbed Beau’s arm with both hands but still couldn’t break Beau’s hold around his neck. All Rocko could do was gurgle.

  “I can’t hear you,” Beau said.

  Pitt, who moments before had been worried about Beau, was now concerned about Rocko. The man’s face was turning blue.

  “He can’t breathe,” Pitt offered.

  “You’re right,” Beau said. He let go of Rocko’s neck and grabbed a handful of hair instead. Exerting an upward force, he was able to bring Rocko up onto his tiptoes. Rocko was still clutching Beau’s arm with both hands but was unable to free himself.

  “I’m waiting for the apology,” Beau said. He increased the tension on Rocko’s hair.

  “I’m sorry about your dog,” Rocko managed.

  “Don’t tell me,” Beau said calmly. “Tell the dog.”

  Pitt was speechless. For a second it almost appeared as if Beau had lifted Rocko off his feet.

  “I’m sorry, dog,” Rocko squeaked.

  “His name is King,” Beau said.

  “I’m sorry, King,” Rocko echoed.

  Beau released his hold. Rocko’s hands shot to the top of his head. His scalp was burning. With a look that was a combination of anger, pain, and humiliation, Rocko slunk away to join his shocked teammates.

  Beau brushed off his hands. “Ugh,” he said. “I wonder what kind of goop he uses in his hair.”

  Pitt and Tony were as shocked as Rocko’s teammates and were staring at Beau with their mouths hanging open. Beau noticed their expressions after reaching down for the end of King’s leash.

  “What is it with you guys?” Beau asked.

  “How did you do that?” Pitt asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Beau asked.

  “How were you able to handle Rocko so easily?” Pitt asked.

  Beau tapped the side of his head. “With intelligence,” he said. “Poor Rocko uses only brawn. Brawn can be useful but its power pales compared to intelligence. It’s why humans dominate this planet. In terms of natural selection, there’s nothing that comes close.”

  All of a sudden Beau looked off across the grass toward the library. “Uh oh,” he said. “Looks like I’m going to have to leave you guys.”

  Pitt followed his line of sight. About a hundred yards off and coming in their direction was another group of businessmen types. This time there were six: four men and two women. All were carrying briefcases.

  Beau turned back to his teammates. “Great game, guys,” he said. He stuck up his hand and high-fived with both. Then he turned to Pitt. “We’ll have to have that conversation you suggested another time.”

  Responding to a tug, King got reluctantly to his feet and followed his master out across the grass to the impromptu conference.

  Pitt looked at Tony. Tony shrugged. “I never knew Beau was so strong,” he said.

  “HOW THE HE
LL CAN A BODY DISAPPEAR?” JESSE ASKED DR. Curtis Lapree. “I mean, has it ever happened before?” Jesse and Vince had ridden over to the morgue and were standing on either side of the empty refrigeration compartment where Charlie Arnold’s body had been.

  “Unfortunately it has happened before,” Dr. Lapree admitted. “Not often, thank God, but it has happened. The last time was a little over a year ago. It was the body of a young woman, a suicide case.”

  “Was the body ever recovered?” Jesse asked.

  “No,” Dr. Lapree said.

  “Was it reported to us?” Jesse asked.

  “I don’t know, to be truthful,” Dr. Lapree said. “It was handled by the commissioner of health, who dealt directly with the commissioner of the police. It was an embarrassment all around and hence was kept as quiet as possible.”

  “What have you done on this case?” Jesse asked.

  “The same thing,” Dr. Lapree said. “I’ve turned it over to the head medical examiner, who’s turned it over to the commissioner of health. Before you do anything you’d better check with your bosses. I probably shouldn’t have even told you.”

  “I understand,” Jesse said. “And I’ll respect your confidence. But have you any suspicions of why someone would steal the body?”

  “As a forensic pathologist I know more than most people that the world is full of weird people,” Dr. Lapree said. “There are people out there who like dead bodies.”

  “You think that was the motivation in this instance?” Jesse asked.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” Dr. Lapree admitted.

  “We’re concerned that the disappearance of the body adds weight to the idea that the man’s death was a homicide,” Jesse said.

  “Like the perpetrator didn’t want to leave a trail,” Vince added.

  “I understand,” Dr. Lapree said. “But the problem with that line of thinking is that I’d already done the autopsy.”

  “Yeah, but you were coming back for more tissue,” Jesse said.

  “True,” Dr. Lapree said. “I’d failed to take a sample of bone marrow. But that was just to add more weight to my acute radiation theory.”