The Goat

  “Well,” Mark searched his companion’s faces. His mind raced to assemble a believable story “You know how it gets in the early morning. In the snow,”

  “What snow?” Sparky asked.

  “Well you know; wet ground is kind of like snow.”

  The goat tapped the solid dry ground with his hoof, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Never mind that, um, you see Earl here was going to go pick up some more wood, to set up the feeder racks in the barn, and he’s been sick, got the flu from Pete.” Mark had pointed to Earl, but not to Pete.

  “Where is Pete?”

  Earl stepped forward, his hands folded across his chest. “Pete’s home sick,” he faked a cough. “Where I should be,” his voice faded out as he stepped away from the phony investigator.

  “He started off a little hard on the gas and before you know it, he had taken off with half the barn and hit this tree. Sorry if there was a problem, sir, but it won’t happen again,” he looked over his crew and they all nodded solemnly.

  “Didn’t you say something about a goat?”

  “Um,” Earl looked at his companions. “I’m the goat. It’s a nickname from high school.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We’re truly sorry, I, I, we won’t make no more trouble, like I said it, won’t happen again.”

  “Let’s see that it doesn’t, and maybe I won’t have another ten investigators out here by dawn. I still need to call in, we’ll be right back.” Sparky and Frank moved casually across the grass out of the field.

  The confused huddle of ranchers grouped together to discuss what had just happened.

  Trevor spoke up, “You think he’s going to bust us?”

  “For what?” Mark asked.

  “Nuisances, we’re public nuisances.” Earl had a hint of panic in his voice.

  “He’s got nothing to go on, this is my brother’s place. As long as he doesn’t think we’re strung out. We need to find that goat before he gets back.”

  They each in turned studied that blank grass. There was little visibility in the pre-twilight. No signs of motion anywhere nearby. Even the suspicious agent and the dog were out of sight.

  Mark look at Trevor, “You think he was really dead?”

  “We both checked him, he seemed really dead.”

  Earl snapped his fingers. “Maybe it was one of them evil spirits?”

  Silence followed the man’s statement. They looked around at each other.

  “Shut up, Earl.”

  Chapter 86

  “Since when did you learn how to play dead?”

  Sparky hadn’t tried, the impact had left him mostly out of it. The goat had been able to keep his wits long enough until the chance came to escape. “I mostly just made it up as I went.”

  “That was good thinking.”

  Another car pulled into the station. Sparky secured his hat. The car stopped and out stepped a rotund older man with glasses and graying hair. He took a limp toward the goat and his dog.

  “Fine animal there,” he licked his lips, looking at the dog. “Can I get you something?”

  “Who are you?” The goat nibbled at his lower lip.

  The man took another limp towards them. “I work here, I presume you were waiting for fuel?”

  Sparky let down his guard. “Yes, please fill it up, quickly.”

  “Paying cash?”

  “Yes,” Sparky answered.

  Sure, sure.” The attendant decided he would start his opening duties after he helped them out.

  Sparky became entranced watching the man walk. It took him some time for each step, a very long time in fact, but the process was very structured. He would first lift his right leg and then shake his foot out to the side, and then he would plant it firmly on the ground. Next he would move it around at a few angles, presumably to check it for security. Next he would put his right hand on his right thigh and brace himself to lift his left leg. In one solid motion he would drag the leg around the outside and finally swing it forward.

  The goat looked over the field. If the men at the market had figured out his ruse, they still weren’t giving chase. Sparky watched the attendant’s heavy and slow steps at least a dozen times before he reached for the nozzle to pump his own gas.

  “No, wait now. This here is full serve and I intend to give you full service.”

  “It’s really not necessary, I can handle it myself.”

  “Oh,” he said, stopping in place. “Well, let me get your windows.” The man put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. “So, so tough sometimes, you know?”

  Sparky nodded.

  Frank was pawing at the car door to be let in. The man had a smell that tore at the insides of the canine’s sensitive nostrils and in his proximity the dog couldn’t smell anything else. When Sparky opened the door, Frank dove into the front seat, desperate for a break.

  Basil was still asleep in the back. A cow darted across the road under the streetlight by the station. It made Sparky want to laugh that so far they were getting away with it, but not at this moment, not while the attendant was watching him with that wicked smile.

  The attendant had made it almost half way around the car. It appeared his breathing was getting more labored. His face dewed up with sweat. He paused and took a break, leaning over his belly and resting his hands on his legs.

  He turned his head up. Sparky realized the sky was getting lighter. He checked again for signs of pursuit, nothing still. He tried not to look at the man directly, but it was something in the way he moved that hypnotized him.

  “You’re not from around here?” The attendant asked.

  “No.”

  “You from, let me guess, um, Saskatoon?”

  Sparky held his breath; he wasn’t sure how the man had guessed so close to his home. But it was possible that the man knew who he was. The news had been printing a lot on him recently.

  “No.” Sparky watched the indicator on the pump slowly turn over as the gas flowed into the tank.

  “Oh, well, let me see then, I figured with the plates…”

  “Plates?”

  The man stood and took another labored step. “License plates on your car. Said Saskatchewan on them, and-”

  “Oh.” Sparky checked the field, there was motion. Two or three men, the light seemed to be increasing with every tick of the fuel counter.

  “So, where are you from?” The attendant kept on his mission to clean the windows, but as yet had not even gotten around the car.

  “Um, Deneda.”

  “Oh, you’re not too far away then,” he took another step; he was almost to the front of the car. “You know ole’ Peter Felt? He lived out that way.”

  “No.”

  The nozzle clicked. Sparky reached into his pocket and pulled the detective’s badge out. He dug in again, pulling out a wad of bills. He handed the man a fifty. The attendant took another step forward; he was now in front of the car.

  “You’ll have to give me a minute on the windows now,” he leaned down again, resting once more with his hands on his legs. “It’s just a little-” He couldn’t finish the sentence he was breathing so hard.

  “Look, don’t worry about the windows, they are clean.”

  Sparky looked over at the dust coated windshield, so did the attendant.

  “Are you sure?” The large man grew a small frown.

  “Completely sure.” Sparky could now clearly count the three bodies across the way coming from the market. It wouldn’t take them long to spot him.

  The man started around with now his third wind. Sparky waited for him to clear the car. “I’ll get your change.”

  Sparky measured the distance between the man and the door to the station. It was easily three times the distance to the car. “Keep the change. Please.”

  Sparky jumped in the car and sped off towards the freeway.

  The attendant and owner of the Big Tex gas station cracked a smile as Spa
rky drove away. He kissed the large bill that he had been handed and jogged into the office to deposit it into the register. Already he could tell today would be a good day.

  Chapter 87

  “I hope you two weren’t up to anything illegal.”

  Basil sat upright in the back seat as the car merged onto the deserted stretch of highway.

  Frank shot Basil a scornful look.“Of course not, Fatty. Me and my goat don’t operate like that.”

  “Ha, you seem to forget I have the case file on this were-goat you’ve allied yourself with, and it doesn’t agree.”

  Frank found no fault with their cattle liberation operation. “Keep your filthy human laws, we’ve seen them in action.”

  Basil flipped open the file. “That’s not what Mark Vestucci would say.”

  “Who?” Sparky asked?

  “Mark Vestucci was in the hospital after what you did to him and his pals at that warehouse,” Basil flipped the pages of the file casually. “You’re walking a dangerous line, goat.”

  “Those men were being incredible cruel. I tried to reason with them.”

  Basil grinned. “I told you before, this vigilante stuff don’t fly. We have agencies devoted to keeping the peace by serving justice rationally. We don’t beat people up when we see something that we don’t like.”

  Sparky adjusted his mirror to look at the man. Frank turned his head over the seat. “You’ll be happy to know the only one that got hurt was our friend here, his plan was so fool proof that this time it didn’t come to fighting.”

  The goat nudged Frank, keeping his arm out of the detective’s view. Frank turned and looked at him innocently. “What?”

  “So, you were out playing vigilante. Are you stupid? What if they were packing guns? How do you know they won’t just shoot you?”

  “When they realize what I am, no one wants me dead. You should know that well enough yourself.”

  “Are you comparing me to them? I’m a law abiding cop.”

  “Right, and just like every other law abiding citizen, you see a talking critter and want to be rich. No one wants to say hi or ask how I’m doing. People like you.”

  “People like me?” Basil was still flipping through the pile of papers. “James Harkin, fractured collar bone, dislocated shoulder. He’s looking at weeks of physical therapy.”

  “And so if you brought me in as the mastermind behind these crimes I would be given a trial?” Basil hesitated at the goat’s question. “Would I?”

  “Goats don’t go to trial, goats don’t have rights.”

  “I’m property, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” even thinking back over his statement, the detective didn’t want to change his words, although he did feel a small bit of remorse. It was his first experience having to communicate the laws of the land to a nonhuman, and it may have come off too strong.

  “You know that Sparks actually didn’t try to hurt anyone tonight? He did everything he could to get out of there without a fight, and he did.”

  “You’re still a dog, and he’s still a goat, so what’s your point?”

  “So, you don’t have any problem using me to get rich?” Sparky asked.

  “Did you think I did? What part of our deal was hazy to you?” Basil buried himself behind the files, resisting having to go eye to eye with either creature. They both had those looks like they had just been shot and were on their deathbed, completely over-dramatizing the event.

  “You’re right, here I am saying you are just like those men, and then all the time thinking you might have understood me better.”

  “I’m helping you get your family. That’s heartfelt, right?”

  “Yeah, sure,” it was everything Sparky had gone through with humans summed up in one conversation, even with the way people treated him when they thought he was a man. Who are you? Why are you here? What can you do for me? Sparky answered the questions over and over and found a very sad feeling realizing the answers always seemed to be the same.

  “If you get caught, our deal is off. I’m not fond of someone else trying to take credit for you.”

  Chapter 88

  “Emergency response. This is Trina, can you please hold?”

  “Um, I guess, sure,” Vero had never once used the service before but he wanted to remain anonymous. He was standing at the payphone now where Reilly had just disappeared into the alleyway. Reilly would be dumping the body as they spoke.

  “This is Trina, with emergency response. What’s the nature of your emergency? Police, fire, or medical?”

  “Um, what are murders?”

  The operator paused; no one had ever asked that before. Most people knew the nature of their emergency. Once in a while they would get a prank caller. But this man did sound somewhat serious.

  “I’m sorry?”

  The receiver shook in Vero’s hands. “What is a murder, police or medical?”

  “Well, are you reporting the murderer or the victim?”

  “Both.”

  “I’ll connect you with the police, hold please.”

  More hold time. Maybe he didn’t have as much time as he thought he would. Reilly could emerge from the alley at any time. Vero had never spent much time dumping bodies so it was a difficult thing to estimate how long he may have. Vero had seen the location where Reilly was going to dump the girl in the sewer and Reilly had said it would take a few minutes to get the cover off. What if he had lied?

  “Come on!” he grumbled into the payphone.

  “Police emergency line, Trina speaking.”

  Without a doubt Vero’s ears heard the same woman that had just been talking before. “Aren’t you the same woman?”

  “Sir, this is an emergency line, not a date service. How can I help you?”

  “I have seen a man dumping his body in the sewer of an alley. Then he went into a coffee shop on the corner of Glesapi and Motran.” Vero’s thick accent was even harder to discern through the aged payphone receiver.

  “I’m sorry, can you clarify? He dumped his own body in the sewer?”

  “No not his body, his victim’s.”

  “Can you describe the man?”

  Vero went into detail about Reilly. His physical description almost slipped into personal details Vero had gathered from their conversation on the way, but he caught himself. He was a witness, not an accomplice.

  “And who are you sir?”

  “A witness,” Vero hung up the phone. He wouldn’t have enough time to try and check in. Vero knew if he were discovered Reilly would have no problem putting a second body in the sewer. He went back to the van and waited.

  One minute passed. Vero second guessed his decision to check in. His hand went to the door handle. At that moment, Reilly strolled out of the alleyway, dusting off his hands.

  The hatchet man climbed into the driver’s seat of the van.

  “You did okay?” Vero asked.

  Reilly didn’t respond.

  “Do you like coffee after a murder?”

  Reilly shrugged.

  Vero slapped him on the back. “You and me, we’ll get coffee at this shop. It’s been a long night of goat sorting and killing.”

  Reilly shrugged again. He honestly didn’t like Vero, and couldn’t see why the doctor had requested him to come along. It seemed a little too odd. He saw the possibility that Vero could be working on his own motives, but betraying the doctor was a sharp crime, especially in the presence of the doctor’s enforcer.

  “You like coffee, right?”

  Vero led him into the small coffee house on the corner. He held the door open for Reilly.

  “You have a seat. I forget my wallet in the van.”

  Reilly didn’t remember his own wallet, either. Regardless, he would rather have Vero pay for the drinks. He certainly didn’t like the man enough to pay for his. And he wasn’t about to front someone money who he might have to kill at any moment. It just would not be a safe investment.

  The large man s
tepped in and took a seat at the counter. He picked up a menu and started perusing. He was somewhat hungry as well. Since Vero would be paying anyway, he disregarded the prices.

  “Ma'am,” he flagged a waitress with his arm. The waitress waved, busy taking another order.

  Reilly turned around and scanned the front of the shop. Vero was not back yet, he could be up to something. On the way over, Vero had been very inquisitive about his life. In fact, Vero had asked some very personal questions. There was only one possibility. Reilly jumped up, at once realizing the truth.

  Vero was planning to ask him out on a date.

  “Eww,” he shouted aloud. The other patrons looked over briefly and then went back to their meals.

  Reilly sat back down. It wasn’t what he wanted to go through. It would be a bad end to a really good night. He figured he should try and let Vero down easy. As long as he was careful with the man’s feelings, he would be able to maintain a professional relationship. The kind of kinship that would keep Vero close enough so that if there were ever a need for Reilly to kill him, it could be handled expeditiously.

  The door opened. Reilly was prepared and spun on the stool to stop the man short.

  “I just don’t think it will work out, I’m not like that.”

  His eyes crossed at the sight of a gun barrel at point blank range.

  “Don’t think you can talk your way out of this! Hands in the air, now!” The man’s crisp black uniform was impossible to miss; the light glinted off his badge.

  Reilly shrugged.

  Chapter 89

  Basil had resumed driving after his nap. Sparky sat next to him in the passenger seat. Frank had resigned to the back seat, but not easily. He tried to insist he was as able to drive as Basil, but came up short when he could not reach the pedals and still see.

  Despite Sparky’s exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep. He was too suspicious of Basil’s loyalty to their deal. Each turn in the road, Sparky’s cautious eyes opened to confirm they were still heading the right direction. It was a long way to go.

  “How far now?” Sparky asked, his eyes glued to a fence that stretched this beside the roadway.

  Basil looked over. “A few hours, I guess.”

  Since the earlier argument they hadn’t spoken much. Each had tried to strike up a conversation about their respective interests but it was not easy to maintain neutrality. Their conversations always found a way back to their earlier debate on Sparky’s rights.