Today’s
excerpt is from Monster’s Palace, a stand alone book featuring new hero Clyde
Feegle plus friends, old and new.
Clyde’s dog Greta saves the day. Enjoy
and have a fantastic day.
m.j.
In time, he mentioned the situation to his friend Bob Becker. Bob had what he thought was a
brainstorm. As it turned out, he was
right. He knew Jim Scott funded a
medical clinic in the St. Louis, Missouri area, which was located near where
Bob lived. The clinic’s main function
was to affix military amputees with bionic limbs. Bob called Jim to ask if a dog could get a
prosthesis put on at the clinic. After
he explained how Greta had been injured, Jim readily agreed. The upshot was that Greta now had a
prosthesis attached to what was left of her paw. When she walked on concrete, or any other
hard surface, it didn’t feel all that good to her. Also, she clunked, a sound she didn’t much
care for either. Thus, as much as he
liked bare, hardwood flooring, every inch of Bob’s home was carpeted—including
the kitchen.
After cutting across his lawn to reach the front porch—which
was not carpeted—Greta clunked about two steps before she stopped, barked, and
backed away from the door. Clyde knew
exactly what the problem must be. He
went with Greta as they returned to the lawn.
There he quickly called Merrill.
“Hi, boss—got a problem. As you
know, Greta was trained to sniff out explosives. When we got home from walking over from
Dick’s place, she stopped, barked, and started heading away from my door. Could you send a bomb-squad over,
please? My gear is on the plane—plus
which, as tired as I am, I might blow myself up if she’s right.”
“Hell yes. Get away
from your door right now.”
“Duh. We got away
before I called you. We’re moving still
further away as we speak.”
“Good. I’ll get a
bomb squad on the way, then I’m on my way, too.
Now that I think of it, are you armed?”
“Yeah, pistol only—but it should be enough if someone comes
at me.”
“Call Mitch and Dick anyhow.
Get them over there to give you cover, until I get there with the
posse.”
“What posse?”
“The damned posse I’m bringing with me. So long.”
Clyde was chuckling as he put away his phone. Having no intention of calling either Mitch
or Dick—knowing they could use the sleep—he sat on the ground with the end of
Greta’s leash under his buttocks. He
really needn’t bother worrying about her going anywhere because ever since he
had stopped moving away from his home to make his phone call, she had sat down,
staring at the front door.
Clyde had noticed his porch light was not on, but an inside
light was. When he left to head to Pat’s
party, he had made sure all the inside lights were off, and the porch light
on. He considered the fact both Dick and
Dolly had come to his home to get Greta, his war bag, and rifle. He knew they would have left his porch light
on, though would have turned on an inside light, but forgot to turn it
off. He pondered the light situation as
he thought of Jo and wondered if she had called to leave a message for him.
The more he thought about it, the more he decided he wanted
to know. He had the capability to
monitor his messages from a different phone—such as his cell phone—so called
his home number. There was only one
message. It was from Jo. He was stunned at the message she left. It started off, “Clyde, if you hear this
message before you go home, don’t
open your door. It has explosives
attached, and so does your back door.
I’m so sorry about this. I
managed to get involved in something I should not have, and two men came into
your home after I got there.”
At that point Jo gave him the names of Basil and Tino, but
stated she had no idea if they were real names or not. Then she added, “They must have followed
me. I let them in, I’m so very sorry to
say. I had no idea they were going to
put explosives in your home. I’m just
sick about this. Anyhow, I better be
quick. I don’t know how long your
recorder tape is. They mentioned
something about Venezuela, and about you killing the wrong person. Don’t know what they were talking about. Again, I’m sorry. I have feared I might have to do this—now I
am. I’m going to disappear. I think…no, I know…I love you. Please forgive me. Goodbye.”
Clyde thought he might throw up. He swallowed three times, then swore.
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