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Bo
“Hello, Bo
Bo
Fred came out of the water, dropped his stick at my feet and started shaking like an unbalanced washing machine on the spin cycle. He started with a roll of his head and then really got into it with water flying off his neck and torso until every hair on his body was spraying Shelia and her friend like an untethered garden hose.
“Get that frigging mutt away from me!” Her friend yelled, before picking up the stick and raising it to hit Fred.
That was when I realized why people murder one another. I literally wanted to kill this jerk before he had a chance to kill my dog. I wasn’t close enough to block the blow and found myself looking for another stick, or rock, to throw at the jerk who was about to kill my best friend. But then Fred’s retriever instincts saved his life, or at the very least, a bruised rib. He was in the water and swimming toward where he thought the stick would land before the guy could hit him with it. Jerk lost his balance and fell into the lake when his downward thrust failed to co
Shelia screamed while I broke out laughing. It was better than the perfect murder. Even if he couldn’t drown in the shallow water at this end of the lake, I still had my revenge without the threat of life in prison. The water temperature was barely above freezing, ideal for a Golden Retriever, but hypothermic for us less hairy mammals.
My laughter was cut too short when Bo
Shelia didn’t back away, nor did she bother to help her friend climb out of the chilly water. “It was an accident, Bo
Bo
I was captivated by a vision of a burning poker piercing Shelia’s eyeball until a gathering audience woke me from my trance. A couple of joggers had stopped to watch the commotion, so I thought it would be best to put Fred back on his leash. Not because of the joggers, but because he might get it in his mind to help the person who had tried to kill him.
Jerk finally made it to dry land, shivering from his ice-cold bath, and walked over to us with a raised fist. “That mutt is dead meat! I’ll get him and you for this!”
Shelia grabbed his shaking hand and pulled him away before I could answer. I was still thinking of a comeback when Bo
Shelia didn’t wait for her friend to answer, and dragged him away without another word. Bo
***
Bo
“Why are you parking here?” She had been too busy fiddling with her purse to notice until I shut off the engine.
“Those things never get started on time, and even if it does, we won’t miss much. How about we go sit on the patio where you can calm down with a cigarette and a drink?”
Bright sunlight shined through the windshield exposing every wrinkle in her tired face. She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, holding the pack of cigarettes she had been looking for. “Thank you, Jake. That’s a splendid idea. And then I can refresh my makeup in the little girl’s room before we walk over to the bookstore.”
By the time Bo
I already knew, without using any gray cells, that the book was about the somewhere near Breckinridge. Bo
The bookstore was small compared to the big-name stores in shopping malls scattered in and around Denver, but that was thirty miles and twenty-five hundred feet down the hill from our little town of Evergreen. I thought the place was quite cozy, even if it was cramped. There was only one chair left, so I let Bo
“It’s him, Jake,” Bo
I stopped massaging my side in time to see Shelia turn around and stare at us. Maybe she didn’t know it was a pet-friendly bookstore, and Fred was a regular, or maybe she was simply surprised that Fred would be interested in literature. I expected her friend, the guy I only knew as Jerk, to turn around too, but he seemed far too mesmerized by what the author was saying. “Shh, Bon,” I whispered, holding a finger to my lips.
Shelia snickered, then turned back to listen, too.
“But that’s impossible,” Bo
Several people from the row in front of us turned and gave the universal sign for her to be quiet. It seemed to work and everyone went back to listening to the author.
“‘Andrew Jackson Drakulich, or Drake as his niece, Pe
“‘Once back inside, Drake struggled to close the splintered aspen door against the gale-force wind, and cursed again when the wind violently caught the door and tore it out of his hands like a kite from a child. Then just as viciously as it had been torn from his grip, the door slammed back as though co