Chapter 47
The early light of dawn tinted the sky pink, as he pulled into the driveway, Basil could see the line of police cars, then a handful of trucks. Beyond them, large bright spotlights shown over nearly empty pens and fields. The detective parked alongside one of the cruisers.
When Basil emerged from his car, his attention went to a line of eight uniformed men along the fence, all talking amongst themselves and giggling like children. He crossed over, grabbing the first by the shoulder.
“Detective Lain, CBI. Who’s in charge?”
“Yupins,” a long stringy man zipped up his fly and turned away from the barn.
“Sheriff?” Basil recognized the man’s voice from the phone. Seeing the sight of the rugged country man he would have been more satisfied if an army of dancing monkeys were performing the investigation.
“Yupins.”
Jeb’s mouth was swirling tobacco. A wad of spit ejected and impacted at Basil’s feet. “Jeb,” he said extending his hand.
“Did you obtain our suspect? I was assured you’d have everything handled when I got here!”
The sheriff could see the flames at Basil’s nostrils.
“Right-zo-sag wiv cut der cridders.”
Basil stared at the man. Of the words they had exchanged on the phone, he had tried hard to make sense of the man’s gibberish, and in person it was no better. “What the hell did he just say?”
“We did caught them!” one of the deputies responded. “We got him and his mangy cohorts!”
“Cohorts?” Basil asked.
“Yeah, wily bunch.”
Basil waited for more to pour out of the man, but got nothing. “Well, I insist to see him at once!”
“Held pup der dis mine vestigate-a youzin nat getin mine fae,” the sheriff crossed his arms at his officer, who took a step back.
“What?”
“Darnus til hum ter shatz-up.”
“Did he just tell me to shut up?” Basil asked.
The others remained silent.
“Look, I don’t care about your damn policy. I have jurisdiction over this investigation. Get me that goat or I’ll have your crooked operation shut down!”
“Wellzum!” the sheriff uncrossed his arms and put on a quaint smile, his yellowed teeth highlighted by one of the spotlights. “Gad-dam!”
The sheriff led Basil down the row of fences vacant to the barn. The barn door was closed and sealed with a large cinderblock. “Diz en der,”
Basil nodded plainly but refused to smile. He watched as the sheriff turned and walked away to his following of cronies. The detective was glad to see him go, but without a doubt he was most excited to be meeting the were-goat.
He crept into the barn, sliding along the dark wall, hunting for a switch. His ears perked at a rustling behind him.
“Sparky?”
“Mahh.”
“Sparky? I know your secret. You can talk to me.”
“Mahh.” As he was told, there was more than one goat. Basil scavenged the wall searching desperately for the lights. His hand jammed into a sharp metal edge and then stuck a cold box. His fingers walked its surface, finding the switch. The light illuminated four goats in the corner, all lying down.
“Sparky?”
Basil stalked closer, looking at each one in turn. He made note of their markings; once he identified which of them could talk, he would never forget the face.
“Sparky?”
One head rose, looking directly at Basil.
“I knew you were here.”
The goat cocked its head. Slowly it cracked its lips. “Mahh.”
“I had to drive down here to get you myself. You know the last two days people have been cracking on me that a goat can talk?”
The goat burrowed its head into the straw coming back up with a mouthful. The goat’s lower jaw began its methodical grind.
“Don’t worry Sparky, I just want to let everyone know that I’m not nuts,” Basil continued taking metered steps. “You can ride with me back to the city. I’ll make you famous.”
The four animals raised, then trotted away along the wall, avoiding the man. Basil paused, sprinkling his voice with sugar.
“You like French fries? I have some left from dinner. They're in the car.”
Every step closer he took, the animals took two away.
“How about a candy bar?” He pulled the chocolate from his coat. “You must be hungry, it has been a long ride since Asquith.”
The lead goat took a step closer.
“It’s chocolate candy, you’ll love it!”
“Mahh.”
“Trust me, Sparky, I’ll take care of you.”
He was almost at arms length; Basil pulled the candy bar close to himself.
“You have anything to say boy?”
“Mahh.”
Basil sprang on the creature. His arms went out like a net. The goat kicked and panicked.
“Sparky! You are going to talk!”
The other three animals started screaming.
“Damn it goat, speak!”
“Mahh!”
“Why won’t you say anything?”
The goat reeled his back legs and caught Basil squarely in his groin. He released his grip and the goat bounced away.
“I’ll get you for that!”
“Detective?” Deputy Darrell was standing in the door, Bartlett Hoover emphatically bouncing around at his feet.
“What, can’t you see I’m about to crack him?”
“Sheriff wanted me to let you know your guy got away, seems he cut through the fence and took off,” Deputy Darrell had a disturbed look on his face.
“Then why did he put me in here with these goats? He said he had him.” Basil rubbed at the soreness between his legs.
“Sheriff thought you might want to question his accomplices.”
Basil looked over to the four goats. They were completely spooked. On the ground at his feet was the crushed chocolate bar.
“Honestly, what is wrong with you people?”
Basil climbed to his feet, kicking the candy bar toward the goats.
Chapter 48
“You really are a really talented, um, talent, um really, I really, really want you to know that,” Frank hoisted his can skyward. It took both of his paws to hold it.
“You’re getting drunk on me aren’t you?”
“Even without the booze, I really, really think you’re one sexy sheep!”
“Goat.”
“No, no, no, I think it’s totally great what you did, really.”
“What we did.”
“Look, I’ve been traveling for a long time. A really long time. A really, really, really long time.”
“Can you move this along?”
“Yep!” The mutt tilted the can back and swallowed more beer. “No good friends, especially no good goat friends, have been nice to some mangy mongrel. You’re a hero. My hero.”
“I think you should really slow down, or you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You should see this, this proves my point.” Frank leaned down and pulled out a newspaper from below his seat.
“Where did that come from?”
“I got it when you went inside the store for the beer,” the dog dropped the paper on the seat between them. It was the National News Poster, a big name tabloid. The cover story showed one of the images from the surveillance cameras at Larry’s.
“Oh no!”
“I read about you! You did this before. You single-handedly took out a smuggling ring!” He cheered, raising his drink. “Sparky the Hero!”
“It’s not like that, those goats were being tortured.”
“How do you think this hero thing works, goat? You think you can just go mad kung fu and not get front page?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need to get my hair done. We’re going to be getting our pictures taken. We’ll be national treasures!”
The goat looked do
wn at the paper. He couldn’t stand it. His eyes went back to the road. “I don’t want the fame, I just want my family. I was at that place and those animals needed me, too.”
“Like the animals tonight? Face it, you’re a savior! You did ten times better than me!”
“You did great Frank, you saved my life.”
“I wasn’t talking about tonight. I had my chance to be a hero. Long time ago, I let them down.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not like you, goat. I wasn’t born on a farm, out in nowhere land. I’m a mutt, a dirty lab mutt. I had friends and family. I had a girl.”
“Frank?”
“They’re all dead! I had the chance to escape and I took it, I never tried to help them.”
"What are you talking about?" The hair on the back of Sparky's neck stood at attention.
“Where is this place?”
“I’m not going back. I’ll never go back. Besides goat, even if I would I don't remember." Frank's speech trailed off into a slurred jumble.
The goat spoke slow, “Frank, you and I are one of a kind. This place you came from, it has to be where my family is going.”
“If your family is being taken there, there may not be, they may not..."
Sparky could feel Frank begin to tremble as he spoke. His own fears rose.
"What happened to them, Frank?"
"They were experimented on, tortured. Some of them didn't make it, I can only think, that after I left..."
"You think your friends are dead?
“Yes. Your family will be, too, if they end up there.”
“Frank, you have to tell me where this place is. Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“You have to remember!”
Frank sat silently. in a moment the low grating of the dog's snore filled the silence.
"Frank!"
The dog's head rose just an inch off the seat. “You know, you're going to have to give interviews.”
“What, Frank, my family, this lab... where is it?”
"I need you to try and tell me," Sparky pleaded.
Frank bobbed up and down.
"I wish I could tell you, but it was a long time ago. I got away. I never thought about going back. You should get your hair done, too. This picture is awful.”
Frank was staring blankly at the tabloid photo.
“I’m not giving interviews.”
“The article says you’re a freak science experiment gone wrong! How are you going to fight that without giving an interview or two?”
“No. It’s done Frank.”
“Spiderman gives interviews.”
“Who?”
Frank cracked open another beer can. “Your problem is you don’t realize just how this hero thing works.”
Sparky grabbed a handful of fresh coffee beans from the open tin between them. He knew this would be a good time to keep his mouth full.
“Spiderman, Batman, Superman, they all use nicknames to cover up their real identity. You need to do the same thing,” Frank looked over across his can. “This magazine is a joke, people read this crap when they have no lives, but with the streak you’re on, you’re likely to hit a real paper.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What if you had an alias, a nickname to strike-fear into the hearts of evil-doers.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You could be Super Goat, or Goat-Man! Or the Incredible Goat!”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, I think you're missing the point. We make you into a larger than life character and people will think you’re a superhero. Next thing you know, you get to be taller and smarter. It comes with the territory,” Frank tilted his head back and started guzzling the beer.
“Frank.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to be a superhero. I don’t want to be Goat Man. I’m not a man, I’m a goat.”
“You’re not soaking this in. By the time you’re through liberating the entire countryside, you’ll be the biggest star there ever was from a humble farm.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“The only one that wasn’t human!”
Sparky could see that Frank was only going further into his drunken bliss. The goat smiled and returned his eyes to the road. He wanted to know about the lab. He wanted his family.
“An alias will protect you. When it’s all over people won’t remember Sparky, they’ll only think back to the Barn Avenger!”
“I don’t know.” Sparky hesitated to label his deeds, although he agreed that it would be best to have a way out when this was all over. “No one will be looking for me when this is all over?”
“No one’s going to care! You’ll just be a legend.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally sure! Surer than sure!”
“No interviews though.”
“Fine,” Frank turned to the window, “no interviews.”
Sparky chewed more beans. He hadn’t meant to do anything more than what was right. He wouldn’t simply give in to the dog's drunken whim and go public as a superhero, but maybe there was something to having an alias.
“I think it’s a bad idea.”
“No, come on, I’ll send out a letter. We’ll even say that you’re just some guy in a suit to completely throw everyone off.”
“Will they believe that?”
“Let me see,” Frank held up the paper, “blurry tabloid photos from cheap moving company outlet, or written explanation stating you’re a real live man in a suit doing good honest work.”
“I’m still not sure. This could seriously cause more trouble.”
“Nah, I’ve got a good feeling about this,” Frank polished off the next can; he was now down to only one left from his pack of six. He pulled the last can free from the plastic rings. “We need more beer.”
“No, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Six is hardly enough.”
“You know by my guess we’ll be in Montreal in one more day.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said. “So whaddaya think? Super Goat?”
“Frank, I don’t need anything fancy. If we’re going to do this, let’s keep it simple.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Just, 'The Goat' is fine, really.”
Chapter 49
“Damn,” Basil was trying to dial out on his phone, but kept getting a no service message. “Damn, damn.” He had left behind the local deputies who were further investigating the scene for clues. Although he was certain they would find nothing, he didn't want to miss a call. Basil needed to call the central office and see what they had. Until then he would point eastward and drive. The detective's gut feeling pulled him that way. Despite solid leads, his mission was to locate the were-goat, and that is exactly what he planned to do.
He tried the phone again, no service.
Off the highway ahead stood a small sign advertising gas and food at a convenience store. He checked his gauges; he could use some fuel, and borrow a payphone. News could be breaking at just this moment. He might need backup. No, Basil told himself, I can take him.
Basil pulled up to the station. He climbed out and fiddled in his pocket for change but came up empty. He pulled out a bill and went inside to the cashier.
“Howdy, you doing alright tonight, aye?”
“Yeah, yeah, where’s your payphone?”
“Out there, you see that little blue light?”
“Yeah, okay, can I get some change?” Basil dropped the bill on the counter. As his coat opened the man caught a flash of his gun.
“Is this a stickup, aye?”
“No, it’s not. I’m a special agent with the CBI,” Basil flashed the man his brass.
The man behind the counter squinted to make out the text. “You’re a long way’s from home, aye.”
“Yeah, and my phone doesn’t work. Can you just get me some change?”
The cashier popped t
he drawer. Basil nodded and walked outside to the little blue light. He pulled his coat tight as he picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“This is Detective Basil Lain, who’s running watch?”
“Detective Lain? Hold please.”
Basil tapped his foot impatiently. On silent hold. Must be in trouble. He hadn’t expected that he would be greeted by such a sudden shut out. He was prepared to be yelled at.
“Basil?”
“Tony?” The detective could hardly recognize the man’s voice through the static. From the look of the hardware, the phone booth was barely still standing.
“Basil, the captain’s been told to back off about the goat man thing. He said it’s no longer you case, he wants you to come back in.”
“What?”
“He thinks you’re getting too personally involved, he wants you back here. The case is being reassigned. He is working on something else for you.” Tony sounded very cold.
“Reassigned? What? Every minute the were-goat is getting further away! What did I do, come on! This goat case is going to vindicate me for that botched investigation on those exploding puppies.”
“Basil, that was a long time ago, you don’t need to be concerned. The captain is handing this off to Rogers. You’ll have a new assignment tomorrow.”
“Tony, I’m right on his tail. I’ll have this goat by morning. You know Rogers couldn’t track his own bubble butt from his desk to the donuts.”
“Captain’s order’s Basil, you don’t want to get suspended again. It’s just as easy as driving back in, whether or not you think Rogers is the man for the job.”
“I’ve had you guys rag on me for two days about this and now someone else is going to get the collar? No way, I’m not giving him up.”
The phone broke up; Tony’s monotone voice was replaced by the stern voice of the commanding officer. “Detective, you have no choice in this matter. I got a very startling call from the local sheriff out in Deneda. They said you were totally unprofessional. I don’t know what kind of relationship you keep with goats when you’re off duty, but the CBI is a professional organization. Now that it’s gone to the press, we have to keep a low profile. I think you’re just not the man for the job.”
“I’m surprised you understood that yokel from Denada.”
A cold breeze gusted through the station. Basil stared at his unmarked car, it called to him. The captain took in a deep breath; Basil prepared himself for the shouting.
Surprisingly, the captain remained calm. “Detective, you can be here tomorrow or you can pick up the classifieds tonight. I will not have another embarrassment in my department.”