“No thank you, I just wanted to show my dog the three-legged duck.”
“Well then, let’s get you in to see the show!” the old man pulled out an ancient top hat from beneath the counter and blew dust from the top of it. “Right this way!”
Together they all crowded into a small room full of photographs of the three legged animal. Sparky studied the pictures carefully while Frank’s attention stayed completely on an ornate wood column acting as a stand. The cage on top was covered with gold cloth.
“Ta-da!” The old man grabbed the blanket on top of the cage and yanked it off like a true showman.
Frank yelped in horror.
The mutant animal was only a bundle of feathers. Sparky took a step closer to the container and spotted three little legs up in the air.
“Oh my god! My cash cow!”
“I thought this was a duck?”
“I don’t appreciate your coldness.” The old man was sniffling.
He looked at the duck, curled up into a ball, cold and unmoving. The man wiped a single tear from his eye and then opened a cabinet on the side of the pedestal and pulled out a pair of salad tongs. He grabbed the duck from the cage with the metal clasps and walked out of a door in the back.
Sparky and Frank stood in silence for a moment, waiting to see if the man would return.
“Ta-ad!” He returned, clasping the bird in his arms. The duck was now gibbering in its lively manor and struggling to be free.
“How did you do that?” Sparky asked.
“You know, I got him outside and looks like he was just sleeping.”
Frank was not as enthralled at the spectacle. He was shaking his head. Sparky leaned down rubbed it.
“He pulled a switch!” Frank whispered.
Sparky stood up and gave the duck another look. He recognized that indeed they did not look the same, but he could plainly see that the duck had three legs.
“Isn’t it marvelous!” The old man said releasing the animal into the cage.
“It’s not the same duck, he doesn’t look the same at all.”
“Of course it is, look at the legs.”
“I understand, but do you have two three-legged ducks?”
“Of course not, this is the same duck.” The old man was nibbling his lip. “Do you need glasses?”
“For my eyes?”
The old man nodded.
“Well no I don’t think so. I can see just fine.”
“Obviously not, you’re telling me that this three-legged duck is not the same animal that was in here a minute ago, and I know that it is.”
“Well, I-”
“Are you accusing me of running a con? Do you think I am a flim-flammerer?”
“Well, no I-”
“No one trusts anyone these days, and you come into my store, trying to ruin my business by saying that my duck is a joke? You don’t know how much this means to me!” He slapped the cage with the duck. The bird spooked and jumped up, flapping wildly in the confines of its prison.
Sparky stepped back from the rising cloud of fluff and feathers. Eyeing the bird, he observed that it now only had two legs. The third he spotted on the floor just behind Frank. The duck must have lost it when he started panicking. He retrieved the webbed foot from the ground and held it up to the old man.
The room went silent.
Sparky extended it out to the old man, watching his eyes immediately bubble up with moisture.
“Don’t tell anybody. Mr. Legs died almost four years ago,”
“Mr. Legs?”
“Yeah,” he was sobbing. “It was a hot summer day, and I forgot to keep him in water,” he dragged his sleeve across his nose. “I found him, I buried him, but I was afraid my business would end. No one wanted to see normal ducks. I did the only thing I could do and I super glued the third leg onto another duck.”
The dog was staring at the man, his mouth open. Frank had been lied to and he wanted vengeance.
“It’s okay, I won’t say anything.”
Frank barked. He set his legs back and his teeth out and gave his sharpest growl. The thrill of chewing up the old man was getting him excited. He stepped forward to strike, finding himself seized by the scruff of his throat.
Sparky apologized his way out of the room. Frank managed to contain himself until the two were back in the car.
“Can you believe that guy? What a rip-off! You should have let me tear him apart!”
“Whoa, calm down!”
“Calm down? He faked a three-legged duck. How would you feel if you wanted to see something your whole life and then someone tricked you into thinking you had? Wouldn’t you be torn apart to find out it was all an illusion?”
“Your life’s dream was to see a three legged duck? Maybe you’re taking this too seriously.”
“You’re just as self-centered as he is, do you know that?”
Chapter 63
Basil was driving merrily down the highway. The race was on. It was his single focus. Orders could not be considered. He had been given an old Ford Escort that had been retired from field duty some time ago. The sheriff had felt no qualms about releasing it into the care of the CBI agent, but then he thought the man was driving home.
Basil looked over at the passenger seat and smiled.
He couldn’t go back to the office, anyway. He had invested too much. He refused to lose. The captain was a fool if he thought there was anyone better suited for the job. Basil would prove that to him when this whole ordeal was ended.
He flipped the collar on the shirt he was wearing, wishing he had time to stop and get something presentable. He wanted his clothes. He wanted his badge to back him up. He needed his cell phone. The were-goat was to blame, and he would pay.
His situation with the sheriff earlier had not only been terribly uncomfortable, but terribly embarrassing. His coworkers at the CBI would never cease making jokes. It was the only way to save face, the only way.
“He’s very smart, probably too smart for his own good.”
He looked over to the passenger seat. His speaking had not elicited a response. Basil resettled himself.
“This were-goat is very dangerous, I just don’t want you to be afraid of what might happen.”
Sherry turned her head and gave the man a dark look. Her eyes pierced him like knives. “Special Agent, you said that you were the only one interested in bringing him in alive.”
“Well, of course,” Basil had not lied. He had told the angle of the truth most relevant to his life. He wanted the were-goat alive, and so would the research teams, and the publicists, and so on. “I don’t want him to get hurt, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt either.”
“He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I’ve got the files little lady. I’m paid to protect people from the bad guys, and he is definitely a bad guy.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you know he’s put three men in the hospital?”
“They probably deserved to be there. Wouldn’t have happened to be some guys that tried to kill him when he demanded the release of their tortured livestock?”
“I’m not at liberty to-”
“Or maybe some of the farmers that were loading their animals up for their slaughter.”
“You can’t beat up farmers for farming.”
“If everyone you loved was carted away from you in the middle of the night on trucks, would you feel good about watching someone else have the same thing done to them?”
“These are animals, not people.”
“So is he. Sparky doesn’t want anyone to be hurt. Ask the victims who attacked first, who fired the first shot or swung the first punch. I guarantee you if they don’t admit to it, they are lying.”
She was no longer looking at him. It made her uneasy. She instead focused out the window.
“So he told you about all these things, he did?”
“Of course.”
Basil cleared his throat
. He hated to think that he might be coming down with a cold, but it was definitely possible. He assumed that Sparky would have hidden these things from her. He was a bit surprised how upfront the were-goat was. Too smart. It was more than obvious the feelings the girl had for this odd creature. It was a bond he would not overlook.
“What do you think, Sherry?”
She had come along to make sure that Basil kept his word. More importantly she couldn’t pass up her second chance to go. She wanted to find Sparky. He needed her help, and if the time came that Basil went back on his word, she would be there.
“Well?”
“I think you would do good to talk with him yourself before you arrest him. If you can find any place that he has committed a crime, I’d be surprised.”
“I won’t be. I told you I have files. In fact, he stole the files when he stole my car. Remember that?”
“I’ll just say it once more detective, what would you do for your loved ones?”
Chapter 64
The bouncer pushed Sparky back from the door. He considered ramming through him. It was just past dusk and he was worrying he might miss his shot at the Zoo’s costume contest. The two men in Raith had not advised him anything about the need for a cover charge.
Sparky returned to the car, disheartened and deep in thought. He dropped himself into the seat. He didn’t even look over at Frank.
“Check this out, it’ll work now!”
Sparky turned his head slowly. Frank had dug out the kiddy costume again and was re-dressed as a baby.
“No good, they want money to get in and we don’t have any more.”
“I told you we should have robbed that gas station.”
“Any other ideas?”
“Hey, I thought you were the brains, I provide the good looks. That’s what sidekicks do. You are the Goat.”
Sparky smiled, without raising his head. “Yeah,” the mutt had started getting to him with the superhero antics. It would have been nice to have a superpower, the ability to run fast or turn invisible, or in this case pay cover charges with ease.
“We could keep driving until we run out of gas,” Frank offered. He himself had known that this may be a long shot, if not for the club itself but the terrible costume. “You wouldn’t have won anyway. Your costume is awful.”
“Now you tell me!” Sparky slammed his hooves against the wheel. He accidentally set off the horn.
“It’s okay, I liked your costume.”
“You just said it was awful.”
“So, I have bad taste.”
Sparky groaned into his chest.
“You still got that guys I.D.?”
“Yeah, oh wait, no I lost it. When I lost the other money I think.”
“Oh, well what about his stuff?”
“Whose stuff? Basil’s? He didn’t have any money in his wallet, he just had that phone and his I.D. and stuff. I threw it all in the bag.”
“The black bag? I didn’t see it there when I went through it.”
“No, it was in the glove compartment. I threw it in the bag when we ditched his car.”
Frank jumped over the seat and immediately started through the bag.
“I told you he’s broke.”
Frank came up with the wallet in his mouth and dropped it on the seat next to Sparky.
“Open it up.”
Sparky fanned the wallet. “See, nothing.”
He dumped the contents out onto the seat. No money. Frank eyed the pile. His head drooped with the confirmation that Basil had been penniless.
“That’s it?”
“And these cards.” Sparky procured the detective’s ID and his credit cards.
Frank's tail started up. “Do you know what those are?” His heart was racing. His tongue was trying to match the speed. “Those are credit cards!”
“Credit cards? So what?”
“Sometimes I forget how little you know about humans.” The dog climbed back into the front seat. “Look, it goes like this. When you’re a kid, you can get books and stuff they give you a library card. Get it?”
Sparky nodded.
“As you grow you keep getting better cards. When you get older you get a card that lets you drive, and when you go to college you get a student card.”
“What is this leading to?”
“The credit card is the best one! It’s the card that lets you drink!”
“I don’t know, that doesn’t seem like it makes sense,” Sparky always wanted to trust the canine. He did appreciate that he had experience with things of this nature. “I got beer for you without a credit card.”
“Of course, I can get beer from a store without a credit card, anyone can. The credit card is for when you go out, in style,” Frank grabbed his baby mask and slid it on his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Goat, who do you think knows more about people?”
“I don’t know, Frank.”
“Okay then, who do you think knows more about alcoholic beverages, huh, huh?”
Sparky caved in at the animal’s statement.
“Okay, so we use the credit card to get in, but what about the terrible costume?”
He looked up at Sparky and licked at his teeth. “I think I have an idea on that one, too.”
Chapter 65
“You really should lighten up about this whole thing. We’ll find him, and help him. He will be so happy when he’s finally safe.” Basil was definitely not lying this time. He was going to help the were-goat. He would be saved from a life on the run from, well, Basil. Sparky should be so lucky as to have the his assistance.
“Ugh,” she groaned at the man and crossed her arms.
The two of them had been on the road a while. It wouldn’t be long before the captain would realize that he had yet again disobeyed orders and wasn’t coming back. Basil considered the trouble that Sparky had already caused, and how much more would be caused if he was not captured.
“You’re not doing this for him.”
Basil was offended, was he that transparent? No, he would deny. He was good at denying. “Young lady, I have no stake in this. I am an agent of the law.”
“You know I have a good nose, I can smell bullshit as well as the next person,” Sherry sniffed at the air jokingly and turned toward him. “Yup, totally bullshit.”
“I put my life on the line for many people, this is no different. Your goat is a menace and needs to be brought down. I told you before you’re just lucky it’s me that’s here and not a bloodthirsty, heartless killer,” he was doing a good job with the emotion. Basil looked in the rear-view mirror. His cheeks were red. She would have to buy into his display.
“I know you wouldn’t hurt him.”
Basil felt contented with his charm. He wished she weren’t looking so he could pat his own back.
“You’re too much of a snake, you’re in it for the money.”
“That’s ridiculous. What money is there in an arrest?”
“Don’t act stupid. You know that he would be worth tons of money to whoever claimed to be his owner. Leave it to the man that captured him to cut him in on a deal.”
She was right; Basil had been planning on making a deal. He just needed to find a way to get Sparky to go along. The animal had not worried about being shot. Maybe he knew that Basil wouldn’t shoot to kill?
“We need gas.”
Basil was happy to have cut her off. They pulled from the highway to a small town with only one filling station. He drove straight in.
Basil jumped out of the car. He immediately reached out for the pump and grabbed the gas nozzle. He placed it into the side of his borrowed Escort and started pumping. The attendant walked out from the office, a younger man with his hair slicked back.
“How you doing this evening?”
“Good, and you?”
“Oh not bad, just hoping to get out of here soon. Old man went home some time ago and I have to close up tonight. There is this killer pa
rty up at Thunder Bay, should be pretty wild.”
Basil didn’t want the man’s life story. “That’s a stinker.”
“Yeah, you headed that way?”
“Kind of, but I’m in a hurry.”
“Man, that is just too bad.”
Basil stared at the rolling numbers on the pump. He prayed that at that moment he could master telekinesis and make them move more quickly. He squeezed tighter on the nozzle trying to make the gas come out faster. Neither idea worked. He cringed as he heard the passenger side door handle click. He tried to lean in to stop the girl but she had already stepped out of the car.
“Whoa, hey, is this your daughter?”
“Yes, and she’s underage,” Basil turned toward the pump. He swore the numbers were slowing down.
“Dwayne,” he put out his hand. Sherry shook it casually.
“Sherry.”
“So, what are you doing out this late?”
Sherry was not impressed with Dwayne, but she immediately recognized that he was frustrated with Basil. “Oh, what dad didn’t tell you?” She batted her eyes. “We’re hunting down a talking goat, he stole his car.”
Sherry flashed a smile to Basil. If he had gotten any hotter the gas station would have gone up in flames.
“Man, that is a pretty big deal,” Dwayne said.
“She’s such a jokester.”
“Well, I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen any goats tonight.” He turned back to Sherry, trying to stay on her good side. “Let’s see, I had some Mongols come through, and a giant squid.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Basil was ready to start kicking the pump.
“Yeah, um who else,” he thought to himself. “Oh yeah, Michael Jackson came through. Real bad costume, though. Didn’t even have gloves, just a mask and an overcoat.”
The detective turned, letting go of the gas handle.
Sherry’s expression changed, she knew that sounded suspicious also. She batted her eyes again, trying to encourage the attendant.
“When, how long ago?”
“I guess a couple hours ago.”
Basil stared at him blankly, his mind spinning about. Dwayne started to feel uncomfortable. Sherry turned to Basil; he gave a nod. It was in his eyes, she knew she was being used, but she had some this far.
“Wow, a costume party? That sounds like fun, how do we get there?”
Chapter 66
“Bump, bump, bump,” Frank was sitting in the back of the club. His legs spread wide onto the table. His head was bobbing with music. People kept nodding at him and he kept nodding back.