Carl Hiaasen – Sick Puppy

“And all because she buckled down and stayed in school. You know what they say, Palmer: A tongue is a terrible thing to waste.” Clapley winked at the departing Barbie, who responded with a perky four-fingered wave. After she closed the door, he said, “That was Katya. I dream of the day when I can’t tell ’em apart.”

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Stoat said, encouragingly.

They spent a few ceremonial moments clipping and lighting the cigars. Then Robert Clapley raised his glass in a toast.

“To Shearwater Island,” he said.

“Amen,” said Palmer Stoat.

“And good company.”

“The best, Bob.”

They sipped cognac and blew smoke rings toward the ceiling. Clapley told a crude joke about a nearsighted rabbi. Stoat told one about a farsighted cheerleader. Again Clapley raised his drink.

“Here’s to doing business again one day, you and me.”

“Anytime,” Stoat said, thinking: It’ll be sooner than you think, dipshit.

As soon as Palmer had left for Palm Beach, Desie opened the freezer and removed the plastic Baggie containing the dog ear. She examined it with a mixture of revulsion and forensic curiosity. The ear didn’t seem large enough to be one of Boodle’s, but she couldn’t be certain. That it belonged to a big black dog was indisputable. If that dog turned out to be hers, then Twilly Spree was a savage monster and Desie had horribly misjudged him.

Equally mortifying was her own culpability in the crime. After all, it was she who’d told Twilly about what was happening at Toad Island; it was she who’d given him the crazy idea of saving the place. Why? Because she’d wanted to see the smugness wiped off her husband’s face, wanted to appraise Palmer’s reaction when one of his slick fixes went awry. But how could she have known that young Twilly Spree would carry things so far?

Desie returned the dog ear to the freezer—placing it out of sight, behind a half-gallon of rum raisin ice cream—and went to draw a hot bath. At noon the maid knocked on the door and said a “Mister Ezra Pound” was on the telephone. Desie asked the maid to hand her the portable.

It was Twilly’s voice on the other end. “Well, does he believe it now?”

Desie said, “I’d say so, judging by the way he hurled his dinner. Where are you?”

“Not far.”

“Please tell me it’s not Boodle’s ear.”

“The name’s McGuinn, remember?”

“But it’s not his ear, is it? God, please don’t say you sliced off that poor dog’s ear. Not over a bunch of dead toads.”

Twilly said, “I didn’t. I would never.”

“I knew it.”

“But this isn’t about toads, it’s about pillage. We’re dealing with an immoral, unforgivable crime.” Twilly sighed in frustration. “Don’t you read the papers, Mrs. Stoat? Can’t you see who’s running the show?”

Desie said, “Take it easy.” The last thing she wanted to do was set him off.

“Now I’ve got a question for you,” Twilly said. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about your dog?”

“Uh-oh,” said Desie.

Twilly recounted the visit to the veterinarian, and the unsavory retrieval of the glass buffalo eye.

“It wasn’t your fault. He’ll eat anything,” Desie said.

“It most certainly was my fault.”

“How’s he doing now? That’s the important thing.”

“He seems OK,” Twilly said, “but he misses you.”

“I miss him, too.”

“How much?” asked Twilly. “What I mean is, do you want to see him?”

“Yes!”

“That way, you can count his ears. See for yourself that I’m no puppy slasher.”

“Of course I want to see him.” Desie climbed out of the water and put on a robe, switching hands with the phone. “Where are you now?” she asked Twilly again.

“But you can’t tell your dickhead husband, OK? He’s got to believe it’s McGuinn’s ear, or the whole plan goes bust. Can you promise me? Because if Palmer finds out the truth, neither of you will ever see this animal again. I won’t hurt him, Mrs. Stoat, I’m sure you already figured that out. But I swear to God you’ll never lay eyes on him again.”

Desie knew he wasn’t bluffing. She knew he was angry enough to punish her husband, and that he wouldn’t stop with snatching the family pet. She said, “Twilly, I won’t tell him about the ear. Look, I’ve trusted you. Now it’s your turn to trust me.”

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