Dead Man at Anchor PDF
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DEAD MAN AT ANCHOR A Village Mystery J.E. Rohrer Copyright © 2006 J. E. Rohrer All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, stored in a database or any information storage, or put into a computer, without prior written permission from the author. These books are works of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are the invention of the author and are not real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental ISBN 978-1-4116-7556-8 Ordering Information The Books in the Dead Man series by J.E. Rohrer are available from lulu.com. This book is dedicated to all the homeless people in the world. CHAPTER 1. ENTER THE WOLF The dog was loping along behind my car. He was a big fellow, possibly part German Sheppard. His tongue lolled out of the side of his grinning jaws as he easily made the long strides that allowed him to stay near my rear bumper. The country roads were covered with hard-packed snow. Being a cautious driver, I could not force the car above 40 miles per hour. The wheels would start to feel as if they were losing traction, and I would let the car coast until its speed dropped. Even so, the dog was making me nervous, so I would gently increase speed, only to drop back again right away. My follower seemed to enjoy this game. Perhaps he thought I was doing it for his entertainment, rather than simply out of fear. And I was a little bit afraid. I was taking the back roads up from Illinois, heading back ENTER THE WOLF home to Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin. Having left the ugliness of northern Illinois in the wee hours, it was still dark as I was passing through Walworth County. The roads were empty and it seemed that no living souls were within hundreds of miles, except the dog and I, and I wondered about the dog. Did he have a soul? Some spectral aura seemed to radiate from his powerful body. He was so large, I almost wondered if he was a wolf. A few weeks before, the newspapers had reported some movement of wolves into our area. They must have migrated down from Canada. My companion shifted his position and ran up next to the left side of the car. He looked into my face through the cold window glass with eyes bright and intelligent and fierce. What did he want? I suspected he wanted me to go faster, to give him more of a run for his money. He wanted more of a challenge than I could provide, given my fear of sliding off the road, not that I wouldn’t have accelerated to top speed and left him far behind, if only it had been in my power to do so. The road curved and suddenly approached the outskirts of a small town. The 2 DEAD MAN AT ANCHOR lights were on at a gas station, so I pulled over and parked next to building, which contained a diner as well as a convenience store. I didn’t need either gas or food, but some human companionship would have been nice. Looking around carefully, it appeared that the dog-wolf had disappeared. So, I climbed out of my hatchback and went inside. Three customers were seated at the food counter, sipping coffee and watching me as I came inside. “Mornin’” I said. The waitress behind the counter did not reply, but an older man wearing a furry hat with earflaps gave me a polite response. Seeing the sign for the restrooms, I went through the diner into the convenience store, past another counter where a man in work clothes was standing by the cash register, and into the men’s room. Once you are over fifty, the men’s room has to be the first order of business in a convenience store. When I came out of the restroom, the man in work clothes was standing by the glass door that led to the gas pumps, peering out. A small dog was hopping around by his legs, whining. The man opened the door to get a 3 ENTER THE WOLF better look at whatever was out there, and the little dog ran out. “Spot!” he shouted. “Come back here!” The little dog did not come back. I went over to where he stood, holding the door open while the frigid February air rushed in. Neither of us noticed the cold, though. We were too intent on piercing the darkness with our eyes. After a few moments of tense silence, we heard a sharp yelp, then nothing. “Damn!” the man said. “Now I have to get another dog.” “How do you know?” I asked. “Because this is the third one been killed this month.” “How do you know he’s dead?” “Because the others ran off into the dark just like he did, and there weren’t nothin’ but a bloody spot left afterwards.” “What do you think is killing them?” The man looked at me carefully. “Didya seeing anythin’ out there when you drove in?” he asked. “A big dog has been following my car for last ten miles.” The man’s face seemed to freeze. “Does that dog live around here?” 4 DEAD MAN AT ANCHOR The man pushed past me and returned to the cash register, arms crossed and staring out the window. He seemed to be finished with the conversation. Back in the diner, I ordered black coffee and perched on a stool. The room was silent. The waitress served me without a word then quietly began cleaning the griddle. She did not offer me a menu. The men at the counter sipped their coffee and stared at the counter. I didn’t take it personally; Midwesterners don’t feel a need to fill a silence with words. In fact, there is something companionable about men sharing a silence. By the time my cup was empty, the darkness outside was beginning to lift. “Well, guess it’s time to hit the road,” I said, to nobody in particular. The fellow with the floppy-eared hat stirred himself enough to ask, “Did you come over from the interstate?” “Yep.” He looked at me expectantly, waiting for more. “Not many people out this morning,” I said. 5 ENTER THE WOLF He seemed to tense up a bit. “Not many people?” “Saw a big dog. He chased the car awhile.” “Oh? Where did he drop off?” “He didn’t. He followed me right up to this place.” All eyes were on me now. I dropped a dollar on the counter, then zipped up my coat. “He was a big fellah,” I said. Wrapping my scarf tightly around my neck, I added, “He looked almost like a wolf.” Opening the door, I threw back the words “Have a nice day,” but the diners couldn’t have heard me because the waitress dropped a glass just as I left the place. Maybe it was the coffee pot. Whatever it was, it made a heck of a loud noise. As I was opening the car door, a grungy- looking man walked up. “You going north?” he asked. I looked him over carefully. Normally I don’t pick up hitchhikers, but it was cold and the guy did not have a coat, just a dirty black sweatshirt. He had no hat or gloves. And that big animal was around somewhere. “Yep,” I replied. “Hop in.” 6
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