Fish Farm - Walt Sautter (accelerated reader books TXT) 📗

again met Wheeler and Sparky.
“Sparky, here’s your friend Morris” Wheeler announced as they approached each other.
Morris bent over to pet the dog as usual but this time he held a cutting pliers carefully concealed in his left hand. After several strokes of Sparky’s head he reached out and cut the leash, scooped up the dog and ran full tilt down the block and around the corner.
Wheeler stood frozen with surprise for a moment and then feebly attempted to chase the pair.
Morris rounded the second corner and there stood Jack in the alley with a small pull luggage bag and a roll of duct tape. He proceeded to tape the dog’s mouth and feet. He then stuffed Sparky into the open bag and zipped it shut. With that done, he and Morris walked to the bus stop, pulling the bag containing the squirming dog inside. They waited for a bus carrying only a few passengers and entered through the rear door. Jack sent Morris up to the driver to pay the fare while he seated himself in the back of the vehicle holding the bag between his knees. As they rode Sparky’s wriggling became more and more subdued.
They arrived back to Jack’s house and once there, unzipped the bag. He reached in and withdrew the dog. It was limp with eyes closed. Jack immediately removed the tape from Sparky’s mouth and the dog remained motionless.
Morris reached over to touch the dog’s head. Jack reflexively pulled the flaccid body away from the intended caress.
“He’s dead” yelled Morris.
“Sparky’s dead” he wailed again.
Jack sat motionless, holding the lifeless dog and watched Morris sob quietly with tears trickling down his cheeks.
Jack said nothing. What was there to say. He carried the body into the kitchen, slipped it into a plastic garbage bag and fitted it on the lower shelf of the refrigerator. He then returned to Morris who was still seated in the living room, head bowed, next to the opened suitcase.
“Hey kid, we didn’t mean to do it. It just happened” whispered Jack while putting his hand of the kid’s shoulder.
Morris looked up.
“I know but I loved Sparky and I even thought if Mr. Wheeler wouldn’t buy him back I coulda kept him. I thought about that a lot.”
“I know kid but there’s nothing that we can do now” answered Jack in a soothing voice.
“We just gotta keep doing what we planned. We sure don’t want Sparky’s death to but for nothing, do we?” Jack cajoled.
“Now go get your uncle. I want to talk with him” Jack commanded.
An hour later they arrived at the apartment. Jack pulled the garbage bag from the refrigerator and showed Clyde Sparky’s remains.
“What the fuck are we gonna do now?” responded Clyde.
“I say we go through with the whole thing as planned” answered Jack.
“We don’t have to say shit about the dog being dead and he won’t know until it’s time for us to get the money” he continued.
“What’s gonna happen then?” asked Clyde.
“Who knows and who cares. We got the money then and its game over” Jack replied.
“Well I guess. We’ll send the kid with the note tomorrow then, right?” answered Clyde.
“Yeah, business as planned” answered Jack reassuringly.
With that they both sat at the kitchen table and composed the note.
“If you want your dog back, be at Winter’s Park, in the woods at the edge of the ball field at seven o’clock on Wednesday night. Bring ten thousand dollars with you. I’ll bring the dog, a can of gasoline and a match just in case you don’t show up, don’t come alone or don’t bring the money.”
The next morning Jack and Morris left for the city. When they arrived at Wheeler’s apartment Morris immediately walked up to the doorman.
“This is for Mr. Wheeler” Morris announced as he handed him the note and then turned and ran off down the street.
Now all they could do was wait. Wheeler had three days to come up with the money and if Jack’s suspicions were correct , he should have no problem raising it.
Time passed slowly and fear nagged at him incessantly.
“What if Wheeler called the cops?” he thought over and over.
Each time he immediately attempted to calm himself
“No, he would never do that. He loved the dog way too much to take any chances and besides if he really did hide all the money that he was said to have, ten thousand would be a drop in the bucket. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to get his to risk the dog’s life especially by the horrible means Jack’s note had implied.”
“What if Wheeler came armed? He remembered that it was well known that he had been in Marines in Vietnam. He had several pictures of himself with his army buddies on the walls of his office at Tyron. He often spoke of them, most of which never made it home with him.”
“I’ll definitely bring Clyde and his equipment as he liked to call it, a three fifty seven. If there is any trouble, a big black guy with a big gun stepping out of the shadows, should surely solve the problem” he consoled himself.
Wednesday night finally came. It was cold and dreary with a light rain just had been predicted. Jack was sure that the weather, darkness and the isolated location in the park insured the secrecy of their meeting. He and Clyde left early and arrived at six forty-five.
There they waited nervously, huddled beneath the trees. Within minutes the outline of an approaching figure moved across the open expanse of the open ball field. Jack squinted hard in the dim light trying to make out his identity.
“It’s Wheeler” he whispered to Clyde. They both moved out from the trees to an open spot at the edge of the field.
“Wheeler! Is that you” spoke Jack.
“Yes” came the answer.
“Did you bring it?” asked Jack.
“No” replied Wheeler hesitantly.
“No!” repeated Clyde with surprise.
“How do you think your gonna get your fuckin’ dog back then?
I hope this aint no trick. If it is we’re gonna have a hot dog roast right here and now” Clyde continued.
“No trick. I just don’t have the money” answered Wheeler.
“What about all that money that you hid when your company collapsed?” Jack asked sternly.
“I never had any money hidden. I lost my ass like everybody else. The only people that got anything out of that whole deal were the lawyers. They picked the bones clean with all their legal shit.
When the rumor went around that I and a couple of the other execs stole some money and hid it, that was just a lot of bull shit. The papers just love that kind of stuff. It sells papers like the truth never could.
I brought eight hundred with me. That’s all I could come with. That’s all I got” he continued as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small manila envelope.
“How is it your livin’ a fancy building with a doorman and all if you aint got no money” questioned Clyde.
“That’s no fancy building. The elevator doesn’t even work. It been broken for a month now and the doorman, he’s no doorman. He’s a rent-a-cop. He’s only been there since I moved in.
I’ve had a couple of death threats by people that think I screwed them and stole the money out of Tyron. The guy who owns the building is a friend of mine and he hired cop to give me the feeling of a little security until the whole thing blows over.”
There was a silence. Then Wheeler spoke.
“So what about Sparky? Will you give him to me?” asked Wheeler in a pleading voice.
Again silence.
“Listen! Just give him to me and I’ll try to get some more money, honest. Just take this now, give him to me and tell me where to leave the next money when I get it. I’ll leave, I swear.”
Clyde walked over to Wheeler, took the envelope from him and stepped back.
Again, a brief silence.
“Come on man, you may as well tell him” exclaimed Clyde.
More silence.
“Okay, the fuckin’ dog’s dead!” shouted Clyde with frustration at Jack’s unwillingness to speak.
Wheeler just stood frozen for a moment with head bowed.
Then, he raised his eyes in a cold stare at Jack and in a loud angry voice, cried “Dead. Sparky’s dead”.
“Listen, we didn’t mean to hurt him” began Jack.
Suddenly Wheeler reached beneath his raincoat, drew out a large army knife and lounged towards Jack.
“You motherfuckers killed my Sparky” he yelled as he slashed, slicing into Jack’s coat at the left forearm.
Clyde immediately pulled the three fifty seven, its muzzled wrapped with newspaper, from under his slicker and fired. A short, muffled pop and Wheeler fell still at Jack’s feet. A slight trickle of blood began to ooze from the hole in middle of yellow raincoat he was wearing. It streamed over him chest and ran down his side, mixing with the puddled water on the ground beside the body.
Jack looked down at Wheeler in shock.
“I think you killed him” he said in a slowly stunned whisper.
Clyde bent over and lifted Wheeler’s arm and felt for a pulse. Then he released it. It fell like a stone.
“Yeah, he’s dead okay.
I didn’t have any choice. If I didn’t shot him he woulda sliced you right up. The man just went crazy. I saved you, man. If it wasn’t for me you’d be the guy layin’ there in that mud.”
“And all this shit for a lousy eight hundred bucks” he added with disgust.
“What the fuck are we going to do now?” asked Jack.
“We can’t just leave him here” exclaimed Clyde.
“Why not” replied Jack.
“Look if we leave they’ll starting lookin’ for who killed him right away” explained Clyde.
“So what? How will they ever know we did it?” answered Jack.
Clyde turned towards with a stern look.
“Man, you know how many guys I seen think they’d never get caught and they still got tagged?
If we get rid of him the cops will just think he just left town with the money he stashed away and they’ll be lookin’ for him, not us. They might even be lookin’ for him in some foreign country cause everybody thinks that’s where he hid the cash.
If they never find the body they won’t never even know he’s dead. They’ll never be lookin’ for who did it.”
Jack thought for a moment.
“Clyde, for a guy who they called dumb, I’ve say you make a lot of sense.”
“Now I don’t know how you did it but you must be pretty good at getting rid of dead people. I never did see DS again after you got done with him” remarked Clyde.
“Let’s pull him over here and cover him up a little just in case somebody just happens by” suggested Jack.
With that they together dragged Wheeler under an adjacent cluster of bushes and covered him with several hands full of leaves.
Jack pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Petey – Jack – Listen do you think you can help me out?” he asked.
“Can you bring your car and some garbage bags and pick me up over here on Fifth Street by the park?”
“What’s going on?” came Petey’s reply.
“I’ll explain more when you get here” Jack answered confidently.
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten or fifteen over by the park entrance.”
Jack hung up the phone and turned to Clyde.
“Is he gonna come?” asked Clyde.
“God