Bones (52 page)

Ben came by on his way home from work.

"Do you remember those videotapes of Bingle's training sessions with the search group?" he asked.

"Yes, the ones I brought to you in the hospital. You left them here after you stayed with us. Do you want me to get them for you?"

"Yes, please. I've watched the ones I have at home so often I could narrate them for the blind."

I got the box of tapes from the garage. "How is everything going?" I asked when I came back in.

"Fine--in fact, you should see the place now. I've made a few changes. Why don't you and Jack come over this afternoon?"

Jack was agreeable. We followed him over to the house. I was amused to note that rather than going in through the front door, the first place he headed was to the backyard, to see Bingle.

We followed him through the back gate, where he came to a sudden halt. I nearly plowed into him.

"Bingle?" he said.

The dog wobbled up on all fours, then lurched forward. He fell flat, but got up again, standing unsteadily, looking woozy. He whined softly.

"Hey," Jack said, "looks like somebody's busted into your garage again."

Ben ignored him. We ran to the dog run. Ben opened it and hurried inside.

"Oh God, Bingle!" Ben said, running his hands over the dog as Bingle collapsed in a heap. "Are you okay? Are you okay, Bingle? Shit! How do I say that in Spanish?"

By then, both Jack and I had crowded into the enclosure with him. I figured Bingle's understanding of Spanish was great for any number of dog commands but probably didn't extend to conversation. All the same, I understood Ben's panic, and told him, "zEstas bien, Bingle?"

He asked it, and when the dog just lay there, Ben looked anxiously at me.

I glanced around and saw Bingle's dish, which had a little food in it--the food was still moist. I picked up the dish. "Don't you usually take this away after he's eaten?"

"Oh Jesus--I didn't put that in here! I haven't fed him yet this afternoon. I--I think someone has poisoned him."

"Let's get him to the vet," I said. "We should bring the food with us, too."

I drove as fast as I dared. Ben sat in the back with Bingle, talking to him, petting him. When we arrived, Bingle was hurried into an examination room.

Jack used his phone to call Frank and tell him what had happened, and mentioned the break-in. "No, we didn't even have time to look around inside the house." He looked over at me, then said, "That's probably a good idea."

When he hung up, he said, "Frank's going to try to get a unit over there right away, just to make sure no one else goes in or out, but they'll wait until Ben gets there. He's going to go home and make sure Deke and Dunk are okay--just in case . . ."

"Just in case this is Parrish's doing. Of course it is." I got up and paced. "Still, I think Parrish has a personal dislike of Bingle. He threatened to shoot Bingle when we were up in the mountains."

Ben was in with Bingle and the vet for a long time; Frank came by while we were waiting.

"Deke and Dunk are okay," he said. "I've put them inside with Cody and warned the surveillance team about what happened at Ben's place."

Ben came out, walking like a zombie. He sat down next to me, said hello to Frank, then told us that the vet had emptied Bingle's stomach. "They said that he didn't seem to have eaten much. But . . ." He lowered his head into his hands. "It all depends on what it was that they fed him."

"Is there any way to find out?" I asked.

"Probably not in time. He checked the food, it looked as if there was some sort of powder in it; mostly it was blended into the food, but sort of haphazardly. It wasn't anything caustic, but that's all we know right now. They want to keep him here--keep him under observation."

Frank said, "Mind if I talk to the vet?"

"Not at all. I need to get back to the house, to see if they left any sign of the poison . . ."

"A unit's there waiting for you," Frank said. "Just show them some ID."

"A unit?"

Jack's mention of the break-in had apparently never registered with him. We told him about the broken garage door.

"If you don't mind waiting for me," Frank said, "I'd like to be there when you walk through. I'll only be a minute."

He came out carrying a bag which held the dog food bowl.

There was a crime scene unit on hand--they greeted me by name--and much more investigative power than most citizens would get for a burglary call, but this break-in had merited special attention. Nick Parrish or his accomplice might have paid this visit. The police were giving the place a thorough inspection, looking for trace evidence, hoping to find something that might help them identify that accomplice or lead them to Parrish. Ben, who had numbly walked past the destruction in his living room, underwent a change when he discovered the empty plastic medicine container on the kitchen counter.

"Codeine!" he shouted, just barely restraining himself from touching it before Frank needed to warn him. "Codeine! I have to call the vet!" He started to reach for the phone, thought better of it, and momentarily looked lost.

Jack pulled out his cell phone, pushed a button to recall the most recently dialed numbers, found the one he wanted, and handed the phone to Ben.

Ben told the vet what he had learned, then looked at the bottle without touching it. He read off the dosage level, then said, "I just had it refilled over the weekend. It was for thirty capsules. I hadn't taken any of them yet. They're all gone." He looked over at the dog food can on the counter. "I think just about half of one can . . . almost thirteen ounces. Three hundred and sixty-one grams. It looks as if he didn't eat much of it. At that level . . . yes, I understand. Yes, a big dog, but not an adult's body weight." He listened for a while, then said, "Yes, I'd appreciate that." He wrote down a number.

He hung up and said, "All thirty at once is a heavy dosage--enough to kill him." His voice caught, but he went on. "They can't tell how much Bingle ingested, because it wasn't distributed evenly through the food. But he thinks that it probably wasn't so much, because Bingle seems to be doing better."

Later, Frank asked him, "What's on these videotapes--the two that really got smashed?"

"They're training tapes. When the Las Piernas Search and Rescue group gets together--including the cadaver dog team--we tape our sessions."

"So these are tapes of Bingle?"

"Bingle and the other dogs and their handlers. David is in most of these. I've been watching him and Bingle. I've only been to one session so far. The other handlers tell me that it's a two-way learning process, that Bingle is already trying to work with me, trying to read me as much as I'm trying to read him."

"These are the original tapes?"

"Yes, although David made copies for the other members of the group."

"Do you have a roster for this SAR group?"

"Yes."

"Good. I think we're going to want to see who was on these tapes."

"I can tell you that," he said. "I've watched them a lot."

Frank looked around at the mess. "Why don't you stay at our place tonight? Closer to the vet."

"I work tonight," I said, "but don't have to be anywhere tomorrow until the afternoon. I can help you clean up during the day."

"We'll get your back door boarded shut," Frank said, "and we'll be watching this place, too, from now on."

"Okay, okay." He laughed. "I'm sold. To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to staying here without Bingle tonight."

Ben gathered a change of clothes and put them in the back of his car. He was going to follow us back to the house. He started to get into his Jeep, then hurried over to the van. "Wait a minute," he said. "There are some tapes that didn't get smashed--the ones from your house--they should still be in the back of the van."

"Irene, I can see what we'll be doing before you go in tonight," Jack said, eyeing the twenty or so tapes in the box. "Want me to make popcorn?"

** CHAPTER 53

MONDAY NIGHT, SEPTEMBER 25

Las Piernas

He was enraged. He didn't reveal it.

"Poor Moth," he said into the telephone, "you should have come to me in the first place, of course."

He was glad of the long cord on the telephone in the garage. It allowed him to pace as he listened to one lame excuse after another. Really, this was too much!

He halted in front of the freezer, ran his fingers over the lid. It calmed him.

"Yes, my dear Moth, but I already knew about that first visit to David Niles's home . . . you didn't doubt that did you?"

In truth, Nick had known nothing of the sort, but it wouldn't hurt the Moth to believe a little more strongly in his omniscience. He had been wounded and escaping to that rathole in Oregon when the break-in occurred. He should have wondered how the Moth had learned certain things about Sheridan.

"I have to hang up now," he said into the phone. "You and I must meet later. Left on your own, this would have been a hopeless mess. Luckily for you, I'm here to take care of you, my Moth. Wait for my call--and I mean that, little Moth. You must simply wait. You wouldn't want to displease me--would you?"

He listened with satisfaction to the Moth's pleading tone. "I thought not." He hung up.

He put the phone back in the cradle and returned to the freezer. He unlocked it and lifted the lid, enjoyed the rush of cold air that drifted up to his face.

He looked down at the frozen, nude corpse and said, "I know it's rather difficult to answer questions under the circumstances, my dear, but would you care to dance?"

He smiled.

"I knew I should have left your head on, just in case questions like these might arise. I have others, mostly about you-know-who. But you know, I think I have the answers to those questions anyway. You're something of a cold fish."

He slammed the lid closed and laughed uproariously.

It took him a few moments to regain his composure.

When he did, he put his gloves on and opened the freezer once more. He stared down at her a moment, then with one gloved finger, traced the outline of a birthmark on her inner thigh.

"You were his whore, of course, so he must have seen this. Did he love it, or did he hate it? Was it one of your imperfections or one of your charms?"

The plastic beneath the body crinkled as he lifted her. For a moment, he hugged her to himself, saying, "I'm so sorry we didn't have more time together, darling. But you can't blame a boy like me for trying to get a head!"

He admonished himself once his levity was back under control--if he didn't stop being so witty, the poor little darling would thaw before they found her.

He waltzed toward the car, clutching her to him.

His mind slipped a little then, and he thought of Irene Kelly, and his rage returned. "We'll show them, won't we, sweetheart?" he said to his dancing partner, and tenderly placed her in the trunk of the car.

** CHAPTER 54

MONDAY NIGHT, SEPTEMBER 25

Las Piernas

We soon realized that watching tapes of Bingle and David was not such a great idea. After two minutes of the first tape, Ben turned it off and called the vet's office; Bingle was asleep, his heartbeat was normal.

Good news, but Ben looked miserable. He blamed himself, and wondered if he should have kept Bool, so that Bingle would not have been left alone. "Why won't Parrish just come after me?" he asked. "Leave the dog out of it."

Later, he said, "Bingle's not used to being caged at night. What if he wakes up and thinks I'm giving him away?"

Frank called to say that Houghton had been living near Dallas, in Irving, Texas. "Doesn't look like he's left the Dallas area in months, but we're still checking that out."

That night, Jack came with me to work, an arrangement John approved, sort of. "If it will keep me from having a uniformed cop inside the newsroom, fine," he said. "Just don't tell Wrigley. As it is, seeing all the police surveillance of the building, he's nervous as a turkey in late November. Called the chief of police this afternoon to complain about it."