Death of a Dog and other Stories

By Edward McDermott

A collection eight tales of crime and mystery, criminals, and everyday people caught up in the events.

Death of a Dog - Even in a wheelchair a man is a man and sometimes his best friend is one that doesn't see his limitations, his dog. What happens when a bully targets the dog to take revengs on the man in the wheelchair?

The Color of Song - When you are in love the world is filled with song but when your love is betrayed the music dies. A lonely man may not love wisely, and a selfish woman can take advantage of him.

No Retreat - Sometimes you can’t step away. An out of the way bar in the seedy part of Panama. Frank didn't want trouble, but couldn't sidestep it.

Where None Pursue - The wicked flee where none pursue. Who knows all your secrets? Who knows all the evil in your soul?

The Librarian - She looked like a sailor’s dream but one man knew her secret.

Boyd’s Money - Add money to two women, one with a powerful hate and it’s like adding a match to gasoline.

The Lady at the Grave - Meriweather thought that luck was the single greatest determiner of success and could prove it.

A Glass of Emeralds - On the sea, sometimes only a fellow sailor can act as your confessor and sometimes simple kindness can be great temptation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PetrelPublications
• Release date: Jan 22, 2015

Edward McDermott

Edward McDermott, born in Toronto, has a professional day job but spends his spare time pursuing a writing career. Aside from taking writing courses and participating in writers' groups, Edward takes time for sailing, fencing, and working as a movie extra.

Book preview

Death of a Dog and Other Stories

A collection of eight crime and mystery stories; over twenty thousand words of entertainment.

By

Edward McDermott

Petrel Publications

Copyright

Death of a Dog and Other Stories

By Edward McDermott

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of characters to actual people is coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

Version 1.00

Copyright 2015 by Edward McDermott

ISBN: 978-0-9937716-3-7

Table of Contents

A collection of eight Crime and Mystery stories, over twenty thousand words of entertainment.

Death of a Dog

Even in a wheelchair a man is a man.

The Color of Song

When you are in love the world is filled with song but when your love is betrayed the music dies.

No Retreat

Sometimes you can’t step away.

Where None Pursue

The wicked flee where none pursue.

The Librarian

She looked like a sailor’s dream but one man knew her secret.

Boyd’s Money

Add money to two women, one with a powerful hate and it’s like adding a match to gasoline.

The Lady at the Grave

Meriweather thought that luck was the single greatest determiner of success and could prove it.

A Glass of Emeralds

On the sea, sometimes only a fellow sailor can act as your confessor and, sometimes, simple kindness can be great temptation.

Thank You

Acknowledgements

Dedication

About the Author

Death of a Dog

Even in a wheelchair a man is a man.

1The dog days of summer bore me. Usually, the muggy heat keeps people lazy but that August afternoon I had the uneasy feeling of waiting for a tornado. After twenty years in uniform and more than forty in this town, I took the hunch seriously.

Standing, I stretched and looked out the window, down Main Street. It might be too small to have a Walmart but it was the county seat. It had a police force that included me.

I heard the distinctive sighing of Archie Hartfor’s wheelchair rolling along the sidewalk. His face was beet red from the heat and the exertion, not good for a man of his weight. I decided I’d better go out and see him; maybe get him a ride home. I didn’t want him popping an artery in front of the police station.

When Archie moved into town, I was finishing sixth grade. He became the object of considerable curiosity at the time. To begin with, he wasn’t from here. Even now, after thirty years, people call him ‘the new fellow.’ Besides that, he was a cripple.

He moved into a bungalow off Main Street. Everyone knew his house because of the ramp up to the front door. Archie put his contractor in a wheelchair for three hours, going all over the house. Archie handled people and his disability that way. He didn’t make a big deal about it and he didn’t bluster but he had a way of pushing that persuaded people to make accommodations, like he did with Flora.

Flora’s is the restaurant on Main Street. It’s good home-style cooking at reasonable prices. It’s the sort of place you go for coffee, lunch or a quick dinner when you can’t face your own cooking. If you want to impress a date, do some dancing or let off a little steam, you don’t go to Flora’s.

A month after he moved into town, Archie rolled up to Flora’s, as far as the front steps. He sat there. After a few minutes, Flora came out and asked him how she could help.

Well, Ma’am, he is supposed to have said, I hear you make the best coffee in town and I sure would like a good cup of coffee. Could you bring me out one? My wheels just won’t make it through your doorway.

She did and he came back twice a week. He would sip his coffee in his wheelchair outside her front door and chat with people coming and going. When fall came, Flora’s customers told her to stop being so mean, keeping him outside like a dog. Eventually, she broke down and had a ramp installed.

The muggy heat wilted my starched shirt in seconds despite my skinny frame. I didn’t know how Archie could stand it as he wheeled along the sidewalk.

Take it easy, Archie, I said as I met him in front of the building. It’s too hot for racing.

I have to talk to you, in your office, he said.

I looked back at the police station. The county hadn’t sprung for funds to pay for a ramp. They didn’t think I would have much call to incarcerate people in wheelchairs. I didn’t think so either.

Tell you what, I said. I’ll treat you to a coffee and we can talk over a couple slices of apple pie at Flora’s. Where’s Red?

My dog is dead. Murdered.

Archie’s dog, Red Rover, as he called her, was a cross of Golden and Irish retrievers, with a flame speckled coat and the good nature of both breeds.

Who could have done such a thing? I asked.

Chris Mulchuck beat her to death, he said and looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

How do you know Chris did it?

I saw him.

Chris Mulchuck. My father would have called him a bad seed. In the last seven years, his name kept