The Night Monster

CHAPTER 13

I decided to grab lunch while waiting for Black Cloud to call me back. A number of fast-food restaurants were located around the arena, and I opted for a McDonald’s Value Meal, a twelve-hundred-calorie artery-clogging feast for a mere six bucks. Normally, I tried to stay away from fast food, except when I was on a case. Then it was practically all I ate.

As I was pulling out of the drive-through with my grub, my cell phone played its familiar song. The caller ID said SUNSET. It was Sonny.

“How’s it going?” I answered.

“Not so good,” Sonny said. “You need to get over here on the double.”

“Can it wait? I’m working.”

“It’s your dog.”

Something hard dropped in the pit of my stomach.

“Is Buster okay?”

“Oh, he’s just dandy.”

Buster wasn’t hurt, and I felt myself relax.

“What did he do?”

“The bar got busy, so I stuck him upstairs in your room. The next thing I know, it sounds like World War Three is going on up there. He was going bonkers.”

“Did you leave him something to chew on?” I asked.

“No, was I supposed to?”

Buster was a herding dog, not a house dog, and would gnaw clean through a table leg if locked up for too long. I said, “How serious are the damages?”

“Catastrophic.”

The bad feeling returned to my stomach.

“Throw him a bone. I’ll be right there,” I said.

I took the Sawgrass Expressway south, then got onto 595, and raced east toward the ocean. Of all the dogs I could have rescued from the pound, Buster hadn’t been the nicest, nor the prettiest dog sitting on death row. But he’d tugged at my heartstrings, so I’d adopted him. The fact that he occasionally gnawed on a bad person didn’t bother me, but when he started destroying furniture, I got concerned. My room at the Sunset had come furnished, and I wasn’t looking forward to replacing the things he’d ruined.

I pulled into the Sunset’s parking lot with a rubbery squeal and hopped out of my car. I ran up the staircase beside the bar to my room.

I opened the door expecting the worst. Buster sat in the center of the floor, surrounded by fluffy white mattress stuffing. He had pulled the mattress off the bed, eaten a hole through its center, and distributed the stuffing across the room. He’d also attacked the dresser and night table, and chewed on the legs so viciously that they now resembled toothpicks. Seeing me, he howled happily, and ran into my arms.

“You stupid dog,” I said.

“Holy shit,” a voice said.

I glanced over my shoulder. Sonny stood in the doorway, wearing his trademark Guns amp; Roses T-shirt with holes in the armpits. His face was white.

“I thought I asked you to give him a bone,” I said.

“I gave him a knuckle bone. He must have eaten it.”

I quickly assessed the damage. Had I still been a cop, I would have strung yellow crime-scene tape across the door, the place was such a disaster. Along with ruining my bed, plus the dresser and night table, Buster had chewed a hole in the wall through which the ocean air was now blowing. All of the furniture would have to be replaced, the wall fixed, and the room repainted.

“How much do you think this is going to cost?” I asked.

“A couple of grand, easy,” Sonny replied.

“I’ve got nine hundred bucks to my name. Can you lend me the rest? I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”

Sonny shook his head from side to side. “I’d give you the money if I thought it would do any good.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s over, Jack.”

“What’s over?”

“Ralph’s in town for his monthly visit. He’s coming by later to check up on things. He’s going to see this and go ape shit.”

Ralph was the Sunset’s long-distance owner, a nasty New York banker who enjoyed yanking Sonny’s chain. Ralph had not wanted to rent me the room because of Buster, but had decided that having an ex-cop living above the bar was a good insurance policy.

“Can’t you hide the damage from him?” I asked.

“How am I going to do that?”

“I don’t know, say you’re having the room fumigated.”

“Ralph always checks the building, Jack. He’s going to see this, and then he’ll explode. You know how he is.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Like what? Join the Foreign Legion?”

My cell phone chimed. It was Black Cloud calling me back. I answered.

“I’ve gotten clearance for you to visit the Hard Rock’s surveillance control room,” Black Cloud said. “The surveillance director said you can come in, and he’ll help you find the guy who was stalking the college students. How soon can you get over here?”

I hesitated. I needed to clean up Buster’s mess, and salvage my situation with the Sunset. But at the same time, if I didn’t get over to the Hard Rock, I’d lose my chance to learn the identity of one of Sara Long’s abductors.

“I’m on my way,” I said.

“Call me when you’re near, and I’ll come downstairs to greet you.”

“I will. Thanks, Chief.”

I said good-bye and folded my phone. Sonny had grabbed the mattress and was struggling to pull it back onto the bed. I went to the doorway and saw him glare at me.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving,” Sonny said.

“I have to. I’m on a case.”

“You’re not going to help me clean this place up?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Sonny pulled the mattress onto the bed and began shoving the stuffing back into it.

“Take your stuff,” he said.

I froze in the doorway. “Are you evicting me?”

“No, but Ralph will, and then you’ll have to come back and get your things. Take them now, Jack. It will be easier.”

“You don’t know what Ralph will do. He might just laugh it off.”

“Fat chance. Take your stuff, or Ralph will throw it in the Dumpster.”

The finality in his voice was unmistakable, and I realized that this was the end. I had lived above the Sunset for over a year. Sonny and the good-natured drunks who supported the bar had always been there for me. The Sunset was my home, and they were my friends, and it had just gone up in flames. I grabbed my clothes out of the closet along with a cardboard box that contained my old cop stuff and headed for the stairwell.

“Wait,” Sonny said.

From the night table he picked up the stack of missing person files that had been my bedtime reading. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed my shaving kit.

“Don’t forget these,” he said.

Sonny crossed the room and handed the items to me. His eyes mirrored the pain that I was feeling. I wasn’t just losing a friend; I was losing one of my best friends. Sonny patted Buster, then gave me a bear hug.

“Good luck, man,” he said.