Dead Dogs and Englishmen Read Online Free Page A

silvery sky. I put my head down and made my way behind Dolly through tall weeds that caught at my ankles. She was kind of pissed at me for making her leave the real scene of the crime, but even though I was new to this wild northern world, I knew that circling buzzards spelled something dead. If she wasn’t interested, I was. And I was willing to be laughed at later if we came on a dead possum.
    Dolly stopped just ahead of me. “Hey,” she yelled, then bent over, pointing toward a path in the grass. She traced a straight line through the weeds, out to where we were walking.
    â€œDrag trail,” she said. “Watch where you walk. Either somebody dragged the body to the house this way, or there’s another body out there. Stay behind me, you hear?”
    I moved over, avoiding the straight path of broken weeds leading toward where we were heading. Something had been pulled along, all right, and not too long ago. The weeds were still flattened, but rebounding slowly. Eventually they’d be standing straight with only a hint of what had happened here.
    When we got close, the buzzards paid us little attention. They were into what they fought over, there on the ground. The ugly, red wattled things with skinny necks and dull eyes flew at each other, sprang into the air, then settled ahead of us in the tall grass. One of the birds glared forward, as if fixated by something. Another leaped back atop a thing lying too still to be living. The bird took a long moment to pull himself away from what he’d found, giving way grudgingly, only as we got almost to where he stood.
    A dog lay among flattened grasses, a pale furred dog—probably a pit bull, I thought, from the configuration of the snout and thick body, and from the pink-rimmed eye I could see, one pink-rimmed, oozing eye the buzzard had been pecking.
    â€œWha … the hell?” Dolly said. Her expression caught the revulsion I was feeling. My stomach gave a single heave and then another.
    The dog’s body was pretty much intact expect for what looked like scrapes and a few open wounds, the worst being a black bullet hole into the brain at the back of his head. A small cloud of flies, disturbed by the buzzards, hung in the air just above the dead animal.
    â€œJesus …” Dolly’s voice was strange. When I looked at her I saw the palest face I’d ever seen. Well—pale edging toward green. She bent forward, one arm across her stomach.
    I hurried to where she stood, the turkey buzzards scrambling awkwardly away.
    I put my arm across her back though she waved a hand at me. She turned and vomited into a clump of weeds behind her.
    â€œGeez, Dolly, it’s bad. I know that. But you’ve seen a lot worse …”
    She raised her hand to quiet me. Her eyes, when she looked up, were wet with tears. Her face turned a bright shade of red. It didn’t seem she could stand straight so I tried again to help her. Again she shook me off, keeping her shoulder between us. If I’d ever seen misery written across someone’s whole body, this was it.
    â€œMaybe you need a doctor or …”
    She shook her head violently and pulled a tissue from her pants pocket, wiping it across her mouth.
    â€œI’m gonna go get Chief Barnard …” I started to say.
    She shook her head again. “I don’t need nobody.”
    â€œIt’s a dog, Dolly. Sad, yes. But … there’s a woman back in that house in a lot worse shape than this animal.”
    â€œDog’s just as dead,” she said, avoiding my eyes as she blew her nose.
    â€œI don’t get it …”
    â€œYou don’t have to. Just mind your own damn business and don’t say a word to nobody.”
    â€œAre you sick? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? I’d like to help.”
    Her head snapped up, eyes wet and angry. The weak eye wandered off as if looking for a way out. “Where you headed from