Isle of Dogs Read Online Free

could be blamed if things really get ugly.”
    “You might be right. I get blamed for most things,” the governor confessed as his stomach rumbled and his intestines lurched into activity like worms suddenly exposed to daylight. He wished Trader had not mentioned a can of worms.
    Crimm’s constitution just wasn’t what it used to be, and very often he felt like hell. Last night he had endured yet another formal dinner at the executive mansion, and since he was hosting some of his biggest financial supporters, the mansion’s director had decided it was important to serve Virginia food and wine. As usual, this had meant ham from Smithfield, baked apples from Winchester, biscuits made from an antebellum recipe, and wines from Virginia vineyards.
    Crimm’s digestion simply couldn’t tolerate any of it, especially the apples, and most of the morning he had been seeking out the most convenient, secure toilet inside the Capitol, until he finally gave up on cabinet-level meetings and retreatedto his office, which had thick walls and a private bathroom he could use without Executive Protection Unit state troopers posted outside the door. As if all of that wasn’t bad enough, the wine had given Crimm a sinus headache.
    “It doesn’t make sense why I have to serve, much less drink, inferior wine,” the governor bitterly complained as he slowly moved the magnifying glass over the printout.
    “I beg your pardon?” Trader looked confused. “What wine?”
    “Oh, you weren’t there last night, I guess.” Crimm sighed. “We ought to serve French wines. Think about how much Thomas Jefferson loved French wine and all things French. So why would it be such an egregious break from tradition to serve French wines in the mansion?”
    “You know how critical people are,” Trader reminded him. “But I totally agree with you, Governor. French wines are much better, and you deserve them. However, someone will say something and no doubt it will be widely publicized and costly to your reputation. Which brings me back to Trooper Truth. This article is only the beginning. We have a loose cannon on our hands and somehow must stop whoever it is or at least have some say-so about it.”
    The governor could have done without the cannon reference, too, as he slowly made out words and scarcely listened to his press secretary, who was a meddler and an irritation. Crimm was not clear on why he had ever hired Major Trader or even if he had. But Trader certainly wasn’t Crimm’s cup of tea, at least not anymore, assuming he ever was. The press secretary was a fat slob who was far more interested in big meals, big stories, and big talk than he was in being honest about anything. The only good thing about Crimm’s failing eyesight was he could scarcely see people like Trader at all anymore, even when he was in the same room with them, and thank God for small favors, because the sight of Trader with his fleshy jowls, ill-fitting suits, and long, greasy strands of hair combed over his bald pate was increasingly repulsive.
    “. . . objects in the mirror are closer than they appear, ” the governor slowly read out loud as he peered through the magnifying glass. “ So The Past rides our bumper along life’s highways and may, in fact, be inside the car with us  . . .” Heglanced up and gave Trader a huge eye. “Hmmm, now that’s an interesting thing to consider.”
    “I have no idea what it means, if anything.” Trader was irritated that the governor would consider anything beyond what he, the press secretary, recommended.
    “It’s like a riddle,” the governor went on, intrigued, moving the magnifying glass over the essay as if he were reading a Ouija board. “You remember the Riddler in Batman ? All of these little riddles hinting at where, when, and how the Riddler was going to strike next, but Batman and Robin had to decipher the riddle first, of course. This Trooper Truth fellow is giving us a clue about something, about what