The Hewey Spader Mystery Series (The Complete Trilogy * Books 1 -3 ) Read online

“You better not think of joining Jase, Rob, ‘cause we don’t know what the hell’s going on!” Sam clearly articulated.

  Sam only had to say the word and Rob would stay in line. I doubt Mr. or Mrs. Powell had that kind of power over him on a daily basis. I always thought Rob felt Sam could kick his you know what if she was so inclined and he simply didn’t want to take the chance. Being a girl, Sam was taller and definitely stronger than Rob. I’d bet if they ever were to go at it, Sam would have him on the ground quicker than he could blink, similar to what she’d done to that boy back in grade school. Years ago, I told Rob and Jase about the incident after I introduced them to Sam and the guys instantly had the utmost respect for her.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Rob had a slight crack in his voice.

  I gathered he wanted to go, nonetheless, but his fear of getting on Sam’s last nerve and of the bizarre situation we were witnessing just ahead, prevented him from taking the plunge like Jase did.

  Jase recoiled a bit after the Rottweiler approached him. “What...is this?” He turned and asked all of them. “What’s going on here?” Then he looked back at his mom, who was only staring in his direction. “Mom, what’s happened? Are you okay?”

  Her silence was unnerving, even for me. On a regular day, Jase’s mother didn’t know how to be quiet. Even though the two were close, they argued like every other Italian family I know. Jase’s mother had lips that went a mile a minute and legs to match. Everything she did was as if she was running a marathon and just had to win every time. But now, there was complete, utter silence. Her lips didn’t move and Jase clearly looked worried. He gently shook her as if to wake her up, but she didn’t even as much as blink.

  “What’s wrong with you, Mom?” he demanded. He then turned around and looked at the crowd again with that Rottweiler standing nearby. “What’s wrong with all of you?”

  “Young man…” I heard a voice that had drifted from somewhere within Jase’s vicinity. “Look at me…”

  Jase turned and looked at the Rottweiler, and in that instant, I knew that’s where the voice had come from. The dog was the one who had spoken!

  Jase seemed compelled to look, but then I noticed that look turned into a gaze—one that was eerily similar to what had apparently overwhelmed the others. Suddenly, he too was silent and immediately, all eyes returned toward the area where the dogs were gathered. The Rottweiler went and reclaimed his spot before the crowd.

  Jase had either willingly or unwillingly yielded to whatever control that dog had over him. He now stood there with the others, looking straight ahead through those lifeless eyes of his.

  “Oh, man! Jase…” Sam muttered.

  We all sighed quietly as we’d witnessed what none of us could’ve ever imagined would have happened to our friend. My heart was racing even more now as I assumed my folks were in that exact, same position as Jase and his mother were.

  Hartley Mays, our town’s police chief, was at the back of the crowd and his poodle Dolly-Ann was up front next to where the Rottweiler who’d spoken to Jase, stood.

  Dolly-Ann was a rather tall poodle and certainly the prettiest I’d seen in these parts. She had a silky white coat with streaks of black, and Mrs. Mays, before she passed, always made sure her dog was properly groomed. Since she died though, Chief Mays seemed to have fallen down on the job. I personally witnessed how carelessly he treated Dolly-Ann a couple of times when I was passing his house—lashing out at her for the slightest thing. I once heard him complain that she was eating him out of house and home, but honestly the poor animal looked to have dropped a few pounds since Mrs. Mays had left the scene. I felt the chief was only keeping Dolly around on the count of his wife’s love for her—not that he had any love himself for the poodle.

  Dolly-Ann remained on all four legs as she addressed the crowd. All the while, I was looking around to see if I could spot my folks, or Sam’s or Rob’s, but I wasn’t so lucky yet.

  “In case you didn’t know,” Dolly-Ann started in an authoritative voice, “the town of Eppington is now under our control.” A smile stretched across her face. “It’s been under yours for far too long. And needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway...the majority of you treated us like crap! Let’s look at this as clean up time and a bit of karma, shall we?”

  “Can you believe this?” Rob whispered behind me.

  I shook my head.

  Dolly-Ann continued, “Until our ultimate mission is accomplished—a mission you are not yet privy to—you will be subservient like we were to you and I dare say today that Eppington, as you know it, will never be the same again.”

  Dolly-Ann stood up on her hind legs and with her right paw, waved before the crowd and dismissed them. The guys and I watched as they immediately parted ways, all returning to their respective homes—humans and pets alike. That’s when I spotted Uncle Charlie. He unknowingly walked right past us toward his house at the southern end of the street. As much as I wanted to call out to him, everything inside admonished me not to; I wasn’t sure why. And within a matter of minutes, the street was empty.

  “What the hell!” Sam exclaimed. “Talking dogs? And I wonder what that poodle is really trying to get at.”

  “We have to find out more,” I stated.

  Rob looked at me incredulously. “How do you suppose we do that? You saw how easy it was for Jase to fall under their spell. I’m not about to join him.”

  “Neither am I,” Sam said.

  “Me neither,” I added. “But our families are out there and we have to help them any way we can.”

  “Of course,” Sam replied. “So, what’s the plan?”

  The guys often turned to me and sometimes Jase for all the so-called plans. That was a lot of pressure for a teenage boy who couldn’t even manage to keep his room tidy for more than an hour at a time. Mom constantly threatened to lock me out of my room and make me sleep on the front room couch. She said I needed to be more responsible and to be a better example for Carl since I was older. She certainly made being the older one seem like a chore instead of a privilege. Or is it ever a privilege? I may be confused about that, even as an adult.

  “We have to get to our folks, see how they react to us and try to find out from them what’s going on,” I said. “Jase looked at that dog and right away, he became like the others, so I suggest we keep our heads lowered and avoid eye contact with any of the animals, no matter what. After we check out our folks, and hopefully, gather some intel, we’ll meet at the spot around the corner in half an hour.”

  “Sounds good,” Sam agreed.

  The spot I referred to is an old distillery building on our block, set on a large parcel of land that’s usually overgrown.

  “I know you have a pet cat, Sam, but you can’t interact with her until you know if she’s been influenced by the other animals out there.”

  “Gotcha,” she said.

  Rob and his family didn’t have pets. Never did for as long as I knew them. Rob said his dad wasn’t an animal lover and was also allergic to pet fur. I always thought Mr. Powell was just a sourpuss and needed to lighten up, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

  “What...what if they’re able to control us without us having to make eye contact?” Rob proposed, somewhat anxiously. “How can we be sure that’s what really got Jase?”

  “Because we all seen it, Rob!” Sam snapped. “Why don’t you stop being an airhead?”

  “Look guys, we can’t sit here arguing,” I said. “We have to find out what’s going on as quickly as we can before nightfall.”

  “I guess I’m ready. Well, not really, but it is what it is…” Sam announced.

  “Ready, Rob?” I asked, seeing the apprehension in his face.

  “I don’t like how we have to split up. Can’t we go together to check out our families? I’m scared.”

  “I know you are, but you can do this,” I told him. “Just remember to keep your head lowered; don’t make eye contact no matter what and if any of the animals spot you and the
y say anything, just act like the others.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Remember that cool act you did in drama class a couple of years ago?”

  Rob nodded.

  “Man, you nailed it! You were so darn good. That’s the best acting I’d ever seen, for sure! Ain’t that right, Sam?”

  “You know it!” she replied. “Look, Rob, you’re gonna be fine. Just do what Hewey said and put on a good act. You can do this. Trust me, I’m scared as hell, but sometimes you have to do things scared. Okay?”

  Rob still looked far from comfortable about the whole thing, but he nodded. “Okay.”

  “That’s my man!” Sam patted his back.

  I looked them square in the eyes. “Remember...the spot in a half hour.”

  They both nodded. We made a three-way bump, then hurried off in different directions each toward our home.

  4

  _________________

  The front door of my house was habitually unlocked; we only bothered to lock it at night before bedtime. It was my job to make sure the house was secured since I was always the last one to go to sleep.

  After walking inside, I noticed an unusual quietude that made me uneasy—actually more uneasy than I already was. I’d happened to get there without being noticed, as the streets were completely clear after the odd gathering just a short while earlier. I wondered where Dillinger was—our eight-year-old Doberman Pincher. Usually by now, he would’ve at least smelled me, even if he was out back, and would’ve been jumping all over me, but he was nowhere in sight.

  I proceeded to the kitchen where I found Mom at the stove and Dad sitting at the counter, flipping through a magazine. He seemed to be turning the pages, but not really focusing on any particular article.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, casually.

  No one bothered to respond.

  “Is everything all right?” I waited for a few moments, then was starting to wonder if they even noticed me.

  I went over to my dad and touched him on the shoulder. “Dad… are you okay?”

  He flipped another page and with that blank stare I’d seen on the faces of our neighbors, he looked up at Mom and said, “Remember to make enough for four.”

  “Dad? You didn’t answer me,” I said.

  “Honey, how would you like your dog food?” Mom asked me.

  “What? Mom… what’re you talking about? We don’t eat dog food!” I sat on the stool next to Dad.

  She opened an overhead cabinet and took down a couple of cans of Dillinger’s food. He always preferred the soft food instead of the hard bites.

  “You have a choice between chicken and beef flavoring,” Mom said, either ignoring or failing to register my remark.

  “I said, we don’t eat dog food, Mom!” I repeated.

  She politely opened the chicken flavored one. “Chicken, it is!” she said.

  “Dad!” I scowled. “What’s wrong with y’all? Are you gonna let Mom feed us dog food for dinner?”

  Weirdly, both a happy and confused smile formed on his face. “Chicken it is,” he also announced.

  I quickly got up, stormed around the counter and gently gripped my mom by the shoulders. “Mom, wake up! Wake up!” I yelled as quietly as I could. “What’s happened to everybody? This is ludicrous!”

  She just stood there looking at me, clearly unmoved by my protest.

  “What happened out there?” I insisted. “What did they do to you?”

  “I have to put Dillinger’s pork roast in the oven,” she said with that blank stare.

  “Dillinger?” I frowned. “He’s eating pork roast while we’re eating dog food? Have you both lost your minds?” I turned away in disbelief. “Where’s Carl?”

  “Out back playing with Dillinger,” Mom replied with a slight smile. “I’m sure they’re having lots of fun.”

  Seriously concerned for Carl, I left the kitchen and went to find him.

  When I opened the back door, the view that greeted me was shocking. Our Dillinger was comfortably seated in Mom’s white patio chair throwing the old tennis ball while Carl ran and fetched it, and brought it back (thankfully with his hand and not his mouth). Right then, to my dismay, I knew Dillinger had been affected the same as the other dogs were.

  I can’t believe this is happening! I thought, cautious not to make eye contact with Dillinger. By way of my peripheral vision, I noticed he was looking my way and hoped he wasn’t with curiosity.

  With my head lowered I said, “Carl, Mom wants to show you what we’re having for dinner.”

  He’d just fetched the ball again and was taking it back to Dillinger. I could only imagine how many times he’d already done that. After handing the ball to Dillinger, he walked over to where I stood and without acknowledging me, headed inside the house.

  I was right behind him.

  “My dear boy...” I heard Dillinger say.

  I knew he was addressing me and slowly facing his direction, but failing to look at him, I answered, “Yes.”

  “Please tell the good lady, your mother, that I’d very much prefer that special sauce she used to make for you all with my pork roast today,” he added.

  You would’ve thought he had descended from royalty.

  “Okay,” I said, then entered the house.

  Rushing toward Carl, who’d left the kitchen and was heading down the hallway, I cried, “Carl, wait! I have to talk to you.”

  “I chose the beef flavored food,” he stopped and said. “I told Mom.”

  “Forget the food, Carl. I need to know what happened to you guys. Did it have something to do with that thing I saw in the sky a while ago?”

  “I have to use the bathroom, then I’m going back outside with Dillinger.” There was an inscrutable look on his face.

  “Listen to me, Carl. Tell me what happened,” I pressed. “Do you remember?”

  He scowled. “Remember? I have to remember to run Dillinger’s bath. I have to remember to give him my bed tonight. I have to sleep in the doghouse.”

  “No, Carl. You won’t! You are not the dog—Dillinger is. You don’t eat dog food—Dillinger does. Wake up! They’ve got you, Dad and Mom messed up!”

  “Dillinger’s waiting. We’re playing fetch,” he said before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

  Exasperated, I held my head for a few seconds. “This is super crazy,” I muttered. “I’ve gotta put a stop to this somehow.”

  I looked around the house to see if there was anything that appeared out of place, and was about to leave when I heard a phone ring. Moments later, Dillinger laughed.

  “Oh, yes indeedy!” he blithely said. “They are all doing well. Before you know it, our kind will have everything we deserve and they will finally have everything that’s coming to them.” He paused briefly, then continued: “Yes, perfect location! Let them try to find it on a map.”

  I wondered what he meant by that last statement.

  Dillinger surely surprised me. He’d been a part of our family only a couple of weeks shy of his entire life. We’d adopted him from my dad’s friend Joel when he was just two weeks old and all we ever did was love and take care of him. But now, based on what I gathered from that conversation, it was clear that Dillinger was purely self-centered and to him, we were nothing special. How could an animal that was loved so dearly turn against the people that meant him no harm whatsoever? I didn’t understand it—any of it. All I knew for sure was that there was no convincing my family that they were under an otherworldly spell and everything as we knew it had been turned upside down.

  I’d found nothing that could possibly be of help to me and the guys in our quest of getting to the bottom of what’s happened. I desperately wished that Sam and Rob had made better progress than I had. But more importantly, I hoped they hadn’t inadvertently blown the whistle on themselves and had ultimately become seemingly soulless victims like the others.

  5

  _________________

  The old wine
distillery used to be in full operation for about thirty years before I was born. It actually was the property of a famous local writer who’d died and left all of his wealth to charity since he had no heirs. The three-storey dilapidated building cried out for some tending loving care which over time, it never duly received. Numerous cracked windows, aging white paint and faded wooden doors had become its modern character. The place had been sitting vacant and seemingly unclaimed for as long as I could remember.

  This was our special spot. The guys and I often met there after school and on weekends. Upstairs on the third floor, was used mostly for spying on our duplicitous neighbors who snuck around getting into adult mischief whenever the “cat was away”, as the saying goes. Mrs. Johnette Christie gave us lots to talk and laugh about, as well as lover boy Willie Reid—another neighbor that lived around the block with his so-called partner, but regularly found his way over to Mrs. Christie’s house at 3:20 p.m. on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. With Mr. Christie being away on business for weeks at a time, their arrangement appeared to work out perfectly.

  Another neighbor that kept me and the guys entertained was Julio Perez who had a long-standing beef going on with his next door neighbors, Mr. Clyde Rivera and his wife, Suzanne. Julio was a cantankerous old timer who had a problem with Christians living next to him. The guy seemed to do everything in his power to get the Riveras to sin. We once caught him peeing on the couple’s front door while they were away. Another time, he tossed the biggest, dead rat I’d ever seen over the fence and made sure it landed on their walkway leading up to the porch. The guy was a real terror. One day, he took his own sweet time after the couple had left that afternoon and spray painted profanity right on their front door. We waited upstairs long enough for the Riveras to return, and saw how horrified Mrs. Rivera, in particular, was. She’d certainly had enough—enough to make her march over to Julio’s front door and spew out some heavy-duty cuss words at him. I suppose he was in his living room laughing at them because he’d made at least one of them lose it.