Read Online The Case of the Three Rings by John R. Erickson - Free Book Online

boot, stripped off his socks, and dropped them on the floor.
    This was Typical Slim, dropping his socks as though they were hot coals and leaving them wherever they fell. I decided not to scold him for leaving a trail of dirty clothes all over the house. The man was old enough to know better. I mean, didn’t he remember that every time a visitor came to the door, he had to run through the house, scooping up socks and underpants?
    His dogs knew it, because we’d seen it happen over and over. I had a feeling that if he and Viola ever got married, she would introduce him to the dirty clothes hamper, and it wouldn’t take long.
    Humming a tune, he went into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub spigot. I heard his jeans hit the floor with a clunk and his shirt went flying out into the hall. A moment later, water splashed in the tub (he’d crawled into the water) and he let out a growl of satisfaction.
    I turned to my assistant. “Let’s move into the bathroom.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œBecause that’s where he’s taking a bath.”
    â€œYeah, but you know about me and water. I hate it.”
    I heaved a weary sigh. “Drover, dogs are supposed to follow their people around the house. When they change rooms, we go with them. It’s one of the things dogs have always done.”
    â€œYeah, but what if he splashed water on us?”
    â€œDrover, you are the most…” I rose to my feet. “Just skip it. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’ll take this shift and you can stay here and…I don’t know, sing to your worms.”
    I left the little slacker and made my way into the bathroom, where I saw Slim’s face showing above the rim of the tub. His eyes were closed and he had a big smile on his face. He was submerged all the way up to his ear lobes and little plumes of steam rose out of the water. I noticed that he had left his clock sitting on the sink, where he could check the time. It said 5:03.
    I stepped around his jeans (he’d dropped them right in the middle of the floor) and took up a position beside the tub. There, I sat down and gave my tail several thumps on the floor, as if to say, “Great news. I’m here!”
    He heard my tail-thumps and cracked his eyes open. “Hey pooch, watch this.” He made a fist with his right hand and lowered it into the water. Opening and closing his fist in the manner you would use if you were milking a cow, he caused a jet of water to go flying into the air. He looked at me and grinned. “What do think of that?”
    Well, it was pretty impressive. It was something a dog could never do.
    â€œReckon I can hit the ceiling? I’ll bet you a turkey neck I can.” It took him four or five shots to do it, but by George, he actually spurted water all the way up to the ceiling, and he was proud of himself. “Heh. You owe me a turkey neck. Now, come a little closer and I’ll show you another trick. You’ll like this ‘un.”
    You see what Drover was missing? He was missing out on Tub Time, one of those special events that come along without warning or planning. If you’re there at the right time, you get to share precious moments with your master.
    I mean, how many people or dogs in the world knew that Slim Chance could entertain himself in the bathtub by squirting water on the ceiling? Viewed from one perspective, it was kind of silly, a grown man doing such a thing, but I took a longer view, a deeper view. To me, it was one of those special Bonding Moments when I was allowed a glimpse of…
    SPLAT!
    â€¦a glimpse of what a goose he could be. I couldn’t believe it! You know what he did? After winning my trust and luring me closer to the tub, he turned that thing on ME and shot water in my face!

    What a cheap trick! Drover was right. Slim Chance was a joker right down to the marlowe of his bones and he just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to pull