Read Online Water Dogs by Lewis Robinson - Free Book Online Page B

“How screwed up is that. What a bunch of amateurs.”
    “He’s a battler,” said Coach.
    “You’re still
rooting
for this criminal?” said Eleanor.
    “He’s an expert,” said Coach. “He’s the best at what he does. He made the clammers look like assholes!”
    “Stop, William. The man defecates in the houses he ransacks,” said Eleanor, and this was true. The paper hadn’t reported it, but Coach had heard the rumor. The pooping was an old form of humiliation, a longstanding tradition among house thieves in Maine. A windowsill turd, a reminder of the thief’s dominance. This thrilled Bennie and Gwen and Littlefield, of course, and Coach knew it did; he wouldn’t refer to it directly, but he would praise the thief, forcing his wife to bring it up as a counterargument. It worked every time.
    “Wouldn’t that be righteous if he shit somewhere in the Manse? In the Manse, instead of all the other houses to choose from?” said Littlefield.
    “And then he could come in and slice me up, too,” said Gwen, in a calm voice. “And steal my stuff.” Besides the nightmares, she also had trouble falling asleep at night, when too often there was a fluttering inside her head. She’d wake up screaming, which would wake them all up—and as they were falling back to sleep, eventually, Gwen would get up and sit at her desk, practice her drums. She used a drum pad, so it was relatively quiet, but you could still hear the sticks beating against the rubber:
thumpity, thumpity, thumpity, thumpity
.
    “Honey, don’t say that,” said Eleanor. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
    “Coach likes him,” Gwen said. “He wants the guy to poop in the Manse, to steal our stuff, to slice me up into little—”
    Their mother turned around in her seat and shot a look back at them. Gwen was lying down again, out of view. “No more of this. Don’t say things like that. That’s just not true.”
    “Don’t worry, Gwen. I’d take care of him if he broke into the Manse,” said Littlefield. He bounced in his seat. “I’d take him down with my bare hands. I have to say, though, that’s pretty badass, the shitting. I should do that in the next race we go to, after a win.” His biathlon jersey was rolled up to his shoulder, and when he saw that Bennie was looking over the seat at him, he flexed. His arms looked like Bennie’s arms, pale and hairless, but when he flexed it looked as though he’d slipped an ostrich egg under the skin. When he stopped bouncing and flexing he put his fingers through his hair, spiking it up.
    “We don’t lock the Manse,” Bennie said. “It wouldn’t take much for him to break in.”
    “He hasn’t robbed any houses anywhere near us,” said their mother.
    “Yeah, but he’s moving toward us,” said Gwen. “He’s going by county. Penobscot, Waldo, Knox, Lincoln. Lincoln, right? Lincoln was where they caught him. A few poops each time. That’s what they’ve been saying, right?”
    “From now on, you may not watch the news,” said their mother. “No more news. None.” Then she turned to Coach. “Why bring this up?”
    “He’s an expert,” repeated Coach. “He’s a master at his craft. He brings it to the First Church of Christ, Scientist.”
    “He’s a friggin’ house robber,” said Littlefield. “Watch what happens when he gets to our island. Watch what happens when he runs into the likes of me.”
    “Enough,” said their mother.
    “Is he religious?” Bennie asked. No one responded.
    “Hey, ass-muncher,” said Littlefield. “Why the hell would he be religious?”
    “Language!” said Eleanor.
    “He gives the stuff to the First Church of Christ, Scientist,” said Bennie.
    “Oh,” said Littlefield. “Yeah.”
    When they pulled past the crumbling brown sign for Cape Frederick and into the empty parking lot, Nixon started dancing in the backseat, wriggling and slapping the plastic inside of the car with her tail. Littlefield opened his door and she climbed over