The Wicked Flea

her! Look at her ear!”
    “You moron!” Anita responded. Suddenly, she was her cool, snotty self again. “Forget the goddamn dogs! I didn’t kick the dog, I just nudged it with my foot, and it turned vicious and flew at the other one. For that, you had to pull a gun on me? Are you crazy? Think about what just happened! I showed up because I don’t want to buy the house after all. Happens all the time. No big deal. I just want my deposit back. And I end up getting chased by a lunatic with a gun! Jesus!” To emphasize her point, she stretched out one leg, rotated her ankle a bit, smiled admiringly at her shiny boot, and then delivered a light kick to one of Zsa Zsa’s hind feet.
    As if to demonstrate exactly how the original fight between Zsa Zsa and Llio had begun, Zsa Zsa reacted to the blow by lunging at Llio and digging her teeth into the corgi’s uninjured ear. The corgi cried out in pain and struggled to shake off the larger dog, but Zsa Zsa held the ear in her jaws and, I believe, dug her teeth yet more deeply into Llio’s flesh. In a desperate effort to free Llio, Douglas stooped to retrieve the rock I’d left lying on the ground. Holding it in both hands, he shouted uselessly and inarticulately at the dogs. If he’d brought the rock down on Zsa Zsa, he’d simply have incited her, as he evidently realized.
    But Llio was Wilson’s dog, not Douglas’s, and her hideous yelps of pain drove him to action. Spotting the air horn I’d dropped, Wilson picked it up and sounded it in a prolonged, ear-shattering blast that drowned out Douglas’s shouts. Far from breaking up the dog fight, the bawling of the air horn frightened the wounded corgi, who screeched more loudly than ever and began to twist her sturdy body in terror and agony. Aching with sorrow and empathy for Llio, I clutched Rowdy’s leash in one sweating hand and dug the other into his great wolf-gray ruff.
    Desperate to rescue Llio, Wilson suddenly tossed the air horn into the woods, reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and took a remarkably calm, deliberate step forward. From my perch behind the boulders, I watched attentively. I trust my impression, which was that Wilson, like Douglas, was searching for the chance to knock Zsa Zsa out of action without causing additional, unintended harm to Llio. The object in Wilson’s right hand was an automatic so small that only an inch or so of the diminutive barrel projected beyond his fist. With his feet spread apart, his knees slightly bent, his right arm extended, he was almost leaning over the dogs when Llio suddenly fought back at Zsa Zsa. With a monumental thrust of her short, strong hind legs, Llio managed to throw the big dog off balance. Lowering his weapon an inch or two, Wilson took aim at Zsa Zsa’s chest. As Wilson was about to pull the trigger, Zsa Zsa gave an unexpected lurch that sent her careening against Anita. As Wilson fired, Anita tumbled off her feet, hit the ground, and took the bullet that had been meant to save the corgi. Then, still hellbent on rescuing Llio, Wilson coolly moved his arm and again took aim. His target appeared to be Zsa Zsa’s chest. I’m sure he meant to shoot her in the heart.
    I’m equally sure that he never noticed Douglas at all. Still holding the big rock in both hands, Douglas, the lovely person, the exhibitionist, took long, smooth steps that placed him directly behind Wilson. Raising his arms high above Wilson, he paused for a second and then slammed the rock down on Wilson’s skull. As Wilson collapsed, Douglas glanced at me and said, with no emotion in his voice, “He shot Sylvia. If I’ve killed him, he had it coming.”
    Turning back to the dogs, Douglas lunged at Zsa Zsa, who had finally loosened her hold on Llio’s ear. Or what was left of it. And Douglas did precisely what I’d warned him not to do: He reached out, grabbed Zsa Zsa’s collar, and dragged her away from the corgi. As I’d predicted, Zsa Zsa nailed him; she veered abruptly around and sank her teeth into his free arm. He didn’t seem to notice the bite.
    Did he notice the blood? It flowed from his forearm, from the corgi’s mauled ears, and from Anita Fairley’s veins. Llio shook her head. Her blood flew everywhere. It showered Anita’s body and mingled with Anita’s human blood.
     

Chapter 36
     
    The bullet had entered Anita’s chest. She bled heavily. She survived. Rowdy had his brucellosis test done at Boston’s famous Angell Memorial Animal