Real Men Don't Bark at Fire Hydrants Part 3

"Or what?"

Custer giggled. "You won't like it."

"Shaddap."

"Right, Abe."

"But...!"

"You've been warned." The fat cop tapped his partner's shoulder with one large hand and said, "Let's go." Simultaneously, the two men turned around and stepped toward the narrow office doorway.

Custer was trying to give the other room when Kilroy barked.

The thin cop leaped forward, and for a moment the two men were jammed together in the doorway, unable to go either forward or back.

Someone in the hallway laughed.

"Idiot!" cried the fat cop as he slapped the top of Custer's head.

"Right, Abe." The thin cop retreated a step, shrugged apologetically, and let his partner precede him through the door.

Mickey Gorgonzola was shaking his head and scratching Kilroy's muzzle when someone said, "Oughta shut your door. Keep the riffraff out."

He grinned up at the newcomer standing in the doorway. "Hi, Bert. That was you laughing?"

"They looked like something out of an old movie." Bert Camen was a head taller than Mickey, though that head was nearly hairless except for a thick mustache. He was also thinner, and a rolled beret jutted from one pocket of his tweedy sportscoat.

"You should know." Bert was a film and stage critic for the city's largest paper. They had known each other since college.

"So what's going on?"

Mickey shrugged. "I wish I knew."

"Didn't look like they had their hands out." Bert closed the office door, stooped to pat Kilroy's shoulder, and squeezed past Mickey to sit on the edge of the desk.

"It wasn't that," he said. "They were warning me off something."

"What?"

"They wouldn't say." Mickey pointed at the computer screen and explained the proposal. "That's all I'm working on these days."

"How many days?" Bert sounded concerned; it was obvious from the screen that Mickey had not been making rapid progress.

"I've been watching the street too."

A single bark sounded from somewhere beyond the window.

His friend leaned in that direction. "See anything interesting?"

"Some idiot was barking at the fire hydrant yesterday."

"n.o.body there now."

"Rocky thought he was a nut."

"You didn't?"

"Ahh." Mickey waved a hand. "He sure wasn't normal. Normal people don't do things like that."

Bert laughed and pointed at the computer screen. "Oh, I don't know."

"You know me. I'm wondering if he's a s.p.a.ce alien."

"And the cops know? You're tiptoeing into cla.s.sified territory. They don't want amateurs muddying the waters or getting into the line of fire. So they warn you off."

Now it was Mickey's turn to laugh. "So how'd they find out? I've only told Rocky and Kilroy what I was guessing. And now you."

"The walls have ears."

"They're s.p.a.ce aliens too?"

"Who?"

"The walls. In disguise."

"Maybe," said Bert. "Anything can happen when you're dealing with s.p.a.ce aliens. Ask the tabloids. But what about Rocky? Walls don't talk."

"Then she's wearing a d.a.m.ned good disguise. And aliens disguised as walls could too talk."

"Kilroy?"

"Ditto."

"Then it must be your modem. They've bugged your computer."

Mickey opened the middle left drawer of his desk and pointed. "There's the modem. It isn't even plugged in."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm supposed to be working on that proposal. But..." Abruptly, Mickey turned around and opened the office's small closet. He pushed a sweater aside.

Then he removed a tangle of leather straps from a hook.

"What is that?"

He ignored his friend. "Here, Kilroy."

The dog stood up eagerly, tongue lolling and tail oscillating. He stretched, uttered a creaky groan, and stepped forward. Mickey shook out the tangle, and it became a harness attached to a boxy-looking handle.