Read The Mad and the MacAbre for Free Online Page B

at where Kutter stood on the floor. The
dog looked right at the camera. Perfect.
    He pressed the button, and nothing
happened.
    "What the hell?" He pressed it again and the
camera still didn't click or flash or do anything to indicate that
a photo had been taken. Was it broken?
    No, he just hadn't wound it.
    Cameras sucked.
    He wound the dumb little dial. Kutter ran
back into the kitchen.
    "Hey!" Charlie followed Kutter into the
kitchen and nearly tripped over the dog as it ran back into the
living room. He pointed the camera at the dog, trying to follow it
as it ran in a circle around the living room, and squeezed off one
shot that he knew wasn't even close.
    "Sit down, Kutter! Stay in one spot!"
    Kutter jumped up onto the couch. Charlie
quickly pointed the camera and pressed the button, but he hadn't
wound it this time, either. Kutter jumped back down before he could
finish.
    "Do you want me to tranquilize you? Quit
moving around!"
    Charlie managed to take another twelve
action shots of the hyperactive animal, and then, finally, a few
pictures of Kutter relaxing on the couch. He decided to splurge on
the one-hour developing, and discovered that his thumb was over the
lens on all of the pictures.
    * * *
    Alicia laughed at his feeble attempts at
photography, but it was a nice kind of laugh, not a mean one.
    * * *
    Charlie bought a couple more squeak toys and
a stuffed penguin, to give Kutter some variety. He also bought the
forty-pound bag of dog food, which was the most cost effective, and
a bag of pseudo-bacon treats. If all went well, Kutter would
deserve the reward.
    * * *
    It wasn't as if walking Kutter opened up a
whole new world for Charlie, where potential victims fell at his
feet by the dozens. But there was no question that the dog was
going to make things easier for him. Somebody fussed over his dog
almost every other walk, and in two weeks there'd been at least
three separate occasions where he'd felt completely confident that
he could have safely gotten a woman home--and not homeless
vagrants; attractive, desirable women who would be almost
unbearably pleasurable to cut.
    He altered his route often, sometimes taking
Kutter out for as much as three hours at a time. Exactly one week
after seeing the woman unloading groceries from her car, almost to
the minute, he saw her again, doing the same thing. A creature of
habit. Charlie liked that.
    It was only about three weeks until his next
hunt on January 24th. There was no question whatsoever in Charlie's
mind that this was going to be the best one yet.
    * * *
    Charlie stood impatiently by the open
basement door. "You know where to go."
    Kutter never wanted to go down into the
basement at bedtime. Not that Charlie blamed him--it was cold down
there--but Charlie was the master and Kutter was the dog and house
pets didn't have any say in the matter of where they slept. "Get
down there."
    Kutter whimpered.
    "Do you really think that's going to work on
me?" Charlie asked. "Seriously? If my heart melts, it's not going
to be for you. So get your flat face down there."
    Kutter just stared at him.
    The dog's wounds had healed completely, so
it wouldn't be ripping off its bandages and ruining his furniture.
That was the primary reason Charlie kept him in the basement. As
long as Kutter was quiet through the night, there was no real
reason to keep him locked away.
    Charlie narrowed his eyes
and pointed his index finger at the dog. "All right, you're going
to get your way, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: No
barking. None. Unless somebody is breaking into this house--not a
neighbor's house, this one--I don't want to hear a single peep out of you. Do you
understand?"
    Kutter continued to just stare at him, which
Charlie took for a "yes."
    "Good. Don't forget it."
    Kutter ran into the living room, then ran
back with one of his squeak toys. Charlie pulled it out of his
mouth, a task made more difficult by the fact that Kutter assumed
they were now playing tug-of-war. "I