Unknown
The Watch Dog

Chapter 1

The squad car's wailing siren cut through the stillness of the summer night like the sound of someone screaming in the throes of a nightmare. From far off it came, ever rising and falling pitch bringing it closer to the Valley Farms home of Kate and Lucy Barrett. It was eleven past four in the morning when the call came in from Mrs. Barrett, according to the precinct records, and twenty-two past when the patrol car screeched to a halt in front of their rambling brick home. The two officers, one white and one black, jumped from the car almost before it had stopped moving, guns drawn, eyes searching the nearby hedges and trees for the sign of movement that might mean the difference between finishing their shift alive or going home in a rubber bag. Crime in this Washington, D.C. suburb was no laughing matter. Not that anyone would have laughed anyway – taxes had soared in recent years to meet the costs of bigger and better police forces. And insurance premiums, when you were lucky enough to get it all, were double what they were five years ago. Most residents did without, absorbing the loss themselves when they awoke to find their car looted or their television missing when they returned from work. Or in some cases, the whole house, rugs, drapes, furniture, everything!

Patrol Officer Bill Manners was the first up the long, stepping-stone walk, his teammate, Turner Jackson, close on his heels. Manners was the senior man in this car, Turner being a recent Police Academy graduate, and the blond-haired Virginia family man was careful to stick by the book as this was only Turner's second night out on patrol duty. He glanced up and saw two female figures silhouetted on the drawn curtains, apparently still in their sleeping wear, and he slipped his revolver back into its holster and motioned for Turner to do the same. There was little to be gained by frightening these poor civilians worse than they had already been frightened. It was almost always the same on these calls … break-in in progress. Before they could arrive on the scene, the burglar was long gone, probably hiding under a car somewhere three or four blocks away. Or safely behind the wheel of a non-descript sedan, motoring calmly back into the city, richer enough, if he was lucky, to feed his habit for another twenty-four hours. If not, it was back to the streets. Maybe this time an elderly pensioner coming home from the late movies, or a newsstand operator going to work. But wherever, however, he would get what he needed to keep him flying for another day. There was never any choice for a heroin addict.

The door opened as they stepped onto the covered front porch and a fortyish woman wearing an expensive-looking robe ushered them in with a salesgirl's smile. «Come in, Officers, come in. I'm so glad you got here quickly,» she gushed. «My daughter Lucy and I have been scared out of our wits. I tell you, it was horrible. Horrible! Oh where are my manners … I'm Kate Barrett, you know, of Barrett's Department Store down at the shopping center.»

«Yes, ma'am.»

«And this is my daughter Lucy. Would you two fine officers care for something to drink? I know you can't drink on duty, but I could spill a little brandy when I pour your coffee,» she said, lowering her voice as if Lucy was too young to hear, and winking at the two policemen. But there was little doubt about Lucy's maturity, as both officers quickly noticed. She was wearing just what she had on when they heard the glass breaking by the back door – baby doll pajamas you could read a newspaper through, though with her body, who'd want to read a newspaper? Officer Manners took out his note-pad and began to record the facts, but his eyes kept wandering from the pad and stealing surreptitious glances at the most beautiful chest he had seen in a long time. Christ, he thought, if my old lady had a pair of knockers like those, I'd never leave the house!

«I'll have a little coffee, ma'am, if it's not too much trouble,» he said, dutifully writing down the address and the sketchy facts he knew already. He could not be too careful on this call, for the Barrett money was Establishment money. John Barrett owned most of this valley at one time, before he subdivided it up and sold it for development, and Manners had heard estimates in the millions of his worth in real estate. He was dead now, over a year ago from a sudden heart attack. Popular jokes held that he died struggling under the weight of a bag full of his money, but that was not something for the record.

«Certainly, men … Lucy, would you mind putting a little coffee in the percolator for these gentlemen.»

«No, ma'am … I'd be delighted,» she said as if she did not mean it at all, and left the room. Officer Manners sneaked a quick look at the backside of that gorgeous blonde's body under those see-thrus and, if anything, it was even nicer than the front! High, tight cheeks that rubbed together when she walked … Man, what she'd be like in the sack! He was sorry now that he had asked for coffee, because it robbed him of any more sideways looks at the younger Barrett woman. Not that the older one was any hag; Kate Barrett had that aura of well-preserved beauty common to most rich women. The kind of cold, translucent good- looks that comes with thrice-weekly trips to the Georgetown salons.

«Won't you gentlemen sit down?» the older red-haired woman inquired. «I'm sure you two could use a breather, what with all the crime we've been having lately in Valley Farms. Isn't it just awful? I mean, it must be all those …» She seemed to be about to say something but she smiled stiffly in Officer Jackson's direction and bit her tongue. «What I mean to say is, all those dope addicts and all from the city. I've heard they come out five and six to a car, like going to a picnic!»

The young black officer nodded officiously. «That's partly true, Mrs. Barrett. We do suspect that a lot of these break-ins and muggings lately have been the work of addicts from Washington. I don't know whether they make the ride out in carpools though … it might look a little suspicious. All those blacks in Valley Farms would stand out like …»

The senior officer cleared his throat meaningfully. «What he means, ma'am, is that maybe we had better get on with the report. If the burglar who tried to get in here is still around, we might spot him on the street. Anyone out at this hour is usually up to no good.»

«Oh, I do agree, Officer! I think there ought to be a curfew, except for decent folks, don't you? I mean, what business do all these young people have out at this hour?»

«Yes, ma'am, you're quite right.»

«Mrs. Barrett,» interrupted the black officer. «How would you propose to tell the 'decent folks' from the troublemakers?»

«Why, I … well, I don't know all the details. That's for smarter people than I to work out.»

Officer Manners shot his junior partner a look that could have cut glass. «Let's go on with the report. Tell me exactly, in your own words what happened.»

Lucy Barrett returned with the coffee on a silver tray complete with creamer and sugar bowl, and both the young police officers rose and nodded their thanks courteously. She leaned precariously close to them as she placed the tray on the coffee table at their knees; Officer Manners cleared his throat again for something to do and managed, finally, to get his eyes back on his note pad.

«Officers, the report?» the older woman dropped her words like lead weights; since Lucy's unintentionally dramatic entrance she had lost her audience. And Kate Barrett did not appreciate being upstaged by another woman, even if she was her own flesh and blood. «Could we continue?» she said icily, her thin veneer of charming hospitality washed away like so much make-up.

Officer Manners sensed the change immediately and made up his mind to get all the pertinent facts and get away from here; you could feel the hostility in the air in the Barrett home. And whatever its source, he wanted no part of it; the Barrett money was a dozen times what it took to get a policeman fired. «Yes, ma'am,» he said with a regulation smile. «You were about to tell us what happened before your call. According to what we have already, you called the switchboard at the Valley Farms substation at eleven past four and reported a break-in progress, is that correct?»

«Correct. Lucy and I both heard the noise. Our bedrooms are on the same hallway and both of us knew it came from the back door in the kitchen. Actually, it's in the laundry room, but it adjoins the kitchen. It's only a few feet from the bedrooms on the back of the house.»

«Then you were both in bed?»

«Yes, for hours. But would you like to see the backdoor for yourselves?»

«Yes, ma'am, I was about to ask you.»

«Actually, I think I'll excuse myself and try to get some more sleep. I'm sure whoever he was, he won't be back around tonight with you gentlemen on duty.» She was all teeth and eyes, but both the policemen felt her fangs plainly enough. «Lucy will show you the door and the grounds, won't you dear? Thank you very much for your prompt, uh, attention. And good-night.» Officers Manners and Jackson rose as the older Barrett woman got up to leave, and mumbled their courtesies as she hurried off without a look back. It was a clear case of dismissal; Kate Barrett was not accustomed to vying for attention. She would rather make her exit a memorable one than play second-fiddle to Lucy's spectacular endowments.

«Well, I guess the queen has retired to her chambers,» Lucy said bitterly when her mother was out of earshot. «Let's go out through the dining room and I'll show you where the burglar tried to get in.» She walked ahead of them, and when she paused in the doorway of the kitchen, Officers Manners and Jackson were treated to a sight that would drive sensible men to drink. The kitchen light was a bright fluorescent tube hidden above the counter, and with the dining room darkened, it shone through Lucy's diaphanous pajamas like they were clear plastic! Manners heard his partner gasp and he gave him a quick elbow in the ribs before the young blonde turned to face them.

Turner Jackson knew he was taking a chance kidding around about a good- looking white woman, especially a blonde one who could have just stepped out of Playboy. He had known Bill Manners since before Police Academy, and he knew he was no racist: still, a lot of good white men grabbed for their sheets and crosses when they saw black eyes on smooth white flesh. She was a real looker, all right, and she knew it. Turner could see that as well as he could see the curvaceous outline of her firm breasts beneath her pajama top; she might come in with the innocent bit, but this one was no Sunday-school virgin!

«Over there, Officers … that's the window he broke. We left everything just as we found it. I saw them do that on a TV show just last week. That was the right thing to do, wasn't it?» She was smiling now and her face had all the well-scrubbed beauty of the girl next door; it was hard to see any of Kate Barrett in this vivacious young creature. Kate's looks were tough and hard, Lucy was as soft and cuddly as a kitten once her mother was out of the room. And both Bill Manners and Turner Jackson were thinking just how soft and cuddly she would be … safely tucked away beneath the sheets.

Manners made all the necessary notes for his report; there was no point in sending the crime truck around for fingerprints. He knew there would not be any. There was tape on the glass and it had been cut in a circle by a glass-cutter; this was obviously no neighborhood teenager or hungry wino. It had to be a professional break-in artist, even though he blew it when the glass slipped and crashed to the kitchen tile floor, and professionals did not leave fingerprints.

There was little left to be done and Officer Manners, as senior man, thanked Lucy for her trouble and promised they would cruise the neighborhood until dawn just in case the burglar was still around. She walked them to the front door, and as the two cops turned to say good- night, she was silhouetted again in the doorway, her slender curves outlined in the diffused light that filtered through her nightie. God, was she ever a tease! thought the officer as he waved good-bye. Nobody could be that naively innocent!

«Bill, what'ya think of all that?» Jackson asked when they were back in the patrol car

«Just a routine break-in attempt.»

«Oh, not that. You know what I mean. That little prick-tease running around waving those titties in our face! Man, she's gonna' get herself raped if she keeps that up!»

«Yeah, well just don't get any ideas, Jackson. That's rich man's pussy, both of them. You and I just don't qualify,» the blond policeman said as he turned the ignition. «Call in and let them know we're back in the car, will you, Turner?»

The black officer waited for a gap in the unusually busy communications traffic, and then gave the appropriate code numbers to indicate they were again ready for action. He strapped himself into the bucket seat as the heavy police-special cruiser surged down Valley Farms Road toward the lights of Washington far in the distance. It would be light soon, time for some more coffee and perhaps a couple of doughnuts at the all-night Dunkin' Donuts out on the highway. «I was thinking, Bill,» he said after they had traveled a few blocks.

«'Bout what?»

«About those two women … how come they seem to be at each other's throats like they do. It just don't seem right. Mrs. Barrett being a widow and all.»

«That's part of the problem, Turner.»

«What? Her being a widow?»

Manners reached down to the radio and turned the squelch knob up enough to drown out some of the pre-dawn static. «Yeah … there's a lot of stories around about those two. Not that I travel in the same circles, you understand. That kind of life is too rich for me, at least on a cop's salary. I'd never have heard the gossip at all if it hadn't been for Flaherty. You know, that red-headed guy who works second shifts … anyway, he moonlights over at the Valley Farms Club on weekends, keeping an eye on traffic and such. Pays good money, I understand. Well, he said that any time two of those rich ol' cunts get together over there, it's to share a new story about Kate and Lucy Barrett.»

«Wow, what are they a couple of weirdos or something?»

«No, nothing quite so spectacular. The story is that Lucy and Kate inherited an equal share of the Barrett holdings, with Lucy's portion in trust until she's twenty-five.»

«You mean that sweet littl' thing isn't legal?»

«Well, she's fucking legal, if that's what's on your dirty mind. But she's not legal enough to inherit her portion of the estate. So she's sort of dependent on her mother for everything. That's why she's going to business school, to get a job and support herself.»

«All that money and she's worrying about working?»

«She's got a few years yet before she gets it, and from what Flaherty tells me, she probably won't be living at home much longer. She's got a boyfriend, see, some punk she dredged up from somewhere. I don't know what a sweet piece like her sees in a long-hair, but that's the drift. The ol' lady hates his guts … won't even let him on the property. And since she's Lucy's legal guardian and controls the purse-strings, she's pretty much got the upper hand.»

«I should have guessed it … whenever there's a squabble between two cunts, you can be damn sure there's a cock somewhere in the middle!»

«Jackson, you've sure got a dirty mouth. But I think you're right this time. Only it's two cocks, not one?»

«Two? Well, no wonder Lucy hangs around with this long-hair! He's really somethin' special!»

«No, stupid. The other cock's attached to one J. Marlowe.»

«The big clothing manufacturer who was in Newsweek a while back? He's the one with factories all over the world … wherever there's cheap labor.»

«Honestly, Turner, you surprise me. I didn't know you read anything heavier than comic books.»

The black officer laughed and took a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, not offering his partner one because Manners was a non- smoker. «Not all us niggers is dumb, boss man,» he said with a thick plantation accent.

«Yeah? Then if you're so smart, figure out the rest of the story yourself.» They were turning into the country club driveway for a sweep through the parking lot, always a good spot for catching a couple of late-neckers with their pants down.

«No, you tell me … it's getting more interesting all the time.»

«Actually, there's not much more to tell. At least, not until I get the latest rumors from Flaherty. It seems that young Lucy was sort of attached to her father, maybe more than is natural for a girl her age, and she doesn't like the idea of Daddy's widow with a new boyfriend … Jerry Marlowe in the flesh.»

«Aha, the ol' Electra complex rears its ugly head!»

«Jeez, Turner, you're a pretty smart fellow! How come you're a cop?» Just then their number came across on the radio: disorderly conduct at an all-night service station. «Probably a fist-fight … better get ready for a little action!» He down-shifted the powerful Mercury and it belched with a throaty roar as they left Valley Farms in a cloud of taxpayers' rubber. The doughnuts would have to wait.