Here Be Monsters (Tyler Cunningham) Read Online Free PDF Page B

daring rescue. Once the boys went out to watch their car burning, I let myself into their room with my key ( a wrecking bar ) and took Sadie out and away in the confusion.
    “Must be that's the way it happened... anyway... they signed a statement to that effect.” Frank kept eye-contact longer than I was able to, but I covered by slapping a non-existent mosquito off of my calf.
    One of the beautiful things about Frank Gibson, cop and sometime dinner-host to yours truly, is that he doesn't feel the need to call me on my activities of last night ( or arrest me for arson and whatever other laws I broke getting Sadie home ). He knew, and I knew that he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew; but he was glad that Sadie got home and away from the monsters-in-training and that nobody got hurt any more than could be avoided. He had busted my chops a couple of times over the years about my investigations without benefit of license from New York State, but since they really are arguably favors for friends, and not services for cash, he is mostly interested in keeping an eye on me ( and in letting me know that he's keeping an eye on me ). Official business out of the way for the afternoon, he relaxed a bit, and started into the small talk.
    “Meg wanted me to ask you when you're coming over for supper again.” Frank and I fell sideways into the bizarre relationship that we have because I knew his wife from my dealings with the Tri-Lakes Animal Shelter. Despite what television, and lots of books, would have you believe, cops and detectives don't work on the same side, same team, or for the same reasons. Most of the time, the police ( rightly ) view detectives as window peepers, ambulance chasers, bounty hunters, or criminals hiding behind a lightweight badge; Frank initially felt that way about me ( and to some extent still does ). Dealing with Frank had been like porcupine sex for the first few years, but we now had some ground rules established, and made it work by building/mending fences where/when needed. He had become the “go to guy” among the Tri-Lakes law enforcement community whenever my name came up or I was connected to a case somehow, so we had meetings like this one from time to time.
    “Next Monday, the 10th, would be great, if that works for you g uys.” Really any night, including tonight, would work for me, but I like to give him some time so he doesn't feel like I'm rushing him... also, a bit of time might allow any remaining questions about Sadie to occur to Frank and then recede again. A fly on the wall during one of these dinners might think that Frank and I are friends, we talk about a variety of non-crime-related subjects centering mostly on a shared interest in camping. I met Meg, Frank's wife, a school psychologist, while walking dogs for the local animal shelter... we both walk dogs a few times a week, and our paths crossed enough times that she found out who I was. One day she came by Smart Pig to check me out; saying that I rang enough weird bells to interest but not scare her, which is better than scaring her, but can sometimes lead to more sharing and self-reflection than I want. We had spent that day talking about our childhoods in big towns, and living in a small town; in combination with our love for homeless dogs and Friehofer’s chocolate chip cookies, it was enough to build an initial bridge that led to friendship over the years.
    “Fine. Same time as usual, and you can bring Cynthia, or someone else, if you want.” said Frank. I've never come to his house with anyone else, but he keeps asking; I think that it's a combination of three things:
    1) He has some level of discomfort with my relationship with his wife, which covers ground and emotional content that theirs does not,
    2) He wants to put me in a box, straight/gay/ single/dating, so that he can get a better handle on me,
    3) He wants to make me squirm a bit ( as I always do ) for the reasons above.
    “No, thanks, just me; don't