Hide and Snake Murder Read Online Free PDF

Baz’s car, an older-model silver Taurus, sat on one side of the empty double drive.
    Aside from the occasional car driving by, there was next to no traffic in the neighborhood.
    Coop bailed out, and Dawg and I followed. Paint was peeling off the closed garage door in big yellow flakes. I hollered, “Baz! We’re here! How can we get in?”
    There was no reply, and for a moment, I wondered if Baz’s heart had blown up under the stress of hanging upside down. Then a strangled-sounding voice yelled, “Just oped da fuckig garage door.”
    Dawg barked. He bounced around the driveway on his big paws, all revved up to play Let’s Find the Stinker.
    Coop grabbed the handle at the bottom of the garage door and heaved. There, in musty dankness, dangling on a rope from a rafter, hung Baz. His face was beet red. Gray duct tape wound around his torso. One arm hung below his head and the other was still taped behind his back.
    I looked around for something to cut him down with while Coop grabbed Baz’s shoulders and tried to wrestle him into a slightly less inverted position. Dawg danced around the two men, trying to figure out how to play their game.
    I spotted a rusting box cutter on a worktable in the back of the garage and grabbed it. A ladder leaned against the wall, and I dragged it over and opened it up next to Baz.
    The rungs on the ladder bowed from the weight of countless feet. Its wooden legs shifted on the uneven cement as I climbed toward the rafters and started sawing on the rope tied around Baz’s ankles. The blade was dull, but with some elbow grease, the rope parted. Coop had hold of Baz’s armpits, but there was no way he could hold up the man’s dead weight. They both crashed with a heavy thud to the oil-stained cement.
    Coop sprawled on the ground, arms and legs protruding from beneath Baz’s rotund body. It would’ve been funny if I weren’t afraid Baz had killed my best friend. I hopped off the ladder, grabbed Baz’s loose hand and unceremoniously rolled him off of Coop, who let out a loud groan.
    Dawg wiggled around, lapping Coop, then attempting to lick Baz, who weakly waved his arm in a losing attempt to fend off the shovel-shaped tongue.
    â€œOh—my god.” Coop dropped his hand on his chest as he tried to breathe. “Baz, you need to go on a diet.”
    Baz had his thumb and fingers pressed into his eye sockets. “My eyeballs almost popped out.”
    I nudged Dawg out of the way and hauled up Coop. “We need to get out of here. Your new pals could show up anytime.” I sure didn’t want to be trussed up like a holiday goose and left for the Easter Bunny to find.
    Both Coop and I helped Baz remove the duct tape wrapped around his torso. Most of the tape was stuck to his clothes, but his arms were a different matter. The air was punctuated with his curses as skin and hair came away with the tape.
    â€œIt’s too bad you’re so hairy, Baz,” Coop commented as he yanked a long piece of tape from Baz’s forearm.
    Baz hissed in pain. “For Christ’s sake, easy does it. I’ve got sensitive skin.”
    I said, “You don’t have a sensitive bone in your body.”
    â€œI do too. You don’t know how sensitive I am.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    Sensitive about what he could steal next was more like it.
    â€œThat’s the last of it.” I rolled the chunks of tape into a sticky ball and slapped it on the worktable.
    â€œHelp me.” Baz held out both his mitts like a two-year-old wanting up. Coop and I exchanged a look, then pulled him to his feet.
    â€œThanks,” he said as he shook himself. Raw red welts adorned his now nearly hairless forearms and even though he probably deserved it, I winced. Then my momentary feeling of goodwill fled as Baz noisily blew his juicy nose in his hands and smeared the snot on his pants. Twice. I nearly threw up. “Baz, you’re