CHAPTER 8: The Ultimate Crime

Laura Whitney dragged her dog around the side of the house. "I don't care if you are a champion," she sneered, as she fastened a long chain around the dog's neck. "You are getting the ultimate punishment. You are staying out here until I say that I can come back in the house!"

Kala whined and yelped in protest, lunging at the end of her chain, but her cries fell on deaf ears, and even her enormous strength was not enough to dislodge the chain from its housing. Resigned to her fate, she sighed and lay down on the patch of dead grass in front of her doghouse.

Laura stormed back into her house, flipping through the phone book and scribbling down some addresses. Picking up her purse and the hastily scribbled notes, she marched out the front door and climbed into her car. I've got some unfinished business to take care of, she muttered to herself as she backed out of her driveway and sped away.

* * * * * * * * * *

Laura pulled the U-haul moving truck into the loading zone of the apartment complex, ignoring the 'no parking' sign nearby. She unloaded a dolly, some cardboard boxes and furniture covers, then proceeded to the main entrance. Her gait was unsteady as she tried to balance the cargo. Just as she approached the door, the burly superintendent stopped her. "Uh, madame," he queried, curiously, looking up from the paper he had been reading, "May I ask where you are going with those boxes?"

""Marc Wyndham is my ex-husband," the blond woman replied, curtly. "I'm retrieving some possessions from his apartment."

The burly man returned to his newspaper. "Okay," he replied, buzzing her in to the building.

The blonde woman surveyed the tenant listing, locating Marc Wyndham's apartment. She was on a mission, and no one was going to stop her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Laura jiggled her key in the door's lock, but the lock refused to give. Dammit! She muttered to herself. That bastard must have known I would come by here, so he changed the lock! She continued to fiddle with her keys, jiggling and jerking the doorknob in the process, and turning it until it gave.

The door creaked open, and Laura could hear the puppies whimpering and whining. She closed the door behind her, and could hear the pups' little claws clicking on the floor as they ran to greet the person at the door.

Worthless little rats, scowled Laura, looking at the three puppies clawing at her legs. They don't even look like Great Danes.

Laura pulled out a burlap bag from one of the cardboard boxes. "I'm not going to hurt you," she sneered, extending her hand to the puppies in a mock friendly gesture. "I'm just going to…transfer you…to another home." She reached out and grabbed a pup by the scruff of its neck. The little Dane yelped in protest as she stuffed it into one of the bags. **This is too easy,** she cackled to herself, as she captured each successive puppy in the same manner.

Three down, and one to go. She looked around the apartment. **Where is that little creep hiding?** she muttered to herself, scanning every inch of the room within eye shot. "Here puppy, puppy, puppy," she called, making squealing noises with her mouth. "Come on, puppy." She spied the last dog hiding underneath a coffee table, cowering in fright.

The little dog whined in terror as Laura closed in on his hiding place. He was cornered against the wall, an easy target, except that the table's placement prevented the woman from having a clear path. Kneeling down, she crawled under the table and reached for the pup. "Come here you…OW!" She pulled her hand back, seeing the gouts of blood where the little pup's teeth had pierced her skin. "Damn animal!!" Shaking her hand to dispel the pain, she stepped backwards, tripping over an end table. With a resounding CRASH, the table hit the floor, overturning a potted plant that stood next to it.

Her temper seething, she yelled, "That does it you little mutt! You asked for it!!" Reaching for a broom that she had brought along, she poked at the animal in its hiding place. She reached for the leather leash that was in one of the boxes. "Get out!" she yelled, swatting at the puppy; forced out of its hiding place, the pup fled and ran straight into Laura's waiting arms. "Gotcha!" she sneered, triumphantly, throwing the dog into one of the burlap bags.

She placed the bags with their living contraband into the cardboard boxes, muffling the pups' cries with the furniture covers. Laura then re-locked the door behind her, and proceeded to the elevator, comporting herself calmly and coolly, as though she were departing from a routine visit and not from a crime scene.

Exiting the elevator, she passed by the superintendent, who was still reading his newspaper, and called out "thanks." "Uh huh," the burly man grunted in response, then did a double take. Something was horribly wrong with what had just transpired, but he could not figure out quite what it was.

* * * * * * * * * *

**I did it!** she chuckled to herself, as she loaded the puppies into the moving van. **I just committed the ultimate crime and took out the ultimate revenge, and I didn't leave behind a single clue.** Consumed by her gloating, she paid little attention to her driving, nearly broad siding the turquoise and orange van as she pulled away from the curb.

Both drivers abruptly applied their brakes with a resounding screech. "Why don't you watch where you're going, asshole?" shrieked Laura, shaking her fist at the van's driver, then speeding off. Had she been less consumed with her commission of 'the ultimate crime,' crime, she might have recognized the van's passengers and driver, one of whom was not human.