About this ebook
Rob Vagle brings you six mystery & crime stories in assorted shades of malfeasance.
From a revealing meeting between one kleptomaniac and another to a collection agency that may not be on the up and up. From modern-day pirates looking for forgiveness to a reluctant dog trained to do the assassin's bidding.
Stories with malfeasance never imagined before.
Rob Vagle
Rob Vagle's short stories have appeared in Realms of Fantasy, Polyphony, Heliotrope, and Strange New Worlds. He lives and writes in Tempe, AZ. He grew up in Minnesota and lived in Eugene, OR. for fifteen years. Stories and novels published by Dog Copilot Press, available wherever ebooks are sold. He drinks coffee.
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Shades Of Malfeasance - Rob Vagle
Shades Of Malfeasance
Rob Vagle
Dog Copilot Press
Shades Of Malfeasance
Copyright © 2021 by Rob Vagle
All rights reserved.
We Know Who We Are
first published in Fiction River: Stolen, 2020, WMG Publishing.
Dog Steps
first published in Pulphouse Fiction Magazine #2, 2018, WMG Publishing.
Cover art copyright © vevestudio at depositphotos
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Introduction
Bones
We Know Who We Are
Scurvy And Forgiveness
Second Chances
Chances In The Eucy
Dog Steps
Who Is This Writer-dude?
Also by Rob Vagle
Introduction
In my last crime fiction collection, The Devil Is In The Dust, the stories were darker, more noir.
Here, in Shades Of Malfeasance the crime stories are a little lighter. The crimes and situations and characters are a little more unique. There’s some humor, too. Then there are the dogs, the best friends of humanity.
Happy reading.
Rob Vagle
Mesa, Arizona
February 2021
Bones
Bones knew whenever he was in the back of the van with Man it meant Bones would have to leave him for awhile. Despite his training this still made Bones sad. He knew it would be temporary and upon a successful outing (they’ve all been successful so far) he would return to the glorious arms of Man. Man would call him a good boy and the plastic smelling toy with the sweet and savory treats inside would be his reward.
Bones grew from the love and warm energy from Man. If Bones could imagine higher concepts like metaphor he might see the love and warm energy like water poured on a potted plant. It was what made him grow, it made him alive, it made the fiber of Bones’ being electric.
In the van with smells of old earth, soil, and dust; and the smell of Man—salty, bitter compost, and an underlying, delicate sweetness. The van walls were tight around Bones and Man creating loud, echoing sounds. Bone’s nails tap-tap-tapped against the ribbed floor surface. It felt cold and made of metal.
Man had attached the collar around Bones’ neck, an essential companion on every mission. The collar, however, made Bones nervous. He didn’t understand it. He did know it shocked him sometimes. And he knew it was the way back to Man.
Man sat on the floor which was another trigger signal that Bones must leave and leave very soon.
Man waved the scarf in the air, the tail of it drawing shapes above Bone’s head. He’d been showing the scarf to Bones for days (another trigger signal Bones must leave), saying, Know that target. Know the target real good.
Bones was educated and recognized two hundred and forty words.
Here it is, Bones. Get it! Get it!
Bones snapped his jaws and snagged the scarf in his mouth. Before the other end of the scar dropped towards the floor, Bones was already categorizing and separating all scents and tastes. It didn’t matter that Bones had done this repeatedly for days. Identifying the smells strengthened his success at finding the target.
The scarf was wool and he didn’t care for the feel of it inside his mouth, but he held onto it anyway, because that’s what Bones did. The scarf felt odd on his tongue, and his taste receptors picked up the identity markers like chlorine and chamomile, although Bones didn’t know the names of these things. His mind did, however. His mind had slots for the markers and those slots could be moved around to paint a picture of the person.
He smelled the target’s sweat, which smelled like spinach and red wine. The target smelled healthy with no tinge of mortal disease. Her skin was in the scarf, flakes of it, and the smell of her was dusty like an old book.
In seconds, Bones knew the person who owned the scarf. Human. Female. She wasn’t young, but an older adult.
Bones had the target in his scope.
When Bones was finished he held the scarf in his jaws and presented it back to Man. The smelling of Man was instantaneous and Dog separated the smells, not only because it was in his nature, but because Dog knew he would miss Man while he was gone. He wanted to smell Man for as long and as thorough as he could.
Man had the usual smells, but this time Bones also smelled gun oil, smoke, and soap. Man smelled like an older adult much like the target. Same age, not the vanilla smell of youth like puppies in a litter.
Get her, Bones, Get her!
Bones whined and trembled from snout to tail. The whine had never fully gone away through his training. Whenever he pursued a target, he knew he’d be leaving his handler, and a whine escaped. That didn’t matter. Because Bones pursued the target regardless.
While there was always a reluctant part of him that didn’t want to go, he still charged for the back doors of the van, stood on his hind legs with his paws on the door. He lifted one paw then the other, his nails clicking on the widow frame.
Liquidate,
Man said and he touched the back of Bones’ neck. He opened the door and the world sucked Bones out of the van.
It was that code word. It unlocked tumblers in his mind and he became a focused dog on a singular mission. Finding the target that smelled like the scarf. That code word