take Jim’s vacated chair, which he did with some relief.
“So, why are you here then?” she asked, tapping a pencil nervously on the oak counter.
Roscoe had always made her uneasy. There was something about him that was damp and clammy. It was hard to put a finger on. Plopping down on the swivel stool behind the counter (and as far from him as possible), she faced the nervous would-be reporter.
“I want to be a reporter for The Sentinel ; however my supervisor just doesn’t see it that way. The editor actually laughed me out of his office. Very humiliating.” He sighed and balanced the tablet and stylus across his knees. “I decided to take my accumulated vacation leave and come down here to report on the wind farm controversy. Consequently, I found out about the UFO sightings. I’ve been studying the possibility of intelligent alien life for some time. It’s illogical to believe we’re alone in this vast universe. Once I thoroughly investigate and validate these sightings, they will have to take me seriously. It is unfortunate that Mr. McQuinn was arrested. He was a very helpful contact with regard to alien encounters. Very knowledgeable man, Mr. McQuinn. I find it difficult to believe that he would be violent in any way.” He looked up at her with liquid brown eyes, magnified by his thick lenses.
Gracie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep a thoughtful expression on her face.
“What makes you so sure the UFO sightings are legit?” she asked after what she hoped was an appropriately pensive pause.
“I personally witnessed UFO activity. It was in the vicinity of Greerson’s Meadow. Absolutely amazing. And there are well-documented cases throughout history that point to visitors from other galaxies.” The passion in his voice sounded somewhat asthmatic, and his voice rose slightly in pitch.
“And I can help you—how?” She had no idea where this was leading.
“According to my research on UFO sightings in the Northeast, your property behind your… uh … canine boarding facility has GPS coordinates in keeping with attracting such visitations. Its proximity to the forest is a classic location for alien activity. I’m seeking your permission to set up some equipment to study these spacecraft.”
“You want to study UFOs on my property? I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Sorry.”
Holy cow! Her mind raced with the PR implications. Milky Way Kennels didn’t need that kind of publicity. The phone rang, making her jump. Grabbing it, she was relieved to take the reservations for a German shepherd at the end of June. After entering doggie data into the reservation software, she glanced up to find that Roscoe was gone. Grateful that the rejection was accepted without argument, she looked out the front window to see if his car was still in the parking lot. It was. The driver’s door was open, and papers had spilled out onto the gravel. Roscoe was frantically trying to corral several McDonald’s bags and catch the documents that were fluttering across the parking lot and onto the lawn.
“Unbelievable!” Gracie complained to the empty room.
She’d have to help him corral his trash and get him out of there before anyone came to pick up a dog. Sticking the portable phone in her back pocket, Gracie ran out the front door to assist. Roscoe looked up gratefully as she scooped up several handfuls of paper and deposited them in an open briefcase on the driver’s seat.
“Thank you, Grace. I apologize for momentarily littering your property.” He shuffled through a mess of clippings and photos that he had clutched to his chest. “Ah, here it is!” He held an eight-by-ten photo in his hand. “This is the personal sighting I spoke about. This was taken at Greerson’s Meadow four nights ago.” His face was triumphant as he handed her the blurry photo. It showed two blobs of whitish bluish light over the dark tree line. She squinted at the photo, trying to make out any saucer-like
Learning to Kill: Stories