Table Of ContentDEAD MAN AT
ANCHOR
A Village Mystery
J.E. Rohrer
Copyright © 2006 J. E. Rohrer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording, stored in a
database or any information storage, or put
into a computer, without prior written
permission from the author.
These books are works of fiction. The
characters, incidents, and dialogue are the
invention of the author and are not real. Any
resemblance to actual events or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental
ISBN 978-1-4116-7556-8
Ordering Information
The Books in the Dead Man series by J.E.
Rohrer are available from lulu.com.
This book is dedicated to all the homeless
people in the world.
CHAPTER 1. ENTER THE WOLF
The dog was loping along behind my car.
He was a big fellow, possibly part German
Sheppard. His tongue lolled out of the side of
his grinning jaws as he easily made the long
strides that allowed him to stay near my rear
bumper.
The country roads were covered with
hard-packed snow. Being a cautious driver, I
could not force the car above 40 miles per
hour. The wheels would start to feel as if they
were losing traction, and I would let the car
coast until its speed dropped. Even so, the dog
was making me nervous, so I would gently
increase speed, only to drop back again right
away. My follower seemed to enjoy this game.
Perhaps he thought I was doing it for his
entertainment, rather than simply out of fear.
And I was a little bit afraid. I was taking
the back roads up from Illinois, heading back
ENTER THE WOLF
home to Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin. Having
left the ugliness of northern Illinois in the wee
hours, it was still dark as I was passing through
Walworth County. The roads were empty and
it seemed that no living souls were within
hundreds of miles, except the dog and I, and I
wondered about the dog. Did he have a soul?
Some spectral aura seemed to radiate from his
powerful body. He was so large, I almost
wondered if he was a wolf. A few weeks
before, the newspapers had reported some
movement of wolves into our area. They must
have migrated down from Canada.
My companion shifted his position and
ran up next to the left side of the car. He
looked into my face through the cold window
glass with eyes bright and intelligent and fierce.
What did he want? I suspected he wanted me
to go faster, to give him more of a run for his
money. He wanted more of a challenge than I
could provide, given my fear of sliding off the
road, not that I wouldn’t have accelerated to
top speed and left him far behind, if only it
had been in my power to do so.
The road curved and suddenly
approached the outskirts of a small town. The
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DEAD MAN AT ANCHOR
lights were on at a gas station, so I pulled over
and parked next to building, which contained a
diner as well as a convenience store. I didn’t
need either gas or food, but some human
companionship would have been nice.
Looking around carefully, it appeared that the
dog-wolf had disappeared. So, I climbed out of
my hatchback and went inside.
Three customers were seated at the food
counter, sipping coffee and watching me as I
came inside. “Mornin’” I said. The waitress
behind the counter did not reply, but an older
man wearing a furry hat with earflaps gave me
a polite response. Seeing the sign for the
restrooms, I went through the diner into the
convenience store, past another counter where
a man in work clothes was standing by the
cash register, and into the men’s room. Once
you are over fifty, the men’s room has to be
the first order of business in a convenience
store.
When I came out of the restroom, the
man in work clothes was standing by the glass
door that led to the gas pumps, peering out. A
small dog was hopping around by his legs,
whining. The man opened the door to get a
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ENTER THE WOLF
better look at whatever was out there, and the
little dog ran out. “Spot!” he shouted. “Come
back here!” The little dog did not come back. I
went over to where he stood, holding the door
open while the frigid February air rushed in.
Neither of us noticed the cold, though. We
were too intent on piercing the darkness with
our eyes. After a few moments of tense silence,
we heard a sharp yelp, then nothing.
“Damn!” the man said. “Now I have to
get another dog.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because this is the third one been killed
this month.”
“How do you know he’s dead?”
“Because the others ran off into the dark
just like he did, and there weren’t nothin’ but a
bloody spot left afterwards.”
“What do you think is killing them?”
The man looked at me carefully. “Didya
seeing anythin’ out there when you drove in?”
he asked.
“A big dog has been following my car for
last ten miles.”
The man’s face seemed to freeze.
“Does that dog live around here?”
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DEAD MAN AT ANCHOR
The man pushed past me and returned to
the cash register, arms crossed and staring out
the window. He seemed to be finished with
the conversation.
Back in the diner, I ordered black coffee
and perched on a stool. The room was silent.
The waitress served me without a word then
quietly began cleaning the griddle. She did not
offer me a menu. The men at the counter
sipped their coffee and stared at the counter. I
didn’t take it personally; Midwesterners don’t
feel a need to fill a silence with words. In fact,
there is something companionable about men
sharing a silence.
By the time my cup was empty, the
darkness outside was beginning to lift. “Well,
guess it’s time to hit the road,” I said, to
nobody in particular. The fellow with the
floppy-eared hat stirred himself enough to ask,
“Did you come over from the interstate?”
“Yep.”
He looked at me expectantly, waiting for
more.
“Not many people out this morning,” I
said.
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ENTER THE WOLF
He seemed to tense up a bit. “Not many
people?”
“Saw a big dog. He chased the car
awhile.”
“Oh? Where did he drop off?”
“He didn’t. He followed me right up to
this place.”
All eyes were on me now. I dropped a
dollar on the counter, then zipped up my coat.
“He was a big fellah,” I said. Wrapping my
scarf tightly around my neck, I added, “He
looked almost like a wolf.”
Opening the door, I threw back the words
“Have a nice day,” but the diners couldn’t have
heard me because the waitress dropped a glass
just as I left the place. Maybe it was the coffee
pot. Whatever it was, it made a heck of a loud
noise.
As I was opening the car door, a grungy-
looking man walked up. “You going north?”
he asked. I looked him over carefully.
Normally I don’t pick up hitchhikers, but it
was cold and the guy did not have a coat, just a
dirty black sweatshirt. He had no hat or gloves.
And that big animal was around somewhere.
“Yep,” I replied. “Hop in.”
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