Odd Thomas (Odd Thomas, #1)

by Dean Koontz

Cruising away from the church, I phoned P. Oswald Boone, he of the four hundred pounds and the six-fingered left hand. Little Ozzie answered on the second ring. “Odd, my beautiful cow exploded.” “Exploded?” “Boom,” said Little Ozzie. “One minute all is right with the world, and the next minute your fabulous cow is blown to bits.” “When did this happen? I haven’t heard anything about it.” “Exactly two hours and twenty-six minutes ago. The police have been here and gone, and I believe that even they, with all their experience of criminal savagery, were shocked by this.” “I just saw Chief Porter, and he didn’t mention it.” “After they left here, the responding officers no doubt needed a stiff drink or two before writing their report.” “How’re you doing?” I asked. “I’m not bereft, because that would be a morally offensive overreaction, but I am sad.” “I know how much you loved that cow.” “I loved that cow,” he confirmed. “I was thinking of coming over for a visit, but maybe this isn’t the best time.” “This is the perfect time, dear Odd. Nothing is worse than being alone on the evening of the day when one’s cow has exploded.” “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I promised.