Play Dead (8 page)

“Of course we don’t want to give her up.
Do we, honey?”

Sarah shook her head and said, “No,” but
her body language and facial expression showed ambivalence at best.

I rose. “Please call me at my office after
you’ve had some time to think about this and to discuss it. Let me know what
you decide. Either way, I can help.”

Sarah sprang to her feet and shook my
hand, saying, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” I gave her a smile as
close to reassuring as I could muster. Some of my best friends are dog haters.
I consider this their loss, but not a personality flaw. On the other hand, none
of my friends had threatened to put a dog they didn’t happen to like to sleep. “I’ll
send you a bill for this visit, as we discussed on the phone.”

“Why are you leaving? There’s nothing to
discuss,” John insisted. “We’re keeping Mugsy.”

“I hope you do, but I honestly believe
this is a matter for you and your wife to decide in private. It was nice
meeting you all. I’ll talk to you soon.” I let myself out.

I hurried to the car, where Doppler was
waiting. His brown-and-white colored face was pressed against the glass of the
front passenger seat. “Well, that was fun,” I said as I got in and petted my
dog. He got into the back as I started the engine. I wondered if Kaitlyn was
still home, sobbing. “Maybe she’d like a nice, loyal Scottish terrier,” I said,
smiling at the notion.

Actually, I considered as I drove, Kaitlyn
had been paying more and more attention to Doppler over the last several days.
I glanced back at my classically handsome-featured cocker spaniel. Sometimes
all it took was living with a sweet, affectionate, and well-behaved dog like
Doppler to convert a non-dog person. Cuddling a dog was therapeutic—good
for the soul and infinitely better than waiting for some jerk ex-husband.

Not ready to go home and face my
despondent housemate, I brought Doppler to my office. Doppler headed straight
through my office, through Russell’s, and into the bathroom. There were the
unmistakable sounds of Doppler’s lapping up something, which, when your dog is
in a bathroom, is generally not good news. I followed him and discovered that
the drip underneath the sink was leaking onto the floor.

I stepped back into my office for a
container, glanced at my mayonnaise-jar vase, then looked around for something
else to use. I grabbed my coffee mug, which had a badly drawn cocker spaniel on
it—clients were always giving me dog-themed coffee mugs as parting
gifts—and stuck it under the dripping pipe attached to the cold water
tap.

Out of curiosity, I felt the pipe, and my
fingertips measured an inch-long crack just above the joint. It would probably
cost all of a buck fifty to replace this little section of pipe, but Russell
had instead been allowing the water to drip into a jar, which he would then
dump down the drain every morning. I decided I’d spur him—or the
landlord—into action by doing a feeble, temporary repair job on it
myself.

I grabbed a roll of Scotch tape out of
Russell’s office and awkwardly jammed myself under the sink to put a temporary
tape wad over the crack. I knew, of course, that this wouldn’t work, but Russell
would see it and be machoed into fixing it, and I’d get my coffee mug back.
Doppler took immediate interest in my actions and joined me under the sink.

After only four orbits of tape around the
pipe, a familiar female voice called, “Anybody here?”
Beth Gleason,
I
thought.

“I’m back here.” I let the tape dangle
from the pipe and angled my torso out from the sink cabinet. In the meantime,
Doppler tore out of the room to investigate.

“Hi, there, little fellow,” Beth said.

I emerged and found Doppler bravely trying
to present himself to the much taller Sage. Having been raised with a German
shepherd, Doppler was not all that size-sensitive. Nonetheless, the two male
dogs were doing their circling and shoulder-shoving thing while picking up each
other’s scents, and Doppler was assuming the submissive role and allowing
himself to be sniffed. Fortunately, Doppler had rarely been in my office, or he
might have acted territorial and tried to fight.

“Hi, Beth. Is anything wrong?”

“Oh. No,” Beth answered, smiling
sheepishly. She was wearing the same black T-shirt and jeans on her tall, lanky
frame as yesterday. Then again, she might have a closet full of black clothing
at home that simply looked the same to me. “I was just passing by, and I saw
your car out front. Sage is doing much better. I gave him three cups of dog
chow, and he ate it without even hesitating. I tossed his dish and used the new
one I just bought, so I think that helps, too.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Sage came
up to me and nuzzled my hand for petting, which caused Doppler to raise his
hackles and bark.

“Oh, dear. Looks like your cocker’s
getting jealous.” Beth pulled Sage’s leash taut.

“That’s why I don’t bring him to work with
me.” I sat down at my desk chair and signaled for Doppler to hop onto my lap,
which he promptly did. “Actually, I’m glad you stopped by, Beth. I wanted to
ask you something. Do any of your neighbors own a white sedan?”

She shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed. Why?”

“I’m not sure, but I got the feeling
someone in a white sedan might have been following me yesterday.”

Beth made a face. “Jeez, I sure hope not.
You think it might have been a neighbor of mine?”

“Actually, I’m hoping a neighbor just
happened to be pulling out at the same time we were—that I’m not being
followed at all. Could you start being on the lookout for white sedans? And
start locking your house, just in case. This...thing about Sage’s former owner’s
death and his food being tainted has me a bit spooked.”

“Oh. Sure. I’ll be more careful with him.”
Beth gave him a loving smile, then met my eyes. “My boyfriend just stood me up
for breakfast. Have you eaten?”

“No, my stomach requires at least two
hours more than the rest of me does to wake up.”

“Maybe we could go grab a bite someplace,
after I have a chance to walk Sage back home, that is.”

I glanced at my watch and considered the
suggestion, somewhat surprised. She hadn’t struck me as likely to want to
become friends with me. Just then, Russell appeared at the entrance. He was
wearing a brown, wide-brimmed hat that matched the elbow pads on his tweed
jacket. He had barely managed to push the door halfway open, when Sage flew to
the attack.

Russell let out a brief, “Yiaa!” and
backed up. Sage plastered himself snarling and snapping against the inside of
the glass door. This then touched off Doppler’s barking, so the two of them
went at it—Doppler adding the tenor to Sage’s bass tones.

Beth had been unable to keep hold of the
leash and was now screaming, “No, Sage, no!” at the top of her lungs. I shushed
Beth—explaining that this was just like joining Sage in barking, from a
dog’s perspective—and gestured at Russell to get back out of sight. Beth
then wrapped her arms around Sage and said, “It’s all right. He won’t harm you.”

“Don’t fuss over him like that, Beth. He
thinks you’re rewarding him for his behavior.” I grabbed a dog biscuit and
called, “Doppler, come.” Doppler gave a last little bark, then came over and
sat in front of me. I gave him the biscuit.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Beth
asked, thrusting the fingers of both her hands through her shaggy, red-brown
hair in frustration.

“Sage, come,” I called. Sage immediately
stopped his barking and came toward me. “Sit.” He did so, and I gave him a
biscuit.

“Isn’t your giving him a dog biscuit
rewarding his behavior?” Beth asked, a tinge of resentment in her voice.

“No, because I’m rewarding the dog for
obeying my ‘come’ and ‘sit’ commands. Dogs don’t have the cause-and-effect
rationale we humans do. They only understand reward or punishment for their
current
behavior, not for what they were doing even as recently as two seconds ago.”
She glanced at the doorway, where Russell still had not reappeared. “Wait here,
please. I’ve got to go see what my poor officemate wants.”

I rushed outside and found a very
flustered Russell Greene sitting in his car in the parking space next to mine.
He looked so forlorn, sunk down in his seat, that I felt a pang of tenderness
toward him. I bent to eye level and said through his open window, “Hi,
kimosabi. Sorry about that.”

“Dogs hate me,” he muttered.

“Dogs just don’t universally hate a
particular person. Unless maybe he’s wearing Odor de Cat cologne.” I thought
for a moment. Sage hadn’t barked at him at all when Beth had first brought the
dog over. That could be because Sage was the one entering last time, or that
Russell had startled him this time. It could also have been something else
entirely. “Aren’t you about to head out to the Buffs’ basketball game?”

He nodded. “That’s why I came by. I called
your house, and your roommate said you were working. I wanted to find out if
you’d seen my note and the spare ticket. I thought I’d ask you in person to
come with me.”

He got out of his car and stood next to
me. His grin was motivated, I was sure, by the fact that I was now wearing
sneakers, so he could show off his full six inches of height advantage.

A cool breeze was starting to blow. “As it
turns out, I’m with a collie client,” I said, having to hold my wispy
light-brown hair out of my eyes.

“A vicious one, if you ask me.”

“Only some of the time.”

“I heard about Sage’s personality quirk on
your radio gig. It’s not like I’m wearing a raincoat, or anything, unless he
considers this sports jacket a threat. Maybe it’s my tie he doesn’t like. Maybe
it reminds him of a choke collar.”

I grinned a little as I looked at Russell’s
red silk tie. Who would put on a tie to go to a basketball game? He was going
to be the only fan in the arena wearing one. He’d probably be mistaken for an
usher. “Maybe it’s your hat. Would you be willing to help me for a moment?”

“Depends. Does this have anything to do
with going back inside your office and facing that rabid dog?”

“Yes, but you can stay right next to the
open door and duck out if he goes into attack mode again.”

He paused, considering the matter, his
dark eyes searching mine. “You know, Allida, that’s asking a lot. The most
adversity I thought I’d face today was you turning me down for yet another
date.” He paused and smoothed his mustache. “How long will this take?”

“Not even two minutes.”

“And can I bolt out the door without you
thinking I’m a dog-hating wimp?”

“Sure.” I already knew he was a dog
disliker, if not hater, but that didn’t make him a
wimp
in my
book—just not
romantic
material.

“And will you go to the game with me
afterwards?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me so mischievously that I had to
laugh.

“You drive a hard bargain, Russell, but
yes.”

“That’s worth a pound of flesh. Let’s go.”
He started to lead the way, but I grabbed his arm.

“I want you to take off your hat first. If
Beth is right, it’s either your hat or your jacket that’s making Sage bark at
you.”

“I’d rather lose the jacket. The hat makes
me look taller.”

“The jacket makes your shoulders look
broad,” I said, feeling a little guilty for being so manipulative, but I really
wanted to test my theory while I had the chance.

Russell grinned, his teeth white and even
below his dark mustache.

“I’m going to go in first. Give me a few
seconds or so, then come in, paying no attention to the dog. And, just as
generic advice for the future, if a dog starts growling at you, try to stand
sideways to him. By a dog’s way of thinking, that’s the least confrontational
stance you can take.”

“I would think running away as fast as my
two feet can take me would be as non-confrontational as it gets.”

I laughed. “That’s true, but once you turn
your back on a dog, it instinctively gives chase.”

“Ah. Wouldn’t want that,” Russell said,
rocking on his heels.

I smiled and studied Russell’s face, which
was pale and slightly damp with perspiration. “You sure you want to go through
with this?”

He nodded. “Are
you
sure you’ll
come with me to the game if I do?”

“Absolutely. I get a kick out of
basketball, though I prefer playing to watching. I was the starting point guard
for my college team.”

“You were?”

His tone was so incredulous that I added, “Back
then I was six-one.” I headed inside, where Beth was pacing.

“I was starting to wonder if you were
coming back. Is that guy all right?”

“He’s fine. He’s going to try entering the
room again. I want to see how Sage reacts.”

Moments later, Russell Greene, looking
very tense, appeared. He had taken very seriously my advice about a sideways
stance being less confrontational for dogs and climbed sideways down the cement
steps to the entrance. He opened the door, still completely sideways to us, and
sashayed into the room.