by Marta Acosta
“We found it smashed on the road.”
“Okay, well, thanks for checking on me. I’ll call Tessa and tell her I’m fine. I just came here to talk to Dirk about, uh, coordinating efforts against fracking. Tessa wouldn’t understand since he supported the casino expansion.” When Oliver didn’t respond, Phin said, “Dirk said I could take a break here, you know, watch a little golf, enjoy a drink. You understand.”
“Sure, I understand. See you around.”
As the door was closing, I shouted, “Oh, and tell Beryl that Ghost and the pups are doing great.”
The door slammed shut.
Oliver and I made it to Franklin and the dogs before we burst out laughing. Our knees buckled as we bumped into each other and dropped onto the bench, and I laughed until tears ran down my cheeks, and I choked.
Franklin slapped my back and handed me a bottle of water. “What’s the joke?”
“Phin was enjoying some afternoon delight. Maddie, how did you know he was with Beryl?”
“She gave us a bottle of that same wine and Phin had a red strand of hair on his jersey. She must have been hiding in the bathroom.” When Oliver squinted, I said, “There’s nothing wrong with hiding in a bathroom!” and Franklin said, “I’ve got the feeling I’m missing something here. Am I the only one about to pass out from hunger?”
WE STOPPED BY BURGER Hut and took our food to my house. We sat at the wooden picnic table while the dogs slept in the shade of the trees. When Oliver stepped away to call the station, Franklin said, “He needs to bond more with Zeus.”
“He’s resisted from the start. You know how people say familiarity breeds contempt? It’s the opposite with dogs: the more you know them, the more affection you feel for them.”
“I think that’s true about people, too. Most are decent and well-intentioned. Like dogs, structure and a well-timed correction can keep us from straying too far off the path,” Franklin said. “Oliver has a good understanding of the logistical side of SAR but he’ll make missteps until he learns to trust and understand his partners.”
“He barely pays attention to his dog.”
“Partners. I meant Zeus and you, chula.”
“Is that a SAR term?”
He grinned. “It’s Spanish for pretty girl. Why don’t you know that?”
I took a quick analytic look at Dr. Franklin Montoya. He was old enough, but he was short and my mother was short, too, so I ruled him out as a candidate for El Professor Caliente Pantalones. “The answer is too complicated. You were saying?”
“You’ve got to put your faith in Oliver as much as you do in Bertie.”
“That is not in the realm of possibilities.”
“The older I get, the less I believe in the concept of never.” Franklin chuckled to himself. “There’s one problem. Not a problem, only a fact. Bertie’s a fine animal, but he’s older and can’t move as well as the Zeus.”
“He doesn’t need to.”
“He does for SAR. Now’s the time to bring in a younger dog as you transition Bertie to retirement.”
Oliver returned and said, “Who’s retiring?”
“I’m retiring from SAR,” I said. “After you’ve completed your training.”
“You’re not quitting,” Franklin said. “You’re too damn good at this.” He put his warm hand atop mine. “Valentine is my fourth SAR partner. You wouldn’t be betraying Bertie to get a younger dog.”
I shook my head and blinked. “Not yet,” I said, but I thought, not ever.
FRANKLIN LEFT AND THERE was just Oliver and me sitting in the cool shadows, covered in a patina of perspiration and dust. He drank the rest of my strawberry milkshake and said, “So?”
“Did you know Phin was having an affair?”
“I don’t care about anyone’s personal business,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. “Except when someone’s private life raises havoc with the law-abiding citizenry. Phin’s about as clean as you can get in Coyote Run and nothing showed up when we were investigating Sherry Rae. This may be a one-time fling.”
“Were investigating? You aren’t anymore?”
“The case is open but there’s nothing to go on. The perp—or perps—may be long gone. And, Maddie, you shouldn’t assume that everyone who’s missing for five minutes has been murdered. Worry about things with a greater likelihood of happening.”
“I do. I worry about fires and earthquakes and storms. I worry about our drinking water, global warming, and the animals getting sick. I worry about Bertie. I worry about Kenzie and Claire, too. I worry that you or your cohorts will do stop-and-shoot with Jaison. I worry about goddamn fracking and I worry about paying taxes and bills. I worry that Heidi I, the Rottie, will revert and hurt someone. I worry about the economy going further to shit in this town and everyone moving away, and I also worry we’ll have a boom and awful new people will move in. I worry that a killer thinks I know more than I do about Sherry Rae and is watching me. Should I go on?”
“No. Cross Claire off your list. She’s not your concern.”
He knew everything about her, yet I couldn’t ask him anything. “Keep Zeus with you until Monday.”
His jaw set and he said, “Fine.”
I SPENT SUNDAY BY MYSELF. There was plenty to do: training, cleaning, writing a piece on metaphysical dog movies for Barking Mad Reviews, which had over 100 views, although they were mostly me, and trying to discover where Claire was now and would be tonight. After a few minutes I found her on a guest list for Penelope’s Grand Opening party.
I set a battered red suede loafer on my desk. I found the same model and ordered a new pair for Kenzie, although I couldn’t believe what she’d paid for them.
I went outside to peer through the shrubs. Raymond’s Honda was gone. It was already late and the blue of the sky had gone pale above and rich gold on the horizon. The evening winds rushed over the fields and through the trees as Bertie and I meandered to the house.
My dog sniffed around the kitchen, presumably at Raymond’s stinky trail. “He’ll be easy to track if he gets lost, but no one would ever want to find him.”
I changed into clean clothes and then said, “Dinner, Bertram?”
I gathered an apple, a wedge of cheese, crackers, and half a bottle of Pinot Grigio and ate in my room while watching Doctor Who. An eerie child in a gas mask searched for something, for someone he’d lost.
When the show ended, I called my mother. “Hi, it’s me, Madeleine.”
“I recognize your voice, dear. What a nice surprise.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is very nice to talk to you, too, Mom. Raymond’s here and he’s making my life hell.”
I could hear the ding of a microwave in the background.
“Thank you for asking,” she said, and I noticed she’d taken on a touch of her husband’s Southern drawl. “I’m just dandy. Larry and I are going to visit his college roommate in Atlanta next week.”
“Did you hear me? Your terrible son is here.”
“I was trying to ignore your comment. It would be nice if you called because you wanted to talk to me, not to complain.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m updating you.”
“I wish you would update me on positive things, dear.”
“Sorry, I’ll try,” I said. “May I ask you a question?”
“Only if it has nothing to do with your brother.”
I refilled my wineglass. “Not directly. Did you and Dad divorce because of me?”
“You know he was unfaithful, and I’d rather not discuss it.”
“But was he unfaithful because of me? Because he couldn’t deal with my...condition?”
“Enough, Madeleine. Try to get along with Raymond. He could use your support and friendship. I’d be happy if my children all got along.”
“Why doesn’t he try? Why do I have to be the conciliatory one?”
“You’re supposed to be my smart girl,” she said. “I pray for you, Maddie. Why didn’t you call me after that awful thing
happened?”
“I suppose you mean finding the body. I don’t want to burden you with unpleasantries. How’s Larry?”
“Wonderful. I’m lucky to be with a good man and I pray you and your sister will marry good men, too.”
“Or maybe a good woman.”
“Madeline.”
My wine glass was empty and so was the bottle. “I have to go.”
“Yes, I know how very, very busy you are. My important psychic businesswoman daughter.”
“Oh, that.”
“Raymond told us. Larry’s concerned about the source of these messages, especially since you’re so... different.”
And this was way I didn’t call often. “Tell Larry that Satan isn’t sending me demonic visions. It’s a heavenly gift. I’ve been chosen to commune with the animals. Like St. Francis.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Like with Joan of Arc, only dog-centric. Mom, whatever you microwaved is cold by now and you’ll have to nuke it again. Talk to you soon.”
I SAT IN MY TRUCK ACROSS from Penelope’s Catering and watched guests arrive in pairs and groups. Noise from the Open House grew louder and through the front window I watched the main room become crowded, recognizing several locals. Turning the radio up, I sang along to a Bob Seger song, thinking about lonely nights and remembering things Claire had said, before picking up the gift bag on the seat beside me.
Penelope might be in the kitchen, so I went around back and was greeted by her mutt, now named Brownie, who seemed unaffected by the activity. Lights were strung across the yard, and several people stood outside drinking and talking. A few watched me as I walked to the open kitchen door. Penelope, flushed from the heat, was directing servers in white aprons,
“Maddie, I’m so glad you came!” Penelope hugged me and then noticed the bag swinging from my wrist. “You really didn’t need to,” she said, reaching for it.
“It’s not for you. Brownie looks good—so calm with the crowd.”
“He’s been great except for a digestion problem. I called the vet’s office and his assistant was very helpful.”
“Watch out or Dawg will have you cooking gourmet meals for Brownie and his own mutt.”
She laughed and said, “I’ve got to mingle. Have a drink and enjoy yourself!”
Penelope must have invited the entire Chamber of Commerce as well as every lesbian in the tri-county area, from petite appetizers to hearty main courses to voluptuous desserts. Not Claire.
Then I glimpsed her wonderful coppery hair. She was in a far corner, facing away from me, and she leaned toward the dark haired sprite who’d been with her at the Brewhouse. I wondered if Claire spoke her name like an incantation, not a curse. I wondered if Claire held her the same way she’d held me as they slept, one hand cupping my breast, a leg arched over my own. I wondered if Claire woke to gaze at her with a smile.
I squeezed my hands, opened them, and walked to her. “Claire,” I said, before my voice was crowded out by all my feelings, all the yearning and regret and guilt and desolation. “Claire.”
The sprite saw me and touched Claire’s arm gently, so gently, and Claire turned as I stepped forward.
“Maddie.”
“I brought you this,” I said, holding out the bag. “It’s your birthday present.”
She closed her eyes and then opened them and told the girl, “I’ll be back in a minute.” “Come with me,” she said, as she banged by me toward the front door.
I didn’t mind the bang: she knew I would have hated being brushed against. I followed her outside to the sidewalk and the door shut behind us.
When we reached the corner of the block, she stopped. She’d rimmed her golden eyes in kohl and wore deep violet lip gloss, made her both strange and seductive. “What are you doing here? Why can’t you let go?” she said, in her rough and honeyed voice, making me want to fall to my knees, press my face against her thighs, and beg her to take me back.
But she wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t.
I held out the bag. “I should have given this to you at your birthday party.”
She took the bag, rustling the tissue paper inside. “You could have mailed it or had Oliver give it to me.”
She’d said his name casually, as if she didn’t care what I’d done. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I didn’t go. I made up the story about getting sprayed by a skunk.”
“No shit.”
My apology wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. “Well, Bertie got skunked, not me. I didn’t go to your party because I couldn’t...because I didn’t want to try to deal with your friends. They never liked me—”
“No, Maddie, you never liked them. You complained every time we saw them and picked arguments with them. You only wanted to be with your dogs or cocooned in your bed with me, watching shows you’ve seen a dozen times.”
That’s where I wanted to be now. “I feel awful that you lost your volunteer job at the veterans home. You should have let me take the blame.”
“My lawyer would have appreciated that, but you failed to answer his calls.” She gazed at me for too long and I had to look away. “But what you’re doing right now with Olly...I can’t believe it.”
“I can explain—” I began, but she cut me off and said, “Saving Eileen Wainwright and teaching Olly search and rescue. I never thought you’d step out of your safe space to help someone else, especially someone so important to me.”
“I help people all the time.”
“You help dogs all the time. The people are incidental to you.” She swung the gift bag. “Thanks.”
“It’s the sable paint brush set you showed me. I wanted to give you something for your art.”
“Even if you don’t understand it?” She smiled and my heart ached with wanting to touch her again, in wanting her to love me.
“I don’t understand so many things, Claire. I thought you would be happy without the outside world, seeing only what I saw, feeling only what I felt. I was stupid and selfish, and I hope that someday you can forgive me.”
“I forgive you for lying about the skunk. There’s nothing else to forgive. Whatever we had ran its course.” She lifted her hand toward me and turned the gesture into a wave. “I have to go now, Maddie. Take care of yourself. I mean that: take care of yourself instead of expecting others to do it for you.”
As she walked away, I had the terrible feeling that we might never speak again.
“Claire!” I shouted, and she paused without turning. “Thank you for Bertie! Thank you for everything.”
And then she went through the door into the party and it was as if I’d only imagined her being with me, as if I had always been alone on an empty dark street in a thousand iterations. The dark street was a schoolyard playground, a teen dance, a holiday gathering, a lab class, and the darkness wasn’t empty, but dense, composed of the laughter I heard when I turned away, smirks, sneers, sighs, and curses of annoyance, impatience, disgust surrounding me and blocking out the light and the air.
It was time to go home. But as I reached Penelope’s Catering, Abel Myklebust stepped from the doorway, his oversized features exaggerated by shadows. I stopped in my tracks.
“Evening, Maddie.”
“Abel.”
“You’ve been giving exclusives to out-of-towners.”
“If you mean the Sasha Seabrook, I don’t set those up.” I moved to get by him, but he blocked my way.
“It’s time we had a long conversation. Let’s go somewhere quiet where we can talk.”
Then a group of party guests pushed through the door, turning our way and blocking Abel from me. I wove through the group and ran across the street to my truck, the pulse of my blood sounding in my ears. As I unlocked the truck, I stepped on something soft and jumped away.
The truck’s interior light shone down on a tiny feathered body, a blackbird.
I DROVE TO BEN’S, BUT he wasn’t there. I called Georgie, and she invited me to a party with Angus’s coworkers. Kenz
ie was with Christopher, and Raymond was wasted and obnoxious somewhere.
I stopped by the Suncrest for a bottle of Herradura and a handful of limes and headed to Oliver’s house. When I went to the front door, I heard barking followed by yelling, and then barking and yelling.
“It’s me, Maddie,” I shouted, “Nein,” and the barking stopped.
Oliver, wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, opened the door, and Zeus nosed around him to greet me.
“Hey, handsome. Hi, Oliver.” I pulled the tequila from the brown paper bag. “Can I come in?” I walked by him into the living room. Chew toys and a dog bed were on the floor and a good-looking man in his forties sat on the sofa. A huge flatscreen showed a panel of sports reporters. There were two beer bottles on the coffee table and an open bag of chips.
“Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“Maddie, this is my brother, Jim. Jim, Maddie Whitney.”
Jim Desjardins, who was also his sister’s lawyer, had light brown hair and a heavier build than his younger brother. He raised his eyebrows and said, “I’ve heard lots about you.”
“I apologize for never returning your calls, but the fact is that all the bad rumors about me are true,” I said. “Oliver, I came to see how you’re doing with Zeus.”
“This goddamn dog is nothing but trouble. He keeps barking and getting into things.”
“This dog is not at fault. Did you take him out and exercise him?”
“After yesterday’s trek? He should be worn out.”
“For god’s sake, Oliver! Your high-energy dog needs to be constantly challenged.”
Jim stood. “I can hear bickering at home, so I’ll leave you to it. Nice meeting you, Maddie.”
Oliver saw him out and came into the kitchen as I was taking glasses from the cupboard. “I’m the one suffering, not Zeus. How are things going with your brother?”
“Hideously. At least, he spends all his time at the Ring-A-Bell and the casino.”