by Flora Lanoux
“I’m impressed. You did great.”
“Then I went on to talk about respect. I asked them to phone me before coming over, to treat me as if I have a life, like I do for them. I told them I’d like some help with the meals and cleaning up when they come over for dinner, and I told them that I’d like them to ask me over to their apartments every once in a while.”
“How’d they take it?”
“I’m not sure. They didn’t say much, and they left right after our talk. I hope they take it well and make positive changes, but I think their reactions will depend on who they have to talk things over with.”
I laugh. “I applaud your realism.”
He looks at me. “I need a screw.”
Chapter 6
When I get to the clinic Wednesday morning, Lucy is in a panic.
“Where’s Mike?” she asks. “I can’t get hold of him.”
“He’s on farm calls.”
“It’s awful, Rachel. Go see the file room and the rooms out back.”
The scene is frenzied: toppled cabinets, emptied cupboards, files flung in every direction, shredded paper, surgical equipment strewn everywhere. The work of a disturbed mind.
“All the money is gone from the file,” Lucy says. “About four hundred dollars. And the back door was left open this time.”
“Have you phoned the police,” I ask her.
“No. I just got in.”
I take my mobile from my jacket pocket and make the call.
“They said they’d be here in about an hour,” I tell Lucy. Seeing how anxious she is, I say, “Don’t worry. We’ll do something about it. I’ll start sorting the files.” Lucy’s filing system is her life.
Ten minutes later, I’m with my first client of the day, Mrs Beatty, who is very concerned about her bull terrier’s favorite pastime of chasing his tail. When she leaves, Tim walks into the room.
“Still no sign of Shane?” I ask.
“Nope. Still a no-show. I think he’s going through one of his moody phases.”
The police arrive, assess the damage, write out a report, and ask questions about the staff and our hours. When Shane’s name is mentioned, they look interested. Detective Bill Roscoe gets straight to the point.
“Your clinic is located at the end of a tiny strip mall in a poor area of town, so robbery isn’t totally unexpected. We’ve got a few junkies in the area breaking into places to support their habits. What worries me about your robberies is that there’s been no forced entry. It’s gotta be someone with a key. We’ll need a list of employees, past and present, and the people they live with, and anyone else you can think of who might have a key. Meanwhile, I would suggest that you change the locks and hand out a minimum number of keys. Installing a security system would be excellent.”
When the police leave, Tim and I get on with the rest of the morning’s work. The last appointment before lunch is a German shepherd named Maestro; the police want him checked over before purchasing him for training.
Tim pokes his head into the stockroom where I’m searching for a new pen. “Maestro and Officers Carini and Lin are ready and waiting in the treatment room,” he says. “I’ll set up the films.”
When I walk into the treatment room, Michelle’s brother is facing me.
“Bryan!” I say, rushing over to hug him. I’ve never thought of him as Officer Lin. “Gosh, I’ve missed seeing you!”
“Me too,” he says, squeezing me. “You look great, Rach.”
Bryan is the only same-age male I ever let get close to me; Michelle being the safe intermediary. During my first three years at vet school, Bryan studied for a business degree at the same university and practically lived at Michelle’s and my place. Despite his somber police uniform, made even more intimidating by the height and breadth of him, I see only the fun loving personality underneath.
“This is my partner, Dave,” Bryan says.
Dave stands a full foot shorter than Bryan but has a physique that hints at long hours in the gym. His dark handsome look seems Italian.
“My condolences, Dave,” I say. “How do you put up with this guy?”
He gives me a brilliant smile. “I’m specially trained to deal with pains in the ass,” he says, shaking my hand.
I turn to Bryan. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since Michelle’s Christmas party last year. You had a cute blonde named Christine hanging off you then.”
“I remember her. She was the sister of a friend. She left the party hanging off someone else that night.”
“Ouch.”
After catching up on news, I tell them about the break-in.
“Who’d they send?” Bryan asks.
“Bill Roscoe and Dick Maynor.”
“They’re good guys, Rach. Did they say anything?”
“There’s no forced entry, so they think it’s one of us, or someone who has access to the keys.”
“Do you think it’s someone from the clinic?” Dave asks.
“No. I just can’t picture anybody from the clinic being that out of control. We’ll have to tighten security around here now.”
Bryan nods. “That’ll be good, but don’t come to the clinic alone at night, Rach.”
There’s no sense telling him how impossible it would be to follow his advice.
Maestro nudges my hand. “Is this your newest recruit?” I ask.
“If he checks out okay,” Bryan says.
I give Maestro a physical and find him in excellent condition, except for a niggling worry I have about his right hip. “I’ll take Maestro for his X-rays,” I tell them.
Maestro is very co-operative and the X-rays go quickly. While I study the X-rays on a computer monitor, Tim returns Maestro to the examination room.
“What do you think?” Tim asks, when he gets back.
“I think hip dysplasia.”
“Oh no!” he says. “Poor pooch.” Tim has a special feeling for shepherds. “What do you think will happen to him?”
“I don’t know, but the police won’t want him.”
In the treatment room, I show Bryan and Dave the X-rays on a monitor and give them the verdict.
“Sorry I don’t have better news,” I tell them. “The breeders breed for a sleek angle to the back legs and that sometimes results in bad hip joints. That’s what Maestro has.”
Their faces show their disappointment. After completing the paperwork, I walk with them outside.
“Do you still have that mountain bike?” Bryan asks. “You used to bike everywhere.”
“I do, but I haven’t biked in months. I miss it.” A funny thought passes through my mind: I stopped riding my bike when I started riding Mike.
“I took it up when I joined the force,” Bryan says. “A group of us go on a twenty mile ride every Sunday. You should come.”
I laugh. “You on a bike. I’d go just to see that. You used to tell me to get some real wheels.”
“He’s addicted,” Dave says.
“I’ll keep you posted on the investigation,” Bryan says, opening the rear door of his patrol car for Maestro hop in. “Remember, Rach, don’t take any chances, okay? Repeat break-ins can turn nasty. Let me know if you feel like coming on Sunday.”
As they drive off, Mike pulls up in his pick-up. I tell him about the break-in.
“Sounds like you had a rough morning,” he says. “Why don’t you take off for some lunch?”
After changing into a clean shirt, I head to Larry’s for some home cooking.
An hour later, on my way back to the clinic, I see another police car.
“Trouble with Shane,” Lucy whispers as I walk into the clinic. “Two policemen are out back talking with Mike. They’re looking for Shane in connection with a fight outside a bar.” Hearing them make their way towards us, she busies herself with paperwork.
In the entryway, Mike shakes the officers’ hands.
“Thanks for your cooperation,” one officer says.
When they leave, I turn to Mike. “Peop
le are going to start wondering about us. We’ve had one police car here per hour. You were pretty chummy with that lot.”
“I know one of them from school; I tried to put in a good word for Shane.”
“Did you believe what you were saying?”
“Yeah. I like the kid. I mean, I know he’s a bit screwed up, but I don’t think he’d hurt anybody intentionally; and I don’t think he’d steal from me or wreck the clinic.”
I pick up several medical files on the counter. “Shane’s not a kid, Mike. He’s twenty-three.”
He smiles. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t call him a kid.”
Ten minutes later, as I’m walking into the front office, Shane makes an appearance.
“The constabulary were here to see you,” I tell him.
“What?”
“The cops were here looking for you.”
“You’re not going to tell them I’m here, are you?”
“No thanks.”
Mike comes out of a back room. “Shane, I need to see you right away.”
Clients start arriving. Although it’s my afternoon for surgery and Mike’s afternoon for appointments, I begin seeing clients while Mike deals with the Shane crisis. A half hour later, Mike emerges from his conference.
“I’m going with Shane to the police station, Rachel. I’ll take care of surgery when I get back.”
At four o’clock, Mike returns exhausted. Surgery still hasn’t been started, which I find really depressing. Summoning what little energy I have left, I help Mike with the surgery. We finish at eight o’clock, and I leave for home. Mike stays behind to keep an eye on post-operative animals.
Walking up to my apartment, I hear someone call out my name. “Oh crap!” I think to myself. “It’s Reynaldo.”
“Hi, Rachel. I’ve been trying to get hold of you,” he says, kissing my cheek. He’s dressed nicely and smells good, so I know I’m in for trouble.
“Hi, Reynaldo. I’m never home these days. I’ve been working a lot.”
He waits for me to unlock the door and invite him in, but I want to keep him outside, a safe distance from any place that could be perceived as intimate.
“I think about you a lot,” he says. “Can I come in?”
I shake my head. “No, Reynaldo. I’ve had a long night.”
“I can help you to relax,” he says, stroking my wrist.
I pull back my hand. “Reynaldo, we can’t see each other. I’m seeing someone else.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind if you’re seeing someone else. I just want to spend some time with you.”
I shift to put some distance between us. Looking at him, I can’t get over how good-looking he is. He’s like a fantasy man, a man who can’t possibly exist. And he’s so passionate about women.
“I mind, Reynaldo. I’m a one-man kind of woman.”
“Come on, Rachel, we’re both consenting adults. We can do whatever we like, especially if it gives us pleasure.”
“Reynaldo, you have to leave.”
He leans closer. “Let’s go inside, Rachel.”
Exhausted, I begin to feel uneasy and a little vulnerable. As I’m trying to come up with the perfect words to have Reynaldo desist, Myra appears outside her doorway.
“Rachel, could you come over?” she calls out. “I need some help.”
Reynaldo reaches for my hand. With a light but secure grip on my wrist, he says, “I need to talk to you, Rachel. I won’t leave until I talk to you.”
“Can you come?” Myra says again. She’s very good.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her.
As I try to pull away, Reynaldo holds on. I would have to make a scene to get away without his help, and I’m too tired for a struggle.
“I’ll call you,” I tell him.
“When?”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow at six.”
“You promise?”
“Of course,” I say, trying to mask my apprehension.
Leaning forward, he kisses me, and I feel his tongue brush across my cheek.
In every way, Reynaldo is an enigma. Most of the time I think he’s harmless, but sometimes he scares me.
Chapter 7
When I get to the clinic on Thursday morning, it looks like Mike has been there for some time.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” I ask.
“Angst, my dear, bitter angst. I’ve got to take control. My complacency is even showing up in the clinic. I’ve arranged for new security measures to be installed on Monday, and I’ve done up the list of people who might have clinic keys. I want to get an early start on surgery.”
In the lunchroom, Shane is busy shoving a large duffle bag into a cupboard.
“Boxing gear,” he says.
“Can a person really like boxing?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Why? What do you get out of it?”
“I need a way to take out my aggression. Otherwise I get into trouble. I love hitting into another person as hard as I can. You can’t match that feeling, that buzz, you get.”
Tim, who has just walked in, raises his eyebrows.
“You’ve already told me more than I need to know,” I tell Shane.
He laughs, takes a few swings at an imaginary sparring partner, and then boxes his way toward the kennel room, where he gets on with cleaning up last night’s messes.
Acting on a whim, I call Michelle’s workplace. The bastard answers.
“I’d like to speak to Dr Lin, please,” I tell him.
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Dr Wiley.”
“One moment.”
“Hello, Dr Wiley. What can I do for you?”
“Michelle, I’m going to Northcliff at a quarter to four. Can you come with me? They’re having an entertainment afternoon, and I want you to meet Liz and Verna.”
“I would have to see him before I could really give an opinion,” she says, already setting up a lie. “I may be able to go about three thirty today. Just wait one moment, please.” She’s obviously checking with the bastard. “Yes, I can be at your clinic about three forty-five.”
Later in the day, as Michelle and I are driving up to the manor, I see Verna and Liz returning from a walk. Liz is dressed in a bright orange muumuu.
“We’ve been to the park,” Liz says, when we meet up with them. “Just look at me. I’m sweating more than a hen hauling logs.” She fixes her attention on Michelle. “Oh my! What flower petal did you drop in from? A violet, I think.”
Liz is right. With shoulder-length hair that’s so black it sometimes shines blue and with her beautiful light green eyes, Michelle does look like a violet.
Turning to Liz, I say, “Are you going to awaken the soul of Robert Burns for us today?”
“Have either of you ever heard his poetry read out loud?” she asks. When we tell her that we haven’t, she says, “Then I shall recite some for you. To not hear his verses is to miss out on a beautiful part of life, and I wouldn’t want that for either of you.”
“Let’s go inside,” Verna says. “The music is about to start.”
At the door leading to the auditorium, Gert, a lady in her nineties, hands us a program.
The main act, a professional group called Emerald Isle, is scheduled to perform traditional Irish songs. As we take our seats, the female lead singer, who is avocado like in her dark-green velvet floor-length dress, begins a lively tune. She’s very good. After the first song, she tells us that her name is Maggie and asks if anyone in the crowd is familiar with the other songs on the program. Janice, the volunteer coordinator, is the only person to raise her hand.
“Why don’t you join me?” Maggie asks.
Red-faced, Janice tries to bow out gracefully, but the residents won’t allow it; they prod her up to the stage, cheering. As Maggie begins to sing, Janice joins in, and the whole room goes quiet. Standing on the stage in a light-green chiffon dress, singing flawless soprano, Janice gives us a glimpse into a better place. As
Maggie’s voice wanes, Janice is left to finish the song on her own. When she’s done, the room claps wildly.
“I’m afraid that’s all I’m good for today,” Janice says, and quickly ducks away.
Nearing the end of the afternoon’s entertainment, a lectern is brought on stage. Liz gets up from her seat, walks to the stage, and leans on the lectern. With nothing to read from, she begins.
“I shall give you a small taste of Mr Burns’ poetry.” Looking directly at Michelle, she says, “This is for a bonnie lass I just met.”
Forlorn, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here:
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
But, dreary tho’ the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet;
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, Love!
O wert thou, Love, but near me!
But near, near, near me!
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Liz’s Scottish accent and depth of emotion draw the spirit of Robert Burns into the room. When I turn to look at Michelle, I’m surprised to see tears rolling down her face.
“And now it’s dear Rachel’s turn. A poem that I shall have to shamelessly alter.”
Laddie wi’ the lint-white locks,
Bonnie laddie, artless laddie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my Dearie, O?
Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a’ is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi’ me,
And say thou’lt be my Dearie, O.
And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my laddie’s midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithfu’ breast,
I’ll comfort thee, my Dearie, O.
“We’ll end with a dream and a kiss,” Liz says.
Humid seal of soft affections