Sleeping Dogs Lie wfm-1

by Sharon Henegar

  I nodded.

  “Which might be a comfort depending on how you felt about them,” he continued.

  Whether he was a reporter or not, it was too soon to have that conversation. I took a bite of my roll to buy some time. After I swallowed I said, “What about you? What brought you to Willow Falls?”

  He shrugged. “I've been living in High Cross, and I got a chance to rent a place here for less money. I can write anywhere, but I recently got Jack and the new place has room for him to run around more than he could in the city.” He looked down at his pet, now sprawled on his side, panting gently.

  “Is he a pound puppy?” I asked.

  Bob shook his head. “I guess you could call him a rescue dog. I ended up with him when his former owner died.”

  “Do you have a map of Willow Falls? I could mark the location of the dog park,” I offered. “Or if you want, I could take you sometime.” I tried to sound offhand.

  “That would be great. Jack loves to play with other dogs.” Bob sipped some more coffee. I couldn’t tell if he wanted my company or a map, and I wasn’t sure how to ask. I'd used up all my brazenness with ‘are you married.’

  Bob’s focus shifted to something beyond me. I glanced over my shoulder. Two women were crossing Maple, and a large black car paused before turning left onto Second Street. I turned back around. Bob was staring at the street, his fingers around the coffee mug white with the force of his grip. A more delicate cup would have been in shards.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He pulled his gaze back to me. “What? Yes. I—I thought I saw a car I knew.” He set the mug carefully on the table. “Not very likely though.”

  “Somebody you knew in High Cross? Maybe they’ll circle the block and you can catch them.”

  “Let’s hope not. Come to think of it, this guy might be perfect for Doris.”

  “Ahh,” I nodded. “Not a friend.”

  “Definitely not.”

  I ate the last bite of my roll and put down the fork. “Well, thanks for breakfast,” I said.

  “Could I tag along to your cousin’s store?” he asked. “I'd enjoy seeing it. Maybe I'll find something I've always been looking for. Oh, but I've got Jack.”

  “That’s okay, she’ll love him. She’s between dogs herself right now but Emily Ann hangs around whenever I'm there. We use her as a prop to highlight whatever sofas Kay has in stock. Emily Ann is a total couch potato, unless she’s outdoors running. But if Doris is there the one running will be me.” I had a happy thought. “Unless you think we could get Jack to bite her.”

  As we left the patio, Bob looked both ways along Maple Street, swinging his little pack over his left shoulder. If Doris was still around, she was safely inside one of the shops. We walked the half block to OKay Antiques, where Bob paused to study the display in the window. Kay and I had set up a cozy library corner, with worn leather-bound volumes in a glass-fronted barrister’s bookcase next to a plump little settee. A small, round oak table was near, its top covered with an embroidered cloth. A pair of wire-framed glasses rested on an old-fashioned novel by a green-shaded lamp. In front of the settee was a small Turkish carpet, with a pair of needlepoint slippers apparently kicked off and abandoned.

  “Nice,” he commented, holding the door open for me.

  I unclipped Emily Ann’s leash as we crossed the threshold. She started to climb into the display to curl up on the settee, but I said, “Emily Ann, go to Kay! You have to say hello before you lie down.” Obediently she walked over to Kay, gave her a nuzzle, then with her nose in the air and a sideways look at me went back and made herself part of the display.

  Kay was at the sales counter wrapping a package to ship. She laid down the dispenser of heavy tape and grinned at us. She flicked me a sideways glance in a way I knew well. “Hey, Louisa.”

  “Cleta said you wanted me. Kay, this is Bob and Jack. They’re new in town.”

  Kay held her hand out over the counter. “Hi, Bob. Louisa’s got you off to a good start if she took you to the Bluebird.”

  “That’s for sure. I will dream of that cinnamon roll. It's nice to meet you,” Bob said, smiling at my cousin and shaking hands.

  She turned to me. “You will never guess who was just in here.”

  “Doris Carter,” Bob and I said in chorus. Kay gawped at us. “We met her on the street,” I went on, “and Bob told her this was a good place to shop because he could see it over her shoulder and he thought it might get rid of her. Did she buy anything? Her money would have cooties on it.”

  “I never take money with cooties,” Kay said.

  “Did she recognize you?” I asked. “I figured you’d remember her.”

  “Of course I remember her. I still want to punch her for that trailer trash remark she made at the funeral,” Kay snorted.

  Bob’s eyebrows rose. “Trailer trash?”

  I made a quick motion to stop her from saying more. It didn’t work.

  “Doris is one of those people who thinks anyone from the Midwest grew up poor and barefoot,” she said. “She stood in the middle of Louisa’s living room after Roger had just been buried—”

  “Kay,” I said.

  “—and had everyone laughing about the ‘trailer trash way to redecorate’ because Louisa had thrown out a bunch of Roger’s things. Well, first she threw Roger out—”

  “Kay!”

  “—after which she dumped everything he owned on the front lawn, where it all got rained on, which you could pretty much count on in Seattle. After years of putting up with him, Louisa finally turned into something off an afternoon talk show and started chucking silk underwear and titanium tennis rackets and—”

  “Kay! Bob is not interested in this,” I said from between clenched teeth. I wished I had one of the specially-ordered tennis balls that had gone with the titanium tennis racket, to stuff into Kay’s mouth.

  “—and she threw his computer out an upstairs window, and probably six hundred CDs, and—”

  I raised my voice. “At least Doris isn’t here now.” And at least she didn’t say all this embarrassing stuff to Bob, who looked amused. “Did she speak to you?”

  Kay switched gears effortlessly. “She barely registered my presence. For a lawyer she’s not very observant. She strolled in, looked at a couple of things, and asked me if we ship large pieces. I said no and she left.”

  “But we ship large pieces all the time,” I protested.

  “Not to her. Her money has cooties on it, remember?” She looked down and noticed Jack. “Say, you are a cutie pie. What was your name? Jack? Those are impressive ears. If they went up instead of down you could be a Jack rabbit instead of a Jack dog.”

  His tail whirled at his name and the short front legs pranced a little. He looked ready to do some bunny hopping if that was what was called for.

  “Mind if I look around?” Bob asked. He gestured toward a looming hulk of oak across the room and walked toward it. “I can't figure out what this piece of furniture is supposed to be.”

  Kay shook her head ruefully, following him. “Ah, yes, my Albatross. Isn’t it hideous?” The piece in question stood by the wide arch that led into a larger showroom, stuffed with furniture and an incredible variety of objects that someone might someday want. The Albatross was a monstrosity of quarter sawn oak. “I must have been out of my mind the day I bought it. I was at an auction and I'd bought a couple of really good pieces for fabulous prices. I guess it went to my head.”

  She ran her hand over the oak surface as she walked around the piece. “It’s a combination of a sideboard and desk, with room for wine bottles and a place to hang a few clothes. I think it was custom made for a rich eccentric who lived in one room or something. All it lacks is a bed that lets down out of one side. I thought it was funny at the time but I am never going to sell the darned thing. You’ll probably have to bury me in it because I can't see it leaving the store any other way. You’ll need to line up more than six pallbearers though, it weighs
a ton and a half. Oh well, everyone’s entitled to a few mistakes, right?” She gave the Albatross a friendly pat. Turning to me she said, “Say, Louisa, I need you to run an errand for me. Bob, could you excuse us for two seconds?”

  He nodded and said, “Sure.” He turned to the Albatross and began opening drawers.

  Kay grabbed my wrist and towed me back to her office under the stairway that leads up to her apartment. Closing the door, she hissed, “Louisa, where in the world did you pick him up? Edward the mailman was here saying you were at the Bluebird with a man who has a golden aura, and Eileen from Trellis Island came in and said she’d seen you with Jeremy Irons. Except she thinks he has a better butt than Jeremy Irons.”

  “I didn’t pick him up. I wouldn’t know how. I came out of the lawyer’s office and our cars are identical and I was trying to put my key in his lock—”

  “Well, as long as it wasn’t the other way around,” she sniggered. “After all, you did just meet.”

  I ignored the interruption. “—and he thought I was trying to steal his car. Then the dogs met each other and we started talking and he hasn’t met anybody here yet so we went to the Bluebird. That’s it.”

  “That’s it, huh? You seemed very chummy when you walked in here.”

  “Grow up. We’re not in high school any more. He’s a nice person but I've only known him about an hour.”

  She reached over and gave me a hug. “Well, an hour is a good start. I like him. Your taste in men is improving.”

  “But Kay, he told me he’s a freelance writer. What if he really picked me up because he’s writing something about Roger?”

  She blinked. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “Because Roger died in the stupidest circumstances and got himself plastered all over the papers. Maybe he’s doing an article on lawyers who die undignified deaths. I don’t know.”

  “Louisa, no one cares about how Roger died,” she assured me. “It's been six months. Old news is dead news.”

  I bit my lower lip, wanting to believe her. “Do you really have an errand for me?”

  “Of course not, that was just to get you alone.”

  “What’s he going to think when I come back empty handed?”

  “Stop worrying about what everybody thinks. He’ll think I gave you a very small errand. Or that we were talking about him. Here.” She picked two pieces of a broken plate out of the wastebasket and thrust them into my hands. “You can say you’re taking this to be repaired.”

  “Do you want me to take it for repair?” It was a nothing plate as far as I could see.

  “No, take it home and throw it away. And throw away some of your worries at the same time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The taxi’s meter read $17.40 when we reached Kay’s shop. I told the driver to wait while I stepped inside for some money. The dogs followed me onto the streaming pavement, and the steady drizzle re-plastered my hair to skull.

  Inside, Kay and a broad-shouldered man were gazing down at a blueprint spread on the sales counter. As the door opened he was saying, “—going to take all my tricks to make a space that seats over three hundred feel like a cozy English tea room. These may well be the most tasteless people who have ever bespoken my services.” At the jangle of the bell over the door, he looked over his shoulder. It was Kay’s friend Ambrose. His lips twitched as he took in my bedraggled appearance. “Ah, Louisa, how delightful to see you.”

  “Um, hi. Kay, I need—” Emily Ann surged forward to greet Ambrose, pulling me and Jack with her. “Emily Ann, wait,” I said, leaning over to snap the leash from her collar and unwind it from Jack’s. Both dogs rushed to Ambrose, and Emily Ann leaned on him adoringly. Fortunately her ultra short hair didn’t hold much water and his natty clothing—today a taupe silk turtleneck and brown slacks topped with a brown tweed vest shot through with threads in amethyst, navy and emerald—was none the worse for her attentions.

  Ambrose patted her enthusiastically before turning to Jack. “Well hello, you handsome boy,” he said. Jack accepted a pat on the head, then danced and bucked his way to Kay. She stooped to pick up his long ears and held them straight up. “Jack, sweetie!” she crooned. “Is he just an old bunny? Who’s the rabbit? Who’s got the bunny ears?”

  “Kay, I need some—”

  She dropped Jack’s ears, gave his butt a pat, and straightened to look at me. “Jeez, Lou, what the hell have you been doing?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You look like you’ve been on one of those awful TV reality shows. And lost.”

  “I need seventeen dollars to pay for the cab,” I said.

  “Cab? What cab? Where’s your car?”

  Ambrose headed for the door. “I've got it,” he said. I started to protest. “No, no, my treat, dear Louisa,” he said. Through the window we saw him pull money from his pocket and hand it in to the cab driver. He straightened and gave a little wave, and hurried back inside.

  “I'll be on my way for now,” he said to Kay. “Could you lunch on Thursday to talk more about my little project?”

  She nodded. “Latish would be good for me, say one thirty. Meet at the Bluebird?”

  “Wonderful. That sounds perfect. Louisa, I hope to see you again soon,” and he was out the door once more. He paused while closing the door, stuck his head back in and said, “Kay, thanks for letting the guys pick up that piece so early this morning.”

  “You bet,” she said. When he was gone she turned to me. “Louisa, are you okay? You look like a drowned rat. Where is your car? Is this part of the Bob thing?”

  “I'm all right, I'm just wet.”

  “What happened?”

  “I went to Bob’s house to see if he was back, and I looked out and saw a guy searching my car. The dogs and I ran away through the woods and we found an old barn and the guy followed us and we had to hide behind some hay bales. Then we got lost in suburbia and when I finally found a phone I called a cab and came here. What time is it, anyway?”

  Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times but for once Kay was at a loss for words. “Almost eleven,” she said at last.

  “No wonder I'm so hungry.” I gave an involuntary shiver. My clothes had reached a perfection of clamminess, and my shoes made little slurping noises with every move. “All I had before I left home was some juice.”

  “You’re soaked through,” she fussed, reaching over to feel the sleeve of my soggy sweatshirt. “Go upstairs, take a shower and put on something dry. After that you can tell me what happened. Go on, I'll take care of the dogs.”

  I obeyed, my climb up the steps to her apartment slowed by the heavy tiredness that comes after an overload of adrenalin. I went to the tiny back bedroom where I sometimes spend the night. I’d left a few clothes in the closet, and it was utter luxury to be able to grab dry jeans, a soft old cotton sweater, clean socks and underwear to change into. I stayed in the shower long enough for the hot water to loosen my neck muscles, cranking up the heat every few minutes. When I emerged Kay was at the kitchen counter constructing sandwiches, the two dogs nearby, waiting for any scraps that might fall.

  My stomach gave a lurch at the sight of the food. I hurried across the room. “You may have just saved my life,” I breathed, grabbing one and talking through a big bite. I tasted Swiss cheese and toasted walnuts and a little tomato chutney.

  “Well, that was easy.” She frowned at me. “Now swallow that, and tell me what is going on.”

  I held up one finger as I bit off more. Chewing, I reached into a nearby cabinet for a glass, which I filled with milk. I'd never have a better day for comfort food. I took a swig, then set the glass back down. “Like I said, I went to Bob’s to see if he’d come back. I spent a few minutes checking out the house, and when I was in the kitchen Jack ran in looking scared. I looked out front and a guy was searching my car.”

  “Why didn’t you call the cops?” she demanded.

  I hate sentences that start out with “why didn’t you.” You’re on the defensive before you
even open your mouth. “It looked like he had a gun—”

  “A gun! Are you sure?”

  “I thought he did. He’d tucked it into his waistband. He started toward the house, and I didn’t have time to do anything but run. We left out the back door and ran into the woods.”

  She made an exasperated noise I knew well. “That’s even more reason to call the police!”

  “Kay, a guy with a gun was coming to the door. I was afraid. I didn’t think of picking up the phone, I just got the hell out of there.”

  “Okay, okay, I can see that. Especially after Bob took off last night. Anybody would have been spooked.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But even if running into the woods seemed like the right thing to do, you could have called the cops or me for that matter while you were running away. Where the hell was the cell phone I gave you?”

  “It’s in the glove box of my car,” I said sheepishly.

  She threw up her hands and gave a disgusted snort. “You and your thing about phones. They are useful, modern devices that can save you a great deal of trouble.”

  “Okay, okay,” I tried to placate her.

  “All right, sit down. I want to hear everything in more detail.” She put the other sandwich on a plate and picked it up.

  “Can’t I have another sandwich?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice. “I didn’t have any breakfast. I figured I'd go to Bob’s for two seconds and eat afterwards.”

  “All right, take this one,” she said, thrusting the plate into my hands and turning back to make another for herself. I refilled my glass and took that and the plate to the table. My usual chair, to the right of Kay’s at the head of the table, had yesterday’s High Cross paper in it. I moved the paper to the recycling bin and sat down, taking another big bite. By the time I finished chewing, Kay had joined me with her sandwich, a glass of iced tea, and a crystal water glass filled with carrot sticks. I pulled one out and crunched it.

  “What kind of gun was it?” she asked, picking up her tea. She sipped, waiting for my answer.

  “I don’t know. A gun. It was tucked into his waistband. I've never understood why a guy would do that. Aren’t they afraid it will go off and, um, injure them?”