Three More Dogs in a Row

by Neil Plakcy

  When I got home, Lili and I lit the Hanukkah candles together. “How was your day?” I asked. “You went to see that homeless guy?”

  “Rick drove over with me and introduced me. His name is Jerry Cheseboro, and he grew up in Massachusetts. Moved here with his wife about ten years ago because her job transferred her.”

  She had picked up a rotisserie chicken from the grocery for us, and while she prepared a salad to go with it, I put the chicken on a platter and nuked some frozen potatoes.

  “Two years ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she died a year ago,” she continued. “He couldn’t afford to keep the house on his salary at the florist’s so he moved in with a friend. But then the friend kicked him out and he lost his job.”

  She turned to me. “Life is so tenuous, you know? One day you’re happy and then the next everything falls apart.”

  I took her in my arms. “We’ve been very fortunate, sweetheart. Not everyone has had the opportunities we have. No one can know what’s going to happen, but at least we can be prepared. It’ll take a lot of bad luck to knock us down.”

  She kissed me. “I love you, Steve. I’m so glad we found each other.”

  “Right back at you,” I said, and the microwave timer dinged.

  After dinner Lili helped me once again to wash and bandage Rochester’s paw. He was almost healed but I wanted to give him one more treatment. When my phone rang, my hands were still wet, so Lili answered for me. “I’m so glad you called, Edith,” she said. “And I’m delighted that you’re back home. I always feel better around all my own things.”

  She sat on the couch to talk, and I played with Rochester on the floor. “We’ll come over to see you tomorrow night,” Lili said into the phone. “I’ll make you a lasagna. You’ll eat that, won’t you?” She laughed in response to something Edith said. “And yes, we’ll bring Rochester with us.”

  As Lili hung up, I sat in the ugly but comfortable recliner that had my dad’s butt-print permanently impressed into it. “Edith’s back home, with an aide to help her out through the holidays,” Lili said. “You don’t mind if we go see her tomorrow, do you?”

  “Not at all. I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

  Lili patted the couch next to her. “You know how much I hate that recliner,” she said. “Don’t make me look at you in it.”

  “Fine. I can take a hint.” I moved over to sit beside Lili, and Rochester scrambled up to take my place in the chair. Lili and I scooted around so that we were facing each other, our legs crossed.

  “It’ll be nice to have a puppy for a few days,” she said. “That Brody is adorable.”

  “Obviously you have never had a puppy around,” I said. “They get into everything. They chew things. They pee in the house. They jump on people. And Rochester’s never had another dog here for more than a few hours. You watch, this house is going to become a war zone so fast it will make your head spin.”

  “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

  “I guarantee you, by the time Joey and Mark get back from their cruise and he goes home, you’ll be shouting hosannas of praise and we will be back to a one-dog household.”

  “You never know,” Lili said. “There could be another furry bundle of joy waiting for you on Christmas morning.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her. “Then it’s a good thing we’re Jewish,” I said. “Any Christmas bundles are undoubtedly at the wrong house.”

  * * *

  By mid-day Thursday, Friar Lake was a ghost town. Only a few cars and trucks remained in the parking lot, and as I walked Rochester around I couldn’t hear any of the usual sounds of hammering and clanking. We found Joey Capodilupo in the abbey chapel, sitting on the floor refinishing a wooden pew.

  Joey and I had made a deal earlier in the fall. The pews didn’t fit into the new design for the chapel, but they were too good to throw away. If Joey would refinish a few for seating around the property, he could have the rest to restore and sell through Mark’s antique store. He’d completed three so far, two for us and one for him.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked. I was glad that I had my coat on, because it was chilly in the abbey. Rochester didn’t seem to mind; he sprawled right down on the cold stone floor at my feet.

  “I managed to get all the guys shifted over to jobs that will be working next week, and the week after. Don’t worry, they’ll be back after New Year’s.”

  He looked up at me. “Say, Mark and I have a crack of dawn flight out of Philly on Sunday morning. Would you mind if we brought Brody over Saturday night? After he’s been fed and walked? He usually zonks out by then anyway. And he sleeps through the night.”

  I’d never imagined that the puppy wouldn’t. But then, by the time I got Rochester he was a year old, long since house-broken and leash-trained. “And he’s potty-trained, right?” I asked, realizing I should have checked that before I agreed to host him.

  Joey looked offended. “He’s eight months old,” he said. “He used the piddle pads for the first couple of weeks after I got him, but he’s been going outside for months now.” He laughed. “For a while, I had this sign up in my kitchen, ‘this workplace has been accident free for X days,’ and I changed the number every day Brody was doing fine. Eventually I was able to dump the sign.”

  “You expect anybody working here tomorrow?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “All the subs will be gone. I might come up for a few hours to keep going on these pews. I can make sure the place is all locked up when I leave.”

  “Sweet,” I said. “I’ll have time to puppy-proof the house.”

  “You don’t already have it that way?”

  I shook my head. “Rochester’s always been pretty well-behaved. If he grabs something, it’s because he’s trying to send me a message.”

  I leaned down and scratched behind the dog’s ears, and he yawned.

  Joey raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, a message like, ‘you shouldn’t have left that where I can chew it.’”

  I wasn’t going to explain Rochester’s uncanny nose for crime, the way he was able to dig up clues that helped Rick bring bad guys to justice. You either believe in that kind of thing, or you don’t. I did, and so did Lili, and Rick was becoming a convert.

  I looked around. “Why is it so cold in here? Isn’t there heat?”

  “The electricians are still installing the HVAC system,” Joey said. “Right now we’ve been making do with salamanders.”

  That was a gruesome thought. “What do you do, burn them?” I asked. “I hope they’re already dead.”

  “Not the lizards,” Joey said. “A salamander is a portable kerosene-fueled heater. We use them a lot on construction sites in the winter, as long as there’s good ventilation.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not burning lizards. I have enough trouble trying to keep Rochester from eating dead ones.”

  “Tell me about it,” Joey said. “Brody’s a canine garbage machine. He picks up rocks, mulch, dead leaves, pretty much anything he can wrap his mouth around.”

  “You’re not making the prospect of dog-sitting him look appealing,” I said.

  “Rochester will keep him in line, I’m sure,” Joey said.

  At the sound of his name, my dog scrambled to his feet, his toenails clicking against the stone, and we walked back to the office. At three-thirty Joey came in and said that he wanted to close up for the holidays, if I didn’t mind. I helped him do a walk-through, making sure everything was secured for the two-week break, that all the water lines were shut down and all the buildings were locked up.

  When I got home, there were two fragrant trays of lasagna cooling on the counter. “I hope one of those is for us,” I said, as I kissed Lili’s cheek.

  She pushed aside an auburn curl that had come out of her loose ponytail. “You think I would tantalize you like that?” she said, smiling.

  “I am sure you are capable of many things.” I leaned down and took a deep breath of meat, cheese and mushr
ooms. “As well as being an awesome cook.”

  I was trying to stop feeding Rochester people food, though it was an uphill battle. At dinner I ended up giving him a few nibbles of ground beef from my plate. As long as he expressed his appreciation by wagging his tail, Lili didn’t mind.

  After we finished we set the menorah in the sink so that the candles could continue to burn without danger of falling over and igniting something. Then we drove to Edith’s Cape Cod house in the Lakes. We parked in front of the house and Rochester left a message for the neighborhood dogs that he’d passed by.

  A skinny, nervous Haitian girl in her late teens or early twenties answered our knock. “Hi,” Lili said, and introduced us. “We’re here to see Edith.”

  The girl, whose name was Staylene, was clearly frightened of Rochester. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite,” I said. “And Edith specially asked us to bring him.”

  Edith’s house was compact and cozy, with the living room to the right, and where others might have placed a dining room table, she had installed a baby grand piano – the very one where I had endured three years of lessons as a kid. Beyond it was her cheery yellow kitchen, decorated with framed music memorabilia – concert programs, autographed promotional shots of famous pianists, and her own photos of concert halls around the world, where she had traveled with her late husband.

  We handed the lasagna and cake to Staylene, who took it toward the kitchen. Lili, Rochester and I turned left, toward Edith’s bedroom. We found her sitting propped up in a double bed, surrounded by pink pillows. Opera music was playing softly in the background.

  Staylene had teased out Edith’s white hair for her and applied a bit of blush to her cheeks, so she looked a lot healthier than she had in the nursing home. Rochester paced over to the bed and lifted his nose to sniff her outstretched hand. “Hello my darling,” she said to him. “How nice of you all to come and visit me.” She turned to the radio by the bed and shut the music down. “It was so wonderful to see you at Crossing Manor, too.”

  “It’s great to see you looking so well. How’s the hip?”

  “It’s surprisingly good,” she said. “I had some arthritis there, and cartilage damage, so it was always painful in cold weather. But with the new hip, that pain is all gone. I’m coping with getting back to my activity level.”

  Lili sat on the bed beside Edith. “We brought you the lasagna I promised, and some leftover carrot cake that Tamsen Morgan made for us.”

  “She’s such a sweet girl,” Edith said. “I remember when she and her sister Hannah were girls, running around the Meeting House. They seemed so full of joy. And then to lose her husband that way….” She shook her head. “Is she still seeing Detective Stemper?”

  I sat on the floor beside Rochester, who kept his head near Edith’s hand. “She is. They appear to be getting along well.”

  We talked for a few minutes. “I’m glad you got out of Crossing Manor,” I said. “Another one of the people we met when we came to see you passed away.”

  “I saw that in the paper,” she said. “He was an awfully nice fellow, Mr. Pappas. He still lived in his family’s house on Lakefront Drive, you know, and sometimes I saw him when I was out walking. I was surprised because his Crohn’s seemed to be in remission and he was planning to go home soon.”

  “Do you think there’s anything suspicious about two deaths in such a short time?” I asked.

  “Suspicious? Not at all. So many of the people at Crossing Manor were very ill, dear. For most of them, it’s the last place they’ll live. I was fortunate that I was just there for rehab. They took good care of me, and the social worker helped me arrange to have a physical therapist come to the house for the next few weeks.” She paused. “The only person there who disturbed me was that young girl. Allison.”

  “Really? She seemed very nice,” Lili said.

  “I’ve known hundreds of young people over the years,” Edith said. “Sweet children like Tamsen and Hannah, curious boys like Steve here. Spoiled brats and prodigies. So believe me when I tell you there’s something not quite right about Allison.”

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to put a finger on it. On the surface, she’s very solicitous. Always has a smile on her face, no matter what anyone asks her to do. But I got the sense that she has a very dark place inside her.”

  “I thought it was odd that she told us she had to stop being a candy striper at the hospital,” Lili asked. “Did she ever tell you why?”

  “She said she didn’t get along with one of the nurses,” Edith said. “And she had this almost morbid fascination with what was wrong with people, which might have upset some of the patients. I remember she talked to Mr. Pappas about his Crohn’s Disease several times and it was almost like she relished him having a tough prognosis.”

  “I admire a teenager who’s willing to give up her free time to help others,” I said. “Though I did find her tongue piercing creepy and sometimes it was hard to understand her. But you know, teenagers are always trying to find ways to express themselves.”

  Edith yawned, and Lili stood up. “We’ll leave you to get your rest,” she said. “I hope you enjoy the lasagna.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I will, dear,” Edith said. She thanked us again for coming, and petted Rochester goodbye.

  “Now, you be careful,” I said to Edith as I stopped by her bedroom door. “No more accidents, all right?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  7 – My Child

  Friday morning I tried to sleep in, enjoying the start of a long vacation, but Rochester wanted to go for his walk. I stumbled into my sweat pants, long-sleeved T-shirt, woolen socks and running shoes. Added a sweater, scarf, hat and gloves, and then I was ready to go. I left Lili asleep in bed and followed Rochester downstairs. He leapt the last couple of steps, his toenails scrabbling on the tile floor as he landed. Before we walked out, I peeled back the bandage and checked his paw, and it looked like the nail bed had healed. That meant I could stop the povidone iodine baths, though I knew he had to finish the whole course of antibiotic pills.

  It was cold and clear. The deciduous trees of River Bend had long since lost their leaves, though the occasional pine or spruce still displayed coats of rich, dark green branches. I waved at a couple of neighbors who passed us on their way to work, feeling mildly guilty that I wasn’t going up to Friar Lake. But Joey had already closed the place up, I reasoned, and either Rochester or I would probably muck something up.

  When we returned, I fed Rochester, gave him his pill, and made a pair of cheese and mushroom omelets. Lili came downstairs as I was sliding them onto plates. “Smells delicious,” she said.

  I ushered her to the table and served her breakfast, accompanied by slices of eggy challah bread and a glass of orange juice. We read the papers, and then I left her to clean up and went back upstairs. I read in bed for a while, Rochester sprawled at the foot of the bed, then slid back beneath the covers for a mid-morning nap.

  When I woke to Rochester’s hot breath in my face, I took him out for a quick pee, then hurried back inside to the warmth of the house. He and I played, then he napped and I read for the rest of the afternoon. That night Lili and I lit the candles again, and the glow of the menorah continued to grow. I was glad that we had resurrected that tradition; it was one of those things that make a house a home, and the townhouse on Sarajevo Court had begun to seem much more like a home since Lili had moved in.

  I had been nervous at first, because Lili and I hadn’t known each other for long, and because we’d both grown accustomed to living on our own. But aside from disagreements about clutter (Lili was pro, I was con) and other small aggravations, we were getting along very well.

  Saturday morning after breakfast, I thought about the lonely people at Crossing Manor who had so appreciated the chance to have a furry, golden visitor. Despite the uneasy feeling the place gave me, I thought I ought to go back at least once more. “I might take Rochester back to th
e nursing home today for a quick visit,” I said to Lili. “With the holidays coming, I’m sure some of those people are feeling lonely.”

  “I’ll let you guys go on your own,” Lili said. “I want to work on those photos I took of Jerry Cheseboro and finish the outline for my photojournalism course. I can’t enjoy the vacation with that hanging over me.”

  The same teenager, Allison, was in the lobby when Rochester and I walked in, playing cards with an elderly man. Instead of the scrubs she’d worn before, she was in a turtleneck sweater and torn jeans. “Your friend already went home,” she said. “Mrs. Passis.”

  For a moment I had to concentrate on what she’d said, because her tongue piercing made her mumble on certain words. The more I thought about it, it was probably her piercings that had upset Edith—they bothered me, and I had a lot more experience of people her age through my work at Eastern.

  “I know. We saw her the other night. I thought maybe we could say hi to some of the other patients.”

  Rochester sat beside me, behaving sweetly as he had before, though I noticed he was careful to stay on the other side of me from Allison. I remembered how he’d only been interested in what was in her pocket the last time we’d visited, not in making friends with her, and what Edith had said about her. She seemed like an ordinary teenager to me, but I trusted my dog’s instincts.

  Allison smiled. “I wish there were more people like you. Some of these patients have nobody else, and they don’t have much of a life here.” She looked at the old man, so thin I could see his bones through his skin, who had clear tubes running from his nostrils to a portable oxygen tank. “Unlike Mr. Watnik, who’s a whiz at gin rummy.” She picked a card, and then put down three queens in a lay.