Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

‘The door was locked, of course. Lisa wouldn’t have left it open when she was here alone late at night, even with Ch’an to protect her. I unlocked the door, and one of the two detectives who came up to the studio took my arm and pulled me aside. The other drew his gun, he shouted ‘Police’ and waited, but there was no sound, nothing. We stayed in the hall and he went in.
    “For a moment I was just blank, just seeing the hand, turned up, like so, as if to catch rain. Then I remembered Ch’an and was polluted by the fear that the detective would be frightened of her and shoot.
    “ ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I called out to him. ‘Don’t shoot the dog.’ “The second one opened the door wide, and we both stepped in. The room was dark, the way we worked last night, you and I, the studio lit only by the moon. It was empty.
    “The first detective was just walking into the office, and I heard him gasp. I thought to myself, God, no, someone else is lying dead on the floor.
    “We went to the doorway to see, myself and the other detective. But it was Ch’an who had startled him. That’s all it was. She was lying on her mat, her head up, her front paws crossed, one over the other, looking at us, as if nothing at all had happened.” He put a hand on his chest and rubbed it, as if by doing so he could erase his grief. “What about the note, Avi ? Where was the note?”
    “It was on the desk, in front of the computer. ‘There’s a suicide note,’ the first detective said. I am not ashamed to tell you, the tears were flowing from my eyes that night, too, Rachel. I don’t know why, but the thought of her sitting at my desk and writing ... Poor Lisa .“
    “Did you read it? Did they show it to you?”
    “Yes, yes, I read it,” he said. “First the second detective read it. They each leaned over the desk to read it. No one touched it. They asked me to do the same. To read it, but not to touch it. I did. They asked me if it was Lisa’s writing. I told them it was.” Avi took a few breaths. When he had calmed himself, he continued. “Even then,” he said, “with all three of us in the room, Ch’an never moved. She just stayed on her mat, watching us. I guess she was in shock.”
    “She was just being an Akita ,” I said.
    “What do you mean?”
    If he didn’t understand Ch’an after living with her, how could I explain her to him?
    I looked at my watch. “I have to get up early,” I told him. “I better go.” I tapped my leg for Dash, but then hesitated at the door. “Will you keep Ch’an , Avi ? I don’t think Lisa’s parents want her.”
    The Akita had gotten up when Dashiell did. She stood quietly next to Avi , looking off to the side, as if she were in another world and none of this had anything to do with her.
    “She belongs here, Avi , with you.”
    “Go home, Rachel,” he said. “It’s late. Let me not keep you any longer.”

11

Was There a Message Here?

    I COULDN’T REMEMBER if it had been the homeopathic veterinarian or the holistic dentist who had told me about Rabbi Lazar Zuckerman, but he hadn’t asked how I’d heard about him, so I hadn’t had to lie to a man of God.
    I had left a message for him yesterday afternoon. He had left one for me after sundown, when he could use the phone without breaking the laws of God. He said I could come the following morning. But since I hadn’t spoken to him, I hadn’t had the chance to say I was bringing a pit bull with me.
    He was seventy-five if he was a day, but crouching so that he could embrace Dashiell, he looked about eight. His eyes, behind rimless glasses, were a faded hazel, but wise and full of light. I think it s a job requirement. He had a full head of hair, steely gray ringlets, a black yaimulke held onto the back of his head with a single bobby pin, and the obligatory rabbinical beard, long, full, and wonderfully unkempt.
    “Rabbi Zuckerman,” I said.
    He stood and looked intensely into my face.
    All the way here I had been expecting short and stout, perhaps because of his deep, rich voice, but the rabbi was as tall and slender as a young tree, if not quite as lithe.
    “I hope it’s okay about the dog?”
    He waved his hand in front of me, as if he were saying hello, to stop the false apology. “Come, come, both of you,” he said, leading me into a dining room off to the right, “we have important work to do.”
    We sat at a dark mahogany table on chairs so huge I felt my feet wouldn’t touch the ground.