Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

until there were no more logs to split. Then I sat quietly on the steps, my dog on one side of me leaning in, those perfect roses on the other, until the stars began to disappear, the color of the sky lightened, the first bird began to sing. And when it did, I sat some more.

26

Be Not Afraid

    WHEN THE GARDEN was filled with the sweet, clean light of morning, I spread the yellow roses under the bushes across from the cottage to mulch. Then, sticking my sore hands into my pockets, I felt the fortune cookie I’d never opened. I broke it in half and held the pieces for Dashiell to eat while I read the message. It was a proverb. Be not afraid of going slowly, be afraid only of standing still.
    I went inside and gave Dashiell food and water, ran a bath, and while the tub was filling, put my gun and bullets on the top shelf of the closet. Later, dressed in Lisa’s comfortable black workout clothes, I called Goodwill to arrange for them to pick up the physical evidence of my brief marriage in exchange for a generous tax deduction. When I hung up, I saw that Dashiell was fast asleep on the couch. He was so tired, he hadn’t finished his food. I gave him a kiss and headed for Bank Street T’ai Chi alone.
    I took the stairs, walking slowly. I had, after all, been up all night. The door was locked, but when I unlocked it, I found Avi there with Ch’an . He was at his desk paying bills.
    “Ach,” he said, “I hate this. Lisa used to do this for me. Now the bills pile up, and I have to sit glued to a chair for hours to take care of them.”
    “I’ll do that for you,” I told him, one hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Go. Go for a walk. I’ll leave everything ready for your signature when I finish.”
    I picked up Ch’an’s leash and held it out to Avi . He opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind. He merely waved it away with one big hand.
    “You keep her,” he said, his eyebrows pinched together, his brow tense.
    “Okay,” I told him. “No problem.”
    “And give her a little walk before you leave, Rachel,” he said without looking at me. “I won’t be back for her until this evening.”
    I waited to hear the door close and the tumbler turn over. Then I pushed the stack of unpaid bills aside. While the computer was booting up, I rolled back the tape on the answering machine and began to listen. Avi rarely picked up the phone, even when he was at his desk.
    There were five messages on the machine, all inquiries about beginning classes, requests for brochures. I rolled the tape back and played it again, addressing the five brochures, then began surfing Avi’s files, looking at the dates and times the computer automatically adds to each directory. Avi had been working on-screen yesterday, starting at one thirty. Unfortunately, I could see only when he logged on, not when he’d finished working.
    There were no classes on Friday afternoon or evening, no way of knowing if Avi had been here or not. I slit open the envelopes in the pile of bills, checked each against last month’s billing, and wrote the checks I’d promised I’d write, leaving the stack for his signature when I’d finished, even stamping the envelopes for him. Then, before closing down the computer and shutting off the light, I checked one more thing, Avi’s personnel files. I copied down the addresses I didn’t already have, making sure to check my own as well. I was listed as living at Lisa’s apartment, with Lisa’s phone number. I wasn’t in the phone book. Still, somebody knew where I really lived.
    I patted my lap for Ch’an , and she came and laid her big head across my thighs, sighing as she did. I put one finger inside one of her ears, and she began to moan, the way Dashiell always does. That’s when I noticed the tag on her collar. I picked it up and looked at it. It wasn’t her license. It was her ID tag, complete with Lisa’s name, address, and phone number.
    Like Lisa, I would never risk losing my dog. Dashiell too had an ID tag on his collar, a brass plate attached to the leather collar with two rivets, for complete security. His had only my name and number on it, no address, because my life’s mission was to raise paranoia to a high art. So my secret admirer had had to be extra clever to have both my phone number and address.
    No problem. Whoever stood across from Lisa’s apartment, looking up at her windows, could have followed me home. But it hadn’t been Paul, had it? It