Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

arm coming from behind, circling around the front, the other hand snapping the neck. I pictured his hands reaching up to pull the arm away, but it wouldn’t have happened like that. There wouldn’t have been time for Paul’s face to register surprise. At least that was a merciful thought.
    For a moment my mouth tasted sour, and I thought that one small piece of burger I’d eaten was coming back up my throat. Then young Skip returned to the desk, catching me with my nose in the appointment book.
    “She’s booked solid, huh?” I said, looking disappointed. “I was hoping she could squeeze me in.”
    “She said if you could wait,” he said, turning the book around so that it faced him, “her six canceled. But what she wanted to know was if you wanted to go get something to eat maybe, instead of working out?”
    I looked at the clock on the wall behind him. It was only four forty-five.
    “Great idea. Tell her I’ll wait for her at her desk,” I said, picking up a fitness magazine and looking toward the comer where Janet’s desk sat, partly hidden behind a screen. From where I was standing, I could see Janet’s chair, her jacket draped over the back.
    “You got it,” he said, heading back into the gym.
    “Thanks,” I said, hightailing it to the desk and picking Janet’s jacket pocket before he could return to say, “She said, ‘Cool.’ ” A moment later, Janet’s keys in my hot little hand, I was at the front door before Skip had skipped back to the front desk to notice I had changed my mind. But when I opened the door, the buzzer sounded, and I heard him behind me.
    “Aren’t you staying?” he asked. “I told her you’d wait.”
    “I thought I’d take a walk. I’ll be back by six.”
    He nodded and started fiddling with the tape deck, probably turning up the volume; there were still two or three people in the gym who hadn’t suffered significant hearing loss from the music yet.
    Janet lived on Grove Street . On the way there, I was hoping she didn’t have a roommate.
    She was on the top floor of what had once been a glorious town house, and now, like so many others, had been divided into small apartments and treated with not so benign neglect, inside and out.
    Janet’s apartment was in the rear. Keys in my hand, I knocked first, just in case, then waited and listened. I thought I heard something inside. I knocked again. This time I waited longer but heard nothing. I slipped the key into the lock and gave it a turn. Then what I saw gave me a turn.
    Standing a few feet in front of me, square in the middle of a pretty, colorful handwoven carpet, her pretty, feminine head cocked to one side, her dark eyes curious and cautious, was a large white Akita .
    I stood completely still. Even the sort of dog who wouldn’t alert its owner when his Lincoln was being stolen might, at some given moment, feel it was her turn to save the day.
    But once I’d had a moment to look at the Akita , I could see that she was just a big puppy, six or seven months old. She wagged her curled tail in slow motion, first to one side, sweeping over her back and leaning over her flank, and then, ever so slowly, to the other.
    “Who’s my good girl?” I said, kneeling down, arms to the side, my voice animated.
    Head down, eyes squinchy , forehead wrinkled, the Akita came into my arms to be hugged. I confirmed her gender with one hand, using the other to scratch her neck. I kissed her small, triangular ears and read the tag on her collar, “ Pola Bear.” Then I checked my watch and got to work.
    I started with Janet’s desk, going through her receipts and bills, looking for something, I didn’t know what. I didn’t think Janet was sending those roses, but hey, this was the Village, anything was possible. Still, I didn’t find receipts from a florist. Janet’s receipts were all from the Foot Locker, Paragon Sporting Goods, or the Athletic Attic. But before I left the desk, I did find something interesting. Apparently Janet, like most other trainers, spread her services around in order to make more money. What I found was a 1099 from the Club. The world was rapidly becoming a smaller place.
    I walked through Janet’s apartment, looking at her stuff. Stewie had said Janet lived in the gym, but her place was warm and homey, particularly for me, since it had the two things I needed to call a place home, a dog and plenty of sunlight. I looked in the closets and found exactly what I would have expected— workout