Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

mostly indecipherable.
    I began to check Venus’s files, which were also, as I thought they’d be, meticulous and easy to understand—so easy, in fact, that it only took minutes to find Venus’s copy of Harry’s will, which made me feel so smug that I almost closed the file drawer without looking at it.
    That would have been a huge mistake, because when I changed my mind, I noticed something peculiar. This copy was not the same as the one I’d faxed home. This one was only eleven days old. It had been completed and signed a week and a day before Harry’s death.
    Venus’s fax machine was on the shelf behind her desk. I took out the staple, slipped the pages into place, and dialed my number, sending the newer will home, then watched as the originals emerged from the machine, touched down on the skinny shelf, and slid onto the floor.
    Just as the machine beeped its loudest signal, telling me the job had been successfully completed, Homer spoke, jump-starting my adrenal gland and making my heart pound. I hadn’t heard him over the gurgling of the machine.
    “She get a fax?” he asked. “People have no sense, doing business in the middle of the night. Of course, half the time Dr. Kagan’s here, coming in eleven, twelve o’clock at night, working until it’s almost light out, then grabbing a couple of hours of sleep on his couch. He says he can think better when things are quiet. Says he gets more done then.”
    “No fax this time,” I said, “that was Dashiell. It was just an accident. You know that old expression, Curiosity killed the cat? Well, dogs, they’re, uh, just as bad. He’s always poking everything with that big nose of his, so he can get the scent of it. He probably just sniffed the send button on the fax.”
    Dashiell looked up at me, his brow pleated in concern. To him, my heartbeat must have sounded like hail on a tin roof. Not one to miss a serendipitous opportunity, I tapped the desk with one finger, and Dashiell obeyed, his paws landing with a thunk right where I’d pointed.
    “See what I mean?” I told Homer. “He probably thinks Venus has a jar of dog biscuits up here, like I do at home. He’s a big boy,” I said, “with a big appetite. Always looking to snag a snack.”
    If I kept running off at the mouth, maybe Homer wouldn’t notice the pages of Harry’s will lying on the rug behind the desk.
    “Well, let’s get him what he’s after. I can lock up here, and we can go to the kitchen. I’m ready for a cup of tea myself. Can I make you one, Rachel, before you head home?”
    “It was busy,” I said.
    “Say again?”
    “The phone.”
    Dashiell was psyched, listening carefully for the next cue. Thinking he’d heard it, he put his paws back up on the desk, lifted the handset, and when he discovered that he couldn’t get anywhere with it, because unlike the one at home, this phone had a cord, he dropped it hard onto the desk, which is how I found out that in my haste I hadn’t screwed the mouthpiece back on properly. There it was, lying on the desk, inches away from where it belonged.
    “Oh, my god, he broke the phone,” I said, grateful the bug hadn’t been dislodged and gone skittering across Venus’s desk. My luck, it would have landed on the floor, right next to the copy of Harry’s will.
    Homer took a few steps closer, lifted the handset, studied it for a moment, then screwed the phone back together.
    “Must have been loose,” he said. “Ready for your cup of tea, Rachel?”
    “My boyfriend—his line was busy. He was probably trying to call me. Do you mind if I try him again?”
    “ ’Course not.”
    He stood there, hands on the desk, watching.
    “Maybe you could put the kettle up. I could meet you in the kitchen in a minute.”
    “Sure, I could,” he said, but he gave me a funny look.
    Then he got it. Or thought he did.
    “Young people,” he said, starting to pull the door shut behind him.
    “That locks automatically, doesn’t it?” I asked. “I don’t want to leave Venus’s office open.”
    Homer checked the latch. “Locks when you close it,” he said. “You know where the kitchen is?”
    “I do. Besides, Dashiell could find it. There’s food there, isn’t there?”
    “Right you are.”
    This time he left the door open.
    “I’m going to close this. It’s late, and it makes me feel spooky.”
    “I can wait right here if you like.”
    “No, I’m dying for that tea. Besides, Dash will close it. Step outside. I’ll show