Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

lips. “Wait until they’re finished so you and Lady can make a grand entrance,” I whispered.
    He frowned, but stopped. Marty was right. He was as nutty as a fruitcake.
    “Really.How about half the estate?” Janice said.
    “New York State is not a community property state. Dad’s right. She doesn’t get a dime. The money is all in trust for Harbor View.”
    “Well, what about my sister’s personal things, her jewelry, for example?” Arlene asked, her voice even louder than it had been before. “Why wasn’t that mentioned in the will. It was supposed—”
    “Right. Where’s the diamond necklace, for example?” Janice asked.
    “That was all explained to you,” Eli said. “All her personal effects had been left to Harry in her will. He was therefore free to leave them, or give them, to whomever—”
    “So she gets my sister’s things?”
    There was a silence then.
    Samuel turned to look at me again. But before I had the chance to say anything, Nathan spoke up.
    “Shouldn’t we table this until my brother gets out of jail?”
    “Good luck on that .”
    Had there been a smirk minutes ago, it was gone now, replaced by the panic in Samuel’s eyes.
    No, not panic. Rage.
    “You told them,” he whispered through his teeth.
    I shook my head. ‘The police must have called.“
    „Bailey, how could you think that Samuel killed anyone? It’s all a terrible mistake. His arrest, it was preposterous.”
    “Take it easy, Dad.”
    “I don’t care what they said. I cannot believe—”
    And then he looked up, because Arlene and Bailey had seen Samuel in the doorway, me standing right next to him, Dashiell behind me, his tail straight out behind him like a rudder, Lady already in the dining room, wiggling and panting because the kids were there, sitting like zombies at their places, the dirty dishes from lunch still in front of them.
    Now no one was listening to Eli. They were all staring at Samuel.
    And Lady.
    The kids noticed her, too, in whatever way they could.
    “It’s Lady,” Cora called out.
    “She’s—” Dora began.
    “Back,” Cora finished, clapping her hands.
    “But who’s—”
    “That other dog?”
    Jackson stood. He thrummed his arms up and down in front of his stained shirt, as if he were beating an imaginary drum, then walked out of the dining room, ignoring both dogs as he passed.
    Charlotte began to moan and hit her chest with her fists.
    Willy got up. He was wearing a pair of socks on his hands. He began to walk toward Lady, but when he saw Dashiell, he stopped, looking from one to the other. Then he began to cry, wiping his eyes with the socks, a method to his madness.
    I unhooked both leashes, letting the dogs go to them.
    Then Eli was standing.
    “Samuel,” he said, as if he were looking at a ghost.
    “What’s going on? What’s happened? How did you get out? Where did Lady come from?”
    And as Samuel walked toward his father, Eli got up. “Excuse me,” he said to the Pooles, “I have to talk to my son.”
    Samuel began to cry. Eli handed him a handkerchief and led the way out, glaring at me as he passed by, heading toward his office.
    “We were just going,” Arlene called after him, standing and smoothing her skirt, then patting her hair. “I’ll call you, Eli.”
    But Eli ignored her. He was deep in conversation with Samuel. I watched as they went into the office and locked the door behind them.
    After Arlene, Janice, and Bailey left, passing me as they did David, as if I weren’t there, Nathan got up. He came and put his hand on my arm, leading me back out into the lobby, then toward the garden door.
    “I’d prefer it if you didn’t interfere again. My father is extremely upset about what you did,” he said.
    “Is he?”
    “He thinks you should have talked to him about your—”
    “Theories?”
    “Yes, your little theories. He’s not thrilled that you carted his son off to the police.”
    “I bet he isn’t.”
    “You have a real attitude, don’t you?” He unlocked the garden door, and we walked out into the heat.
    Homer must have been working here recently. There was a bag of fertilizer near the door and a spade propped against the wall, a couple of small bushes waiting to go into the ground. The hose was uncoiled, too. I stepped over it as I walked away from the door.
    “You seem to be enjoying all this, as if it’s all some sort of joke.”
    “Not at all, Nathan. I don’t consider the death of Harry Dietrich nor the attempt on his