Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

for one or two times when she was home, we never said a word to each other that wasn’t about the dogs. So maybe she has a sister in Terre Haute, but if she does, I don’t know about it.”
    “That’s why I have to get into the apartment, to check her phone book, any diary she might have. I’ll go over to the school, too, see what they know. I bet there are people here who know her,” I said, looking around the run. “You know how people talk here. It’s almost like airplane talk.“
    “What’s that?”
    “Um, movie-line talk.”
    He still looked confused. Maybe he didn’t talk to strangers no matter where he was. Or maybe he wasn’t playing with a full deck. Being a dog walker, as long as you didn’t lose them, who was going to tell if you were spaced out half the time?
    “You figure you’re never going to see the person again,” I said, “so you spill your guts.”
    He thought it over. “That doesn’t make sense. The same people come here every day. You are going to see them again. And again. You’re going to see them even if you’re sick of them. And even if you told them the most embarrassing thing you ever did in your whole life.”
    “Right. But the dogs are here. So people talk anyway. Haven’t you ever noticed that, when dogs are around, people open up more? That’s why pet therapy works.”
    He nodded.
    “Have you done that, too?”
    “Yeah. I do it when I have the time. But sometimes, after the walking, I just need to be home, with Margaret.“
    “What breed is she?”
    “I don’t know. One with too much energy. I found her one day when I was walking dogs and took her home. I tried to find her owner, but I couldn’t. So then I tried to find her a good home.”
    “And you did.”
    “Yeah. I did.”
    “We might have to do that with Sophie’s two. Find them a good home.”
    He looked at Blanche, sleeping on my lap, and shook his head, as if to say, An eleven-year-old dog with bad arthritis? Good luck on that.
    “First I have to talk to every single person Sophie knew. She must have thought about this eventuality. She must have. She was crazy about these dogs.”
    “More than you know.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Wait till you find out what you have to do to feed Blanche. A couple of times, Sophie asked me to go to the health food store for her, when she couldn’t do it herself. She got tired easily and I didn’t mind helping her out. I always told her that.”
    “The health food store?”
    I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t get an answer until later, when he took ten minutes to write it all down for me. Finding a home for an old dog is always difficult. Finding a home for a dog on Blanche’s diet, I thought, looking at the list of things I’d have to buy on the way home, would take a major miracle.
    Dashiell came over to make sure I still smelled the same, then ran back to Bianca. Mel looked around, as if he didn’t know quite where he was, as if he was still figuring it out on the spot—dogs, people sitting on benches, a water bowl, ah, the dog run.
    “Did Burns ask you a lot of questions?”
    “Who?”
    He must have still been recovering from the shock of seeing Sophie dead.
    ‘The detective who stayed inside with you.”
    He pulled a card out of his pocket. “He gave me this but I never looked at it. I was too nervous. Right. Dennis Burns. No, not too many, once I explained why I was there.”
    “You wouldn’t think he’d have to ask, not with those.” I pointed to the keys hanging from his belt. There must have been at least thirty on the ring.
    “Could have thought I was the super,” he said.
    “Guess he could have. Burke asked me who you were, too.”
    Detective Burke, the smaller of the two detectives, a little guy the color of a walnut shell with muscles waiting in line to pop out. He’d taken me outside, to Third Street, to talk while Mel and Burke’s partner stayed inside.
    “Makes sense. They probably like to double-check everything. He asked me how long I knew you, too,” Mel said, giving me a sweet, sad little smile.
    “What’d you say?”
    “I asked him what time it was, so I could be entirely forthcoming with him.”
    “So what else did Burns want to know?”
    “What your connection to Sophie was?”
    “And you said?”
    He shrugged. “That I didn’t know. That you said you were worried about her because she hadn’t shown up at work today and she hadn’t called to say she wasn’t coming in. I told them you insisted on