Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

have been a better choice. She reached for the sandwich, then changed her mind, picking up one of the pale, greasy French fries, dipping it into the pool of ketchup she’d poured onto her plate and putting it into her mouth.
    “It was difficult for her to meet men,” she said, reaching for another fry. “She hardly tried. She said the epilepsy always scared them off anyway, if not at first, then after they got to witness a seizure.”
    “It doesn’t take much to scare people off.”
    “You can say that again.” This time she picked up her Coke and drank about half of what was in her glass. “Even friends.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Ruth shrugged.
    “How come you weren’t scared off?”
    “We had a lot in common.”
    Her nose got red. Her eyes filled with tears again.
    “Like what?”
    I handed her a clean napkin and waited while she took off her glasses and dabbed her eyes.
    “Well, work, for one thing. Our devotion to the kids.” Yeah, yeah, I thought, devotion to the kids.
    “And we were both single.”
    “Go on.”
    I was still waiting for pay dirt.
    “She got me this job.” She was fighting off another onslaught of tears. “I’d been out of work for a while. I’d told her that when we met, and two weeks later, I was working at the school. It was serendipity, she said, that I needed a job just when the school needed a receptionist.”
    “Where did you meet?”
    “The foundation.”
    “For epilepsy?”
    Ruth nodded. “So I can tell you she was right. A lot of guys ...”
    I reached across the table and patted her hand.
    “We were very close. We talked on the phone all the time.”
    “Ruth, did you talk to Sophie on Sunday, by any chance?”
    She shook her head.
    “I called her twice, but there was no answer and I didn’t leave a message.”
    “Why not?”
    She shrugged her shoulders and began to cry. I pulled another napkin from the dispenser and held it out for her. “I thought...”
    Ruth blew her nose.
    “Sometimes it’s hard for me to think someone really wants to talk to me.” She tried to bury her face in the small napkin.
    “But why?”
    “Because of the epilepsy.”
    “But Sophie had the same—”
    “It doesn’t matter. Being different, it does terrible things to your self-esteem. Oh, I know Sophie loved me. And most of the time I was okay, at least with her. But I was having a bad weekend and when I’d talked to her the day before, on Saturday, she sort of blew me off. She was so preoccupied.”
    “Did she say what it was about?”
    “Of course. She told me everything.”
    “Then you know why she hired me.”
    “I’m sorry about the mistake on the phone.”
    I waved my hand over my unfinished sandwich, to tell her not to give it a thought.
    “It wasn’t a mistake,” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, I didn’t want to say, in case you weren’t the PI.“
    “I see. Well, don’t worry about it in either case.”
    “I don’t know what she told you, Rachel,” she said, not meeting my eyes, “but the real reason she hired you was to see if she could have me put on the list.”
    “The list?”
    “For a Blanche clone.”
    “But—”
    “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t give up a good idea after trying only once, do you? And anyway, she said maybe the two Other girls are alerting. That was one of the things she wanted to find out, once you put her in touch with Side by Side.” She picked up her soda but didn’t drink. “You will still do it, won’t you?” she asked. “Because Sophie thought if the other girls were alerting, she’d let them clone Blanche again and that this time I would get the free puppy.”
    When I didn’t answer her, she went on, leaning across the table and talking even faster.
    “I don’t have a lot of money. But I do have a steady job now, so I could borrow some. I don’t know what you arranged with Sophie, but if it’s a matter of money—”
    “I don’t understand something. Have you been looking for a seizure dog? Or did this just come up recently?“
    “I’ve always been a little afraid of dogs.” She started to tear little pieces off the damp napkin. “But I’m not afraid of Blanche.”
    Dashiell was using my left foot for a pillow. I wondered how she’d felt when I’d walked in with him.
    “What about ...” I indicated Dashiell’s whereabouts with a tilt of my head.
    “I saw you coming down the block and he seemed so ...”
    I raised my eyebrows.
    “Sweet. It’s the way