Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

intelligent being in there and I remembered the time I’d gotten past my fear and peered into the eyes of a snake and felt the same way. Lydia sipped her green tea, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a strawberry, biting off a little piece and offering it to Leslie from her hand.
    “Sad thing.”
    I nodded.
    “She was a nice girl. Very sweet. Hardworking. Independent.” She shook her head. “The nicest ones always go”
    “Lydia, did Sophie ever mention any family to you? I’m concerned about the dogs, about who might take them now that Sophie’s gone.”
    “Family? Oh, I don’t think so. ‘Lydia,’ she used to say, ‘you make me happy I’m an orphan.’ But she didn’t mean that. She only said it because Mother is so difficult and she was thinking she was lucky she didn’t have to fly down to Florida every three weeks to get berated by some old bat from the moment she got off the plane until the moment she got back on. ‘Sure, run back to Leslie,’ she shouted as I was leaving. ‘You love that lizard more than you’ve ever loved me.’ Mother still drives, though I doubt you’d want to be on the road when she’s doing it, the stubborn old goat. She’s ninety-three. Still strong enough to push me around, too. I said, ‘Mother, there are wonderful facilities where you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.’ ‘What am I, a cripple?’ she said. ‘All of a sudden I can’t shop and cook?’ ”
    Lydia bit off another piece of strawberry for Leslie. “Oh, I’m sorry, Rachel, it’s just that—”
    “Please don’t apologize. I understand. So there was no family that—”
    “What should I do with the money?”
    “The money?”
    She reached into a pocket and took out some bills. “Sophie’s. Yours. For taking care of Leslie.”
    I shook my head. “Just forget it, okay? But, Lydia, I could use your help. If you could take a minute or so to think back about conversations you had with Sophie over tea. Did she ever mention anyone who might take the animals if. . .”
    She shook her head. “Not to me.”
    When it was time to go, Leslie walked onto Lydia’s shoulder and got her footing, reminding me for just a second of the way my father used to ride me to bed when I was little. I asked Lydia if she needed any of the veggies from Sophie’s refrigerator, but she waved a hand at me. “We’re fine. I have all her favorites,” she said. Following her, Leslie watching, I carried the cage upstairs.
    “Lydia, the super came in last night—in the middle of the night. I was wondering ...”
    “He was always worrying about her, about Sophie, because, you know, her condition, it made people feel protective of her.”
    “But he had to know she was dead.”
    “Well, maybe he saw the light and didn’t know who was there. Maybe he thought someone was messing with her stuff, or with the animals.”
    “Did she ever talk to you about the young man she was seeing?”
    “Shame about that.”
    “What was?”
    “The way it ended.”
    “And how was that?” I asked.
    “Suddenly.”
    “Do you . . . ?”
    She shook her head. “I was with Mother. When I came back to pick up my Leslie, she was crying. She said Herbie had left. He left. That’s all she said.”
    “And you didn’t ask?”
    “I never pry.”
    “I understand. Unfortunately, I have to, otherwise these animals will be without a home.”
    “It’s nice you’re doing that. Are you from the school?“
    “I’m a friend from the dog run,” I said.
    “So you knew him, Herbie?”
    “No. We were never there at the same time. Did you?“
    “Did I what?”
    “Ever meet Herbie?”
    “No, no, no. I don’t go to the dog run.”
    “I meant here.”
    “Why would they want an old lady around when they had each other?”
    “One more thing, Lydia. Was Sophie afraid of anything that you know of, something she might have mentioned to you?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What was that?”
    “Dying,” She put the iguana on the table and put the rest of the strawberry in front of her. “Same as all of us.”
    I waited a moment, just standing there, then I gave her my card and asked her to call if she thought of anything else. “You will,” I told her. “I’m sure of it.”
    I went back downstairs, got dressed, and headed for the dog run with all three dogs in tow; the moment we were settled, Bianca and Dash running in great circles and Blanche curled up next to me on the bench, I dialed the Bomb Squad’s direct line.
    My friend Marty worked