Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

that dinner would be ready soon. He seemed to talk to the dogs a lot, whispering his plans into their big ears. When he came out, Blanche was right behind him.
    He was acting so strange, I wanted to go into the bedroom and check things out for myself. Instead, I kept chopping and grinding. I thought it would be better to act as if nothing was bothering me and wait until he was gone before I got to work.
    He stood there watching. “Did you find out anything else?”
    I shook my head. I didn’t mention Herbie. Or Vacor. I thought it would be better to get information, not to give any. At this point, now that I knew Sophie had been murdered, I had to view everyone as a possible enemy. But even though Mel seemed more tense than he’d been previously, I couldn’t imagine him as the killer. Even thinking creatively, it was hard to come up with a motive that would inspire him to kill his client.
    He asked me if I’d found any relatives. I shook my head again. Then he said if I didn’t, he’d take Bianca. He seemed enthusiastic about it. Almost anxious. He shuffled his feet around, looked out into the garden, then asked if he should come by the next day and take Bianca to the run. I told him no, I’d do it, no problem. He said he wouldn’t mind and he didn’t care about the money. I still declined, anxious for him to leave. But he didn’t. He hung around, leaning against one wall, then moving to another, as if he needed something outside himself to prop him up. After a long silence, he thought of another reason to stay. He asked if I wanted pizza. I bet you’re not eating, he said. He told me he thought I’d lost some weight and that he’d get the pizza if I wanted it. It was no trouble, he said, the pizza place across the street was terrific. He always got a couple of slices, he told me, after walking Bianca, sometimes even on the way to the run, even though you’re not supposed to bring food in there because it’s inflammatory for some dogs. I shook my head, no, I didn’t want pizza, thank you very much. How about Japanese? he wanted to know. It’s only two doors away. Or did I want a sandwich? He knew a good place for sandwiches he said, and he didn’t mind going there. He’d take Bianca with him, he said. He said he missed walking her.
    I told him I wasn’t hungry, that what I wanted was the chance to look through Sophie’s papers one more time, while I still had the chance. I told him I didn’t think the apartment would be kept intact much longer. He asked me why. I just shrugged. When he asked a second time, I told him I thought the landlord would be anxious to rent it again. He nodded.
    “Are you staying over?” he asked.
    I hadn’t decided what I’d do. I had my notes with me, and the tapes I’d made when I talked to Sophie, but I told him I was going home and wished he would, too, so that I could get to work.
    He shrugged and shuffled his feet some more. I took his arm and walked him to the door. I thanked him for being so helpful. I said I couldn’t possibly get through all this without him. At that, he gave me a big smile. I promised I’d let him know what was going on, looking as sincere as I could but not meaning what I said. Finally, though I was beginning to think he never would, he left. I waited until I thought he was out of the building, then went back to the kitchen to finish preparing the dogs’ food.
    While the dogs were eating, I went into Sophie’s room. Everything looked the same. I wondered why Mel had been acting so peculiar, not that I’d ever seen him act any other way. But I didn’t have time to worry about it. I pulled out my cell phone and tried the doctor’s office again, surprised when I got a person instead of a machine.
    I explained what had happened and asked for the name and address of Sophie’s next of kin, trying to sound as official as I could. But the nurse told me that the doctor’s policy forbade giving out personal information unless the patient had signed a release or if I was a relative.
    “But that’s the whole point,” I said. “If I was a relative, I’d know the other relatives. I wouldn’t need you at all. But since I’m not, I don’t, and Sophie’s dead, so she can’t sign a release.”
    “You don’t seem to understand,” she said, much more patient than I had been. But then, she wasn’t racing the clock.
    “No,” I said, “you don’t seem to understand. I’m taking care of Sophie’s dogs—”
    “You have