Rachel Alexander 05 - The Wrong Dog

Blanche?”
    “Yes. And the puppy, Bianca. I need to find Sophie’s next of kin to see if they’ll take—”
    “Hold on.”
    I did. She was back in a minute.
    “She did give us a name, just in case. Some people don’t like to, but with epilepsy, doctor insists. It’s Preston Wexford. He’s a cousin.”
    She gave me two numbers with an area code I didn’t recognize, and I thanked her profusely. Then I hit reset and dialed the first one, getting an answering machine. The message said I’d reached Wexford Realty and that my call was extremely important to them. I was urged to leave my name and number so that my call could be returned promptly. I did, leaving Sophie’s number as well as my own. A machine picked up when I called the second number, too.
    I began to pull files out of the desk drawer, the dog file first. I took my wallet out of my pocket and pulled out the picture of Herbie. Then I had half a dozen photos on the desk, all facedown. I knew exactly what to expect. The same person had not written all the names. Sophie’s printing was small and neat. She had been a teacher, after all. There was a uniformity to her letters, no confusing a t and an I. The printing on the back of the photo of the young man was different. For instance, the first e and the second e were different. If a teacher did that, the kids would only get confused. And the h was capitalized, but so was the b. I’d been so happy to find the photo, I hadn’t examined the writing. Instead, I’d wasted a morning and let whoever my opponent was think I was dumb as a brick.
    Which might work to my advantage.
    At least, that was the thought I chose to soothe myself with.
    I looked through the dog file again, determined to be thorough this time because I had the feeling that, one way or another, I’d be losing access to the apartment soon. If Burke and Burns didn’t decide to come back and have another look-see, surely the landlord would want to have the place emptied, painted, and ready to rent.
    This time I looked at each page of the medical files, hoping to find something that would tell me where to go with this case. I stopped when I got to a pamphlet about the BAER test and that’s when I realized that one of the notations on the slip of paper Sophie had gotten from Loma West did not refer to an inoculation. I fished in my wallet for that paper and lay it down on the desk. Bianca had had a six-in-one shot to protect her against distemper, parvovirus, leptospirosis, hepatitis, adenovirus, and parainfluenza. The usual suspects. Next to that was the date the shot had been given and when the boosters were due. Bianca had been too young for a rabies shot, so that wasn’t listed. But at the bottom of the page, it said “B test, normal.” Side by Side had had Bianca’s hearing tested. White dogs, like the bullies, have a higher percentage of deafness than the rest of the dog population. Someone wanted to be certain that they weren’t giving a handicapped dog to a handicapped owner.
    I held the piece of paper in my hand, thinking about that. I could see Bianca out in the garden, playing with Dashiell. She was bright and energetic, a really terrific dog. When I whistled softly, she and Dashiell both turned and looked at me. Bianca’s hearing was perfect. Watching Bianca twirling around like a dervish, I couldn’t find any fault with her. Sometimes when you fool around with Mother Nature, you end up with a specimen that can’t reproduce. But so far, that didn’t seem to be the case with cloning; Dolly the sheep had just given birth to three lambs.
    Wherever we ended up, Dash and Bianca would sleep well. They’d been racing since dinner and showed no signs of quitting. Blanche was behind me, asleep on Sophie’s bed, her head on the pillow, her feet twitching. She was sleeping most of the time now, especially when she was home.
    I thought about taking her to see Sophie’s class. I wondered if that would cheer her up or, since she’d only been to school with Sophie, if it would depress her all the more.
    Thinking about what the boys had said, I turned on the laptop, went on-line, and, before doing a search, checked Sophie’s list of favorite web sites, then clicked on exactly what I was looking for, VetGen, the lab that had tested Blanche and Bianca’s DNA. There I found instructions for collecting DNA samples. There was nothing about contamination from mother’s milk, but it did suggest that in order to avoid contamination