S Is for Silence

long stories of much-loved dogs and how they perished, tales of cats crossing state lines to reconnect with owners after long-distance moves. There were more succinct replies:
    “No clue.”
    “Can’t help.”
    “Sorry, the boss is gone for the day and I’ve only worked here three weeks.”
    “You might try Dr. Water’s Pet Hospital out on Donovan Road.”
    “I already talked to him, but thanks.”
    “What makes you think it was someone around here. Pomeranians are bred and sold all over the country. The dog could have come from another state.”
    “I’m aware of that. I was thinking along the lines of an impulse buy. You know, you pass a pet store, you glance in the window, and there’s the cutest little pup you’ve ever seen.”
    I chatted with veterinarians and vet’s assistants, pet-store owners, clerks, and dog groomers. I felt as though my tongue were starting to swell. I was on call number twenty-one when the receptionist at a twenty-four-hour emergency facility dropped the first helpful suggestion I’d heard: “If I were you, I’d try Animal Control. They might keep records going back that far, especially if you’re talking about a puppy mill and there was ever a complaint.”
    “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
    As it turned out, Animal Control kept no such files. The man who answered the phone was apologetic, and I thought for a moment that would be the end of it, but he said, “What’s this about?”
    I went through my truncated account at the end of which there was a moment of quiet. “You know who I think you’re looking for? There was a woman who operated a boarding facility about six miles out Highway 166, right where it intersects Robinson Road. I believe she got into breeding Pomeranians in the early fifties, though it didn’t come to much. Rin Tin Tin was the popular dog in that day.”
    “Is she still in business?”
    “No, the kennel shut down, but I know she still lives there because I pass her house two and three times a month when I go to visit my grandkids in Cromwell. House hasn’t changed—same bright blue wood frame and the yard’s a mess. If the place sold, I should think the new owner would have the good taste to clean up and repaint.”
    “You have her name?”
    “Daggone it, I sure don’t and I knew you’d ask. I was just trying to think. I can’t say for sure, but I’d say Wyatt…Wyman…something along those lines.”
    “You’re my new best friend,” I said, and blew him a kiss.
    I went back through the phone book and within thirty seconds I was talking to Millicent Wyrick, who sounded old and cranky and not all that happy to be hearing from me. “Hon, you have to speak up. You want what ?”
    I raised my voice a notch and repeated my spiel, hoping I sounded winsome and sincere while I was yelling at her. “Is there any chance you might have the information?”
    I listened to a silence that seemed to bristle with aggravation. “Mrs. Wyrick?”
    “Hold your horses. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m setting here trying to think. I know I have it. Whether I can find it is another matter.”
    “Is there any way I can help?”
    “Not unless you want to dig through my shed. I’m fairly certain I can lay hands on the litter record, but not right this minute. I’m setting down to supper and then I have my shows to watch. Call back at nine and I can tell you if I’ve had any luck.”
    “I’ll do better than that. I’ll drive out to pick it up.”

32
    Daisy and I finished supper a little after 7:00—salad and pasta with a sauce that came out of a can. Neither of us had much appetite, but the normality of eating seemed to lift her spirits. I left her to read the paper while I rinsed our few dishes and put them in the machine. I heard the phone ring. Daisy picked up and then called into the kitchen. “Hey, Kinsey? It’s Liza.”
    “Tell her to hang on. I’ll be right there.”
    I closed the dishwasher and dried my hands on a kitchen towel before I went into the living room. Daisy and Liza were chatting away so I waited my turn. I wanted to ask Liza why she’d lied about Foley, but I didn’t think I should raise the subject with Daisy in the room. She might have had a good reason, and there was no point in jeopardizing their relationship if what she had to say made sense. Daisy finally surrendered the phone.
    “Hey, Liza. Thanks for returning my call.”
    “I didn’t mean to be short with you earlier. Violet’s death has been hard. I know I