Hot Dog (11 page)

Like the rest of the house, it was empty. Silent. Undisturbed.

Now that the puppy had had a drink, not to mention this burst of nocturnal excitement, there was no way her bladder was going to hold until morning. I opened the back door and let both Poodles briefly outside.

There was a possibility, I admitted to myself, that I'd forgotten to lock the dead bolt. But had I left the TV on? No. No way. Hadn't happened.

I watched that set in the mornings when I was getting Davey ready for school. And sometimes in the evening while I was cooking dinner. But not last night. Sam had been there and we'd been talking. The set had never been on.

I hadn't touched that TV any more than I'd left on all the lights in the house last Sunday. I had no explanation for any of this. What the hell was going on?

F
iguring out a way to keep me, Dox,
and
Russell Hanover all happy had seemed like an easier task the day before when I'd been well rested and not concentrating too heavily on the details. Thursday morning, as Davey and I raced to get ready for school, I drank two cups of strong dark coffee, struggled not to yawn, and wondered why on earth I'd ever thought that bringing the Dachshund puppy home with me was a good idea.

Not that Dox was hard to take care of: he wasn't. The puppy was bright and eager to please, not to mention cute as a button. Food hadn't been a problem; Eve was still eating puppy kibble herself. And since Dox spent most of his time either with me or in a crate, his lack of housebreaking wasn't an issue either.

What to do with him during the day while I was at work was another matter. Of course, Aunt Peg had pointed that problem out to me at the time. Then, I'd glossed over her objections; now they were coming back to haunt me. Nevertheless, I didn't seem to have much choice. Dox couldn't sit home by himself all day, so he was going to have to come with me to school.

For once, luck was with me. When my canine cohorts and I pulled into the teachers' parking lot, I saw that Mr. Hanover's dark green Jaguar was not yet parked in its customary space beside the back door. The God of Good Intentions was on my side.

Not only that, but my luck held, and the school day passed uneventfully. I stashed Dox's crate in a quiet corner of my classroom and piled Faith's and Eve's beds around it. The three dogs kept each other company, and, to my immense relief, no one even noticed my unauthorized addition.

After school I was due at Phil Dutton's to take care of Mutt and Maisie. Before heading to Old Greenwich, however, I had to drive home, drop off the dogs, and pick up Davey. Usually my son's bus delivers him to my house within minutes of my arrival, but that day the driver must have been running late. I had plenty of time to let the dogs out for a run and fix a snack.

The second time I went to the front door to check if the bus was coming, I saw a light blue Mazda parked on the other side of the street. Jill Prescott, the dogged cable news reporter, had returned. Briefly, I wondered if she was waiting for Davey's bus, too. I recalled that feeling I'd had earlier in the week when I'd sensed someone was watching us at the pony farm.

It was one thing for Jill and Rich to follow me around, or even for them to talk to Sam. But when they started thinking that my child was fair game, things were spinning seriously out of control.

Annoyed, I strode out of the house and across the street. Jill saw me coming and got out of the car. No doubt the expression on my face told her that this was a confrontation she wanted to be standing up for.

“What's the matter now?” she asked as I drew near.

“This has got to stop.”

“Actually, it doesn't. It's a free country.”

“You're harassing me.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not coming anywhere near you.” Jill's eyes were wide with innocence. “Ask the police. I'm sure they'll agree. You're getting all bent out of shape over nothing. Sam didn't mind talking to me. Neither did Margaret Turnbull.”

Like that was a surprise. Aunt Peg could blab all day when the mood struck her. And there was nothing she liked better than an appreciative audience.

“I want you to stay away from Davey,” I said.

“Fine. I have no intention of bothering your child. The story isn't about him. Although I do think the ex-husband desertion angle is going to add drama to the piece, don't you?”

So she'd talked to Bob, too. It figured.

“There isn't going to be any piece,” I said firmly. “Look, let's not discuss this out here.” In a small neighborhood like mine, residents kept tabs on one another. I'd just as soon not have to explain to my neighbor, Edna Silano, why she'd seen me arguing in the street. “Why don't you come inside for a minute and we'll talk.”

“You're asking me in?” Jill's surprised expression had a rehearsed look. If she hoped to make it on network TV she was going to have to brush up on her spontaneous emoting. “Are you sure that wouldn't violate your privacy, or your code of ethics, or something?”

“Probably,” I agreed, ignoring her sarcasm. “But I guess I'm just going to have to risk it.”

The reporter followed me across the street and into the house. Her head swiveled back and forth as she entered; I got the impression she was storing away mental notes on such things as the décor and my prowess as a housekeeper. Unfortunately, neither one was terribly impressive.

“Have a seat.” I waved toward the living room. “I'm just going to go let my dogs in and I'll be right back.”

I might as well not even have bothered with the instructions. Jill didn't follow them. Instead she accompanied me out to the kitchen. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” I held the door as the Poodles and Dox scrambled up the steps. “I like it.”

“I thought you just had two Poodles.”

“Dox is a guest.” I got three peanut butter biscuits from the pantry and handed them out.

“Dox? What an unusual name. Is that D-O-X?”

I turned and looked at her.

“This isn't an interview.”

“Of course not. We're just talking. Just like you said.”

Right. And Stonehenge is just a pile of rocks.

I supposed it was too late now to rescind my offer and boot her back out the door. Maybe I could disarm Jill with my hostessing skills, such as they were. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Diet anything, if you have it. It's true what they say, the camera really does add ten pounds.”

Jill was slender as a stick. She'd have to put on weight to be considered slim. I got a soda out of the refrigerator.

“Getting much on-air time lately?”

Her frown came and went so quickly I almost missed it. “Not really. But that's going to change. As soon as I bring in a big story.”

She'd taken a seat at the kitchen table. I placed soda and glass in front of her, then pulled out a chair and joined her. “This big story.”

“If I'm lucky.”

“What if you're not?”

“Then eventually I guess I'll have to give up and move on. But don't worry about me. My instincts are pretty good. I think I'm in the right place.”

Jill pulled her purse into her lap and began to rummage through it. “I'm sorry, my memory is terrible. And of course, I don't want to get anything wrong. Do you mind if I take notes?”

“Yes,” I said succinctly. “I do mind. Besides, what I have to say won't be noteworthy. I want you to stop following me around. I don't know how to make myself any clearer than that. Go away and leave me alone.”

I'd half hoped Jill might take offense at my tone. It didn't happen. I had to give the woman credit; she didn't even blink.

Instead she looked at me and sighed. “That's pretty clear all right. The only problem is, it isn't going to happen. Let's get something straight. I'm not following you because I think it's fun. I'd rather be just about anywhere else than sitting in that damn car. But it's not like I have a choice.

“Back at the station I'm low man on the totem pole, and trust me, nobody else is going to give me a leg up. The only way to get ahead in this business is to make it happen yourself. I have to find a story that's going to break me out of the pack. For better or for worse, you're it.”

“I'm
not
it,” I said. I might as well have been talking to one of Faith's chew toys for all the good my objections did.

“You are,” she said simply. “You have to be.”

“Why?”

“Because you're all I've got!” Her voice rose. “For pity's sake, do you think big stories are a dime a dozen in Fairfield County? I swear this must be the snooze capital of the East Coast.”

“Then why don't you go some place else?”

“Because this is where I have my foot in the door. Maybe what I've accomplished doesn't seem like much to you, but at least it's something. At least I'm working in television.”

She wasn't going to listen to logic. Indeed judging by the stubborn set of Jill's shoulders, she wasn't going to listen to anything except what she wanted to hear. I sorted quickly through the alternatives.

“What if we could find a compromise,” I proposed.

Jill put down her soda. “I'm listening.”

“As you're obviously aware, I do seem to be a bit of a magnet for trouble. I have no idea why.” Bad luck probably. Or maybe bad karma from a former life. “For whatever reason, I have had an affinity for being in the wrong place at the right time. Of course, that doesn't mean it's going to happen again. Maybe all the adventures I'm going to have are behind me now.”

Fat chance, I thought. But one could always hope. “But if they're not, if I should somehow get involved in another murder . . .”

“Yes?” Jill prompted when I hesitated. I couldn't believe I was about to make this offer.

“I'll call you.”

Jill's eyes lit up. I raised a hand, forestalling her enthusiastic outburst.

“Not for an interview. Not for a story about me. But I'll give you the inside scoop on the mystery when it's over.”

Jill's enthusiasm died. She frowned and shook her head. “I need something that's breaking news. Something I can report on live.”

“You need whatever you can get.” Outside, I heard the squeal of air brakes, signaling the arrival of Davey's bus.

“What you're offering isn't good enough.”

I pushed back my chair and stood. “Look at it this way. It'll get you out of your car and back to your own life. It will make Rich happy.”

“What's he got to do with this?”

“He's the other half of your team, isn't he? It seems to me that one reason why a guy might schlepp a camera all the way to Rhode Island on a wild goose chase is because he wants to humor a pretty coworker. It must be hard for the two of you to get together when you're spending all your spare time shadowing me.”

Jill didn't look convinced. “Rich knows how important my career is to me.”

The Poodles, hearing Davey's bus, had already run to the front door with Dox scampering happily along behind to see what all the fuss was about. I needed to go with them. But first I needed to get things settled with Jill.

“Look,” I said, “What I'm offering you is the best of both worlds. You get your life back, plus, if you're lucky—and I'm unlucky—you'll get your story, too.”

“Not the way I want it,” Jill said stubbornly.

I threw up my hands. I'm a reasonable person. At least I'd like to think I am. But there was no reasoning with Jill Prescott, Miss Cable News.

“Come on.” I spun around and headed for the front door. “Time's up. Out you go. Back to your car.”

“Just like that?” Jill asked. At least she was following me. If she refused to leave, I had no idea how I was going to get rid of her. “We're done? We didn't agree on anything.”

“We tried.” I shrugged. “I guess that's about as close as we're going to come.”

With three dogs, two of them pretty big, milling around the door, I could see why Jill would hang back. Not me. I waded through the melee and opened it just as Davey reached the top of the steps.

“Hey!” He shrugged out of his backpack and let it fall to the floor. His sweatshirt followed a moment later. “Only one more day of school until spring break!”

This announcement was accompanied by a victory dance which made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in coordination. Eve, getting into the spirit of the celebration, spun around on her hind legs and knocked Davey over. Giggling, he went down in a heap. Taking their cue, the dogs piled on top of him.

As I reached down to pick up Davey's things, Jill said from behind me, “Cute kid.”

“Thanks.”

“I won't have time for children,” Her voice was firm. “I'll be too busy with my career.”

“Oh? You've decided that already?”

“Sure. Why not?” Pressing her back to the wall, Jill inched her way around the pile of bodies in the middle of the floor.

“It just seems like you're a little young to be ruling things out of your life.”

“I'm twenty-two years old, and I know what I want. I figure that gives me a head start on most people. Believe me, I have no intention of spending my early work years floundering. I've set my goals and I'm going after them.”

She slipped out through the open doorway and left without looking back. Watching her go, I didn't know whether to be impressed by her determination or scared half to death that it was aimed in my direction.

 

 

Fortunately, Davey loves to ride in the car. Most days he doesn't even care where we're going as long as we're on the road. This wasn't the first time I'd taken him to Phil Dutton's house when I was pet-sitting. By now, he knew the routine almost as well as I did.

Bearing Monday's experience in mind, I didn't use my key to let us in. Instead, I rang the doorbell, then waited a minute to see if anyone would answer.

“Come on, Mom.” Davey tugged at my sleeve, impatiently.

We could hear Maisie and Mutt inside, yapping frantically and throwing themselves against the door. I fitted the key to the lock. As soon as the door was open, Davey slithered through ahead of me. I hung back, using my body to block the space so the two dogs couldn't dash out.