Two Tall Tails (8 page)

I ran back to the house, grabbed my purse and keys and hurried back out to the SUV. I pulled into Tom's driveway and grabbed the blanket I kept on the backseat. “Here,” I said to Rose. “Wrap her in this.”

Rose swaddled Matilda in the blanket and I helped Tom get to his feet. The corgi's eyes were open and she wasn't seizing anymore but she seemed lethargic and disoriented.

Rose was still holding the little dog. Tom put one hand on the blanket and they moved toward the car.

“Matilda may be little but she has a big heart,” Rose told the old man.

Elvis had followed us over to Tom's yard. He made his way to the knobby red ball Matilda had been chasing and craned his neck to sniff at it. Then he made a face and turned to look at me.

“I'm sorry. I have to go,” I said.

Elvis gave the ball a nudge in my direction, meowed loudly and looked at me again. There was something about that ball he wanted me to see. I hesitated and then pulled a nylon shopping bag from my purse, picked up the ball carefully between my thumb and index finger and dropped it in the bag. That seemed to satisfy the cat.

Rose was just reaching around Tom to fasten his seatbelt. Matilda was on his lap, wrapped in the blanket. I pulled a key off my key ring and held it out to Rose. It was Tom's spare that I kept in case of an emergency, which this definitely was. “Would you lock up Tom's house, please?”

Rose took the key, turning it over in her fingers. Of course, dear,” she said. “I hope Matilda will be all right.” She pressed her lips together.

I nodded. “Me too.” I slid behind the wheel, started the car and backed out of the driveway. Beside me Tom was talking softly to the little dog. As we drove by Angie's house, I noticed Jason watching from the living room window.

When we got to the animal hospital, Tom and Matilda were taken to an examining room right away. I dropped into a chair and took several slow, deeps breaths. Rose was right. Matilda might have been a little dog but she did have a huge heart.

I'd been sitting there for maybe five minutes, watching the door, hoping Tom or someone would come out and tell me what was going on, when Dr. Davenport came in from outside. She was dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt, which probably meant that this was her farm visit day. She smiled when she caught sight of me.

“Sarah, hi. What are you doing here?” she asked. Abby Davenport had been Elvis's veterinarian from the day Sam conned me into taking the cat. I got to my feet and gave Abby a hug. “My neighbor's dog, a corgi, had what I think was a seizure. I drove them over.”

Abby gave me a reassuring smile. “Ben's working today. Your neighbor's dog is in good hands. I promise.”

I reached for my purse on the chair behind me. I didn't stop to decide whether or not what I was about to do was a good idea or not. “Abby, I may just be way too suspicious, but I think it's possible someone may have put something toxic on Matilda's ball. She was playing with it right before she got sick.” I pulled the nylon shopping bag out of my purse and held it out.

“This is it?” the vet asked.

I nodded.

Abby opened the bag. The sharp chemical odor on the knobby plastic ball was impossible to miss.

The veterinarian's eyes narrowed. “May I take this?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I'll see what I can find out.” Abby gave me a reassuring smile and headed for her office.

Tom came out to the waiting room about twenty minutes later. Relief had smoothed out the lines on his face. “She's going to be okay,” he said.

I smiled at him, the good news making my legs feel wobbly for a moment.

“Dr. Kessler thinks she ate or drank something that made her sick, but he can't say what at the moment.” Tom ran a mottled hand through his hair. “Matilda has to stay the night but she should be able to come home tomorrow.” He smiled at me. “I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't been there.”

“I'm so glad everything is all right,” I said, giving him a hug. The metallic chemical scent from the red ball had seemed to linger in the back of my throat, and along with it was the feeling that things weren't going to stay all right for long.

Tom was quiet on the drive home. “It's my fault,” he finally said.

I knew he meant what had happened to Matilda. “You said the vet didn't know what made her sick.” I glanced over at him in the passenger seat. His expression was grave, and he was picking at one of the buttons on his yellow golf shirt. “I don't think you did anything.”

“I let her have some of my Chinese takeout for lunch—duck with orange sauce. All that fat and MSG can't have been good for her.”

“Don't blame yourself for something that might not be your fault,” I said gently. I thought again about the ball I'd given to Abby Davenport. There would be lots of time to tell Tom about it once we knew if there was anything to tell.

Rose was sweeping the front steps when we got home, a make-work job, I suspected, so she could keep an eye on the street. We pulled into Tom's driveway and Rose walked over to join us. “How's Matilda?” she asked, concern evident in the lines around her mouth and eyes.

“She's going to be fine,” I said, taking back the spare key that Rose held out to me. “They're keeping her overnight just to be safe, but Tom can bring her home tomorrow.”

A smile spread across Rose's face, and the tension in her body seemed to sink down into the ground as her body relaxed. “Oh, I'm so glad to hear that.”

“Thank you for locking up for me,” Tom said, giving her a tired smile.

“That's was nothing,” she said. “I have bread pudding in the oven.” She glanced back at the house. “I'll bring some over in about half an hour.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Tom said, “but I confess I'm glad you did.” He turned to me and caught my good hand in both of his own. “Thank you so much, Sarah.”

“Anytime,” I said. Tom headed for his front door, and Rose and I started toward our place.

Rose looked back over her shoulder in the direction of Angie's house. Her body tensed again, her shoulders hunching forward. “He did something,” she said, lowering her voice.

I knew she meant Jason. “Why do you say that?” I asked.

She folded an arm over her midsection. “He came outside right after you left. When he saw me standing at the bottom of Tom's driveway, he walked over to me. I don't think he realized that I already knew what was going on.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “He said Matilda ate something and was dead.” She glanced back again before returning her eyes to meet mine again. “Why on earth would he say that unless he knew something—unless he'd done something? I think we should investigate.”

My stomach clenched.
We
meant The Angels, aka Charlotte's Angels, the detective agency Rose, Liz, their friend Charlotte and Rose's gentleman friend, Mr. P., had started after their friend Maddie Hamilton had been accused of murder.
We
also included me, because no matter how hard I tried to stay out of their cases, somehow I always managed to get pulled in.

“Jason has a mean streak,” I said. “But what you're suggesting goes beyond that. The vet did some tests. I think we need to wait to see what they show before . . .” I pressed my lips together for a moment. I wanted to turn and look at Angie's house, but some instinct told me that Jason was at the window watching us so I didn't. “. . . before we do anything.”

Rose exhaled slowly. “All right,” she agreed.

“And it's probably a good idea to stay away from Jason for now.”

She nodded. “I had the same thought,” she said. We'd reached the driveway. “I should go check that bread pudding.” She smiled at me. “You didn't have any supper, dear. I put the lasagna in the fridge. It will only take a few minutes to warm that up.”

I leaned against her, resting my cheek on the top of her head. “I love you,” I said.

Rose reached up and patted my hair. “I love you, too, sweetie.”

I straightened up, and as I followed Rose up the steps to the front door, I finally glanced in the direction of Angie's house. Jason was standing in his aunt's driveway. I watched him look around, and when his gaze reached me, there was something smug in his expression that made my stomach hurt all over again.

I had an appointment with the hand therapist the next day. Katie offered to take Tom to pick up Matilda.

“What would I do without the two of you?” the old man said.

Katie smiled at him. “What would we do without you?”

“Did you find Molly's ball?” Rose asked. “I checked all the flowerbeds and the front yard, but I didn't see it.”

“Did Molly lose another ball?” Tom said.

Katie nodded. “The one with the pink and purple stripes. Now that we can't find it, it's suddenly become her favorite. Four-year-olds can be very stubborn.”

Tom patted her arm. “So can eighty-four-year-olds, my dear,” he said.

We all arrived back in the court at the same time. I couldn't help smiling as Tom got out of Katie's car and set Matilda down on the grass. The little corgi seemed like her old self. I walked over to say hello.

Molly was crouched in the grass talking to the dog.

“Say good-bye to Matilda,” Katie told her. Molly put her arms around the corgi and gave her a hug. “Gently,” her mother reminded the little girl.

“Thank you,” Tom said.

Katie smiled. “Anytime.”

I bent down to stroke the top of Matilda's head. The little dog nuzzled my wrist. “What did the vet say?” I asked as I straightened up.

“He's still waiting for the results of the blood tests,” Tom said, looking down at his furry companion. “But he thinks she may have eaten something toxic.” He shook his head. “I shouldn't have given her any of that duck.”

“You don't know it was that,” I said. It was difficult not to look over at Angie's small white house.

My cell phone rang as I was unlocking my apartment door. It was Abby Davenport.

“Was I right about the ball?” I asked, hoping that I wasn't, while at the same time some gut instinct told me I was.

“You were,” the vet said. “The ball was coated with an insecticide.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter. Elvis watched me from his perch at the top of his cat tower. “I was hoping I was wrong,” I said.

“It's good that you got her here when you did,” Abby continued.

“Tom's not the one who exposed her to the insecticide,” I blurted out. It suddenly seemed very important that the veterinarian knew that. I didn't want Tom to be blamed for something I knew he would never do.

“I believe you,” she said. “I talked to Ben Kessler. He told me how upset Mr. Harris was.” She cleared her throat. “In theory, it could have been spilled on the dog's ball by accident.”

“But you don't think that's what happened.”

“It's a bit of a stretch.”

“Tom doesn't use anything like that in his yard because of Matilda and because there's a four year-old across the street.”

Abby sighed and I imagined her in her blue scrubs sitting on the edge of her desk. “We still don't have all of the dog's blood work back, but depending on what it shows, I may have to call the police.”

“I understand,” I said.

Abby said she'd be in touch and we said good-bye. I looked at the phone. Now I was second-guessing my decision not to involve Michelle. Unfortunately, she'd gone to visit her mother for a couple of days.

I worked late that evening, sanding a ch
ina cabinet that I was certain was in good shape under all the layers of paint on it. I got home to find a police car in the court. Tom and Jason were at the bottom of Angie's driveway with a uniformed police officer. Tom was talking to the officer, gesturing with one hand. Jason stood there with his hands in his pockets, feet apart. There was something cocky about his stance.

When Tom noticed me, he beckoned me over. I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the men.

“Officer Sullivan, this is my neighbor, Sarah Grayson,” Tom said. He held himself stiffly and I noticed he avoided looking at Jason. Instead he fixed his gaze on me. “Sarah, will you please tell the officer about Matilda's seizure and the ball you took to the vet.”

My surprise must have shown on my face because Tom added, “Dr. Kessler called me.”

I turned to the police officer. He looked to be just this side of forty, stocky with hair cropped close to his scalp and kind brown eyes. “Matilda is Tom's corgi. She had a seizure yesterday. I drove them to the animal hospital. I grabbed the ball she had been playing with and took it with me. I, uh, I thought it had a funny smell.”

I could feel Jason's eyes on me, and this time I shifted my gaze and met his full on. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wasting his time. His expression was appropriately serious, but it seemed to me that there was a hint of a smug smile around his dark eyes.

“What did you do with the ball, Ms. Grayson?” Officer Sullivan asked.

“I gave it to one of the veterinarians at the clinic, Abby Davenport. It turned out that there was insecticide on the ball.”

“Which he put there,” Tom said.

His voice was calm and steady, which made me nervous.

“I didn't touch your dog's ball,” Jason said. “I'm sorry the thing was sick, but I had nothing to do with that.”

He was good. If I hadn't known better, I'd have believed him.

“There's a bottle of insecticide over in the garage,” Tom said, inclining his head in the direction of Angie's house. “Molly's ball is there, too.”

“Who's Molly?” Officer Sullivan asked, frowning.

“The little girl across the street,” I said.

“Look,” Jason said, holding out both hands. “The truth is I have no idea what's in the garage because this is my aunt's house. I'm just here for a few days to help her once she gets out of the hospital.”