Play Dead (22 page)

My only objective was to get the possible
projectiles away from her. “That’s quite all right.” I grabbed the box from
her. “Good luck with everything.”
And
please
don’t ever contact
me again!

I doubted this wish would be granted.

Mom and I shoved everything into the back
of the truck and took off, heading north to her place in silence. It was so
embarrassing to think of the emotional scene my mother had just witnessed. I
knew she had to be sitting there wondering how on earth she’d managed to raise
a daughter so naive as to wind up living with a woman that was out of control.

After a minute of silence, Mom gave me a
reassuring smile. “Well, dear, all I can say is the next time I see the real
Keith Terrington, I’m going to kill him.”

The next morning, I woke up disoriented,
finally remembering that I was in Mom’s guest room. She’d left a note that she
had some early morning lessons and was already at the airport. For his sake, I
hoped none of those lessons were with her
“former
favorite student,
Keith Terrington,” as Mom was still furious with him.

I had a delightful breakfast with our
three dogs, debating which of the three I should bring with me to introduce to
Suzanne as part of her treatment. She’d already met Doppler, with whom she’d
exchanged barks. Pavlov, however, was generally too dignified to indulge in
verbal exchanges with such a small dog. She so vastly outsized the little
toodle—terdle? pooier?—Suzanne would be well-taught not to bark at
such dogs.

Keeping Pavlov in my car till I could warn
my dog-fearing officemate, I entered my office. To my surprise, Russell was
just hanging up my phone. “Good morning,” he said, smiling brightly. He was
dressed neatly as usual, his pin-striped shirt hugging his short but nicely
proportioned frame, and his dark hair shimmered as though it had just been
washed. “You just got a weird phone call.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I, uh, it happened to be ringing
while I passed through your office.” That made little sense, as Russell likely
arrived at least two hours earlier, but I let it pass. He went on, “I picked
up, and a deep voice said, ‘Who’s this?’ And I said, ‘Russell Greene. Who’s
this?’ and he hung up.”

“I seem to be getting quite a few hang ups
lately.”

Russell glanced at the desktop where I’d
already found his card, then gave me a nervous grin and rocked on his heels.

“Thanks for the card. I’d give you a thank
you card for it, but then you’d feel obligated to give me a thank you card in
return, and we’d find ourselves trapped in a never-ending Hallmark circle.”

“Ah, yes. That could be problematic. I’m
glad you liked my card, though.”

“I have both a warning and a confession
for you.”

Russell wiggled his eyebrows. “This has
potential. Go on.”

“I have my very large German shepherd in
the car, and in a few minutes, I need to bring her in to work with my next
client.”

Russell’s face fell. “That would be your ‘warning,’
right?”

“Yes. The confession is that I slept on
the couch in your office Saturday night. I had some trouble with my roommate. I
tried to put everything back the way I found it, but if you find any odd items,
they’re probably mine.”

“Haven’t come across anything new. Just
some dog hair,” Russell said pleasantly.

“Those would only be mine indirectly. I
went over your couch with the handheld vac, but I’ll bring in my Kirby
and—”

“No, it’s fine. Please don’t bother. Are
you looking for a new place to live?”

“Yes. Know of anything?”

“Not anything you’d agree to.” He glanced
nervously over his shoulder, in the direction of my parking space. “About this
shepherd of yours. Does he like men? Do I have to be sure not to wear a hat
around him or anything?”

“Her. Pavlov’s a female. Yes, to men, no
to hat sensitivity.”

To my surprise, Russell’s face had paled
and beads of perspiration were rising on his forehead. I hadn’t expected him to
react quite this strongly. Even so, he replied, “By all means, bring her in. I
want to meet both of your dogs.”

“I’ll understand if you want to wait in
your office till after Pavlov’s gone.”

“No, no. I mean it. I want to meet your
pets. It’s just that I’d hoped to start with getting to know the cocker spaniel
and work my way up. But this way’s faster. We’ll start with the abject terror
part and see if we can move toward mild discomfiture later.”

I was caught between wanting to chuckle at
his overreaction and being annoyed at his thinking he had anything to fear from
my extremely well-trained, highly intelligent shepherd. “On that note, I’ll go
get her.” As an afterthought, I grabbed the long leash attached to the training
collar. “Listen, Russell. I’ll put this on Pavlov just so you can be assured I’m
in complete control of her actions. The best way to approach a dog is to walk steadily
and confidently, then turn so that you’re side by side.”

He nodded. “Sideways. Got it.” He gave me
a small salute. “No problem.”

I smiled at him, then left for the car.
The poor guy. He was acting as though he’d had some sort of traumatic past event
involving a dog. If so, he’d never shared it with me. Before I signed the
lease, we discussed at great length the fact that my occupation meant I’d have
dogs in my office very often. He’d told me he was “not a dog person,” but that
this wouldn’t pose a problem.

Pavlov was patiently waiting for me. For
Russell’s sake, I slipped the chain onto her neck and told her to heel. We came
down the steps and I pulled opened the door. Russell smiled at me, but I
noticed he was gripping the counter behind him with white knuckles.

“This is Pavlov,” I said, unable to keep
the pride from my voice. Pavlov was a beautiful shepherd—medium-sized by
the usual standards, in the classic Rin Tin Tin brown, black and gray
markings—though Rin Tin Tin’s brown tones were lost on those
black-and-white televised reruns.

Russell was actually shaking. For some
reason, he seemed to find his meeting my calm German shepherd much more
frightful than even the slightly larger collie who’d been barking viciously at
him. To my equal surprise, Pavlov had tensed and was taking an aggressive
stance.

Before I could warn him otherwise, Russell
reached a quaking hand out toward Pavlov, as if he intended to pat her on the
head—or poke her in the eye. She let out a loud
woof.

In one fluid motion, Russell jerked his
hand back, spun around, and leapt onto the counter. Then, plastered against the
wall, Russell turned to look down at us. Pavlov and I stared back up at him in
surprise, Pavlov cocking her head.

“I thought you said she liked men!”

“She does! You’re acting so fearful,
though, you made her nervous. Dogs pick up on that kind of thing!”

“So, you’re saying I look like a cornered,
edible bunny rabbit to her right now.”

“No, I’m saying
you
need to
establish your position as her superior. You’re not going to be able to do that
from up there. How about I take Pavlov back outside, and in the meantime,
you—”

I stopped as the door hinge creaked behind
me. Joel Meyer was entering with Suzanne in his arms. The little dog started
yipping at the top of her lungs at Pavlov, who simply looked at her.

Meanwhile, Russell hopped down and said, “Hey,
Joel. We met Saturday.” He wiped away the sweat from his brow, then turned to
me and said, “I was right. I can reach the ceiling from up there. We won’t have
any trouble changing the overhead light bulb.” Ah, yes. Humiliation in front of
another male. The one thing that’s far more terrorizing to a man than even his
worst phobia.

“Your bulb’s burned out? I’ll get it,”
Joel offered, ignoring the grating noise of his dog’s shrill bark. “I’m tall
enough.”

“It’s fine,” Russell answered sharply. “I
was just testing for future reference.”

“Suzanne, hush!” Joel said. She had no
inclination to obey.

I grabbed a box of miniature dog treats
and gave a handful to Joel. “Here. Put a few of these in your pocket. Take
Suzanne back outside. Set her down. The instant she stops barking, tell her, ‘Good
dog,’ and give her one. Then lead her back inside, but don’t pick her up. If
she starts barking while she’s still outside, let the door close—carefully,
of course—on the leash with her still on the other side of the door.”

Joel said, “Can do,” and winked at me. He
was looking especially handsome with his neat dark beard contrasting with his
white dress shirt.

The moment Joel and his noisy dog were on
the other side of the door, Russell grumbled, “Like he’s so tough. I’ve got gym
socks that are bigger than that mutt of his.” He cast one quick glance at
Pavlov, whose back was turned to watch for Joel and his dog’s return. “I’ve got
a lot of work to do. See you later.” He went into his office and shut the door.
His face was still red, but he managed to put a bit of a swagger into his step.

A minute or two later, Joel returned, and
as I could have predicted, Suzanne started barking fiercely at Pavlov. He
followed my instructions and stepped inside anyway, leaving the leashed Suzanne
outside barking away.

“What now?” he said, smiling.

“This could get a bit tedious, frankly.”

“I doubt that very much,” he said, giving
me a visual once-over that made me bristle. This was my
job,
not a
chance to flirt.

I instructed Pavlov to lie down, then I
told Joel, “Stay put till Suzanne stops barking. The moment she stops, go back
outside with her, give her a treat and praise her, then try to lead her inside
again. Repeat those steps till you can get her in here without any barking.
Just remember: Don’t pick her up, don’t reassure her while she’s barking, do
praise her and give her a treat when she isn’t barking.”

It took Joel many tries and half a box of
treats, but by the end of the session, Joel was able to lead his dog in and out
of the room, with her complete indifference to Pavlov’s presence.

“You’re a genius,” Joel told me. “She’s
completely cured in one session.”

“Not that I’m trying to drum up repeat
business here, but this is only a good start. I can virtually guarantee you
that if I were to bring out another dog from a back room, Suzanne would start
barking just as nonstop as ever, all over again.”

“Good,” Joel said. “That gives me all the
more opportunity to see you. Would you consider an evening session tonight? Say
at my place, during the dinner hour?”

“Not tonight.”

“What’s the next step?”

His coy, flirtatious demeanor was so
annoying to me that I answered, “Assuming you’re referring to your dog, that’s
up to you. I would imagine you want to at least get her trained not to confront
other dogs when you’re walking her, right?”

“So, the next step is a walk in the park,
right?”

“Right.”

“Cool. Sounds like a date to me. I’ll
bring the glasses and the wine.” I started to object, but he held up a palm and
said, “Just kidding.” He talked me into a follow-up session the next morning.
He winked, then said, “See you next time.”

Just as he was leaving, John O’Farrell
entered. If I’d expected this much unannounced drop-in business, I’d have
installed a revolving door. Mugsy wasn’t with him, nor was his wife or
children. “Hi, Allida. I was just canvassing the neighborhood.”

“Canvassing?”

“Putting fliers on windshields, actually.
I own a health food store, and I’m sure you know how tough it is competing for
customers in Boulder. Thought I’d drop by and tell you again how much I
appreciate your helping with my wife and Mugsy.”

He stared at Pavlov, who rose and stepped
between us. I was slightly surprised at her taking such a protective stance.
She generally had an infallible sense of when I felt nervous in someone’s
company. Yet I was completely at ease now and felt not threatened in the least.

“Is this your dog?”

“Yes, her name’s Pavlov.” I bent over and
patted her sleek fur.

“Does she get along with Sage okay?”

I tensed, as did Pavlov. “Sage?”

“Yeah. I’m assuming you’re watching him,
too, now, right?”

“I’m a little puzzled by your curiosity
with regard to Sage. Tell me again how you came to meet him.”

“I used to eat at Hannah’s restaurant a
lot and got to know her there. Then we ran into each other when we were at the
park one day walking our dogs. That’s all there is to it. Not a very
interesting story, I’m afraid.”

“How’s Mugsy been doing since I left?”

“Just fine. Like I said, I just dropped by
to say thanks.” He was already backing out the door in a hurry to leave. I
couldn’t begin to fathom why he’d wasted the time on a trip here. To ask one
more time about Sage? He had to realize I was beginning to get suspicious of
his interest. Why, then?

At the moment, I had enough to think
about. I wanted to get Pavlov home, but first wanted to check on my officemate’s
state of mind.