Watchdog (6 page)

Faith had met the puppy at the show, but that was neutral territory. This was
her
house, and she wanted to make sure everybody knew it, especially any furry little interlopers with big eyes and clumsy feet. She cuffed him once with a front paw and growled just to set matters straight. Obligingly Tar lowered his head and adopted a submissive position.

“All right,” I said to Faith. “He's just a baby. Lay off.”

She gave me that innocent “Who me?” look, that all dogs perfect the first time they pee on the floor as puppies.

“Yes, you,” I told her.

Faith lowered her front end to the ground and lifted up her hindquarter, tail wagging, a classic invitation to play. Tar accepted by leaping to his feet. Together, they ran across the yard.

“I guess that's settled.” Sam kept an eye on them while I unlocked the door. “Too bad, people can't be that sensible.”

We ushered the Poodles through the house and into the fenced backyard, then unloaded the car. Davey was angling for Sam to try out a new Nintendo game with him; I was hoping Sam would spend some time with me. The only thing we agreed upon was that we were all ravenous.

By way of a compromise, the two of them played video games while I threw dinner together. Threw being the operative word. I found a loaf of French bread in the freezer, and lettuce and tomatoes in the crisper. The rest of the spaghetti dinner came mostly from boxes and cans, but what the hell. When I was finished you could hardly tell. Sam, gentleman that he is, never mentioned a word.

Davey usually goes to bed early after he's spent the day at a dog show. All the activity wears him out, and since he had school the next morning, I was happy to opt for a quick story and turn out the lights. Faith climbed up on the bed, turned two circles, then lay down beside him. I rubbed her muzzle and she sighed softly. Before I'd even reached the door, all four eyes were shut.

When I got back downstairs, Sam was in the kitchen finishing the dishes. Tar was sprawled in a boneless heap at his feet.

Coming up from behind, I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

I lifted my head. “What do you mean?”

Sam plucked a dishcloth off the counter and dried his hands. “I think we should talk.”

That sounded ominous. Maybe it was my imagination. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Sam took my hand and led the way into the living room. We sat down on the couch. I decided to take the hand holding as a good sign. But as he turned to face me, I wondered why he looked so serious.

“I love you, Melanie.”

My breath caught in my throat. Sam had never said those words before. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear them.

I cared for Sam deeply. I knew we were a good match. That was as much as I'd allowed myself to feel, and it was enough. More than enough.

I'd been in love before. I'd experienced that heady rush that makes your feet float above the ground, and blinds you to all but the best possibilities. And I'd lived through the long hard fall that came when it ended.

I squeezed his hand, but didn't speak. I couldn't quite think what I wanted to say.

Sam gazed down at our joined fingers. “You know how I feel about Davey. He's terrific. But what we're doing now isn't working. It isn't enough. You're here, I'm in Redding. It feels like we talk on the phone more often than we see one another. Between your job, my job, the travel, the Poodles ...”

His voice trailed off, but I knew what he meant. With all our other obligations, there never did seem to be enough time just for us. Sam designed computer software and was mostly self-employed, though in the last month he'd taken two consulting jobs on the side.

Weekdays, Davey and I needed to be in Stamford. Lately, weekends had often found Sam on the road. Aside from Tar, he had four other Standard Poodles at home. He'd found a local pet-sitter, but the only way he could spend the night at my house was if we made arrangements in advance. Welcome to life in the nineties.

“I'm a little confused,” I said. “Are you proposing, or breaking up with me?”

I'd been half kidding, but his expression was suddenly sober. “I think I'm proposing.”

A dozen different thoughts rocketed through my brain, the tumult fast and furious, and much too tangled to sort out.

Sam was looking at me intently, his eyes the color of an early morning sea. His hand came up and cradled my jaw, thumb rubbing softly over my cheek. Then he dipped his head down and kissed me. His lips were warm and tasted of the red wine we'd had with dinner.

I breathed in deep and drank him in. I wanted to go somewhere beyond thought. I wanted to lose myself in the moment, in the man. For now, it was the only answer I had to give.

 

After a day like that, going back to work on Monday seemed dull by comparison. Unfortunately, it's just when I'm in that kind of mood that the day seems to stretch on interminably. My last session of the day was with Kate Russo and her best friend, Lucia Thornton, both of them further behind in their schoolwork than they ought to be, and paired in my sessions so that they could support each other in their struggles to catch up.

Like Kate, Lucia was tall and slender; unlike Kate, she watched her weight religiously. Lucia was an equestrienne. She showed her Thoroughbred hunter, Remarkable, in weekly horse shows ranging from Connecticut to Palm Beach; and she'd explained the first time we met that the skin-tight, buff colored riding breeches worn for competition showed every extra ounce. My opinion— unsolicited by the headmaster and therefore unoffered—was that if Lucia spent half as much time on her studies as she did on the back of her horse, she wouldn't have had any need of my services.

As they packed up their books at the end of class, Lucia looked out the window at the parking lot below. She flipped her blond hair behind her shoulders and glanced at me slyly. “Looks like Ms. Travis has a boyfriend.”

“Let me see.” Kate leaned over and had a look. “I hope it's the one I met yesterday. He's a real stud.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“Down there.” Lucia gestured. “There's a guy leaning against your car, like he's waiting for you to come out.”

Sam? I thought, then quickly discarded the idea. If he'd needed me for something, he would have called. “I'm sure it's a mistake,” I said, walking over to see.

“Look!” Kate giggled, waving her hand in a broad motion. “He's waving back.”

I should have known, I thought when I reached the window. Who else would hang around the school parking lot, embarrassing his sister and drawing attention to himself by waving at students in their classrooms?

No one but my brother, Frank.

I gathered up my things and walked out to my car.

“Now what?” I demanded.

You have to understand, Frank and I are not buddies. In the course of a normal month, we'd be lucky to see each other once, and more likely not to cross paths at all. All this hanging around together was beginning to get on my nerves. Besides, whenever Frank shows up it's pretty much of a sure bet that he needs something.

“Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?”

Judging by recent experience, I'd have to say it was the only way.

“Actually,” said Frank. “I have a problem.”

Everyone had problems, but he'd never figured that out. In Frank's mind, other people's worries were insignificant, while his own loomed large enough to require the assistance of everyone in the vicinity.

I reached around him, opened the car door, and threw my things on the seat. “Yes?”

“There's been an accident at the store.”

“More water?”

“Mel!” Frank was agitated enough to rake his fingers through his carefully styled hair. “This is serious.”

I'd headed out a minute early, but now the school doors were open and kids had begun to pour out. Whatever my brother wanted, I had no desire to discuss it in front of my ever curious students. I had a half hour until Davey's school got out, then another twenty minutes while he rode the bus. That should give me enough time to deal with Frank.

“The store's on my way home,” I said. “I'll meet you there.”

Frank's Eclipse hugged my bumper for the duration of the short drive. From the outside the store looked just the same as it had the week before. Before I was even out of my car, Frank had hopped up onto the porch and unlocked the door. Once again, there were no workmen in sight.

I started to follow him into the store, then stopped abruptly. There was a gaping hole in the floor near the back counter.

“It's all right,” said Frank. “As long as you don't go too close, the floor's sturdy enough.”

“What happened?”

“Damned if I know. Some of the guys were working earlier and the floor just gave out. One minute Andy was standing there drinking a cup of coffee. The next, he fell right through to the basement.”

“Was he hurt?”

“A broken leg and some cuts and bruises. Must have hurt like hell, though. He was swearing in three languages. The ambulance crew from the hospital responded right away and two of the other guys went with him. I checked with the emergency room before I went to meet you. Andy's already been patched up and sent home.”

I stepped forward gingerly and peered down into the dark opening. The basement floor was visible eight feet below. “You're lucky it wasn't a lot worse.”

“Tell me something I don't know. I hope he's not planning to sue.”

“Are you covered?”

“You mean insurance? Yeah. Marcus took care of all that stuff. And of course we'll pay Andy's medical expenses. But the last thing I need is a claims adjuster hanging around asking what went wrong.”

“What did go wrong?”

Frank looked pained. “All I can think is that the water leak last week must have weakened the supports, and one of them gave out. The building was supposed to be structurally sound. Marcus had it checked out before we started construction.”

I backed up, walked around the hole, and headed for the basement stairs. “Sounds to me like you rely on Rattigan for an awful lot.”

“He's my partner, remember? Besides, he's done plenty of conversions, all of them much bigger than this one. He knows what he's doing.”

Too bad the same couldn't be said of my brother. If he knew what he was doing, I could be home right now changing into my jogging clothes so Faith and I could take a run. Instead, I was about to have a look in a musty, old cellar.

The basement door was already open. The steps were narrow and dark. I gripped the spindly handrail and navigated my way down the stairs with care.

Frowning, Frank followed. “What are you looking for?”

“I don't know.” I reached the bottom, found the string dangling from the lightbulb, and turned it on. “I'm just wondering why this place seems so accident prone.”

“It's old, that's all. It's probably been years since Haney did any repairs.”

I stepped beneath the hole and had a look. “Those boards look pretty rotten.”

“It wasn't just the floorboards, it was the joists underneath, too.” Frank pointed to the beams he was talking about, displaying his newfound knowledge proudly. “The whole thing gave out.”

“That seems odd.”

“What does?”

“You'd already installed the counter in the back of the room, and with that granite top, it's got to be heavy. I would think that if the floor was going to cave in, it would have happened there.”

“Maybe the boards are okay back there.”

“Maybe.” I stepped back to the swinging bulb, grasped it by its base and directed the meager light toward the support column nearest the hole. Something didn't look right.

“Come here and hold the light,” I said to my brother. “There's something I want to show you.” I reached up and ran my finger along a jagged wooden edge. “It looks like this support post broke, too.”

“So what? The whole thing broke. It's all going to have to be replaced.”

“But this support column doesn't look rotten.” I stepped around into the shadows and looked at the post from the other side. “And the break looks different back here. The edges are smooth, not uneven, like you'd think they'd be if the thing just snapped.”

“Let me see that.” Frank came over and joined me.

I looked down at the dirty wooden floor, pushing some of the debris around with my toe. “What's this?”

We knelt down and had a closer look.

“Sawdust,” said Frank.

I swallowed heavily. My brother and I looked at each other. For once I could read his mind, and we were both thinking the same thing.

“Your floorboards may have been rotten, but they didn't break from old age. Somebody sawed this support post nearly in half.”

Frank was already shaking his head. “That's crazy. Who would do a thing like that?”

I stood up and dusted off my knees. “You tell me.”

“Nobody.” Frank headed for the stairs. “There's no reason anybody would want to sabotage the coffeehouse.”

“What about the neighbors? You told me they were unhappy about the conversion.” I turned off the light and followed. All at once the dank, gloomy basement was giving me the creeps. It was a relief to step up into the sunlight and close the cellar door behind us.

“Sure they've shown some concern, but it's a big leap from nailing up posters and arguing with the zoning board to rigging a building so that somebody gets hurt.”

“All right, then let's look at it another way. Who had access to the building?”

“Probably half of Stamford.” Frank grimaced. “Most of the guys have keys because I'm not always here. Usually they lock up, but they don't always remember. And sometimes they leave the place open on purpose so deliveries can be made.”

“You're not helping any.”

“Don't you think I know that? But damn it, Mel, this is crazy. I don't care what it looked like down there. It had to have been an accident, because nothing else makes any sense.”

“What about your broken water pipe? Do you still think that was an accident, too?”

Stubbornly Frank nodded.

“I think you should call the police.”

“No.”

“Frank, listen—”

“I am listening.” My brother held up a hand. If we were younger, he'd have probably covered my mouth with it. “Now you listen to me. I'm not calling the police. Marcus put me in charge of this project because I told him I could handle it. Handling things does not involve bringing in the police.”

My brother can be incredibly pig-headed at times. Usually I don't hold it against him since I suffer from the same trait myself. But this time I had to argue.

“What if somebody else gets hurt?”

“Nobody will. Trust me, Mel. Now that I know we need to be more careful, we will be.”

It wasn't much of a concession, but it was probably all I was going to get. “Speaking of Rattigan, does he have a key, too?”

“Of course he has a key. He's the owner.”

“Have you talked to him about what happened today?”

Frank's gaze skittered away. “Not exactly.”

“Which means?”

“I called his office, but he wasn't in.”

“You didn't leave a message?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Jeez, give it a rest, will you? Can't you ever just leave anything alone?”

“You want to be left alone?” I straightened my jacket on my shoulders and began to button it. “Be my guest. You were the one who brought me here. I thought you wanted my opinion. But since you don't . . .”

“All right, look. The last time I saw Marcus, he and I had a bit of an argument, okay?”

“About what?”

“It wasn't a big deal,” Frank said vaguely.

He was lying and we both knew it. I kept right on buttoning.

“I guess he's unhappy about the protests.”

That was better. Now we were getting somewhere. “If you can believe what you read in the paper, people protest just about every time he builds something.”

“Well, this time he seems to think it's more hassle than the project is worth. He's unhappy about the cost overruns, too.”

“That's why you went to Aunt Peg when you needed more money. So he wouldn't find out about it.”

“She told you about that?”

I nodded. “She was pleased to see you involved in something worthwhile. She thinks you have a future in coffee bars.”

“I do have a future here.” Frank slapped his hand down hard on the granite countertop. The hollow sound echoed in the empty room. “I'm doing everything I can think of to hold this project together. Marcus has handled enough construction to know that nothing ever proceeds without a hitch. If he'd just cut me some slack, I'm sure I could get everything back on track.”

“And if he doesn't?”

“Then he terminates the project, and puts the building back on the market. Hell, in his tax bracket, he could probably just raze the place and take a loss. Either way, I'm out a bundle of money. I'd owe the bank and Aunt Peg both, and I wouldn't have a thing to show for it.”

I stared at him in dismay. I'd been afraid my brother might get in over his head, but things were much worse than I'd realized.

“What about the long-term lease you said you had? That must give you some rights. Surely he can't just sell the building out from under you.”

“Yeah, well ...” Frank flushed. “We haven't exactly signed the papers yet.”

“Why not?” Now I was growing angry.

“Marcus was having his lawyers draw them up. In the meantime, we went ahead and started the construction. He said I shouldn't have to pay rent now, when I wasn't making any income. The lease was for later, when the coffee bar was up and running.”

An old expression flitted through my mind. Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas. Except that all the dogs I know would have treated my brother a whole lot better than Marcus Rattigan had.

“You need to sit down with Rattigan and find out exactly what his plans are. There's no use in proceeding here until you know what he has in mind.”

Frank nodded glumly.

“And you have to tell him about what happened to Andy. He's going to find out anyway. It'll look a lot better if he hears it from you.”

“I guess you're right.”

Of course I was right, but that didn't necessarily mean that Frank would listen to me. My brother was an expert at evading responsibility. And right now I didn't have any more time to spend trying to convince him to act like an adult.

“Look, I've got to go. Davey's bus will drop him off in ten minutes and I have to be there.” I leaned forward and gave my brother's cheek a quick kiss. We're not usually a demonstrative family, but he seemed to need the reassurance.

“Go home, call and check on Andy, and then talk to Rattigan and get everything straightened out. And let me know what happens, okay?” Actually I wasn't at all sure I wanted to know, but the threat that I might call to check up on him was probably the only thing that would make him follow through.

“Okay,” said Frank. “And thanks.”

When I left he was standing on the porch, locking the front door carefully behind him. Already I was late enough to have to speed all the way home. For once, luck was with me. I didn't trip over any radar-traps, and Davey's bus was late, too.

As I turned onto our road, the school bus lumbered down the block just ahead of me. I waited behind the flashing red lights while Davey got out at our driveway, then pulled in behind him as he headed for the front door. Together we went in and liberated Faith from her day's confinement.

Frank didn't call that evening to tell me how things had turned out, but then I didn't really expect him to. In his case, no news was usually a good thing, so I was just as happy not to hear.

The phone did ring the next morning just after I'd put Davey on the bus. As soon as I lifted the receiver, I heard screaming.

“Frank?” I barely recognized my brother's voice. It was high and edgy with panic. “What is it? What's the matter?”