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But now we were having cash-flow problems, as Bernie put it. We hated divorce work, me and Bernie, never even accepted any in the old days. I remembered endless nights parked in front of motels up and down the state. “I live over on El Presidente.” She waved vaguely.Įl Presidente: Was that the one where the sewer pipes were still going in? I was bad on street names-except our own, Mesquite Road-but why not? I didn’t need them to find my way.
Hands are the weirdest things about humans, and the best: you can find out just about everything you need to know by watching them. Nothing like this has ever happened to me.” I glanced at Bernie, watching her, patting his hair into place. What would that be like, having it turned on all the time? Probably drive you crazy.
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She got out of the car, a tall woman with long fair hair and a smell of flowers and lemons, plus a trace of another smell that reminded me of what happens only sometimes to the females in my world. I could tell by all the saliva suddenly pooling in my mouth.īernie said something under his breath, too low for even me to hear but I knew I liked it, whatever it was. But the idea was planted in my head, for sure. “You know, is he safe, does he bite? I’m not that comfortable around dogs.” I felt it he was standing right beside me. She opened the door, started to get out, then saw me. “I’m looking for Bernie Little, the detective.” The window slid down and a woman leaned out. “Nice.” He picked up the ball and was rearing back again when a car came slowly down the street and stopped in front of us. I wagged my tail, that quick one-two wag meaning yes, not the over-the-top one that wags itself and can mean lots of things, some of which I’m not too clear on myself. “Got it on the short hop? Couldn’t tell from here.” If you know something more fun than this, let me in on the secret.
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I tore after the ball, bouncing up the middle of the road in plain sight, got my back feet way forward and sprang, totally airborne, snaring it on the short hop, the way I like, then wheeling around in one skidding motion and racing full speed, head low, ears flattened by the wind I was making, and dropped it at Bernie’s feet, putting on the brakes at the last moment. Where’d it go? He really couldn’t see it? That never failed to surprise me, how poorly he saw after the sun went down. Bernie reared back and threw the ball up the canyon road. I gave the ball a lick or two, making it mine, then took it over to Bernie and dropped it at his feet. I didn’t want to, not with this stranger’s smell on it.īut I never said no to Bernie. How did it get here? Cooped up all day, but I’d kept an ear cocked except for when I dozed off, of course. A beautiful night-soft breeze, lots of stars, lights twinkling down the canyon, and what was this? A new tennis ball on the lawn. Only doing my job, but don’t get me started on old man Heydrich.īernie was gazing up at the sky. I managed to stop the flow-not easy-and save some for dampening the rock at the end of the driveway and the wooden fence that separated our property from old man Heydrich’s next door, plus a squirt or two between the slats. The night filled with splashing sounds and I zoned out a little, listening to them.
Hadn’t realized I was that close to desperation. There were three trees out front, my favorite being a big shady one just perfect for napping under. How about a little more, down the back of the neck? I hunched my shoulders a bit, giving him the idea. He scratched between my ears, really digging his fingers in, the way I like. Why would that be? Just because my back teeth were floating? But then I thought, What the hell, the poor guy, and I went over and pressed my head against the side of his leg. I raised my tail and let it thump down on the rug, just so, sending a message. The door opened and in, with a little stumble, came Bernie Little, founder and part owner (his ex-wife, Leda, walked off with the rest) of the Little Detective Agency. The key scratched against the lock, finally found the slot. I could smell him-or rather the booze on his breath-before he even opened the door, but my sense of smell is pretty good, probably better than yours.
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