Bobbie, MD by Joan Downey

Author:Joan Downey [Downey, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781420850642
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Published: 2011-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Bob closed the car door and sprinted across the narrow lawn. Krys ran beside him issuing little yapping noises as they raced, her yaps growing louder, as they sprinted up the dark stairs.

“Say there!” a woman’s voice called out from below. “Wait! Is that you, Dr. Spanyil?”

Bob grabbed the railing and whirred to a stop, as he recognized his landlady’s voice. Krystaline finished the climb and stood on the landing, panting. “Hello, Mrs. Sherman. What can I do for you?” Bob asked.

Mrs. Sherman held a paper in her stubby fingers. She pushed an errant curler back up on top of her gray head and hiked the spent elastic waistband of her blue slacks, as she hustled towards the stairs. “I was just having my last cup of tea when I saw a car pull into the lot. I was hoping it was you. I have to talk to you. You know you’re hardly ever home.” She climbed the steps as Bob descended them, meeting her midway.

“What’s the problem?” Bob asked. Krystaline let out a couple of small yips.

“That’s the problem.” She pointed. “That dog. Can’t you hear it?”

“Why, yes I can,” Bob said. “Krystaline is greeting you. She greets me every time I come home.”

“How well we all know. It’s very annoying.”

“How can that be? She’s certainly not a barker.”

“Says you,” Mrs. Sherman replied. “But the owner doesn’t allow dogs, no matter.”

“Since when?”

“Since I got this in the mail yesterday.” She shoved a creased paper at him. “Read it and do what ya gotta do. I don’t need no trouble. Seems to me that as much as you work, you shouldn’t have a dog anyway.” She wrung her hands together and looked up at the dark, dangling light fixtures hanging from the overhang. “Maybe we should go into your apartment so you can see better.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Sherman, I pay my rent to live here. I hope that I’m not also paying for your opinion. And,” Bob added, barely containing his irritation, “I can see just fine.”

He glanced at the letterhead. It was emblazoned with a fancy chevron in which the words Hallmark Properties were entwined. The text was clear.

Dr. Spanyil: No animals of any kind, feathered, finned, furred, furless or scaly, shall be maintained within any unit owned by Hallmark Properties. Failure to comply with this regulation, as agreed upon in your rental agreement, will necessitate your vacating the premises within thirty days of receipt of this notice.

“I don’t remember signing any such agreement,” Bob said.

“I thought you’d say that, so I tucked a copy of the one you signed in the envelope.” She held it out to him.

Bob scanned the paper. “I don’t see anything about pets.”

“In the middle. Right under the line where it says something about the pool and tennis court. You know if you had better light —”

“I can see just fine, Mrs. Sherman. Yes, I see it. It’s printed about one-fourth the size of the rest of the type and is almost lost in the fold.

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