Dog Eat Dog by Laurien Berenson

Author:Laurien Berenson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

I spent a restless night in bed and got up early, eager to do anything that would take my mind off Bob and what he’d said. Alice Brickman called after breakfast and invited Davey over to play with Joey. And like Sam, Aunt Peg was away showing in Massachusetts. That left me and Faith.

I thought about washing the kitchen floor. I thought about bathing Faith. Both would make me feel virtuous, but both were essentially mindless physical activity which would leave me plenty of time to think. Right now, that was the last thing I needed.

Instead, I got on the phone and called Joanne Pinkus. She was home, and seemed more delighted than I would have been by the prospect of a visit from someone she barely knew. Maybe she was hoping I wanted to talk insurance.

Joanne lived in Norwalk in a small frame house that had the look and feel of the fifties. It was set on almost an acre of land, however, with mature trees and plantings that afforded plenty of privacy. A post and rail fence lined with wire mesh, circled the property.

As I drove up, two black and tan Norwich Terriers, presumably Rupert and Camille, raced along the fence barking a welcome. Faith pressed her nose against the window and stared. She’s been to handling class and shows, so she’s seen lots of other dogs; but for some reason, the little ones always seem to surprise her. I cracked the windows and left her lying on the seat with a new rawhide bone nestled between her front paws.

I’d barely rung the bell before the door was flung open. “This is great!” said Joanne. “I’m glad you’re here. Come on in.”

The yard had been muddy and I would have wiped my feet, but Joanne grabbed my arm and was already pulling me inside. Her mass of hair was casually messy; her plump body shoe-horned into leggings and a long pullover sweater.

I wondered if she owned a full-length mirror. If so, I wondered if she ever used it. In their brown stretch casings, her legs looked like two sausages ready to burst at the seams. The bulky sweater she’d topped them with had settled into a broad crease over her hips.

“Coffee?” she offered.

I fell in behind her as we headed toward the kitchen. “I’d love some.”

Joanne filled two ceramic mugs from a pot on the counter. There was a pitcher of milk and a bowl filled with little pink packets of Sweet’n Low on the table. As I helped myself, Joanne opened the back door and the two Norwiches came scrambling inside.

Racing side by side, they were going so fast that they were halfway across the kitchen before they saw me. Both skidded to a stop, stiff-legged, and began to bark. I leaned down and held out a hand.

“That’s Rupert,” Joanne said as the first one came and sniffed my fingers. “He loves everybody. Camille will take a little longer.”

Approximately thirty seconds, by my count. By the time

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