Sara Paretsky - Body Work

The world was a weight on her head-I could understand that, with the wrecked remains of her family around her. “But Clara deserves all our best efforts to have the bright future Alexandra wanted for her,” I said. “And it will be easier for her to go to school now that this heavy load of secrets has been taken from her shoulders.”

“She’s right, Ma, and when I finish college, I’ll get a good job and look after you and Ernie, and even Papi, if they don’t send him to prison. And maybe they won’t. By the time everyone hears what Prince Rainier and his pals did to Allie and Nadia, they’ll give Papi a medal, you’ll see. Stop trying to make Vic and me feel guilty for stepping forward.”

I grinned at Clara and hugged her, but her mother’s words haunted me as I tried to clean up the residue of the case. I hung out some with Sal, and the two vets came around to check on me once or twice.

The three of us went to visit Chad in the rehab hospital where he’d been transferred. It was a relief when he instantly recognized his friends: I’d been afraid that he’d be like Ernie, with lasting brain damage. The three men greeted each other awkwardly. It’s so much easier for women to hug and show emotion.

“I hear you guys saved my ass,” Chad said.

“This lady here is the one you need to thank,” Marty said.

After a few more awkward exchanges, I left them to catch up and took a cab home. I felt like an invalid myself these days, like someone who needed a lot of tender care, so I was treating myself to things like cab rides. I cut back on my hours and lounged around with the dogs. I missed Jake and his music more than I had expected. The dogs were physically taxing but emotionally rewarding, what I needed these days.

I was a bit gimpy on my cut foot, but as the days grew longer and the temperatures rose to the freezing level for the first time in five weeks, my solace was in the parks along the lakefront. The dogs and I went south to the wilderness preserve near the University of Chicago, where Mitch chased a coyote for half a mile. Peppy followed as fast as she could, while I limped along in her wake.

Petra helped me get my correspondence back in order. At the end of the week, though, she came to me, very solemn, and announced her resignation.

“I don’t want to leave you in the lurch or anything, but, Vic, I don’t think I’m cut out for detective work. People getting shot or cut to bits, I hate it. I was so scared last Sunday. And then I saw how tough and cool you were, and, don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want to be like you when I’m your age. Like, living alone, and being so hard that violence doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“How could I possibly take that the wrong way?” I said in my hard fashion. “You going back to Kansas City?”

“No. The company where Tim works, they’re looking for a publicity person, and it seems like a good job for me. And, well, Tim and me, we really hit it off. So that’ll be fun.”

I wrote out a check for the hours she’d worked. “Just don’t blow hot and cold on me, Petra. You came to me for help, and I helped you. Now you’re leaving me high and dry. Maybe you don’t want to become tougher. But you do need to become more thoughtful, more responsible.”

She nodded solemnly but didn’t even bother to answer me. I went home that night close to tears. Not because Petra was quitting-she was too impulsive to be an asset to my business-but I couldn’t help feeling demoralized by her take on my personality.

When I reached my building, I thought I really might break down. Clara Guaman was sitting on the single front step with her brother Ernie. On this cold February night, after hearing my cousin’s take on my character, I didn’t think I could cope with any more Guaman crises, but I held the lobby door open for Clara and Ernie and forced myself to smile.

“How are things?” My voice must have been harsher than I’d intended because Clara cast me a nervous glance.

“This isn’t a good time, is it?” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just tired… Your dad okay? Have they arrested him?”

“He’s a wreck, he wants to confess. Ma wants him to run away-to Cuba, even. And everybody’s fighting-it’s like it was when Nadia and Ma were fighting all the time. I thought it would all be better now, but it’s not. And tonight, Papi said if he had to hear Ernie’s laugh one more time he wouldn’t be responsible for what he did next. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t take Ernie to any of my girlfriends, so I brought him here.”

The dogs heard us and began barking and whining. Mr. Contreras opened his door, and Mitch and Peppy bounced into the hallway.

“Peppy!” Clara’s face lit up. “I hoped she’d be here.”

“Well, Clara, look at you. That black eye all gone, you’re pretty as a picture. Ain’t she?” Mr. Contreras beamed at her, and she blushed.

I worried what would happen when Ernie encountered the dogs-if he tried to hug or squeeze Mitch, it could end in disaster. However, the animals seemed to understand his disability. While Clara knelt and crooned over Peppy, Mitch jumped, paws on Ernie’s shoulders, and licked his face.

“She likes me, she likes me! Did you see, Clara? She kissed me. The Allie dog kissed me.”

Ernie’s shrieks of delight echoed up and down the stairwell. I didn’t try to tell him that Mitch was a male.

I took all five of them, young people, old man, dogs, upstairs with me while I changed from corporate to exercise clothes. I showed Ernie how to hold Mitch’s leash when we went back outside for a run. He needed reminding at each intersection that we stopped at, the dogs sat down, and they waited for the command to heel before moving again. But, in the park, I let Ernie tear up and down the lake path until he and Mitch were both exhausted. Clara played more quietly with Peppy. Both Guamans came back to the house happier than when we’d left.

I had bought a salmon fillet to share with Mr. Contreras for dinner. We stretched it into a meal for four by adding pasta and a head of broccoli, but Ernie was too excited to eat much.

“My Allie dog, my Allie dog,” he kept crying, jumping out of his chair to hug Mitch.

“Ernie should get a dog,” Clara said. “He hasn’t been this together since before his motorcycle wreck.”

I nodded. “I know someone who trains dogs for hospital visits. We’ll go see her on Monday and get her help in finding the right dog and the right training for Ernie. I’m also going to give you Deb Steppe’s contact information. She’s a crackerjack defense lawyer. We’ll call her, you and I; I think if you can bring your father in to see her, he’ll feel better, and then things will calm down at home.”

Clara played with the feathers in Peppy’s tail. “Did my dad-did he really shoot Prince Rainier?”

“Sweetie, I can’t answer that. I didn’t see him fire the gun, and if I say more than that, you may be forced to repeat it under oath.”

“But-half of me wishes he did, to avenge Allie and Nadia. Half of me wishes he didn’t, because it’s terrifying to think my own father could shoot someone.”

I took her hand. “What you and your family endured for the last three years, no one should have to live through. There are so many casualties of war, and many are far from the battlefield. If your father did shoot Rainier Cowles, you should think of it as post-traumatic stress, the same way poor Chad Vishneski suffered from it. I don’t think your dad will go around attacking other people. Once he talks to the lawyer, things will settle in his mind about what the right course of action is for him and for what remains of his family.”

We called Deb Steppe. She listened to me and then spoke privately with Clara. The conversation seemed to help Clara feel ready to go home again, although she and Ernie stayed until after eleven. It was hard to dislodge Ernie from Mitch-without Mr. Contreras’s help, I’m not sure we could have-but the promise of more time with Mitch and the promise of finding him his own true Allie dog very soon, finally got through to him, and I was able to drive the two Guamans home.