Софи Райан - Two Tall Tails

“Jason has a mean streak,” I said. “But what you’re suggesting goes beyond that. The vet did some tests. I think we need to wait to see what they show before . . .” I pressed my lips together for a moment. I wanted to turn and look at Angie’s house, but some instinct told me that Jason was at the window watching us so I didn’t. “. . . before we do anything.”

Rose exhaled slowly. “All right,” she agreed.

“And it’s probably a good idea to stay away from Jason for now.”

She nodded. “I had the same thought,” she said. We’d reached the driveway. “I should go check that bread pudding.” She smiled at me. “You didn’t have any supper, dear. I put the lasagna in the fridge. It will only take a few minutes to warm that up.”

I leaned against her, resting my cheek on the top of her head. “I love you,” I said.

Rose reached up and patted my hair. “I love you, too, sweetie.”

I straightened up, and as I followed Rose up the steps to the front door, I finally glanced in the direction of Angie’s house. Jason was standing in his aunt’s driveway. I watched him look around, and when his gaze reached me, there was something smug in his expression that made my stomach hurt all over again.

I had an appointment with the hand therapist the next day. Katie offered to take Tom to pick up Matilda.

“What would I do without the two of you?” the old man said.

Katie smiled at him. “What would we do without you?”

“Did you find Molly’s ball?” Rose asked. “I checked all the flowerbeds and the front yard, but I didn’t see it.”

“Did Molly lose another ball?” Tom said.

Katie nodded. “The one with the pink and purple stripes. Now that we can’t find it, it’s suddenly become her favorite. Four-year-olds can be very stubborn.”

Tom patted her arm. “So can eighty-four-year-olds, my dear,” he said.

We all arrived back in the court at the same time. I couldn’t help smiling as Tom got out of Katie’s car and set Matilda down on the grass. The little corgi seemed like her old self. I walked over to say hello.

Molly was crouched in the grass talking to the dog.

“Say good-bye to Matilda,” Katie told her. Molly put her arms around the corgi and gave her a hug. “Gently,” her mother reminded the little girl.

“Thank you,” Tom said.

Katie smiled. “Anytime.”

I bent down to stroke the top of Matilda’s head. The little dog nuzzled my wrist. “What did the vet say?” I asked as I straightened up.

“He’s still waiting for the results of the blood tests,” Tom said, looking down at his furry companion. “But he thinks she may have eaten something toxic.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have given her any of that duck.”

“You don’t know it was that,” I said. It was difficult not to look over at Angie’s small white house.

My cell phone rang as I was unlocking my apartment door. It was Abby Davenport.

“Was I right about the ball?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t, while at the same time some gut instinct told me I was.

“You were,” the vet said. “The ball was coated with an insecticide.”

I leaned against the kitchen counter. Elvis watched me from his perch at the top of his cat tower. “I was hoping I was wrong,” I said.

“It’s good that you got her here when you did,” Abby continued.

“Tom’s not the one who exposed her to the insecticide,” I blurted out. It suddenly seemed very important that the veterinarian knew that. I didn’t want Tom to be blamed for something I knew he would never do.

“I believe you,” she said. “I talked to Ben Kessler. He told me how upset Mr. Harris was.” She cleared her throat. “In theory, it could have been spilled on the dog’s ball by accident.”

“But you don’t think that’s what happened.”

“It’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Tom doesn’t use anything like that in his yard because of Matilda and because there’s a four year-old across the street.”

Abby sighed and I imagined her in her blue scrubs sitting on the edge of her desk. “We still don’t have all of the dog’s blood work back, but depending on what it shows, I may have to call the police.”

“I understand,” I said.

Abby said she’d be in touch and we said good-bye. I looked at the phone. Now I was second-guessing my decision not to involve Michelle. Unfortunately, she’d gone to visit her mother for a couple of days.

I worked late that evening, sanding a china cabinet that I was certain was in good shape under all the layers of paint on it. I got home to find a police car in the court. Tom and Jason were at the bottom of Angie’s driveway with a uniformed police officer. Tom was talking to the officer, gesturing with one hand. Jason stood there with his hands in his pockets, feet apart. There was something cocky about his stance.

When Tom noticed me, he beckoned me over. I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the men.

“Officer Sullivan, this is my neighbor, Sarah Grayson,” Tom said. He held himself stiffly and I noticed he avoided looking at Jason. Instead he fixed his gaze on me. “Sarah, will you please tell the officer about Matilda’s seizure and the ball you took to the vet.”

My surprise must have shown on my face because Tom added, “Dr. Kessler called me.”

I turned to the police officer. He looked to be just this side of forty, stocky with hair cropped close to his scalp and kind brown eyes. “Matilda is Tom’s corgi. She had a seizure yesterday. I drove them to the animal hospital. I grabbed the ball she had been playing with and took it with me. I, uh, I thought it had a funny smell.”

I could feel Jason’s eyes on me, and this time I shifted my gaze and met his full on. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wasting his time. His expression was appropriately serious, but it seemed to me that there was a hint of a smug smile around his dark eyes.

“What did you do with the ball, Ms. Grayson?” Officer Sullivan asked.

“I gave it to one of the veterinarians at the clinic, Abby Davenport. It turned out that there was insecticide on the ball.”

“Which he put there,” Tom said.

His voice was calm and steady, which made me nervous.

“I didn’t touch your dog’s ball,” Jason said. “I’m sorry the thing was sick, but I had nothing to do with that.”

He was good. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have believed him.

“There’s a bottle of insecticide over in the garage,” Tom said, inclining his head in the direction of Angie’s house. “Molly’s ball is there, too.”

“Who’s Molly?” Officer Sullivan asked, frowning.

“The little girl across the street,” I said.

“Look,” Jason said, holding out both hands. “The truth is I have no idea what’s in the garage because this is my aunt’s house. I’m just here for a few days to help her once she gets out of the hospital.”

“Mr. Harris, how do you know what’s in your neighbor’s garage?” the policeman asked Tom.

“Because I looked. Because he tried to kill my dog.” He gestured at Jason. “Because he tried to kill Angie. He’s after her money.”

I caught Tom’s arm. He’d said too much.

Jason turned to the police officer. “Like I said, this is my aunt’s house. I don’t want to make trouble, but I don’t feel right about people being on her property without permission.” He turned and pointed to the strip of lawn between the two driveways. Several four-by-four cedar posts were stacked on the grass. “I’m about to start on a fence to give my aunt a little more privacy.”

I tightened my grip on Tom’s arm but the older man didn’t speak. He just continued to glare at Jason and shake his head.