California Schemin' - Kate George [56]
“Look,” I said, “someone is watching us.”
Wendy turned and took in the view.
“Must not have anything better to do than to watch the people in the dog park all day,” she said.
“Maybe it’s the poop police checking to make sure everyone picks up after their dogs.”
“There’s a great job, spying on the neighbors.”
“I can think of about a million things I’d rather do than that. Heck, I’d rather pick up the dog poop than spy on the neighbors.”
“I think I’d draw the line at that,” she said. “Picking up my own dogs’ poop is bad enough. I’m not volunteering to pick up other people’s dog poop.”
“Or is it other people’s dogs’ poop?”
Wendy laughed. “Yeah, other people’s dogs’ poop.”
I watched the houses as we walked back. There seemed to be people in most of them, either half-hidden in the garden or peering out of a window. I got a shiver up my spine.
“Cold?” Wendy asked me.
“Yeah. Let’s get inside.”
Which was worse: the devil you knew or the devil you didn’t?
The next morning I told Wallace I was ready to ID the men. He smiled and told me he’d arrange a meeting as soon as Fogel was free. I was sick with relief on one hand and anxiety on the other. What if I couldn’t talk to an officer alone? What if everything went irretrievably wrong?
I grabbed a book from the library and hid in my room. Wendy brought me clean clothes, and I used up part of the morning getting showered. I was antsy. I wanted to be on the move, away from this house. Being patient was killing me.
Hammie knocked on the door in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to come watch the football game. I declined; I didn’t want to have to be friendly to Wallace, even if his daughter was really very nice. I cracked the book but couldn’t concentrate on the words, so I walked over to the window and looked out on the day. Stinking Madison. Why did she have to give me back to Hammie? It would have made life so much easier if she’d just kept me.
I finally gave up planning my escape as a bad job and went out to join the family around the big flat screen TV in the living room. Moose was putting out snacks when I walked in. He gave me a wink and a smile, and I found myself smiling back despite myself. He was like a big goofy dog; I couldn’t help but like him.
I squeezed myself in between Wendy and Hammie on the big couch. Wallace was sitting on the love seat with Paris. They were ignoring the game, heads bent together, chatting. If I’d been Hammie, I would have been feeling pangs of jealousy, but he was focused on the game and didn’t seem the least troubled by the tête-à-tête on the love seat.
I found I couldn’t really focus on the game. Alabama was playing Florida, a mishmash of red and white guys running around on the field. It’s not that I don’t like football. I love to watch with a group of friends, but this felt awkward. I thought Hammie was the only one watching the game, and I wasn’t really sure about him. It was entirely possible he was playing possum.
I got up and wandered into the kitchen. Moose was sitting on a stool, watching the game on a screen that was normally disguised as a painting.
“Hey,” I said. “How come you aren’t out there with the rest of the Wallace retinue?”
“I’m not really comfortable hanging out with the boss.” He shrugged. “Want something to drink?”
“Sure. Is there any soda? No, sit. I can get it. I walked to the silver fridge, but Moose shook his head.
“That’s the food fridge. The beverages are in a drawer under the counter, next to the ice machine.”
The glasses were in a cupboard next to the sink. I filled one with ice and grabbed a soda out of the beverage drawer.
“Since when do they refrigerate drawers?” I asked. “This kitchen is wild.”
“Where you been? The rich and famous have had cold drawers for years.”
“Not hanging out with the rich and famous, obviously, but even the ritzy hotel I used to work for didn’t have drink drawers. They put dorm fridges in the rooms.”
I popped the top on my soda and poured it into the glass. It immediately