Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [38]
“You lose your dog, mister? For five bucks I can help you find him. What’s he look like?”
“Big boxer with ears standing straight up. Brown and white. Big dog. I didn’t lose him, but I did lose the paper with the woman’s name on it who’s watching him. His name is Zip.”
“I seen him. Yeah, I did, mister. I seen her pulling him in a wagon. Nah, that’s wrong, some guy was pulling him and the lady was pulling the little dog in a wagon. I’m telling you, I seen him, mister.”
“Give me an address and the five bucks is yours, and you don’t even have to go looking for him.”
“Right there where that sign is in the driveway. Miss Josie is the lady. Miss Kitty, she don’t have no truck with dogs. She cooks.”
Jack wondered if he was being had as he forked over a five dollar bill.
“Go around to the back, mister. Them dogs are always fenced in. That’s so they can’t get out. The one with the big ears could jump the fence, but he don’t. He likes it there. See ya, mister.”
Jack walked up the driveway, his eyes and ears alert. He tucked his tongue down and pursed his lips. A shrill whistle ripped through the air. He was rewarded with a howl that made his short-cropped sandy hair stand on end. “Yo, boy. It’s me, Jack! Where are you, Zip?”
A second earsplitting howl rocked the quiet evening. Jack followed the sound. He heard the door rattle on the back porch as he climbed the steps. He rang the bell and waited. “Anyone home?” Jack bellowed. He jabbed at the bell again and again. “Guess the fat lady with the big feet left you all alone. Paul isn’t going to like that one little bit.” He jiggled the handle but it held tight. “I’ll just sit right here and wait for your . . . the lady to get home. I missed you, big guy. Man, do I have some stories to tell you.”
He heard the noise, felt the vibration, and then he was tumbling down the steps to the lawn. “What the hell . . . ? Zip! How the hell? Oh, oh, you pushed open the door. That lady isn’t going to like that. No, siree. And what’s this?” he said, reaching for Rosie, who whined as he held her up to his cheek. She was soft and cuddly, kind of like Marissa when she was in one of her cuddly moods. A heartbeat later, he was astounded when Zip reached up and daintily removed Rosie from his grasp. He sat her down right between his two big front paws.
“I get it—it’s a package deal. You and her. I know she’s a girl. Paul didn’t say he got a new dog. Or, does this little beauty belong here? Probably. That’s going to be a problem. The door’s broken, so we can’t leave her here. That means she has to come with us. Okay, we’ll take her with us, and I’ll bring her back in the morning.” Zip reared backward, his right front paw pulling Rosie with him. “I guess I said the wrong thing. Okay, we won’t bring her back. We’ll take it on the lam and let Paul deal with the chick with the big feet. I wonder what they do to dog-nappers. Paul can worry about that, too. We’ll say she followed us. Yeah, yeah, that’s what we’ll say. But let’s see how this grabs you. We’re switching up here and going to my house instead of Paul’s house. I don’t feel like dealing with any women right now, and that includes Marissa. We’re all happy campers now, right?”
“Woof.”
“Woof.”
“Celia’s husband did us proud tonight, Kitty. A hundred dollar tip! What does that guy do for a living? Boy, did you see them eat? I bet he’d hire you to cook for him every day if he could. I don’t think you made enough food to last all week, though.”
“They’ll order something in or go the fast-food route. Then they’ll drool for our stuff for two days. Next week Celia said her husband wants potato-crusted lobster tails on a bed of mugbug mashed potatoes, sweet water prawns over spinach pappardelle with a champagne and salmon roe butter sauce, poke salad with sesame vinaigrette. For dessert, malassadas with extra pastry cream, macaroon tartlets with some creole cream cheese ice cream. I thought I would throw in a praline cream pie just for the heck of it. Oh, I almost forgot. He said he would look on