“Good.” Davey said importantly. “He keeps moving around the box. I think he’s hungry.”
“He is. And he’s going to eat in just a minute, as soon as number two is dry. Now that the first two are here, we should get a break.” Sam turned the new baby over. “A boy and a girl, so far. Who’s got names picked out?”
Davey and I looked at each other blankly. His fingers stroked the boy puppy in the box. “Since he’s the first, I think his name should be Adam.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “That would make her Eve.”
“A biblical litter?” Sam looked skeptical.
“Sure,” I said blithely, though the idea had only just occurred to me. “What else would you expect from a Poodle whose name is Faith?”
Sam started to laugh, saw I was serious, and tried to cover his amusement by clearing his throat. It didn’t work.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded.
“You may call her Faith, but that’s not her full name.”
“No, of course not. Aunt Peg named her before she gave her to me. Her name is Cedar Crest Leap of Faith.”
“Leap of Faith,” Sam repeated. “Peg didn’t name her that because she was feeling religious. That’s what she thought she was making in letting a bitch as good as this go to a novice like you.”
I frowned, feeling distinctly grumpy. Aunt Peg might have mentioned something about that at the time. But that had been nearly two years ago. In the meantime I’d managed to put the implied insult out of my mind.
“On the other hand,” Sam aimed for a conciliatory tone, “look how well things turned out. I’d say you’ve justified Peg’s faith, and more.”
He leaned toward me over the side of the box and Davey groaned. “If you two start kissing, who’s going to take care of the puppies?”
He had a point.
Carefully, I lifted the first puppy off the heating pad and put him back with Faith. She sniffed him all over, checking him as thoroughly as if they’d been separated for a matter of hours rather than minutes. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she nudged both puppies back toward her flank. Within moments, each had found a milk-filled nipple and were sucking blissfully.
Watching the puppies nurse, their small tongues latched tightly around the teats, their tiny paws kneading Faith’s belly in rhythm to help bring down the milk, filled me with a sense of well-being. Stealing a glance at Sam in the quiet room, I could see that the simple domestic scene was having the same effect on him. For this one short moment, all was right with the world.
“Now what?” Davey demanded, shattering the illusion of tranquillity. He scooted over beside me. “How come you guys are just sitting there? When is Faith going to have more puppies?”
“When she’s ready,” I said. “This is her production, not ours. We’re just here to help things along if she needs it.”
“Well, hurry up and help then.” Spoiled by video games, my son had been expecting thrill-a-minute action. “How come it takes so long?”
Sam straightened and leaned in for a closer look. “You’re about to get your wish,” he told Davey. Adam and Eve had finished nursing and were sleeping in the bottom of the box. He scooped them up and set them on the heating pad. “Here comes another puppy.”
Forty-five minutes later, Faith’s litter had doubled in size, with two more girl puppies joining the boy and girl we already had. Davey, who’d been informed that there would likely be another break in the action, had gone off in search of a Bible. With six-year-old determination, he’d decided that he didn’t want just any names for these puppies, he wanted the best names. And that meant making an informed choice.
The fact that his reading skills weren’t yet of Bible caliber probably meant that he’d be gone a while. Add that to the excited yips I’d heard from Tar when Davey had opened the bedroom door, and I figured he’d have plenty to keep him busy. Which would give Sam and me a chance to talk.
“I feel like I’ve been away forever,” Sam said, when all four puppies were warm and dry, and had had their first meal.
“Me too. I’ve been busy.” Starting with the first trip I’d made to the magazine office on Monday, I related the week’s events in detail.
Sam had already met many of the people I spoke of. Marlon Dickie was a new name, as was Alida Trent, although he’d heard of her dogs. Sam knew who Kenny Boyle was, and frowned darkly through my recitation of Bertie and my visit to the handler’s kennel. Judging by the expression on Sam’s face, I suspected that someday soon Kenny would be offering to make restitution for Bertie’s ruined items.
“It sounds like you’ve rounded up a fair number of suspects,” he said, leaning back against the bed. “Any idea who might have done it?”
“No. That’s the problem. I’ve spoken to lots of people who had reasons for wanting Sheila out of the way, but none of them seem compelling to me. Except maybe for Brian, and now it looks like he’s the one person who couldn’t have done it.”
Sam thought about that for a minute. “When I came in, you seemed surprised that I’d heard about Brian’s murder. How did you find out so quickly?”
Uh oh, I thought. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t wonder about that. Because lately I’d begun to feel that going to see Brian the night before had been a betrayal, both of Sam and of the trust we had in one another.
Technically I hadn’t done anything behind Sam’s back; at least that’s what I kept telling myself. But it felt like I had. Brian had offered to tell me things about Sam which he claimed Sam didn’t want me to know, and I’d gone running to find out what they were.
So what did that say about me? And about my belief in the relationship that Sam and I shared?
“I was there,” I said slowly. “I got to Brian’s house right after he was murdered.”
Shock froze Sam’s expression. Concern quickly followed. “What do you mean you were there? What were you doing there?”
“I’d seen Brian earlier in the day at his office. He said he had things to tell me. Things he wanted privacy to discuss. He asked me to meet him at his house last night.”
“And you went?” He sounded angry. Even Faith, totally absorbed in her new brood, looked up and tilted her head at his tone. “After everything I’ve told you about Brian—”
“Yes, I went.” My voice lifted too. “I had to go. Because what I know about Brian and Sheila, and the life you led before you met me, could pretty much fit in a thimble. Brian said he had things to tell me. I wanted to hear what they were.”
“Things about me.”
“Yes.”
Sam sighed. “I don’t know what Brian intended to tell you. I do know that whatever it was, was as likely to be a lie as the truth. He always had a way of shaping reality to suit his own purposes. Damn it, Melanie, I can’t believe you would have been so desperate for information that you would have turned to him instead of coming to me.”
I could see the pain in Sam’s eyes. It didn’t stop me from saying what I felt needed to be said. “I have come to you, Sam. There are things you don’t talk about, questions you don’t answer.
“Whenever I ask about Sheila and Brian and what went on among the three of you, you just shrug it off as if it didn’t matter. Well it does matter, it matters to me. And you won’t talk about it.”
Wouldn’t you know it, Faith chose that moment to start having contractions again. Despite the hurtful things I’d said, Sam and I still made a great team. Within minutes, another boy had been added to the litter.
Sam didn’t say a thing until the fifth puppy was dry and nursing. Following his lead, I was silent as well. I’d had my say. Now it was his turn.
“I can take a pretty good guess what Brian would have told you,” Sam said finally. “He would have wanted to strike out at me, and if hurting you would have accomplished that, he’d have done so without hesitating. I imagine he’d have warned you against marrying me.”
“For what reason?”
“Brian would have said that I
still cared for Sheila. That she was the love of my life, and I’d never gotten over her.”
I felt a pain in my chest. My heart, constricting with sudden apprehension. “And would he have been wrong?”
I wanted reassurance. Sam looked annoyed.
“Of course,” he said, his voice clipped, curt. “Do you have to ask?”
Yes, I thought. I did.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Make me understand. Because no matter how hard I try, I still don’t get it. What was so awful that happened between you and Brian to make you still despise each other?
“Yes, Sheila came between you. Both of you loved her, both of you lost her. But that was years ago. How come neither one of you ever got over it?”
Sam sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. He was stalling. That was all right. Faith was resting quietly again, and I could afford to wait.
The puppies had finished eating and dropped off to sleep before Sam spoke again. “The animosity you saw between Brian and me wasn’t about Sheila,” he said. “Not after all this time.”
I should have felt better. Maybe I would have, if I hadn’t still been confused. “What else was there?”
“Anger,” Sam said slowly. “Guilt. Betrayal of a friend’s trust. Remember when I told you about the video game that Brian stole and patented under his own name?”
“Island of Mutant Terror,” I said. “The one that made him millions.”
Sam nodded. “I was the friend. That was my game. Those were my millions. All those years ago, I took Sheila from him, and he took that from me.”
Twenty-eight
I felt like I’d been suckerpunched. I knew zip about video games, but I understood the concept of millions readily enough. I stared at Sam in shock.
“You designed Island of Mutant Terror?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t take it to market.”
“It wasn’t ready yet. There were still a few bugs I was working out. Back then, it was just an intellectual exercise, something to play around with when business school got to seem too much like real life.”
I’d never thought of Sam as naive, but I hadn’t known him a dozen years earlier. He’d been much younger then, with so many of the events that would shape his life yet to happen. “So it didn’t occur to you to protect your creation.”
He shook his head. “None of us realized that the game had the potential to become a best-seller. When you’re living on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, you don’t think in terms of striking it rich overnight. Not unless you’re standing in line to buy a lottery ticket.”
I cast a quick glance at Faith. She was snoozing in the box, curled contentedly around her litter. “You might not have realized what you had, but what about Brian? It sounds like he must have had a pretty good idea.”
“Maybe,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I’ve wondered about that over the years. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Sheila and I had just gotten together, so I had other things on my mind. I’d pretty much shoved the video game onto a back burner.
“I guess that gave Brian the opportunity he was looking for. I don’t think he was hoping to make a fortune; I think he just wanted to hit back at me any way he could.”
“Okay, I can see that.” I trailed a finger over the nearest puppy. It felt warm and pudgy beneath my hand, just the way it was supposed to. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t go after him. Why didn’t you sue or something? Wouldn’t your other friends have supported your claim?”
“Probably. If I’d felt like dragging them into it, which I didn’t. Remember, I had no idea how successful the game would become. None of us did. And besides, there was an element of guilt there on my part as well.
“There’s an unwritten rule: you don’t steal your best friend’s girlfriend. And I’d broken it. Maybe I felt like I deserved to have him come back at me. Or maybe I just figured we’d made a fair exchange.”
Millions of dollars versus a life with Sheila?
Don’t even go there, I thought.
In the box beside us, Faith stirred uncomfortably. Contractions were starting again. I reached in and stroked the side of her face. Tipping her head, the Poodle leaned into the caress.
“You’re doing great,” I whispered. Mindful of the puppies beside her, Faith’s tail wagged gently.
Since litters are delivered from back to front, with those nearest the end of the birth canal being born first, this puppy had the entire length of Faith’s body to travel, and was a long time in coming. Faith pushed; Sam encouraged; I worried. I also had a few minutes to think.
By the time Faith pushed out the sixth puppy, something troubling had occurred to me. “Sam, where were you Friday evening?” I asked as we dried off the new girl and got her set up for a meal.
“At Sheila’s parents’ house. It was my last night, and we had dinner together. After that, Sheila’s brother and I drove back to his house—it was Sheila’s when she lived out there, but she sublet it to him when she came East—to pick up some papers I was going to need.”
“So you were with other people all night?”
Sam saw where I was headed. “You’re thinking I might need an alibi, aren’t you?”
“Could be. Probably no one has a stronger motive for killing Brian than you do.”
“Don’t worry. Sheila’s brother is pretty active in local politics, and he’s friends with half the Evanston police force. I’m sure he’ll back me up.”
“Good.” I offered Faith a sip of cool water. She lapped from the small bowl politely, then lay back down on her side.
“How do we know when she’s done?” I asked. “Six puppies seems like a nice size litter. How do we know if there are more coming?”
“We don’t. The best thing to do is just watch and wait.”
Glancing at the clock by my bed, I was surprised to see how late it had gotten. I slipped out of the room and went to find Davey and Tar. Both were sound asleep on the couch. I put the puppy out in the backyard, then carried Davey upstairs, changed him into pajamas, and put him into bed.
“Did Faith have more puppies?” he asked sleepily, clutching the covers to his chin.
“Two more,” I whispered. “You can see them in the morning.”
“Is she going to sleep on my bed?”
“Not tonight. How about Tar? Would you like him to stay with you?”
Davey nodded, and drifted off. I went downstairs, let Sam’s puppy in, then warmed up some boiled chicken I’d prepared for Faith earlier. With six hungry mouths to feed, she was going to need plenty of sustenance.
By the time I got back to my bedroom, Sam and Faith were snoozing, too. I paused in the doorway and smiled. Though there was a bed right beside him, Sam had stretched out on the floor. One arm cradled his head; the other reached up and dangled over the side of the whelping box, resting gently on Faith’s side. If she stirred to signal another puppy on the way, he’d know about it.
I took a pillow from the bed and placed it under his head. Sam opened one eye, looking just as sweetly drowsy as my son had. He’d had a long week.
“Go back to sleep,” I said, lifting his arm out of the whelping box and placing it in a more comfortable position. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Sam nodded, sighing into his pillow. “Wake me up if you need me.”
“I will,” I promised.
Hours passed. All around me the house was silent. I handfed Faith her chicken. I admired her beautiful new litter. I gazed at the man lying on the floor next to them. And through it all, I thought about how lucky I was. Please God, I prayed, if this is all I ever have, I’ll be happy for the rest of my life. Just please don’t let me screw it up.
No more puppies arrived. Faith woke up diligently every few hours to feed her litter. I kept watch, drifting happily, feeling more at peace than I had in days. As the first soft streaks of dawn lightened the window, I put my head down on Sam’s shoulder and fell asleep, too.
I awoke to
the nudge of a none-too-gentle foot and the sound of Aunt Peg’s voice ringing in my ears.
“Six gorgeous puppies,” she was saying as she leaned over the box and praised Faith’s efforts. “Aren’t you a wonderful girl?” Her gaze swung briefly my way. “I hope you didn’t sleep through the whole thing.”
“Six puppies?” I sat up and registered surprise. “When did that happen?”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Sam said, grinning. Considering that he’d spent the night on the floor, he looked remarkably cheery.
Slowly I pushed myself to my feet. “Faith must need to go out.”
“Mo-oom!” Davey’s voice crescendoed in disgust. He was sitting behind me on the bed. “We’ve already done that. Sam and I have been up for hours. Faith and Tar have already had breakfast, too.”
Oh. “What about you?”
“I had shortbread cookies and milk,” Davey said smugly. “Sam said I could.”
“You snooze, you lose,” Sam informed me.
“I wouldn’t mind having a few cookies myself,” said Aunt Peg. She sat down on the floor beside the whelping box and upended a canvas bag she’d brought with her. Half a dozen bottles of brightly colored nail polish spilled out onto the rug.
“Are you going to paint their toenails?” Davey giggled. I was glad he’d asked. It saved me from having to do it.
“Not their toenails, their backs.” Peg unscrewed the nearest bottle, labeled Sonic Blue. “This used to be much harder back in the days when nail polish only came in red, pink, and taupe. Now look at all the choices. I was able to bring a color for each puppy.”
I waited for more of an explanation. It didn’t come. Instead, Peg reached in the box, picked up the nearest puppy and dabbed a big blue spot on the shiny black hair in front of his tail.
“Aunt Peg,” I said, “what are you doing?”
“Making identifying marks. How else do you expect to be able to tell them apart? Six newborn puppies, all pure black. Even I think they look alike, and I’ve been doing this for years. You haven’t got a prayer.”
Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) Page 22
