by Rozsa Gaston
"Let's print out a bunch of signs, and I'll post them all over the place on my way to the train station," he suggested. "Then I'll come back tomorrow morning, and we'll look for him until your cab arrives. We probably need to call the humane society and some animal shelters, too. Do you know the name of his vet?"
"No," she shook her head with a sigh. "His vet's number is on his dog tag, but I didn't think to write it down anywhere. What about your job?"
"I'll call in sick tomorrow."
"Just tell them the truth," she said. "That the dog you're taking care of is missing."
"You're right. My boss has a dog. He might have some ideas."
The thought suddenly entered his head to ask to spend the night. He looked away from her and brushed it away. She needed to pack, and he needed to think. His senses battled with reason as he tried not to inhale the mesmerizing scent of her hair.
"I'll print out ten of these," Hint said, moving to her printer.
"Make it twenty. I'll drop by the dog run on my way to the train station."
As they printed the lost dog ad, the phone rang.
"Oh no. What if that's Nicole and Tom? What do I tell them?" She looked panicked.
"Just wait to see who it is," he parried. "Maybe the police found him."
After three rings, her answering machine picked up. A male voice said, "Hey, Hint. It's Brian O'Connell. Thought I might catch you at home. Give me a call, okay? 769-5120."
"Go ahead; pick up. I'll call you tomorrow morning." Jack headed toward the door. Who was Brian O'Connell? The caller's tone of voice told him it was someone interested in her. It was nothing to him, anyway.
"Here's the copies," she announced behind him, making no attempt to answer her phone. Her face looked flushed as she approached him. "If you call the humane society tomorrow morning, I'll get the number of the nearest animal shelter and call them. What time do you think you'll come over?"
"Early. I'll get here before nine, if it's okay with you."
"Fine. Early is better. Percy will probably wake up with the dawn. He'll be so confused." Her face fell.
What did she know about being confused? She should try being a man for a day, trying to figure out what a woman was thinking.
"Look, just pack your suitcase, assume your trip is on, and think positively," he said. "We'll find the dog." Without thinking he put his hands on each of her arms as she stood next to the door, her face a tense mask.
She pulled away, apparently startled. Then she tossed her hair. Jack knew about hair tossing from his sister. It was a good sign.
"See you tomorrow. Good night." She crossed her arms in front of her body. A bad sign.
"Good night. Try not to worry yourself too much," he said, wishing she would uncross her arms and allow him to comfort her. But that would confuse the picture even more. She wasn't his type anyway, with her head in the clouds or buried in fancy real estate magazines.
Her auburn hair fell back into her face as she slowly nodded her head.
It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out to tuck back the reddish brown tendril that hid her expression. Catching himself, he turned and strode off quickly. They had a dog to find.
Chapter Three
The next day Hint woke early. She'd been in an embrace before shaking off the cobwebs of her dreams. The man's face wasn't clear, but he smelled like cedarwood chips. She inhaled deeply. Instantly, the pleasant scent vanished, replaced by the memory of the evening before.
Percy was gone.
Springing out of bed, she rushed to look at her answering machine. Other than Brian O'Connell's call, there were no messages. She flipped on the coffeemaker and pulled out her telephone book. She would call Joe Pritchett, the town dogcatcher the police officer had suggested they contact. She dialed the number but got a recorded message, asking the caller to leave a complete description of the lost animal and a phone number. The message ended with a short piece of advice: "Please be advised that lost pets are most likely to be found in the first twenty-four hours after their disappearance." Great. They'd better find Percy before her cab arrived at noon to whisk her to the airport.
She put down the phone then picked it up to return her superintendent's call, but before she could, it rang.
"Hello, Hint," a low voice greeted her.
"Jack?"
"Yup. Any news?"
"No news," she reported.
"I'm on my way. Need coffee?"
"I'm brewing some now," she told him.
"A bagel?"
"Let's pick some up on our way to the dog run," she suggested. "Or wherever we're going."
"We'll go all over," he said. "I've got my car. See you in a few."
As she hung up, an image of Derek Simpson studying her portfolio flashed into her mind. She'd seen photos of him in the trade press: a tall, imposing-looking man with a full head of bushy gray hair. There was no way the clumsy moves of Jack Whitby were going to stand in the way of her meeting him Thursday as planned.
When she'd opened her door to Tom's friend the evening before, she'd been pleased to see Nicole's description of him had been apt. She had referred to Jack as good-looking and he was. He was also tall, with wavy medium brown hair just a tad long for someone in the financial services industry. He'd looked straight at her with dark blue eyes that had reminded her of the North Atlantic Ocean — someplace off the coast of Maine, perhaps.
As he stepped into her apartment, she'd noted the inverted vee of his lean build; wide, square shoulders narrowed down to slim, runner's hips, where his navy blue polo shirt hung half-tucked into khaki pants. Nicole had told her he edited equity reports for a financial firm. He looked impressively fit for someone who probably sat in front of a computer all day long. She'd guess he did other things too — outdoorsy, sporty things. He'd been well-spoken and polite. But he hadn't known much about how to handle a dog on a leash, then he'd turned into a raging maniac once Percy had gotten loose.
On the other hand, Hint knew a lot about handling Percy, and she had still lost him in the woods the day before. Anyone could lose a dog. But not anyone could lure one back. The thought of Jack trying to find Percy after she'd left on her trip alarmed her. The dog didn't know him, and Jack appeared to know zip about dogs. She prayed Percy would show up in the next few hours before her cab arrived to take her to the airport.
She hurriedly dressed then picked up the phone again.
"Brian, it's Hint Daniels. Sorry to bother you so early."
"Well, good mo-o-orning. Did you get my message last night?" His voice, full of innuendo, made her cringe.
She suspected that her superintendent had a crush on her. She'd asked him to take a look at her dishwasher a few months earlier, which had malfunctioned. He had made a few adjustments. Then they had to wait for the twenty-minute cycle to run its course. While they were waiting, he had pulled out a book of poetry by D.H. Lawrence and read a few passages to her. She had deliberately refrained from all but the vaguest comments on the poems and put it out of her mind. It wouldn't do to encourage him, but right now she needed all the help she could get.
"I've got a problem," she told him. "I was looking after my friend's dog, and he ran off last night. I need to find him."
"Wow. What kind of dog?"
"He's an eighteen pound schnoodle."
"A what?"
"A schnoodle — a cross between a poodle and a schnauzer. He's black and grey."
"Where'd you lose him?"
"Right around the corner, on the front lawn of the doctors' offices on Pondfield Road. I was handing him over to the person taking him for the next few days, and he got loose."
"You should put up some signs," Brian suggested.
"We posted around twenty last night."
"Put up more. If you give me some, I'll post them around my buildings." He looked after three buildings in the neighborhood.
"Okay, I'll print some out and get them to you," she told him.
"I'll buzz you in a whi
le to pick them up," he replied. "Right now I'm over at Twelve Meadow."
"Okay, Brian. Thanks." She hung up and went to turn on her printer, hoping he wouldn't take her request for help as a sign of interest.
Looking at her description of Percy, she inserted "family pet" at the end of the message. She didn't need to specify that she wasn't the family. Then she thought about a reward. Could she spring for one? She could, but she didn't want to run the risk of having less than altruistic searchers looking for him. It seemed to her that a true dog lover wouldn't be motivated by the thought of a reward. Still, she needed to offer some incentive. She put in "reward," and left it at that.
After calling the local dog shelter and leaving a detailed description with them, she went online to see if she could gather some tips for looking for a lost dog that she hadn't thought of yet. Ten minutes later, she'd read numerous accounts of scams perpetrated by people pretending to have found a lost dog. Not only did blackmailers ask for rewards, but professional scammers asked for airfare to be wired to them to cover the cost of sending home the dog they pretended to have found. Advice was posted on not going alone to meet anyone who said they'd found a dog. A single woman could end up meeting a bad fate instead.
Thankfully Jack was around to help her track down Percy. At least he could offer his time and effort.
The buzzer rang. She ran to it, relieved that her dog-hunting partner had arrived. Hitting the button quickly, she opened her apartment door.
Brian O'Connell greeted her with a huge smile, making her stomach lurch. Why did she have to have a superintendent with a crush on her? It was uncomfortable. She needed him for repairs and maintenance projects, yet every time she called, she worried she was leading him on. She wasn't, but he appeared eager to think as much. Why did some men have to complicate everything? There was no way she could complain to the landlord about him. He was Brian's cousin and an even worse letch than Brian was. Thankfully, he was never around.
The superintendent pushed his way into her apartment as if he owned it.
"Hint, I'm so sorry about the dog," he said, searching her face. "What does he look like?"
"Here. I printed out a dozen of these for you to post." She hated the way Brian O'Connell wore tight muscle shirts and walked around with a perpetual smirk on his face. He always seemed to be implying something, no matter what the situation. She'd call him to fix a leaky faucet, and by the time he was done, he acted as if he'd spent the night at her place.
"Why don't you give me more, so I can put them up all over town?"
Why did she think this was just a ruse to stay in her apartment talking with her a while longer? Was he going to pull out another D.H. Lawrence poem to read aloud while he waited for her to print more flyers? She shuddered.
"Okay, give me a minute." She hurried to her computer and queued up the printer, hoping to get him out the door before Jack arrived.
As the final page printed out, the buzzer rang again. She rammed the extra ads into Brian's hand and opened her apartment door for him to exit before she responded to the buzzer to open the outside door downstairs.
"Thanks, Hint," Brian said, flashing a smile. "Are you going to be around later, in case I need some more?"
No, not for you. As emphatic as that thought was, she could use all the help she could get. "Just give me a call if you need more," she told him. "Thanks for whatever you can do." She gave a short, firm wave goodbye, trying to shut the door in his face.
"I'll do whatever I can, Hint. I really want to help." The superintendent lingered just inside her door, his arm casually supporting his body on the doorframe. Behind him footsteps rang out on the stairs.
"Hi, Hint. The downstairs door was open. Am I disturbing you?" Jack approached from the end of the hallway, giving the man in her doorway a level look. Why was it that Brian O'Connell came across as more of a boulevardier than a superintendent?
"Not at all, Jack. Good morning." She didn't mean to sound nervous, but the man blocking her doorway showed no signs of leaving.
"Hey, I forgot my cell phone. How 'bout that?" Brian walked back into her kitchen to pick it up off the counter. He more or less bounced with each step.
She began to boil. Her super had a way of acting proprietary in her presence, as if the fact that he liked her turned him into her boyfriend or something.
Hurrying in front of him, she grabbed his cell phone and shoved it into his hands. His fingers managed to slide onto hers as she gave it to him.
Yuck. Double yuck.
She could feel Jack Whitby's eyes on her, assessing who the stranger might be. Deliberately, she had not introduced him.
Finally she got Brian out of her apartment. Slamming the door, she braced it shut with her back.
"Want some coffee?" She smiled nervously at Jack.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Who?"
"Him. Your boyfriend?"
"No. No way. That was my superintendent. He came over to take some ads for Percy. He's going to post them around the three buildings he manages."
"That was your super?" Jack appeared skeptical. He took a long sip from the mug of coffee she handed him while his eyes studied hers over the rim.
She wasn't going to defend herself further. She had told him who her visitor was. There was nothing more to say about it. Who was Jack Whitby that she had to explain herself to him anyway?
"Did you call the Humane Society?" she countered, sidestepping his question.
"Yes. The closest one is in New Rochelle, about three miles from Bronxville. I described Percy to them, and they suggested we come over in person and post an ad."
"Good. Let's do it. Should we go down to the dog run?" she asked.
"Yes, for starters. I posted two ads down there last night, but let's print out a whole stack of them and bring duct tape. I want to check if the tape I used last night held up. And I have another idea."
"Which is…?"
"Don't think this is weird or anything," he said. "But do you have any gym clothes you worked out in recently?
She wrinkled her nose, thinking of the smelly running clothes she'd just hauled down to the laundry room that morning.
"If you wear something with your sweat on it, he'll be able to pick up your scent more easily," he explained.
Hint laughed. "I've got some dirty tee shirts in the laundry room now. I just took a load down to the basement, but the washers were all full."
"The grosser the better. And if you get all sweaty while we're out looking for him, that might help, too."
"I'll go get one now." She nodded then headed out the door and down the stairs. "Keep an ear out for the phone in case anyone calls about Percy," she yelled over her shoulder.
In the basement she found a faded orange tee shirt in her laundry pile and threw it on. A washer had become available, so she tossed the rest of the clothes in the machine then headed upstairs. It seemed strange to wear her grubbiest clothes, especially to spend the morning with a man she didn't know very well. But this was all for Percy's benefit. Jack Whitby wasn't a stalker or a pervert, was he? She cringed, thinking of her superintendent, who frequently loitered on the sidewalk outside her building, looking up at her window.
When she re-entered her apartment, Jack's expression seemed odd.
"What's wrong?" she asked, hoping it wasn't the smell of stale sweat from her shirt that made him screw up his face as if he'd swallowed a lemon slice.
"You got a call," he told her.
"Was it about Percy?" she asked, her heart thudding. He looked grim. Had someone called to say the dog had been found dead by the side of the road?
"It was Nicole. You'd better play the message," he replied, looking sheepish.
"Why didn't you pick up?" she cried, running to her answering machine.
"Think about it."
He was right. Barring the obvious bad news he'd have for them, wouldn't Nicole find it strange that he was at her girlfriend's apartment, answering her phone?
> She hit play. Nicole's cheerful voice filled the room. She sounded happy and relaxed. "Hey, Hint — thought I'd try to catch you before you leave town. How'd the handoff go last night? Tom called Jack but got his voicemail, so I thought I'd check in with you. Hope Percy was a good boy. If you get a chance, call me back on my cell or I'll call yours. We're having a ball, by the way. Bye."
"Whoa. Now what?" Hint looked at Jack, fear mixed with guilt flooding her insides.
"We need to call them back," he said.
"And say?"
His eyes locked onto hers as they stared at each other. It was clear he was at as much of a loss for inspiration as she was.
"I think they call this a moral dilemma," he finally commented.
She nodded, impressed he had the guts to speak aloud what she already knew.
"We need to state the truth," he continued slowly.
"The whole truth or nothing but the truth?" she asked, searching his face.
"Ay, there's the rub," he replied, quoting one of Shakespeare's most famous lines.
"Hamlet." She tried not to giggle. Her nerves were so on edge, she felt as if she might break out in hysterical laughter any minute.
"He wasn't the only one with problems," Jack said, a glint of levity in his eyes.
"But he didn't know how to make a decision," she protested, thinking what a poor excuse for a man she'd always found Hamlet to be. He was one of her least favorite Shakespearean characters. There was something about men who second-guessed themselves that turned her off. Perhaps because the only man she'd ever been almost engaged to had been one.
"And we do?" Jack countered, one eyebrow going up as he gave her a quizzical look.
"We've got to tell them something," she said nervously, eyeballing her cell phone on the kitchen counter. "Nic's going to call any minute."
"Nothing but the truth sounds good to me," he told her. "In limited doses, of course."
She considered, looking at his face carefully. "What truths should we touch upon?"
"You had a great time with Percy, he got lots of exercise, and you handed him over to me last night as planned." He returned her gaze with equal intensity then smiled devilishly. "Maybe you could mention it was nice meeting me, too."
