“More or less,” Jesse said.
“What else was annoying about
him?”
Christine was wearing a dark maroon pantsuit with a white blouse
and short cordovan boots with pointy toes and heels a little too high to be sensible. She was slim and good-looking, with auburn hair and oval wire-rimmed glasses. Behind the glasses, her eyes were greenish.
“He believed the ads on television,” she said without
hesitation.
She’s talked about his faults before, Jesse thought.
“He thinks what matters is looking good, knowing the right
people, driving the right car, owning the right dog … Oh God,
what about Goldie?”
“He’s healthy,” Jesse said.
“Dog officer has
him.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”
“I was hoping you’d take him,”
Jesse said.
“Me. God no. I can’t. I work twelve hours a day.”
Jesse nodded.
“Can you find him a home?” Christine said.
Jesse nodded.
“You think I should take him,” Christine said, “don’t
you?”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“I can’t have him home alone all day, peeing on my
rugs.”
Jesse nodded.
“Well, I can’t,” Christine said.
“‘Course not,” Jesse said.
“Hell, he was never my dog. Kenny just bought him because he
thought they’d look good running on the beach together.”
“They do that often?”
“Five nights a week,” she said.
“Kenny was always obsessing
about his weight.”
“Regular?”
“Kenny? Oh, God, yes, he was a schedule freak. Same time for
everything. Always.” Suddenly she smiled a thin smile.
“I mean
everything.”
“Good to know,” Jesse said. “Do
you have any idea who would want
him dead?”
“Oh,” she said, “God
no.”
“Does he pay you alimony?”
“No. I got my house in lieu of alimony. Hell, I make more than
he does anyway.”
“Where were you last Thursday night?”
Jesse said.
