reach the panic button.
“Nonsense, she doesn't work here,“ he said. “She – Katy!“
Katy, the Irish wolfhound, bounded into the room and launched herself at the biker, ending up licking his face with her front feet on his shoulders, while he said unintelligible things to her. Unintelligible because they were, apparently, in Gaelic. I didn't speak Gaelic, but I remembered what it sounded like from the summer Dad was preparing for a trip to Ireland.
Rhode Island Rico trailed in after her and shook the biker's hand, looking smaller than usual beside him. And beside Katy – why would someone ever want to own a dog that clearly outweighed him? Then again Keisha, who barely topped five feet, owned both of the Saint Bernards.
“Thanks for coming over, Doc,“ he said.
Doc?
The biker reached into the brown paper bag and pulled out an object. I recognized the logo on the bag now – it was from Caerphilly's most militant vegetarian restaurant, which meant that the light brown patties he was feeding to Katy had to be some kind of soy-based hamburger substitute.
“What happened?“ Doc asked – I supposed I ought to begin thinking of him as Doc.
“Another dog bit her ear,“ Rico explained. “I was worried that it might get infected.“
“Did you catch the other dog?“
Rico looked nervously at me. I looked down at the crate beneath my desk.
“I suspect he's here,“ I said with a sigh. “How did he get out, anyway?“
“Rob had him in his office,“ Rico said. “We thought he'd calmed down. He was behaving like a lamb until Katy came in.“
“Never trust Spike when he's behaving himself,“ I advised. “He does it only to lull you into a false sense of complacency.“
“I'm sorry,“ the biker said. “I don't think we've actually been introduced. Clarence Rutledge. I've just moved to Caerphilly to set up my veterinary practice.“
He extending one large, colorfully tattooed hand to me. I tried not to stare at the cartoon ferrets frolicking around his wrist. The other hand was still occupied with Katy – or Cathleen Ni Houlihan. Apparently she and I had never been introduced, either.
“If you don't already have a vet for your dog – ,“ he continued.
“He's not mine,“ I said. “I'm just taking care of him for a few weeks while his owner decides if she's allergic to him.“
“If he needs some medical care while he's with you, then,“ he said.
Business must be slow, I thought.
“I emphasize wellness and natural remedies. Of course,“ he added, glancing down at Spike, “what I really plan to specialize in is behavior therapy.“
“Wonderful,“ I said.
“Often, aggressive behavior in canines is a result of underlying psychological problems.“
“If you're suggesting that you could cure Spike of biting people, it's been tried,“ I said. “Frequently. His owner has probably spent more money on his education than my parents spent on mine.“
“Really?“ Doc said, looking even more interested. “I'm getting together a study to try some new approaches on dogs that have proved resistant to previous attempts at aggression reduction. I don't suppose you'd be interested in enrolling Spike?…“
“Maybe,“ I said. “Especially if it requires a period of residence at wherever you're conducting your study.“
I took Doc's card, which proclaimed that he provided “holistic care for your animal companion.“ He and Rico strolled off to repair the damage Spike had done to Katy's ear.
So he wasn't a thug. Did that make him more or less likely to have killed Ted?
If Doc were in the habit of making house calls on his patients, it was all the more likely that he'd known Ted. And witnessed any instances of cruelty to animals Ted might have committed. And also all the more likely that Ted had tried to blackmail him. When I'd thought him merely a biker, I hadn't considered Doc a very likely blackmail target – unless, I suppose, Ted could prove that he'd never done anything wild or wicked, which could probably ruin someone's reputation as a hellion. But Doc, the reformed biker turned vegetarian holistic animal doctor? If I were an aspiring young blackmailer looking to expand my clientele, Doc would be exactly the sort of person I'd want to meet. I bet at some time in his unenlightened past Doc had worn leather boots instead of canvas ones. And probably kicked a dog or two with them.
Yes, I should look into Doc, I thought. When he came out, I'd reopen the subject of aggression reduction for Spike.
Meanwhile, to kill time, I picked up Anna Floyd's romance book and began absently skimming through it again. I confess, my mind was more on Ted's fate than the perilous plight of the statuesque blond heroine.
A finger planted itself on the page I was theoretically trying to read. I looked up to see Dr. Lorelei.
“I strongly advise against reading that,“ she said, frowning. “It can be very dangerous.“
Dangerous?
I glanced up. No, she wasn't joking – I wasn't sure she knew how. And if she was trying to make some kind of veiled threat, it was too well veiled for me to understand it.
Silly I might agree with – and I couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed, sitting there holding the thing, when I'd been so intent on establishing my reputation as a tough-minded, no-nonsense kind of person. But dangerous?
“Dangerous? What, do they have subliminal messages or something?“ I asked.
“Life, and particularly relationships, are not always the way they're portrayed in those books.“
“I think that's the point,“ I said. “If I wanted realistic stuff about life, I'd go read Tolstoy or something. I mean, I don't really believe in dwarves and hobbits, but that doesn't stop me from reading fantasy. And in real life, murders often go unsolved – does that mean it's dangerous to read mysteries that wrap everything up neatly on the next to last page?“
“One has to be careful of seeing the world through the lens of popular fiction,“ Dr. Lorelei intoned. “Books like that create unreasonable expectations in their readers.“
“It's not creating unreasonably expectations in me,“ I said with a shrug. “I don't believe the stuff; Ijust read it to kill time when I'm stuck in line someplace. Or when I'm here at the desk.“
Dr. Lorelei sniffed.
“I don't really buy into the heaving this and throbbing that, and midnight assignations in deserted places,“ I went on, fixing her with a stare.
She turned pale and left, rather hurriedly.
“You've upset her.“
I looked up to see the mousy, bespectacled face of Lorelei's partner.
“Sorry,“ I said. “But she didn't have to give me a hard time just because I picked up something to read that isn't on the list of the world's hundred greatest works of literature.“
“She's very fierce about what she believes,“ he said with a smile. “I think that's what I've always loved about her.“
I made a noncommittal noise. Loved about her? This was interesting.
“I think it took two years of discussions before she finally agreed that it would not compromise her principles for us to get married,“ he said.
“You're her husband?“ I asked, astounded.
“We prefer the term 'life partners,' “ he said. “Not only is that a gender-neutral term, but it carries much less negative psychological baggage, particularly for the female in the partnership.“
To me, life partners sounded more like a title at a law firm, but to each his own.
