Tom patted her arm. “So can eighty-four-year-olds, my dear,” he said.
We all arrived back in the court at the same time. I couldn’t help smiling as Tom got out of Katie’s car and set Matilda down on the grass. The little corgi seemed like her old self. I walked over to say hello.
Molly was crouched in the grass talking to the dog.
“Say good-bye to Matilda,” Katie told her. Molly put her arms around the corgi and gave her a hug. “Gently,” her mother reminded the little girl.
“Thank you,” Tom said.
Katie smiled. “Anytime.”
I bent down to stroke the top of Matilda’s head. The little dog nuzzled my wrist. “What did the vet say?” I asked as I straightened up.
“He’s still waiting for the results of the blood tests,” Tom said, looking down at his furry companion. “But he thinks she may have eaten something toxic.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have given her any of that duck.”
“You don’t know it was that,” I said. It was difficult not to look over at Angie’s small white house.
My cell phone rang as I was unlocking my apartment door. It was Abby Davenport.
“Was I right about the ball?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t, while at the same time some gut instinct told me I was.
“You were,” the vet said. “The ball was coated with an insecticide.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter. Elvis watched me from his perch at the top of his cat tower. “I was hoping I was wrong,” I said.
“It’s good that you got her here when you did,” Abby continued.
“Tom’s not the one who exposed her to the insecticide,” I blurted out. It suddenly seemed very important that the veterinarian knew that. I didn’t want Tom to be blamed for something I knew he would never do.
“I believe you,” she said. “I talked to Ben Kessler. He told me how upset Mr. Harris was.” She cleared her throat. “In theory, it could have been spilled on the dog’s ball by accident.”
“But you don’t think that’s what happened.”
“It’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Tom doesn’t use anything like that in his yard because of Matilda and because there’s a four year-old across the street.”
Abby sighed and I imagined her in her blue scrubs sitting on the edge of her desk. “We still don’t have all of the dog’s blood work back, but depending on what it shows, I may have to call the police.”
“I understand,” I said.
Abby said she’d be in touch and we said good-bye. I looked at the phone. Now I was second-guessing my decision not to involve Michelle. Unfortunately, she’d gone to visit her mother for a couple of days.
I worked late that evening, sanding a china cabinet that I was certain was in good shape under all the layers of paint on it. I got home to find a police car in the court. Tom and Jason were at the bottom of Angie’s driveway with a uniformed police officer. Tom was talking to the officer, gesturing with one hand. Jason stood there with his hands in his pockets, feet apart. There was something cocky about his stance.
When Tom noticed me, he beckoned me over. I squared my shoulders and made my way toward the men.
“Officer Sullivan, this is my neighbor, Sarah Grayson,” Tom said. He held himself stiffly and I noticed he avoided looking at Jason. Instead he fixed his gaze on me. “Sarah, will you please tell the officer about Matilda’s seizure and the ball you took to the vet.”
My surprise must have shown on my face because Tom added, “Dr. Kessler called me.”
I turned to the police officer. He looked to be just this side of forty, stocky with hair cropped close to his scalp and kind brown eyes. “Matilda is Tom’s corgi. She had a seizure yesterday. I drove them to the animal hospital. I grabbed the ball she had been playing with and took it with me. I, uh, I thought it had a funny smell.”
I could feel Jason’s eyes on me, and this time I shifted my gaze and met his full on. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wasting his time. His expression was appropriately serious, but it seemed to me that there was a hint of a smug smile around his dark eyes.
“What did you do with the ball, Ms. Grayson?” Officer Sullivan asked.
“I gave it to one of the veterinarians at the clinic, Abby Davenport. It turned out that there was insecticide on the ball.”
“Which he put there,” Tom said.
His voice was calm and steady, which made me nervous.
“I didn’t touch your dog’s ball,” Jason said. “I’m sorry the thing was sick, but I had nothing to do with that.”
He was good. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have believed him.
“There’s a bottle of insecticide over in the garage,” Tom said, inclining his head in the direction of Angie’s house. “Molly’s ball is there, too.”
“Who’s Molly?” Officer Sullivan asked, frowning.
“The little girl across the street,” I said.
“Look,” Jason said, holding out both hands. “The truth is I have no idea what’s in the garage because this is my aunt’s house. I’m just here for a few days to help her once she gets out of the hospital.”
“Mr. Harris, how do you know what’s in your neighbor’s garage?” the policeman asked Tom.
“Because I looked. Because he tried to kill my dog.” He gestured at Jason. “Because he tried to kill Angie. He’s after her money.”
I caught Tom’s arm. He’d said too much.
Jason turned to the police officer. “Like I said, this is my aunt’s house. I don’t want to make trouble, but I don’t feel right about people being on her property without permission.” He turned and pointed to the strip of lawn between the two driveways. Several four-by-four cedar posts were stacked on the grass. “I’m about to start on a fence to give my aunt a little more privacy.”
I tightened my grip on Tom’s arm but the older man didn’t speak. He just continued to glare at Jason and shake his head.
“Mr. Harris, I understand you’re upset about your dog,” Officer Sullivan said. “I get that. I have two dogs myself. They get sick and it’s almost like your kid getting sick.”
He’d fallen for Jason’s act.
“My two, they get into everything. I have to lock up the trash cans because otherwise they’re rooting around in the garbage.”
“Matilda doesn’t eat garbage,” Tom said through clenched teeth.
“Good for her,” the officer said. “But my point is you don’t know what your dog could’ve eaten that made her sick. You’ll probably never know. But you can’t go trespassing on someone else’s property.” He indicated Jason. “Mr. Bates here is a reasonable man so we’re just going to forget about everything—this time. But I want your promise that you’ll stay off his property.”
Tom nodded slowly. His eyes never left Jason’s face. “I promise you, Officer, I will stay off Mr. Bates’s property.”
I noticed his choice of words. Mr. Bates’s property. The policeman didn’t seem to catch the distinction.
He turned to Jason. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Bates,” he said.
Jason smiled. “No problem,” he said with a shrug.
The officer wished us a good evening and got back in his cruiser. Jason started back to the house and then turned and looked over his shoulder at us. Once again there was a cocky smile on his face.
“I’d like to wipe that smirk of that little piker’s face,” Tom said. He was still clenching his teeth and his shoulders were rigid.
“Please don’t do anything he can use against you,” I said.
Tom finally turned his attention to me. “Why didn’t you tell me about the ball?”
I let go of his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have. I was waiting to be sure that what was on the ball was what had made Matilda sick.”
“It was him, Sarah,” he said. “I know it was.”
I nodded. There was no use pretending I hadn’t been thinking the same thing. “Wait for the results of the blood tests.”