I put a glass in front of her and took the seat across the table.
“Not that she would have wanted to talk to me. We weren’t very close.” She sipped her drink, her multiple bangles jingling with every move. “Our auras were such that we tended to clash, and something was happening to her in the past few months. She got very cloudy and gray. She used to be a brilliant orange, but that got kind of muddy.”
I had to interrupt the flow of aura-talk or she would go on for days. “Tish, when you went to the retreat, why didn’t you call ahead to arrange for Baxter?”
“I told you on the phone, hon. There was a wait list, and they called me at the last minute.”
“You just packed up that morning and left around nine-thirty?” I picked up my own glass and tried to act casual.
“I don’t remember what time it was.” She studied her tea. “I was in quite a hurry, as you can imagine. Packing, cancelling appointments, arranging for Baxter . . .”
“You didn’t see Sara on your way out of town, did you?”
“Of course not! Why would I do that? As I said, her aura was changing and I really didn’t want to have much to do with that. I always say karma will catch up to you. I think hers finally did.”
“You think she deserved to be killed?” I leaned forward, glad that no one else was hearing this.
“No, I didn’t say that.” She flapped her hand. “I feel terrible about her death, especially since we didn’t always get along. In fact, I stopped and talked to her daughter Alison on the way home. Have you ever met her? She lives in Kalamazoo. We got to be friendly a while back over some things Alison had going on. She didn’t want to tell her mother, so she came to me. You know how that can be.” Her expression told me she knew very well how strained my own relationship with my mother was.
Tish could be a great listener. She had helped me through some unpleasant times. I was furious with myself for wanting to question her whereabouts on the morning of Sara’s death, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was keeping something from me.
I nodded. “That was nice of you.”
“Well, anyway, sugar, I’d better be on my way. Is Baxter out back?”
“I’ll get him for you. I think Seth is playing fetch with him.”
I gathered Baxter’s things and went outside to collect him. I was uncomfortable letting Tish go without getting more answers but couldn’t see a way past it without openly accusing her.
I found Seth and Tuffy with Baxter in the far corner of the yard playing some version of fetch that seemed to involve Seth chasing the ball about as often as the dogs did.
Tish had followed me outside and when Baxter caught sight of her he loped across the yard and flung himself at her, almost knocking her down in his enthusiasm. He then charged back toward our small group, nudged Tuffy, and trotted back to Tish.
She waved from the back porch. Then they walked around the side of the house and disappeared.
“Do you think he said good-bye to Tuffy?” I asked Seth.
“Of course. They’re friends,” he said, and the look he gave me said, “duh.”
10
With Baxter gone, Tuffy fell into a funk. We brought him inside to the living room where all attempts to cheer him with toys and treats failed. I was starting to fear we would need Baxter to come live with us for the duration of Tuffy’s stay when I heard tires on the gravel again.
Mom opened the door with a loud creak, and quiet voices floated in from the front hall. A moment later, she edged into the living room, tight-lipped and pale.
“Gary Landess is here to take Tuffy,” she said.
Seth put his arm around the dog in a protective gesture, which caused Tuffy to renew his shivering. He must have recognized his name and figured something was up.
I left Seth and found a distraught Gary standing by the door. His hair was thin on top. It stuck up all around his head from running his fingers through the nearly nonexistent strands. A wrinkled and stained gray suit did nothing to improve his appearance. His puffy, red eyes darted around the room as if he were being hunted by some unknown predator.
“Hi, Mr. Landess. I don’t know if you remember meeting me.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Clyde Fortune. I took care of Tuffy for Sara while she was working.” He stared at my hand for a moment before reaching forward to grasp it briefly with a quick, damp squeeze.
“I remember. I met you once—here, over the holidays, I think.” He didn’t meet my eyes and mostly examined the floor. “You were living in Ann Arbor then.”
“I’m so sorry about Sara,” I said.
He nodded and sniffed.
“You’re here for Tuffy?”
“The police told me yesterday that you were taking care of him. Thank you. I thought I should come get him.” He shrugged.
I imagined the two of them, Tuffy and Gary, sitting in whatever apartment he lived in, staring at each other.