“Man or woman?” I asked.
A car drove slowly past, and I realized I must look like a complete loon standing out here talking to myself. I didn’t care though.
Once again, he pointed toward himself.
“A man.”
Yes. He jabbed a finger at my arm.
“White?” I guessed.
Yes.
He pointed upward at the lamppost, then at the top of his head, and made an explosive motion with his fingers.
Puzzled, I blinked.
He took both his hands and placed them atop his head, covering up the hair.
“He had on a hat?”
No.
Again he covered his head, this time, tugging on his forehead to raise it up. I laughed. “Bald!”
Yes.
He pointed to the lamppost again and did the explosive thing with his fingers.
It took me a second, but I finally said, “There was a glare off the bald head.”
Yes.
When another car slowed, I started walking toward the clinic. “Did you see a license plate?”
No.
“Was he alone?”
He shrugged.
A black SUV driven by a bald man. It was a place to start.
There were a lot of bald men around town but not too many black SUVs.
A block later, we walked by the Ramelles’ house, and the cheerful sound of the fountain made me smile. A little farther down the block, I passed Hyacinth’s house, and I wondered how she was doing. Even though her cherry red car was in the driveway, it didn’t look like anyone was home. I had to wonder if she was on a stool at the Delphinium.
When we reached the vet’s office, Jenny Jane waited outside but Virgil came in with me. As I pulled open the door, I glanced back at Jenny Jane. She floated restlessly, wringing her hands. I hadn’t yet heard from Mayor Ramelle with the address I needed, and I had to wonder if Doug had remembered to give her the message. I added calling her to my growing to-do list.
A receptionist smiled as I came in, and I explained that Dr. Gabriel was expecting me because I was there to adopt Louella.
I left off that he’d been expecting me a good six hours ago because the moment I mentioned Louella’s name, terror filled the young woman’s eyes.
“You’ll need to fill this out,” she said, her hand shaking as she pushed a clipboard over to me.
I flipped through the three-page adoption form. Not only did I have fill out an application that was probably more prying than a request for top-secret government clearance, I also realized I had to shell out a hundred-dollar adoption fee to bring the she-devil home with me.
Taking a seat in an uncomfortable office chair, I slid a perturbed glance toward Virgil, who was patiently waiting for me to fill out my living arrangement, employment history, and the names of three references. I double-checked to make sure they didn’t want a pee sample and was surprised not to find it listed somewhere in small print.
Oh, I understood why such an in-depth form was necessary. There were truly some sickos in this world and the animals needed the protection this paperwork afforded.
I was just feeling a mite cranky that I was undergoing all this scrutiny for a dog I didn’t want.
Then, with a stab of guilt, I recalled how just yesterday Virgil had saved my life, and I stopped my grumping and filled out every single line in my very best penmanship.
I’d do right by Louella.
Somehow.
Muted barking came from the kennel area in the rear of the property as I turned in the paperwork and sat back down to wait for Dr. Gabriel. The reception area was separated from the rest of the office by a thick wooden door with a glass panel. Virgil hadn’t budged from a spot in front of that door since we’d come in.
Animal photographs hung on the wall, brightening the space. Mostly dogs and cats but also a guinea pig, a hamster, and a ferret.
“Ms. Hartwell?” the receptionist said.
“Yes?”
“It’s against our policy for you to list Dr. Kirby as a reference.” She held out the clipboard. “I’ll need another name.”
Biting my tongue, I smiled and took the clipboard. “No problem.” I crossed out the doc’s name and wrote in Caleb’s.
I handed it back.
“Also,” she said, “is Augustus Hartwell related to you?”
“My daddy.”
“No family members,” she said, sliding the clipboard across the counter.
No grumping. No complaining. No ruckus.
I penciled in Ainsley’s name and hoped they didn’t call her, because if they told her I was adopting Louella, she might not ever stop laughing. “Here you go.”
“You can have a seat. Dr. Kirby will be right out.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
Twenty minutes later I’d counted every ceiling tile in the room, and had been hissed at by a very cranky Siamese cat.
I was on the verge of hissing myself, so I didn’t hold it against the cat.
Finally, Doc opened the door, used his heel to hold it open, and said, “Carly, come on back.”
Virgil practically shimmered with excitement.
As I passed by the desk, I heard the receptionist whisper, “I’ll pray for you.”