long way to gain her trust.
“I don’t look like my mother,” the child said with evident regret. “Also, I’m strabismic and have an overbite.Put differently,” she added, “my eyes have difficulty focusing on the same object, and my upper and lower jaws fail to meet properly. I think it’s because I was such a disappointment. I was unexpected, you see, but they hoped–that is, my father hoped–that at least I would be a boy. I wasn’t,” she added sadly, in case Kate had any doubt.
Had the kid but known it, she had picked the quickest way to Kate’s sympathies. I think Kate asked her what she wanted in order to get her off the topic of her drawbacks.
“I want you to find my dog,” the kid said.
About this time, I’m sure, Kate was beginning to think of that martini with something close to passion. “I wouldn’t know how to begin to look for a lost dog in this city,” she said. “I’m afraid it may have been snatched by someone, or else wandered off and was hit by a car. Have you tried the ASPCA?”
“He wasn’t lost; he was stolen. And not on the streets, out of the apartment. The doorman saw someone leaving with Jasper under his arm. And the apartment wasn’t broken into. Which means it was an inside job.”
Kate took the bull by the horns (the same bull Witherspoon no doubt would think her capable of overlooking in a china shop). “Do you suspect your father?” she asked.
“I don’t know who to suspect.” The kid sighed. Kate said later if the kid had said “whom” she’d have thrown her out. “But Jasper meant, means, an awful lot to me.” And she began to cry, the tears falling from her eyes as of their own accord. She raised her glasses and wiped her eyes on her other sleeve.
“What kind of dog was he?” Kate asked for something to say. “I gather not a mastiff if someone could carry him out.”
“He was, is, a Jack Russell terrier. The breed isn’t yet accepted by the American Kennel Club, though it is by theEnglish. Jack Russell terriers are small, very low to the ground, white with brown faces and ears, and tough as anything. Don’t you see, it had to be someone Jasper knew, someone he thought was taking him out. He loves to go out,” she added, sniffing, “but he’s a fierce watchdog with anyone he doesn’t know.”
“You haven’t told me
your
name,” Kate said.
“Arabella. It was my father’s mother’s name. She was a suffragette who chained herself to fences. My father hated her. People like my sister call me Arrie.”
Of course it occurred to Kate that the kid needed a therapist, not a detective, and she also probably needed a new father and a new dog. “What about your mother?” she asked. “You haven’t mentioned her.”
“She’s away trying to stop drinking. She’s much younger than my father. She was a graduate student. She’s his second wife. Roxanna and I have two much older stepsisters from his first marriage. My father has never been able to produce a son, to his sorrow. I hope my mother gets better. The man where she is says the whole family ought to help, but my father hasn’t the time. My sister and I went down there once.…” She trailed off.
Poor Kate didn’t really know what to do. She wanted to help the kid, but there didn’t seem to be any evident practical course of assistance. Arrie seemed to understand her dilemma. “You could think about it,” she said. “My sister says you’re very good at thinking about things. Only try not to think too long because I’m very worried about poor Jasper. He can be very trying to people who don’t understand him.”
“And with that,” Kate said, relating the whole scene to Reed over her second martini, her first having been required simply to calm her down and stop her babbling,“the kid left with a lot more dignity than I was exhibiting. What the hell am I to do? Could you call some old pal from the DA’s office to undertake a dog search on the side?”
Kate’s husband
“I don’t look like my mother,” the child said with evident regret. “Also, I’m strabismic and have an overbite.Put differently,” she added, “my eyes have difficulty focusing on the same object, and my upper and lower jaws fail to meet properly. I think it’s because I was such a disappointment. I was unexpected, you see, but they hoped–that is, my father hoped–that at least I would be a boy. I wasn’t,” she added sadly, in case Kate had any doubt.
Had the kid but known it, she had picked the quickest way to Kate’s sympathies. I think Kate asked her what she wanted in order to get her off the topic of her drawbacks.
“I want you to find my dog,” the kid said.
About this time, I’m sure, Kate was beginning to think of that martini with something close to passion. “I wouldn’t know how to begin to look for a lost dog in this city,” she said. “I’m afraid it may have been snatched by someone, or else wandered off and was hit by a car. Have you tried the ASPCA?”
“He wasn’t lost; he was stolen. And not on the streets, out of the apartment. The doorman saw someone leaving with Jasper under his arm. And the apartment wasn’t broken into. Which means it was an inside job.”
Kate took the bull by the horns (the same bull Witherspoon no doubt would think her capable of overlooking in a china shop). “Do you suspect your father?” she asked.
“I don’t know who to suspect.” The kid sighed. Kate said later if the kid had said “whom” she’d have thrown her out. “But Jasper meant, means, an awful lot to me.” And she began to cry, the tears falling from her eyes as of their own accord. She raised her glasses and wiped her eyes on her other sleeve.
“What kind of dog was he?” Kate asked for something to say. “I gather not a mastiff if someone could carry him out.”
“He was, is, a Jack Russell terrier. The breed isn’t yet accepted by the American Kennel Club, though it is by theEnglish. Jack Russell terriers are small, very low to the ground, white with brown faces and ears, and tough as anything. Don’t you see, it had to be someone Jasper knew, someone he thought was taking him out. He loves to go out,” she added, sniffing, “but he’s a fierce watchdog with anyone he doesn’t know.”
“You haven’t told me
your
name,” Kate said.
“Arabella. It was my father’s mother’s name. She was a suffragette who chained herself to fences. My father hated her. People like my sister call me Arrie.”
Of course it occurred to Kate that the kid needed a therapist, not a detective, and she also probably needed a new father and a new dog. “What about your mother?” she asked. “You haven’t mentioned her.”
“She’s away trying to stop drinking. She’s much younger than my father. She was a graduate student. She’s his second wife. Roxanna and I have two much older stepsisters from his first marriage. My father has never been able to produce a son, to his sorrow. I hope my mother gets better. The man where she is says the whole family ought to help, but my father hasn’t the time. My sister and I went down there once.…” She trailed off.
Poor Kate didn’t really know what to do. She wanted to help the kid, but there didn’t seem to be any evident practical course of assistance. Arrie seemed to understand her dilemma. “You could think about it,” she said. “My sister says you’re very good at thinking about things. Only try not to think too long because I’m very worried about poor Jasper. He can be very trying to people who don’t understand him.”
“And with that,” Kate said, relating the whole scene to Reed over her second martini, her first having been required simply to calm her down and stop her babbling,“the kid left with a lot more dignity than I was exhibiting. What the hell am I to do? Could you call some old pal from the DA’s office to undertake a dog search on the side?”
Kate’s husband
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