Back Guardian Angel Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. CRITICS ARE CALLINGGUARDIAN ANGEL“PARETSKY’S BEST WARSHAWSKI NOVEL.”* HERE’S WHY …
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. Dedication
  60. Thanks
  61. Also by Sara Paretsky

I dropped his legs and went up the shallow steps to the door. I knocked my shin against an old metal chair and swore under my breath. Fortunately Mr. Contreras had remembered a flashlight. He shone it on the door while I worked the locks.

“Stupid jerks are afraid of the dogs. Afraid of being caught breaking and entering with you. That lawyer’s the kind of management creep you got to watch out for: can’t do his dirty work for himself, gets on the phone and hires someone to do it for him.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Hold the light steady, okay?”

The lock should have taken me thirty seconds, but the Lab kept rushing at my legs until Carol managed to grab him by the scruff and hang on to him. After that I only had to contend with Mr. Contreras’s moving the light as he emphasized his contempt for Todd and Vinnie. It was a good five minutes before I finally felt the simple latch click back.

As soon as I opened the door the other dogs, who’d been barking and scratching on the other side, came pelting out at us. Behind me I could hear a sharp yell from one of the guys, and then a yelp from one of the dogs.

“Did you see that?” I couldn’t tell if the angry squeak belonged to Todd or Vinnie. “That damned mutt bit me.”

“Will the perpetrator step forward for a dog biscuit and a medal?” I said, but under my breath.

The stench in the house was so bad that I wanted to get in and out as fast as possible. I took the light from Mr. Contreras and shone it around the entryway, hoping to find a light switch. The inside dogs had been relieving themselves by the door and I didn’t want to step in the mess. I couldn’t see a switch, so I got as clear a look as possible at the dimensions of the urine and did a standing broad jump across it.

“Mrs. Frizell! Mrs. Frizell! Are you home?”

Her neighbor, who’d hovered on the front walk while I worked on the lock, came in with Carol, clucking her tongue and making worried sounds in her throat. The dogs rushed past us, spattering our legs with urine.

“Mrs. Frizell? It’s me, Mrs. Hellstrom. We just want to see if you’re all right.”