“The thing is, Dick,” I said quickly, before he could hang up, “the woman is a client of mine. I’m going to conduct an investigation into the process Pichea went through to become her guardian. And if there’s anything, well, unusual about it—I mean, it did happen very, very fast—then it will be in the papers. I just wanted you to know. So that you could be ready for phone calls and TV crews and stuff. And maybe warn your juniors not to let their enthusiasm exceed their legal judgment, or something like that.”

“Why do you have to come at me like a tank truck all the time? Why can’t you call up just to say hi? Or not call at all?”

“Dick, this is friendly,” I said reproachfully. “I’m trying to keep you from being blindsided.”

I thought I could hear him grinding his teeth, but it might have been wishful thinking. “What’s the old woman’s name?”

“Frizell. Harriet Frizell.”

“Okay, Vic, I’ve made a note of it. Now I’ve got to go. Don’t phone again unless you want to buy tickets to the next benefit we’re sponsoring. And even then I’d rather you spoke to my secretary.”

“Good talking to you too. Give my love to Teri.”

He snapped the receiver in my ear. I hung up, wondering what I’d done and why.… So Mrs. Frizell was a client of mine? Now what? More long hours of wasted time when I needed paying jobs so I could buy running shoes? And what did I really expect Dick to do to Todd Pichea—go tell him what a tiger I was, to watch his step and bring those dead dogs back to life while he was at it?

It was nine o’clock now. I was grubby and tired, and I wanted my dinner. On a Friday night there wasn’t much I could do to track down actions at a probate court. I sponged myself off with the tepid bath water and put on clean cotton pants so that I could go foraging for food on Lincoln Avenue.

12

Whom Bruce Has Led—Welcome to Your Gory Bed

I spent six hours in bed, mostly as a way to pass the time until morning, since I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t wanted the burden of looking after the dogs, so I’d forestalled Mr. Contreras from suggesting we take them in. I’d even been sharp and a little condescending when I spoke to him about it. And now they were dead. I tried not to imagine their stiff bodies in some dump, or wherever the county sends dogs it’s destroyed, but I felt ill, feverish, as if I myself had lined them against a wall and shot them.