“Yes.”

“Did you ask her why she had on dishwashing gloves?”

“I did. And that’s what she told me. She seemed slightly embarrassed, and took them off and gave them to me to throw away.”

“Did she touch the puppy after she took them off?”

“She never touched the puppy. She took the gloves off as she was leaving. I suppose I should make that clear. It was toward the end.”

“That’s right. She had the gloves on because she was afraid of germs. She wasn’t wearing a coat because she didn’t want the sick puppy’s germs on it or germs from your apartment on it, and it’s easier to wash a shirt than a coat. I bet she left the basket and towel in your apartment, too.”

“She certainly did.”

“She knew damn well the puppy was sick as hell and dying when she gave it to you.”

“I told you I was angry.”

“Damn right you are. She knew the puppy was going to die, so she dumps it on you. That was a pretty lousy thing to do. Especially to someone who loves animals. She took advantage of you because you have a tender heart, especially when it comes to dogs. But the big question is, where did she get Ivy? You see what I mean?”

“Exactly,” Shrew said, feeling very angry now.

Those few days with Ivy were hell on earth. All Shrew did was cry as she held Ivy and tried to get her to drink water and eat something. By the time she got her to the vet, it was too late.

“No one who knew Terri would give her a puppy and think it was a nice thing to do,” Investigator Marino said. “Certainly not a sick one. I can’t imagine her boyfriend would do that, unless he’s a mean son of a bitch and did it to hurt her, to make her suffer, to jerk her around.”

“Well, she certainly was unhappy. Beside herself, really.”

“It reminds me of dirty tricks little boys play on little girls in school. Remember? Scaring them with a spider, a snake in a shoe box. Whatever would make the little girl scream. Terri was afraid. She was afraid of germs and dirt, of sickness and death. So it was sick to give her a sick puppy.”

“If what you’re saying is true, it was diabolical.”

“How long have you and Terri Bridges lived across the street from each other?” he asked, and leather creaked as he stretched his legs.

“She moved in about two years ago. I never knew her last name. We weren’t friends, I need to make that clear. Other than running into her, really. Usually on the sidewalk when both of us were heading in and out, although I also want to make it clear I’m not aware that she was out a lot. I don’t think she has a car. Walks like I do. Over the years I have run into her a few other places. Once in Lands’ End, both of us like their shoes, turns out. She was getting a pair of Mary Jane Trekkers, I remember that. Once I ran into her near the Guggenheim. In fact, I believe it was the last time I went to the Guggenheim, for a Jackson Pollock exhibit. We ran into each other on the sidewalk and stopped to chat.”