A Farewell to Legs: An Aaron Tucker Mystery - By Jeffrey Cohen Page 0,45
voice would be muffled and masculine. I wasn’t sure what the words would be, but they weren’t going to be words I wanted to hear.
“I know where you live,” he said, and hung up.
I hung up the phone, and looked at Abby. “You know, the kids have Thursday and Friday off for the Teachers Convention,” I said. “You think you could take those days?”
“I think so,” she said. “Why?”
“I was thinking maybe we’d take a long weekend and drive down to D.C.”
Part 2: The Dog
Chapter
One
“A dog?” I was saying to Abby. “What, the lizard thing worked out so well that now you want to get them a larger, more demanding animal?”
Wednesday night, we were packing in our bedroom for the trip to Washington the next morning. It had taken some doing, but I’d managed, through my friends at AAA and my influence with a certain celebrity Washington widow, to find accommodations at a hotel we could actually afford. In fact, we even had a suite, with a separate bedroom for the kids, booked in Georgetown at less than half the usual rate. Sometimes, it pays to know the wife of a prominent dead conservative.
Steph had actually offered to put us up in her house, but I thought that considering her recent behavior, that would be, to say the least, horrifyingly awkward. I politely declined without actually discussing the suggestion with my wife.
“I’m thinking about a dog because the lizard thing worked out so badly,” Abigail said. “Do you think I need a bathing suit?”
“If you’re going to be swimming with anyone besides me, yes,” I answered. “You know, I understand the hotel has a pool, but we’re only going to be there for what amounts to three days, and I’m. . .”
“. . . You’re going to be working much of the time, I know,” she said. “And while there are plenty of wonderful sights to see in our nation’s capital, the kids like nothing better than a hotel pool, so we’re going to spend at least some time there.” She took a one-piece suit and a bikini out of the assemble-it-yourself piece of furniture she uses for a closet. “Which of these is better?”
“If you’re going to be swimming without me, you’d better wear a complete dive suit and an overcoat,” I said. “The one-piece. And I’m still waiting to hear how the lizard fiasco makes a dog a good idea.”
Leah had flatly refused to feed E-LIZ-abeth since the infamous biting incident, but burst into tears anytime it was suggested the little beast might be better off in another home, like the one across the street, where it could play with another of its kind. I had tried to feed the lizard once, managed it without throwing up, and then bravely placed the responsibility in the lap of the person whom I considered most deserving. But Abby didn’t want to pluck worms out of a plastic margarine container with a tweezer and watch a refugee from Jurassic Kiddie Park gobble them up, either. So Melissa had been very gamely helping out for a few days.
“You recall that the idea of the lizard as a pet was to encourage Leah’s interest in animals,” she began.
“I recall that’s the excuse you used, yes.”
“You know, I still haven’t completely forgiven you for the Preston Burke thing. You might try to be a little more agreeable on this.” Abby put the bikini in her suitcase.
“Fine. So how does that lead to me cleaning up dog poop?”
My wife, who grew up outside Chicago, took on what she considers to be a New Jersey accent, as if such a thing existed. “Dat’s da beauty of dis deal,” she said. “It doesn’t lead to you cleaning up dog poop. It leads to our daughter bonding with an animal and taking on the responsibility of its care.” I removed the bikini from Abby’s suitcase, stuffed it back into her closet, and replaced it with a much more concealing suit—one that would cause most men to weep silently, rather than drool openly, once she put it on. “Hey,” she said, but smiled and let me make the replacement.
“So in your heart of hearts, you believe that your daughter will actually feed, groom, and, most importantly, walk a dog, probably a good few times a day, because she will feel responsible? Have you actually been living with this child for any period of time?”