"Awkward enough."

"I'd like to be the judge of that."

"I'll tell you the whole story later. I swear."

"Is that a fact?"

"Really. Boy Scout's word of honor. And I have to say you're looking very nice today. Did you just get your hair done?"

Ines laughed. "Nice try."

"It's true," Sean protested. "You're looking particularly lovely today."

"Absolutely," Samantha put in. "Love your cardigan. Is it vintage?"

"Yes, it is. Just like me," Ines answered. Biting her lip, she looked down at Trudy, who was snuffling around one of the legs of the oak table in the center of the room.

"Come on," Sean wheedled. "Look at her. She's adorable."

"I admit she's cute in a spectacularly ugly kind of way," Ines conceded.

"Exactly," Sean said. "She needs some love. And a nice home for a little while."

"Lots of love," Samantha put in.

Ines looked at her. "Why can't you take the dog?" she asked Samantha.

"Because...because," Samantha stuttered.

"Because her father's violently allergic to animals," Sean said.

"Exactly," Samantha reprised.

Ines looked skeptical. "And she can't answer for herself?" she asked Sean.

"Sometimes I forget things," Samantha explained. "It's the hair dye."

"Really," Ines said. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. "How curious. I've always heard that pink was toxic to brain cells. I just never knew it was true."

"Personally, I think it's the purple," Samantha said.

Ines couldn't contain herself any longer. She burst out laughing.

Sean hastily changed the subject, as Ines wiped the tears from her eyes. "You don't have any pets right now," he pointed out.

"There's a reason for that," Ines told him. "I like being able to come and go when I want."

Sean put on his most engaging smile. "Please. This is just for a couple of days. Maybe a week at the most."

"Okay," Ines said. "I heard why Samantha couldn't do this. Now, why can't you? Are your daughters allergic too?"

"Yes, they are," Sean replied. "Fine," he said under Ines's unfaltering gaze. "The truth..."

"For a change..."

"The truth is that the dog just can't be at my place," Sean told Ines. "You have to trust me on this. It's complicated."

"Everything with you is complicated," Ines said dryly.

Sean drew himself up. "I wouldn't go that far."

"I would."

"She needs a good home," Sean said, getting back to the matter at hand. This wasn't the time to discuss his personal stuff. No time was, but that was a different matter. "And it's only for a couple of days."

"You said it could be for a week."

"At the outside."

"I'd have to go out and get dog food and treats...."

"Oh, we have them in the car," Samantha said. "I'll go get them." They'd stopped at Pets Are Us on the way and Samantha had run in.

"You swear it's for a week at the most?" Ines asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Sean said. "And remember, if anyone asks about the dog tell them you got Mathilda..."

"Mathilda?" Ines's eyebrows went up. "What kind of name is that for a dog?"

"I think it's a nice one," Sean said. What was wrong with Mathilda? Mathilda was a perfectly reasonable name as far as he could see. It certainly wasn't any worse than Trudy. In fact, he figured it was a whole lot better.

"All I can think of is that calypso song 'Matilda.'" And Ines started humming it under her breath.

Now it was Sean's turn to smile.

"What's calypso?" Samantha asked.

"Something that happened before your time," Sean and Ines said in unison.

Sean continued. "Be that as it may, the important thing to remember is that you got her from your cousin in Scranton...."

"I don't have a cousin in Scranton," Ines informed Sean.

"Well, you do now," Sean told her. "A distant cousin. One you just reconnected with by the name of Elsiver Crandall."

Ines's eyebrows went even higher this time. "Elsiver Crandall? You've got to be kidding me. Where do you get your names from?" she asked in wonderment.

Sean pointed to his head. "They're just there," he said. "Pretty terrific, huh?"

Ines groaned.

"Or," Sean said to Ines, "you can say you found the dog wandering around outside and took her in until you could find the owner."

"I like that better," Ines said. She looked down at the little pug, who was now sitting on her feet. "I think I'm going to call you Edna," she said.

Sean blinked. "How is Edna better than Mathilda?" he asked.

"It just is." And Ines bent over and scooped the little dog up in her arms.

As Sean watched Ines and Trudy interact, the churning in his stomach quieted down. For the first time since Samantha had invaded his home, he felt certain he'd done the right thing.

By the time Sean left fifteen minutes later, Ines had replaced Trudy's collar with the one Samantha had bought at the pet store and was busy feeding her a piece of leftover Swiss cheese from her lunch. She didn't even look up when Samantha and Sean said good-bye, just gave them an absentminded wave.

Which was a good thing, Sean thought as he reinserted himself in the Mini Cooper. He was incredibly grateful that Ines was distracted by the dog. Otherwise, she would have insisted on walking him out and he didn't know what he would have done. He'd be beyond mortified if she saw him getting into this dratted green tin can. She'd want to help and that was simply not happening. In fact, as far as he was concerned, after today he'd never set foot in this vehicle again.

"Can I ask you why you said what you did in there?" Samantha asked after Sean managed to fit himself back in the Mini Cooper.

"Certainly you can ask," Sean told her as he reached over and fastened his seat belt.

"Seriously."

"I am serious."

"So, you're not going to tell me," Samantha said.

"I am," Sean said as he struggled to get his legs into some sort of reasonable position. "It's called the doctrine of plausible deniability."

Samantha just looked at him.

"Okay," Sean said. "Now, if we leave Trudy in my house and the police come looking for her, I can say I found her wandering around outside and I thought she was just your average stray. They won't believe me, because Bernie and Libby are involved in the case. The facts aren't plausible. But if they come to Ines's house and she says that to them, they'll believe her. Why shouldn't they? Up to this point she hasn't been involved with Trudy in any way, shape, or form."

"Do you think the police will really come looking for her?"

Sean shrugged. "Let's put it this way. Probably not, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did. Even they can sometimes put two and two together. It really depends on how much pressure they get to find her."

"You're not a big fan of our police department, are you?" Samantha asked.

"That would be putting it mildly."

"My dad said you got what you deserved, but considering my dad, I think that means you got a bad rap."

"Thank you," Sean said.

But as it turned out it wasn't the police who turned up at the Simmons's flat. It was Richard Colbert.

Chapter 22.

Bernie and Libby had gone straight to the shop after their visit with Joyce and gotten to work on Mrs. Stein's order. When they were finished, they went upstairs expecting to tell their dad about their visit with Joyce. There was only one problem. He wasn't there.

"Try his cell," Libby suggested.

Bernie punched in their dad's number. It went straight to voice mail.

"Great," Libby said when Bernie told her.

"He's probably fine," Bernie said.

"Probably," Libby agreed.

But she felt this uneasy tugging in her gut and she could tell from Bernie's expression that she felt it too. Their dad was always there-unless he was out with Marvin or Clyde.

"He's probably out with Clyde," Bernie suggested as she dialed Clyde's number. Only he wasn't.

"And Marvin's working," Libby said.

Both girls looked at each other and headed out the door. The first thing they did was ask Amber and Googie if they'd seen their dad, but both of them had been busy and hadn't noticed him. And anyway, as Bernie pointed out, there wasn't a view of the entrance to their flat from the shop. If their dad had gone to the left, they wouldn't have seen him.

For the next fifteen minutes, they searched the neighborhood. No Sean. And given the pace at which Sean moved, neither Libby nor Bernie could see his getting much farther. Especially since he had to be extra careful because of the ice on the streets.

Bernie pushed her hands down in her jacket's pockets to warm them. "We're making too big a deal of this," she said.

Libby nodded. Her breath was visible in the air. "It's good that he can get around on his own again."

"Absolutely," Bernie agreed. Then she said, "I hope he's not dead, because I want to kill him when I find him."

"And I'll join you," Libby told her as she wound her scarf more tightly around her neck. She looked at the sky. Black clouds were hovering in the west. "I think it's going to snow," she observed.

"Terrific," Bernie said. "That's just what we need. More white stuff."

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for where Dad is," Libby said as they did one last turn around the neighborhood.

"I'm sure there is," Bernie said. The problem was that she couldn't think of one. "He should have called."

"We should go home and check the house phone," Libby suggested. "Maybe someone called on that."

Bernie grunted. Even though Libby hadn't said the words, Bernie knew she was talking about the hospital or the police.

"Yes. We should do that," she said quietly as she turned toward their house.

They'd just gone back upstairs and hung their coats in the closet when their dad walked through the door. The girls ran over to him.