About ten minutes later, Freddie and I were keeping watch over Matthew’s bed as Rhonda’s cousin Jessica examined Stanley, her stethoscope moving over his furry little rib cage. A moment later she leaned back, concerned-doctor expression on her face.
Freddie chewed his thumbnail. “Just tell me what’s wrong with my dog.”
“Well, it’s hard to say without blood tests, but my guess is that he got into something he shouldn’t have.” She frowned. “You said he threw up?”
“Yeah, I just thought he was drunk because he licked up a bit of a spilled drink, but could a little alcohol have done all this?”
Jessica didn’t say anything for a minute. I did not like the way she was considering her answer.
When Matthew and I had got inside, a little group had formed around Stanley. Freddie was freaking out—like one step away from hand-wringing and wailing—but to be honest, Stanley didn’t seem all that different to me. Granted, he had thrown up—which was pretty exciting, you know, given Stanley’s general lack of movement—but it was the tiniest little barf ever. My mom’s cat Caesar had once managed to get my duvet, pants, and sweater all in one shot. So at first I’d figured this was nothing, but now, with that look on Jessica’s face, I wasn’t so sure.
“When you say he was acting drunk,” she began, “do you mean he was having trouble walking?”
Freddie nodded again.
“He hasn’t been spending any time in your garage, has he?”
“What? No,” Freddie snapped. “Why would I do that? It’s cold and lonely in there.”
“I’m just trying to narrow down some possibilities,” she said, shaking her head. “It could have been the drink, but it also could have been the poinsettias.”
“The poinsettias?” Freddie clutched his shirtfront, I guess at the horror of the poinsettias.
“They’re toxic for animals,” she said. “Dogs sometimes nibble on the leaves when they’re hungry.”
I gasped. I couldn’t help it. Freddie hadn’t fed him dinner!
He whirled around to face me and hissed under his breath, “Not one word, Bloom. Not one.”
“Well, the poinsettias would actually be good news. Compared to some of the things dogs can get into, they’re not that bad.” She scratched Stanley’s ear. “But I don’t like how lethargic he is.”
“He’s always like that,” I said quickly.
“Quiet,” Freddie snapped. “You’re not his mother.”
Jessica took a step toward the door. “I think I should get my bag from the van. I’d like to give him something that blocks toxins from being absorbed into the bloodstream just in case. As luck would have it, I’ve been in process of moving offices. I should have everything I need.”
“Do it,” Freddie said. “Spare no expense. Just save him, Doctor.”
Jessica gave Freddie a sympathetic smile. “Let’s not worry overmuch just yet—although, if you agree, I think I’ll give him some fluids too. See if that perks him up.”
Freddie nodded quickly.
She took her stethoscope from her neck and turned to Matthew. “Given that it’s New Year’s, is it okay if I treat him here?”
“Of course,” he replied, giving her a warm smile.
She smiled back.
Wow, they were halfway to the altar.
It was just so easy for some people.
“I think I have everything I need in the van. I’ll just go—”
Matthew took a step to the door. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’ll get Tyler to help,” Freddie said, whipping out his phone.
“Oh, I’m sure we can manage,” Jessica said. “There’s not really that much—”
“Already done,” Freddie said, texting like mad. “He’ll meet you out there. Anything you need, Doctor.”
As Jessica passed by Freddie, she gave his arm a squeeze. “I know. They’re family.”
He nodded.
After they were gone, Freddie and I stood in silence watching Stanley’s rib cage rise and fall.
Finally I said, “Freddie—”
“I know I was acting like I didn’t care about the dog, but I care about the dog, okay?” His face was tight, like he was holding on to his emotions for dear life. “I didn’t want to care about the dog. But I care about the dog.”
“Of course you do.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m keeping him.”
“Okay,” I said carefully.
“And I did feed him dinner. Steak. I prepared it myself. I was just trying to be funny earlier.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“I’m not heartless, you know?”
“I know you’re not heartless,” I said. “I caught you crying watching Elf just last week.”
Freddie gasped. “We agreed we would never speak of that.”
“It’s not a big deal, Freddie. Lots of people cry watching movies. I mean, I doubt it’s the first film people think of when asked for a Christmas tearjerker—”
“The misfit elf is a classic archetype! You’d have to have a heart of stone not to—”
“Freddie,” I said as gently as I could. The time had come. We needed to address the elephant in the room. Or golden retriever as the case may be. “Do you … want to talk about Daisy?”
“Oh my God, no!” he shouted, eyes going terribly wide.
I shrugged. “It might help.”
“I hate you!”
I nodded. “I don’t think you hate me. I think it’s—”
He stomped on my toe.
“Ow!” I mean, he didn’t stomp so hard as to do any damage, but enough to cause a good amount of pain. “Fine! We won’t talk about Daisy.”
“Good,” he said tightly. “Besides, we don’t have time for this.”
“We don’t?”
“Of course we don’t. What is the matter with you?”
“What exactly is it you think we should be doing? I mean, I am fine hanging out in Matthew’s bedroom playing nursemaid to the dog all night if you want to—”
Freddie whacked me.
“Again, ow!”
“We’re not staying here either.”
I rubbed my arm. “Well, if we’re not staying then—”
Freddie moved to hit me again.
I whipped a finger up. “Okay, you need to stop that now.”
He dropped his whacking hand. “We’re going back to the party.”
“Why? I think the historical society will understand if—”
“Not to work! Although I guess it is kind of related…”
Uh-oh. I had a feeling I knew where this was going. I shot him a sideways look. “Why do we need to go back to the party, Freddie?”
“Because we have to figure out who did this to my dog.”
Oh boy. I met Freddie’s super intense gaze. Things never turned out well when he was showing that much white around his irises. “Freddie, you heard what Jessica said. Nobody did anything to your dog. He just got into something he shouldn’t have.”
“Um, I beg to differ,” he said, gesturing to Stanley. “Someone has clearly poisoned him.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “What possible motive would anyone have to poison your dog?”
“They weren’t trying to poison my dog, Erica.”
“Oh God.” I put my hands over my face.
“They were trying to poison Candace.”