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“TRUST YOU TO FIND A dead body,” Kenzie said. “You didn’t mind him touching you?”
“He asked first and he had a reassuring grip.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Yes, repeatedly in in detail.”
When I took a break to begin the story again, she said, “You do realize that if you had grit your teeth and dealt with Beryl, this wouldn’t have happened?”
“If I had a time machine and I could go back with what I know now...” I held up my hand and flipped it back and forth, saying, “Beryl, dead body, Beryl, dead body. It would still be a toss-up and the person would be dead regardless.”
“That’s not what I meant, Maddie, and you know it.” My sister took my hand and tugged me up and to the bathroom. She moved with the efficiency of a nurse to strip me, scrub me with a washcloth, and then dress me in a t-shirt and soft cotton pants. She watched as I brushed my teeth, trying to remove all the corpse molecules from my mouth, and she pulled my hand away when my gums started bleeding red into the white foam.
She followed me to my room, and I waited while she turned on the bedside light and propped up the pillows the way I liked. Dark bookshelves covered two walls, making the room smaller and cozier, and I had one of Claire’s paintings over my bed and my big flat-screen over a low dresser.
I crawled into bed and Kenzie tucked the duvet tight. Picking up the TV remote, she said, “What do you want?”
“‘José Chung is from Outer Space.’”
“Which one is it?”
“The X-Files, season three, episode twenty. It’s the one told from multiple perspectives, and I think it’s the funniest one. Maybe not, but it’s definitely in the top five. The nineties shoulder pads on their clothes are huge.”
The opening scenes relaxed me, and by the time Kenzie brought me a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sliced into quarters on the diagonal, I was laughing.
She sat on the bed beside me, her leg pressed against mine, and I said, “I wish we could do this more often, baby girl.”
“Are you feeling better?”
I nodded and put the episode on pause. “Now that I’m home and you’re here.”
“I’m glad Ben was here to help out. He thought you were in a state of shock.”
“Technically, I think I am, which is a sorry comment on my usual condition,” I said, and we both laughed. “Beryl was complaining about him because he doesn’t make house calls like Dr. Pete did.”
“Dr. Pete only showed up for Beryl, not the animals. He likes lively pretty women and good wine. She would have offered you a few glasses if you’d stuck around.”
“Her hair is garnet-red now. You like a lot of people.”
“Because most people are likeable, including Beryl.”
“She moves like a clothes moth—fluttery and erratic.”
“That is not a good reason to dislike someone, but you didn’t dislike Ben.”
“I regret to admit he might be an improvement on Doc Pete as far as clinical skills go. I wonder how much Doc Pete cheated him on the Stud Lot.”
“I’m sure he’ll be disappointed. Did he say anything personal?”
“He’s new to living in the country, nothing else. Some people smell terrible when they’re a little sweaty, but he smelled good. I’m sure I stunk because of the sweat from my apocrine glands, but a veterinarian understands physical reactions to fear. It’s not like androstenone in men, which thirty-percent of the population can’t smell. Some people who can smell it don’t like it, but I do. It would be interesting for us to get tested and see if we can both detect androstenone, if neither of us can, or if only one of us can. I suspect I can, because I like the way men smell when they’ve done hard work, and that you can’t, because you don’t take notice of sweaty men. What do you think?”
“I think most sisters go a lifetime without talking about the chemistry of human sweat.”
“I’m glad you like science, too.” Then my attention was drawn to the TV, where a shiny black car was frozen on the screen. “Ben knew where we lived. He said he wanted to meet the ‘pet psychic.’ He didn’t actually believe I was a pet psychic, which is a point in his favor. I wish to hell people would stop calling me that.”
“Treat it as a compliment to your abilities. I’m glad you made a new friend today.”
I smiled at my sister. She was so good. “I try, Kenzie. I try for you.”
The phone rang from down the hall and Kenzie said, “Doesn’t anyone respect business hours anymore?” She left the room and returned a few minutes later. “It was a reporter wanting a comment from you. I told her you were unavailable, but don’t pick up the line tonight. I’ll deal with calls.”
“I try never to answer your phones.”
“Except when you get so annoyed you want to yell at people.”
“It’s a stress reliever.”
“Not to the callers. I’d better check on your new dogs.” Kenzie picked up the tray with my plate and bowl. “Do you need anything else?”
“Ghost’s meds are in my office, and, and...I’m really tired.”
“Go to sleep, Maddie.”
I pulled the duvet up, but the sheet was uneven, so I had to get out of bed to straighten it and fold it so it fit the right way under my chin. Then I had to adjust my clothes so they weren’t twisted and rearrange the duvet all over again. I closed my eyes, and my thoughts jumbled uneasily over the events of the day.
Claire would definitely want to see me when she learned what had happened. Probably. Possibly. What would Oliver tell her? My thoughts swirled dark as obsidian and white as bone and thick as clotted blood when I heard Kenzie’s steps down the hall in syncopation with Bertie’s familiar pace, the clicking of his nails on the hardwood floor, and the jangle of his tags. The door opened enough to let him in, and Kenzie whispered, “Night, Maddie.”
“Night, sweetie.”
She shut the door and Bertie leapt onto the bed, his heft tugging the duvet snug against me. I slipped my hand from under the duvet and rested it on his head, feeling my tension and fear dissolve. When my dog was here, companion and guard, I wasn’t alone in the dark, in the world.