Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

a foot, driving my knee as hard as I could into Howie’s naked crotch. And when he’d doubled over, folding at the waist, his head coming forward, I lifted my knee a second time, even harder, and heard it crack against Howie Lish’s forehead.
    That’s when the door opened and Avi walked in, Ch’an trailing behind him.

37

He Seemed to Be Smiling

    HE LOOKED SLOWLY from my head to my feet. Too slowly, if you ask me.
    “Ah,” he said, focusing on Lisa’s black cotton shoes. “You’ve been practicing. Excellent.”
    He seemed to be smiling, but it was too dark to be sure.
    He turned away and headed for his office, Ch’an padding along at his side. “I forgot my keys,” he said, “ good , good, they’re on the desk.” I heard him dialing as I quickly got dressed.
    I looked down at Howie. His eyes were still closed and there was a large red bruise on his brow. “Thinking,” O. J. Simpson had once said, “is what gets you caught from behind.” I’d say in his case, and Howie’s, it was not thinking that had done them in.
    After the police left, taking Howie with them, Avi and I sat on the couches and talked until the sun came up. Then I made a phone call and headed home to change to my own clothes, pick up Dashiell, and get the car.
    A thin dusting of sand, carried by the wind, covered the street where I parked the Taurus. When I opened the car door, Dashiell headed straight for the ocean, and before I’d locked the car, he was out of sight.
    I slipped off my shoes, rolled up my jeans, and swimming in the sea of now, stood in the surf with my dog, just listening to the roar of the waves. Then the yin and yang of private investigation went to see the Jacobs family one last time, to tell them that what had happened to their beautiful daughter had not been their fault.