Paw and Order Read Free Page B

and getting more so. Nothing easier to pick up in the whole wide world of smells than human ­nervousness—excepting bacon, of course, goes without mentioning, and possibly steak on the barbie, and there’s no leaving out burgers, plus those Thai ribs down at Mr. Cho’s Tex Mex Chinese Takeout and Delivery aren’t too shabby, and . . . where were we again? All I knew for sure was that my position on the front step seemed to have changed a bit, moving me closer to the briefcase. At the same time, the bearded dude was calling over his shoulder. “Suzie? A delivery for you.”
    â€œComing.” That was Suzie, no doubt about it, from somewhere back in the house—meaning we’d found her, so everything had to be going smoothly.
    The bearded dude raised his voice again. “Bye, love.” Then he stepped around us—me getting in a lick of his briefcase, an all-too-quick lick, but the leather was by far the best I’d ever tasted—walked down the street, got into the blue minivan, and drove away. Bernie wasn’t smiling now, but his mouth was still open. All of a sudden, he looked like Charlie! Charlie’s Bernie’s kid back home in the Valley, where we all once lived together as one big happy family—me, Bernie, Charlie, and Leda, Leda being Bernie’s wife at the time, but now married to Malcolm, who’s real big in software, whatever that may be, and we don’t see Charlie much, except for some holidays and weekends. But no time for any of that, and I shouldn’t have even gotten started. The point is, I could now see Charlie in every feature of Bernie’s face. Okay, not the nose. Bernie’s waiting to get that slightly bent part—hardly noticeable, in my opinion—fixed after he’s sure that his fistfighting days are over, which I hope is never, on account of how much I’d miss seeing that sweet uppercut.
    Right in there somewhere, Suzie appeared. Her eyes—beautiful dark eyes that shone like the countertops in our kitchen after they’d been polished, which had been a while—widened in the way that shows a human is surprised. Cats are just the opposite, but let’s leave them out of the story if we can.
    â€œBernie?” she said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were headed home.”
    â€œUh, home, right,” said Bernie. “Surprise type of thing.” He thrust the flowers in her direction, then seemed to think better of it, and drew them quickly back, the heads of some of the flowers snapping off and wafting down to the floor, a black-and-white tile floor that I knew would feel nice and cool on my paws once we got inside. Wasn’t that the plan? I got a sudden feeling that things weren’t going well and started panting just the littlest bit. Bernie noticed all the scattered petals. “Maybe not my brightest idea,” he said.
    â€œNo, no,” said Suzie. “This is wonderful! I just wish you’d called, that’s all. I would have been more . . . organized.”
    Bernie glanced back toward the street. “Is that what we’re calling it?” he said.
    â€œBernie? Whoa. Is something wrong?”
    â€œHow would I know? I’m just the delivery boy.”
    Suzie’s face changed and so did her eyes; she started to become a harder kind of Suzie. I preferred the other one. “You’re not making much sense,” she said.
    â€œNo, love?” said Bernie.
    â€œLove?”
    â€œThat’s what your guest calls you.”
    â€œMy guest?” Suzie’s eyes shifted. “You’re talking about Eben? He’s from London, Bernie.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo he calls everyone ‘love,’ ” Suzie said. “Like Ringo Starr.”
    Ringo Starr? Had to be some sort of perp. And not even the first Ringo perp we’d run into. Who could forget Ringo Gog­arnian, who liked to dress as a mailman and