The Pet-Sitting Peril Read Free Page A

every day.
    Nick glanced around. The place was smaller than Mr. Haggard’s, and much fancier. There were knickknacks on white painted shelves—all kinds of little animal and human figures made of glass and wood and china—and crocheted doilies on everything. It was neat and orderly, with no books or papers lying around. The furniture was polished and there was no dust, though the sofa and chairs didn’t look as comfortable as the ones in Mr. Haggard’s place.
    â€œI wouldn’t trust Eloise to anyone who didn’t love animals,” Mrs. Sylvan said. “She’s very sensitive to things like that. She would know if you didn’t like her.”
    Nick glanced at the cat, who regarded him with wide, unblinking blue eyes. “I like dogs and cats,” he assured her, looking back at Mrs. Sylvan. “That’s about the only animals I’vebeen around. I think I saw Eloise the other day, when I was walking in the back alley.” He didn’t mention that Rudy had nearly jerked him off his feet, lunging for the cat, and that he still had black and blue marks on his shins where he’d been dragged into a pile of garbage cans.
    Mrs. Sylvan’s lips stretched out thin. “She got out when Mr. Griesner came in to fix a leaking faucet. He doesn’t care for animals, and he’s careless. Whenever you come in or out, you must take care that Eloise doesn’t escape. She’s too valuable to be loose outside where she’s in danger from cars and dogs.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Nick said.
    â€œShe has medicine to take three times a day.” She showed him the bottle and the eyedropper. “I’ll give her the morning dose before I leave. I’m a bookkeeper at Capland’s Department Store, downtown. I work on a shift where I start late and leave late, and sometimes I stop off to visit with my sister on the way home. But I can give Eloise her last dose before I go to bed. What I need is someone to come in in the afternoon, or even very early inthe evening, to give the middle dose. You can start today.”
    That didn’t sound too bad a chore. After a few more instructions Nick put her key on the ring with Mr. Haggard’s keys and went on upstairs to apartment three.
    There was loud music playing, the kind that Barney liked and Nick hated, so they were always fighting over Barney’s radio being on. Sometimes Nick suspected that his brother didn’t really like that music, either, but was playing it mostly to annoy Nick.
    Behind him, from the foot of the stairs, Mr. Griesner, the apartment manager, yelled so that Nick jumped and spun around.
    â€œTurn that darned stereo down!”
    The music went on, unabated, and Nick cleared his throat. “I don’t think they heard you, sir.”
    Mr. Griesner’s hair was a gray wiry brush atop his head, touched with various colors where the light came through the colored windows around the front door, so that it was tinted pink and blue and a soft green. On anybody else it might have evoked amusement,but Mr. Griesner was a rather hostile man, Nick had decided. Nothing about him was funny.
    â€œWell, bang on their door and tell them to cool it, will you? Fool hippies, they must be deaf, and they’ll make all the rest of us that way, too. I told Mr. Hale we don’t need no hippies in this place, but he says anybody can pay the rent, let ’em in. Well, rent or no rent, they can’t play music that makes my ears hurt from clear down here. You bang on their door and tell ’em.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Nick said, though he didn’t see why he should have to confront them. After all, nobody was paying him to be manager of the apartments.
    He crossed the upper hall and tapped on the door behind which the music throbbed and crashed. It would be a miracle if they heard his knock over the music. These tenants must be new; he was sure Mr. Haggard had told him, when he