Free The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge by Jim Kraus Page B

and sniffed again.
    “Can I pet him?” she asked.
    “I think so,” Stewart answered. “I mean, so far, he’s been nothing but gentle and seems real nice. And he’s been in my lap for the last hour, sleeping. Kind of big for a lap dog. My legs have been asleep for the last thirty minutes.”
    She reached down, softly saying, “Hello, Hubert, so glad to meet you.”
    Hubert snorked and sniffed and grinned and pushed his nose into the palm of her hand and then stood on his back legs so he could get a better view of Lisa’s face. Lisa leaned in closer.
    “You’re a famous dog, Hubert. Or infamous, I guess. At least in Wellsboro, that is. I suppose fame is a relative thing.”
    Hubert licked at her and caught the tip of her nose. She wrinkled her face and replied, “Yuck,” but in a genial, good-natured way.
    “Sorry, Lisa. I can get him away from you.”
    “Stewart, we had dogs when I grew up. My granny always had at least one. They sometimes lick people. It’s okay. Really.”
    “You sure? I never had a dog, so I don’t know.”
    She began to scratch behind Hubert’s ears and he closed his eyes, obviously relishing the careful, delicate, feminine attention.
    “Stewart, I’m sure. And now that I’m up here, and we both have been with Hubert, I bet we are both guilty of harboring a fugitive. Or aiding and abetting. Or being an accomplice. Something. I am sure that they can throw the book at us now. You ready to go to the hoosegow for this pooch?”
    Stewart looked to Hubert, who opened his eyes wide, staring back at him.
    “I guess.”
    Lisa nodded.
    “Good. That makes two of us, then. Or three, counting Hubert.”
    “Do you think they allow dogs in prison?” Stewart asked, and his question sounded very serious. Lisa laughed in reply.
    I really like it when she laughs. Like the sound of a waterfall in the spring.
    Hubert leaned against Lisa’s leg as she petted him. He also closed his eyes, obviously enjoying the attention.
    “You are such a sweetie, Hubert. I could tell you were a sweetie from the picture Stewart took. Just an angel of a dog.”
    Every word brought Hubert closer and snuggier to Lisa. It appeared that he considered climbing into her lap as well, but it was a much smaller lap than Stewart’s, so he remained on the floor.
    “Oh, yes, why I’m here,” Lisa said, her words bright and full of cheer. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face.
    Stewart wondered if she had fixed it differently today, or styled it differently. He was not sure which word was more correct. It always looked pretty to him, her hair, but today it looked prettier—and a little different.
    I don’t think I’m supposed to ask a woman about her hair. Or is that her clothes? Or tell them that they look nice. Right? Isn’t that harassment or something? But she does look nice today.
    “I forgot to tell you when I first came in.”
    Well, sure. She has not made a habit of dropping by. No one has, I guess.
    “Anyhow, the editor at the Gazette is running my second story on Hubert. I interviewed Mr. Arden.”
    “Was he nice? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him outside the store.”
    Lisa offered a small almost-smile in reply.
    “He was nice enough. Very business-like. I went to his office.”
    “When? I didn’t see you come.”
    “It was late in the afternoon on Friday. I knew you wouldn’t be at work. And I didn’t want to make a big deal about—I wasn’t sure the Gazette was actually going to publish the next installment. So…you know…I didn’t want to let everyone know, until I was sure.”
    “Well, sure, that makes sense.”
    Lisa wrinkled her nose.
    “His office is tiny. I thought a store manager would have a better office. It’s the size of a closet.”
    “Yeah, it is pretty small.”
    “And it smells…like lettuce. Does he keep lettuce up there?”
    Stewart shrugged.
    “I don’t think so. But the whole store sometimes smells like a vegetable, if you ask me. Especially when some of