Free The Big Dig by Linda Barnes Page B

Friday, going out with the van in the morning, picking up charges for the day. Twenty-four dogs, give or take a couple, but Veronica and the driver—Harold usually drove—could handle them because the van was specially equipped and the dogs knew the drill.
    â€œAny breaks in her routine lately? Unexplained absences?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAny evidence she took drugs? Drank?”
    â€œI don’t put up with that sort of thing. Look, I don’t have a lot of time right now. I haven’t been able to replace her, and I have work to do.” He stood, a none-too-subtle hint that he considered the interview over. “Maybe she mentioned her plans to one of your clients.”
    â€œI doubt it.”
    â€œI’d like to be able to ask them myself.”
    â€œLook, I run a service for busy people. It’s not cheap and there are others who offer pretty much the same thing. I’m not going to annoy my clients by giving their names to a private investigator.”
    â€œI’d be discreet. I wouldn’t mention you.”
    â€œVeronica works for me. They’d know. Forget it.” He held my gaze.
    â€œI’d like to speak to your other workers.”
    â€œIs that necessary?”
    â€œIt won’t take long.”
    He stalked to the door. “Harold!”
    The man with the gray coveralls appeared, and before I could say a word, Walters demanded, “Did Veronica tell you she wasn’t coming in this week?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThere.” He folded his arms, and the gesture seemed to say, that’s that, get out .
    â€œAnd your part-time employee—”
    â€œErica.”
    â€œI’d like to ask her.”
    â€œShe’ll just say the same as me.” Harold had a narrow face, a big squashy nose. “Veejay left on Friday, same as always. We were both surprised she didn’t show up.”
    â€œShe have any special friends among the owners?”
    He shook his head. “Nah, she liked the dogs.”
    â€œEver see her with a boyfriend?”
    â€œNah.”
    â€œAnd now,” Walters said firmly, “we have a schedule to keep, like the military. A time to run the dogs along the Charles—plenty of fresh air and exercise here—a time to feed them, a time to get them on the bus. It’s loading time. Why don’t you see the lady out, Harold?”
    I hadn’t seen Veronica’s room yet, hadn’t spoken to her parents. I’d probably never need Charles River Dog Care’s client list, but it seemed to me that Walters guarded it too zealously. As we climbed the steps, I tried my smile on Harold. “You probably keep track of all the places you go to pick up the dogs.”
    â€œBoss gives me a list.”
    â€œI’ll bet you could make me a copy.”
    He didn’t say yes and he didn’t say no, but his steps slowed, and when we got to the landing, he didn’t open the door immediately.
    â€œIt would be worth money,” I said.
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œFifty bucks. On receipt.”
    My card disappeared into his pocket.

Chapter 9
    I considered driving to Dana Endicott’s brownstone and banging the door, in case she was home but not answering the phone, debated the wisdom of harassing a wealthy client while pondering the hostile parking situation in her neighborhood—tow zones, fifteen-minute meters, resident-only parking. My leg throbbed, probably because of the worsening weather, but possibly due to guilt. I hadn’t been to the gym in three days.
    I drove to Gold’s—plenty of parking in the lot—raced a stationary bike for half an hour, did prescribed leg lifts and extensions, grunted through hamstring strengtheners. The regime relieved the guilt, but didn’t improve the weather.
    It was wet and nasty when I emerged, horizontal gusts of rain rendering my umbrella useless. I rarely cook, but on nights like this nothing beats chili, so I stopped