Free Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) by Laurien Berenson

them in the hallway.
    “Dinner,” my brother, Frank, announced when I opened the door. He held up his hands to display two heavy, fragrant bags. “Aunt Peg called. I picked up. And Bertie just checked in. She should be no more than a few minutes behind me.”
    “Perfect timing,” Aunt Peg said.
    Her discerning gaze swept over both me and Bob. Bob looked disgruntled—I was sure of it. As for me, I was probably pale again. Gosh darn it all.
    “I see I can’t leave you two alone for a minute,” she said in an undertone as the two men greeted each other and headed for the kitchen.
    “Then don’t,” I snapped.
    Peg sighed. Heavily. Theatrically. I didn’t need to look at her to know that she was probably rolling her eyes.
    We didn’t even have a chance to close the door before Bertie’s van came pulling into the driveway. Aunt Peg went out to greet her. Delighted to be welcoming someone normal to her house for a change, no doubt.
    Bertie and I set the table while Frank and Bob unpacked the food and ladled the dishes into serving bowls. Faith, guest of honor at our celebratory gathering, was given a giant Milk-Bone to chew while we ate. Of course that meant each of the other Poodles had to have one, too. Halfway through the meal, Frank and Bob let the rest of us know we’d been talking about dogs too long by starting a loud conversation of their own.
    Poor things, who could blame them really?
    So we all took a deep breath and started over. Bertie brought us all up to date on her plans for the wedding. Frank regaled us with stories from the coffee house. Aunt Peg asked how things were going at school and got answers from both Davey and me.
    Bob and I never got another moment alone, which suited me just fine. Better still, I got to send my ex-husband home with Frank at the end of the evening.
    “I’ll drive him back to your place so he can pick up his car, and he can follow me home,” Frank said, sounding perfectly pleased by the arrangement.
    It was Bertie who looked a bit chagrined. Frank’s apartment is quite a comfortable size for one person; two would probably find it cozy. The addition of a third adult, however, would just about eliminate any possibility of privacy.
    I resolved to check back with Bertie during the week and make sure that Bob’s presence wasn’t too much of an imposition. Having him at Frank’s place made my life simpler, but I had no intention of turning my problems into hers.
     
    November brings midterms to Howard Academy. Though I don’t teach any courses—my job is to tutor those kids who are having trouble keeping up—there was still plenty for me to do in the high-pressure atmosphere of exam time.
    Another weekend was approaching before I even remembered my vow to get back to Bertie. And then, to be perfectly honest, I only remembered because she called me on Thursday night.
    “I think something’s wrong,” she said.
    Guilt socked me like a blow. I knew I should have been keeping tabs on things.
    “It’s Bob, isn’t it? Don’t say another word. I’ll pick him up and take him to a motel.”
    “Bob?” Bertie sounded surprised. “What’s the matter with him?”
    “I don’t know. I thought you’d tell me. Isn’t that what you’re calling about?”
    “No. It’s Sara. Sara Bentley. She seems to have disappeared.”

8

    “S ara Bentley?” I’d been so sure Bertie was calling to complain about Bob that it took me a moment to switch gears. “Where did she go?”
    Bertie’s answering snort conveyed what she thought of that inane question. “That’s the whole point. I don’t know and neither does anyone else. Remember that strange note she sent me at the show? I figured I’d give her a call and find out what was up. Except that Sara hasn’t been home all week. Her machine is piling up messages, and her cell phone goes straight to voice mail.
    “I called a couple of mutual friends and nobody’s heard from her. Sara’s a social butterfly—not that her idea of