The Long Good Boy by Carol Lea Benjamin Read Free Book Online Page A

puts the money on the edge of the desk.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with her hand. “But this one time, he touched me. I was picking it up, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. It was getting late, he said. I had to go. And his hand, it was ice cold.”
    One more thing to check at Keller’s.
    Outside, I headed east. Chi Chi just stood there watching me go. When I got to the corner, I turned back. She was still there, the wind pulling that blond hair across her face, hugging herself to keep Clint against her chest, her knees slightly bent, toes pointing in, looking small and lost.

5
    I Cocked My Head
    I closed my coat and headed home, the streets dark and deserted, only an occasional light on in the buildings I passed, some insomniac waiting for dawn, the way I sometimes did, or an unusually early riser, someone who went to the gym before work, had a crying baby, suffered from bouts of acid reflux. A small blue sedan pulled up near the corner of Greenwich and Charles Streets, and a squat, dark woman in a hooded sweatshirt and long parka got out, pulled a stack of the New York Times off the backseat, and headed for the lobby of the closest building. Other than that, I was alone, no one rushing off to work, walking the dog, reparking the car. Today and tomorrow, you could forget about the car. Monday you’d be out again, trying to snag a legal space, your life controlled by alternate-side-of-the-street parking regulations.
    When I got back to Tenth Street, I unlocked the wrought-iron gate, closed it behind me, and unhooked Dashiell’s leash, thinking about what I’d seen earlier, until I realized what was right in front of my eyes, Betty running to meet Dashiell, the door to the cottage ajar, and Chip standing on the top step. I’d forgotten he was coming over.
    â€œHow long have you been here?”
    â€œSince midnight. I had a ten-o’clock in Chelsea. I tried your cell phone. Didn’t you get my message?”
    I shook my head. I hadn’t looked.
    We walked inside, and I told him about the call from Chi Chi, and some, but not all, of what the girls had told me in the park, leaving out, among other things, the part about the dog trainer who had given her my name. Not a problem. It couldn’t have been Chip. We told each other everything.
    Didn’t we?
    Then Chip was saying something, and I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about all the things I’d never told him, starting with the cleaned-up story I’d just related, and segueing to other things, to the parts of myself I hadn’t shared with anyone. Why had I thought, even for a minute, that Chip didn’t also have parts of his life he kept to himself, secrets he wouldn’t share, even with me? If I’d learned anything doing this work, it was that you never knew anybody, not even the people you thought you knew best.
    The door was still open, the sky now the most incredible blue I’d ever seen.
    â€œI can’t stop trying to figure out how I’m going to get into Keller’s,” I said, “without actually taking Chi Chi’s place.”
    â€œGood thinking.”
    â€œWhat is?” I cocked my head, a result of living with dogs for so long.
    â€œNot taking Chi Chi’s place.”
    â€œOh, that. No kidding.” I looked at my watch. “I’ve got to get cleaned up and get back to work.”
    â€œYou just got home.”
    â€œWell, you know what they say, a man works from sun to sun, but a woman’s work is never done. It’s six-thirty. The market’s open, and I have to try to buy a couple of pork chops for dinner.”
    â€œI thought they only sold wholesale. Anyway, I’m working tonight—”
    â€œMe, too,” I said, grinning. “And this morning.”
    Now he was grinning, too. “Nick and Nora Charles?”
    â€œSure. If you have the time. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
    â€œGive me