Who Do I Talk To? (13 page)

Lucy emphatically shook her head. “Ain't gonna let that dog outta my sight. Miz Martha gonna want to see him, too, or she's gonna be mighty upset.”

To my surprise, Officer Krakowski showed up to take us back to the shelter. “He's a hero, you know,” the officer said, carrying a doped-up Dandy to the squad car and laying him carefully on the backseat. “The whole precinct is talking about him.”

Lucy scrambled into the back from the other side, so I ended up in the front seat. “So, uh, the intruder guy,” I ventured. “Was he hurt very bad?”

Officer Krakowski laughed. “The perp? Could've been worse. He's got some scratches and bites on his wrist, but if Dandy had been serious, his teeth could have punctured an artery. They got the guy patched up in the ER, and they're booking him down at the precinct.”

Thank You, God.
The way he'd been yelling, I was afraid Dandy had done serious damage, and, intruder or not, the guy would probably have sued us.

Officer Krakowski glanced sideways at me. “Just one thing. Dandy's up to date on all his shots, right? The hospital wanted to know.”

Good grief ! How would I know?
My mom was so forgetful. I twisted in my seat belt. “Lucy. Does Dandy have a rabies tag on his collar?”

“Yeah. Somethin' like that.”

“What's it say?”

Silence in the backseat. I twisted further. Lucy was glowering at me. “Can't see so good back here,” she finally muttered.

“Don't worry about it,” the police officer said. “We'll check it when we get him inside.”

I glanced at my watch as we turned the corner by the Laundromat. Almost six thirty. I hadn't slept a wink all night. My eyes were so heavy I could barely keep them open. But it would be awhile before I got a chance to catch a nap. First thing I had to do was make a call to Virginia . . .

“See? What did I tell you? This city loves a hero.” Officer Krakowski was grinning.

The squad car had pulled up in front of Manna House, and immediately we were surrounded by a flock of reporters and cameramen. Microphones were shoved in my face as we got out of the car. “Mrs. Fairbanks! Can you tell us what happened?” . . . “How badly is the dog hurt? How many times was he shot?” . . . “Why was the dog at the shelter? Is he homeless?”

I looked frantically at our police escort, but he was carefully lifting Dandy out of the car. Cameras clicked like little cap guns.

Dodging microphones and cameras as best I could, I scurried up the steps and rang the door buzzer, wishing I had my key—but of course I'd forgotten my purse, wallet, ID, keys. As soon as the door opened, I held it until Lucy and the officer had Dandy safely inside, then turned around to face the vultures.

“Uh, hi folks. It's been a stressful night, as you can all imagine. I'm sure Manna House will issue a statement as soon as possible. Please be patient.” With what I hoped was a friendly smile, I escaped inside, pulling the big oak door shut behind me until I heard the lock click.

But inside the multipurpose room, another contingent crowded around Lucy and Officer Krakowski as the policeman gently laid Dandy on the closest couch. Even Mabel was there. No surprise. Sarge probably called her while the detectives were still taking statements. The excited residents in various stages of dress and undress were all talking at once. “Is he okay?” . . . “Aw, look, they shaved off all his purty hair on that side” . . . “How come I didn't hear nuthin'?” . . . “I wanna see!”

“All right, all right, back off, everybody,” Sarge barked. “Let Miss Martha have a minute—it's her dog.” The night manager ushered my mother, still in her nightgown, to the couch and got her settled beside Dandy, making sure she was comfortable.

I saw Mabel speak to Officer Krakowski, frown and nod; then the two of them headed in my direction. The officer handed me a card. “Checked the tag. The dog's good. Call me if you need anything.” He jerked his head toward the front doors that held the media at bay and smiled. “Good luck. You're going to need it.”

Mabel saw him out.

“Fairbanks?” The night manager showed up at my elbow. “You okay? Here—bet you could use some
caffe
, no? Just made it.” Sarge handed me a steaming Styrofoam cup. “Got someplace quiet you want to put Dandy so he can rest? Just say the word—I'll take him there.”

If I wasn't so tired, I would have guffawed. Was this the same Sarge who'd been breathing threats about sending Dandy to the pound today?

“Thanks, Sarge.” I took a sip of the hot coffee. Black, no cream.
Oh well.
“Guess my office is the best place for now, out of the way, if we can find some soft blankets or something. But first I need to—”

“Not to worry. Leave it to me.” Sarge marched off on her search-and-recover mission.

My head ached. I wanted to go to my mother, who seemed bewildered by all the commotion. I really wanted to go to bed. But instead I made my way down to my office, flipped on the light, and pulled the pad with the Fairbanks' number on it toward me. I picked up the phone and dialed.

One ring . . . two . . . three . . . four—
“Mike? . . . It's Gabby. Sorry I didn't call last night. I needed time to decide what's best for the boys and . . .” I pressed my fingers against my eyes, willing the ache in my head and my heart to go away. “Anyway, I want to thank you for offering to send the boys back. But I've decided”—I had to push the words out—“I've decided they should stay there for the next few weeks. Let P. J. go to lacrosse summer camp. When camp is done, maybe things will be different here.”

A moment later I hung up the phone, laid my head down on my arms, and wept.

chapter 13

A knock at the door made me grab for a wad of tissues and blow my nose. Lucy marched in with a tattered comforter that had seen better days, followed by Sarge carrying Dandy. Hovering behind them in the doorway, Tanya had an arm around my mother, who was still in her nightgown. “Tried to take her back upstairs to get dressed,” Tanya whispered to me, “but she don't wanna leave the dog.”

“That's okay.” I slipped out of the tiny office so my mother could get in and supervise.

“He needs fresh water,” she fussed. “And food in his bowl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucy muttered, and marched out with the water bowl. We all knew Dandy wouldn't be eating or drinking anytime soon, but none of us were inclined to argue.

Sarge was next to leave. “Oh, Fairbanks, Mabel wants to see both of us soon as you get things squared away down here.” She looked at her watch. “Breakfast stuff is on the counter. But I'd like to get out of here by eight if you—”

I nodded. “It's okay. I'm not hungry. Just let me get my mother settled and I'll be right up.” If I didn't fall over first.

Tanya promised to get my mother fed and dressed when she was ready. Sammy eagerly said he'd “dog-sit,” and I was surprised when my mother agreed. A lump caught in my throat. If my Paul knew that Dandy had been injured while protecting the shelter, he'd want to be the one sitting by the dog's “bedside.”

Oh God! Did I make the right decision? Maybe I should have told the boys' grandfather to send them back here anyway and let the chips fall where they may!

Couldn't go there. I needed sleep. I needed . . . uhh, I was supposed to talk to Mabel. After pouring another cup of coffee from the carafe as I hustled through the multipurpose room, I knocked on Mabel's door and peeked in. Sarge was already hunkered on a chair, elbows on her knees. Mabel got up and gave me a quick hug. “Are you all right, Gabby?”

I offered a weak smile. “Been better. But I'll be okay.” I sat down before my legs betrayed me.

Unlike her usual careful outfits, Mabel looked like she'd grabbed clothes off the floor without bothering to fix her face—a black silk headwrap still covered her hair—which wasn't surprising after getting a call from the shelter in the middle of the night. “We're all tired,” she admitted, “so I don't want this to take long. Sarge already gave me a brief overview, but I'd like to hear again what happened from both of you, to get our facts straight.” She jerked her head in the direction of the melee we knew was waiting outside. “I suppose we'll have to make a statement to the media before they'll go away.”

I wagged my head. “How did they even know about this? We didn't call them!”

Sarge grunted. “Police scanners. Some reporters chase police stories like lawyers chase ambulances. If one of our residents had got cut up by the perp? The media couldn't care less. But a dog playing hero?”

My hackles rose. “Dandy wasn't playing! He knew something was wrong. I've never seen him act like that. He's usually a teddy bear!”

Sarge patted the air with her hand. “
D'accordo, d'accordo.
I am not blaming the dog. He saved my life, for all I know.”

I stared at her. Frankly, I hadn't given much thought to what Sarge had endured during the night. “How . . . I mean, what happened before Dandy got there?”

“All right,” Mabel interrupted. “Let's back up. Sarge, tell me again what happened.”

The night manager shrugged. “The kid and I—Susan what's-her-face—”

“Susan McCall, your assistant,” Mabel said.

Sí,
the kid. Anyway, we did rounds at midnight, everything “was okay,
capisce
? Susan sacked out on a couch for a few z's, not a problem. I might have dozed . . . then I heard a sound downstairs. Didn't think much about it. Fairbanks, here, sometimes bends the rules and goes to her office in the middle of the night—”

I flushed but held my tongue.

“—but I decided to check. Made my way downstairs, and some tomfool is in the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. I thought it was one of the residents, helping herself to a midnight snack. So I yell, ‘Hey!' Somebody turns out to be this big dude. He grabbed a knife—”

“Grabbed it?” Mabel asked. “He didn't have it with him?”

Sarge shook her head. “Saw him grab it out of the knife block. Definitely a Manna House knife. Then it happened so fast—that dude jumped over the counter and had that knife at my throat. Uh-uh, no way baby, not going to argue with a knife. Saw too many slit throats in Iraq . . .”

I gaped at her. I'd been so wrapped up in my own personal drama, I'd never given a thought to what Sarge had experienced in the military.

“Anyway, the perp found some dish towels and tied me to one of those plastic chairs. He was just about to stuff a gag in my mouth when”—Sarge broke into a laugh—“when all hell broke loose in the stairwell. Next thing I knew, that fur ball charges into the room, barking and snapping. It was dark, you know, so I am not sure exactly what happened. But the guy must have grabbed up the knife and cut him—kicked him too—because the dog yelped and went flying. That's when Fairbanks, here, showed up screaming bloody murder.” Sarge volleyed the verbal ball at me. “Your turn.”

I was so tired my memory felt blurry. But I admitted I couldn't sleep last night, so Dandy and I had been in the lounge upstairs. “Praying,” I added. “Dandy heard something. I tried to stop him, but he was off like a shot . . .” I filled in the rest of the story as best I could.

Mabel had been listening intently and taking notes. When I finished, she jumped in. “Two questions. How did the intruder get in? And what did he want? Police said the side door off the gangway was unlocked when they arrived.”

Sarge got defensive. “That door's always locked, except for deliveries. We don't let residents use it for any reason.”

“Yes,” Mabel shot back, “but it's your responsibility as night manager to check that
all
doors are locked every evening.”

Ha.
Part of me would have loved to let Sarge squirm after all the grief she'd given me about Dandy. But the night's events had been traumatic for her too—confronting the intruder alone, finding a knife at her throat, getting tied up.

“Uh, Mabel. I'm partly to blame as well. I saw the supper volunteers take trash bags out that side door and didn't think anything about it. I was on cleanup, the last one to leave, and I should have checked that door. But I had big problems on my mind and just wasn't thinking.”

To my surprise, Sarge shot me a look that seemed almost . . . grateful.

Mabel finally leaned back. “Well, obviously, we need to tighten the security. When something like this happens, we all have to learn from it. We can't afford to make mistakes. We were fortunate this time. It could have been worse . . .”

I zoned out, impatient to talk to my mom, get some sleep, call the boys to tell them about Dandy, ask how they felt about staying another month in Virginia. But I tried to focus.

“. . . a lot to be thankful for. We need to give God some serious praise around here! And no doubt about it, Dandy's the hero of the day. I'm so sorry he got hurt, Gabby. How's your mother taking it?”