The Case of the Invisible Dog by Diane Stingley Page B

I finally replied, feeling sure there was some point she was trying to make that I had completely missed. Probably because it would turn out to be completely irrelevant.
    “Five houses,” Shirley said thoughtfully. “One with a Foreclosure sign, one with a For Sale sign, one inhabited by an elderly couple, one that has recently had a couple move in, and one that is owned by our client. Five houses with a private golf course on one side and trees on the other. No noise, no traffic, just beautiful peace and quiet. Everyone who lives on this cul-de-sac enjoys the serenity of the countryside, even though they are only minutes from a busy interstate. Everyone, that is, except Matt Peterman, who is being driven to his wit’s end due to sleep deprivation because of a barking dog. A dog that by all accounts does not appear to exist.”
    “It is very strange,” I said after a moment. We were looking for an invisible dog. What else
would
it be but strange?
    “Very strange indeed,” Shirley said gazing at Matt’s house. “More than strange. I feel something sinister in the air. Follow me.”
    Shirley took off down the sidewalk, tapping her cane as she went. I watched her for a moment, tempted to simply get in my car and drive away. But there were bills to pay; there are always bills to pay. I ran after her, instead, with a cold knot of dread in my stomach at the thought of what she might do next.
    “Where are we going?” I whispered once I caught up with Shirley.
    “We’ll proceed first to the Brown residence to discover once and for all whether or not they have a dog.”
    “But isn’t it obvious that they don’t?” I asked, hoping to avoid what I knew she was planning to do next. We had narrowly avoided having the police called on us after our run-in with Angie. I didn’t think the Browns would be as understanding if they caught us prowling around their yard, no matter what explanation Shirley offered regarding an invisible dog.
    “What appears at first to be obvious is not always the truth,” Shirley retorted. “If it were, then there would be no need for courts, or lawyers, or judges, or me. Now then, it should be a simple matter to discover whether these people do, or do not, have a dog.”
    We had arrived at the Browns’, and I hesitated as Shirley went striding across their lawn toward the side fence. A security light came on as she passed the side of the house, and Shirley ducked down and huddled against the wall. I stood out front, frozen, waiting to see if any lights came on inside. The night had grown colder than I’d expected, and my hoodie was no longer keeping me warm.
    But no lights came on inside their house, and I didn’t see or hear any movement to indicate that the security light had awakened anyone. It went off, and I still hadn’t moved. I knew it was ridiculous to stand out there. The moon was almost full, and if one of the Pittfords or the Browns happened to wake up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water, and happened to glance out their window, there was a good chance they would spot me, in spite of my dark clothes.
    And yet…I couldn’t bring myself to move. I was caught up in a situation that was beyond me, a situation that I never would have expected to find myself in. (Then again, who would?) I wanted nothing more than to march over to Shirley and quit. And insist that if she wanted a ride home then she needed to leave with me right then and there.
    But I was learning that what I wanted was frequently at odds with reality. Like the reality of that funny sound my car was making again. And the filling in my back molar that I really should have checked out. And the reality that if I quit I’d be back to waiting tables. My Rainy Day Fund was almost gone, and waiting tables hadn’t paid the bills.
    When I was in Hollywood and one of my friends or I was having a bad day, we’d always say, “Life isn’t like the movies, you know!” It was our little joke. But out here in the