When I was done, I went back to the house and woke Radar. I gave her a treat from the pantry and walked her back home. I reminded myself to bring along her toy monkey tomorrow. She might want it once we got to where we were going. If, that was, she didn’t fall off those stairs and pull me with her.
If she’d go down the stairs at all.
When I got back I put Polley’s .22 auto, his wallet, and some other stuff into my pack—not much, I’d add more tomorrow from Mr. Bowditch’s pantry—and then sat down to write my father. I wanted to put it off and knew I couldn’t afford to. That was a hard letter to write.
Dear Dad,
You are going to come back to an empty house, because I have gone to Chicago with Radar. I found someone on the Internet who has had amazing success with renewing the health and vitality of aging dogs. I’ve known about this guy for some time but didn’t want to tell you because I know how you feel about “quack cures.” Maybe that’s what this is, but I can easily afford $750, thanks to my inheritance. I won’t tell you not to worry because I know you will, even though there’s nothing to worry about. What I WILL tell you is please don’t try to fix your worry with a drink. If I came back and found you were boozing again, it would break my heart. Don’t try to call me, because I’m turning off my phone. （On or off wouldn’t matter where I was going.） I will be back, and if this works, I’ll be back with a brand new dog!
Trust me, Dad. I know what I’m doing.
Love,
Charlie
Well, I hoped I knew.
I put the note in an envelope, wrote DAD on the front, and left it on the kitchen table. Then I opened my laptop and wrote an email to [email protected]. It covered much the same territory. I thought if Mrs. S. had been in the room while I was typing, she would have smelled hooky all over me. I set the email to arrive on her office computer Thursday afternoon. Two days of unexplained absence I could get away with, but probably not three. My purpose was to give Dad as much time at his retreat as I could. I could hope Mrs. S. wouldn’t call him when she got my email, but I knew she probably would, and he might be headed back then, anyway. The real purpose was to tell as many people as possible that I was going to Chicago.
To that end, I called the cop shop and asked if Detective Gleason was there. He was, and I asked him if they had any leads in the home invasion at 1 Sycamore Street. “I wanted to ask today, because I’m taking Mr. Bowditch’s dog to Chicago tomorrow. I’ve found someone there who’s done wonders with older dogs.”
Gleason told me there was nothing new, which was what I expected. I had taken care of the home invader myself… or so I hoped. Gleason wished me good luck with the old pooch. That was a wish I took to heart.
7
That evening I tucked three more of the new pills into Radar’s chow. I would give her three more tomorrow. There weren’t many more left in the bottle, but maybe that was okay. I didn’t know for sure what they were, but I had an idea they were doggy speed. They were shortening her life at the same time they were pepping her up. I told myself I just had to get her down the steps, and after that… well, I didn’t know after that.
My phone was working again （although I’d had to do a hard reset to get it to show the right time）， and around seven o’clock it rang. DAD was in the window. I turned on the TV and jacked the volume a little before answering it.
“Hey, Charlie, everything okay?”
“It’s fine. Climb any trees?”
He laughed. “No trees, it’s raining up here. A lot of rah-rah team spirit instead. Insurance Guys Gone Wild. What are you watching?”
“SportsCenter.”
“Dog okay?”
“Rades?” She looked up from her rug. “She’s good.”
“Still eating?”
“Every bite of her dinner and licked the bowl.”
“Glad to hear it.”
We talked a little more. He seemed unworried, so I guess I was putting on a good front. That made me glad and ashamed at the same time.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow night, if you want.”
“Nah, I might go out for burgers and mini-golf with a bunch of guys.”
“And girls?”
“Well… there might be girls present. I’ll call you if something happens. Like the house catches on fire.”
“Sounds like a plan. Sleep well, Chip.”
“You too.” From where I was sitting, I could see the letter on the kitchen table. I didn’t like lying to my dad but didn’t see any other choice. It was an extraordinary situation.