Chapter 11 #2
“He could slip something in her food,” Gilda suggested.
“That would be hard to do in front of a whole table full of diners,” Louise said, and thought of all the lovely dinners she was missing.
“I don’t know. That huge buffet area on the Lido deck goes on forever. He could slip something into her food and never get caught. Who would know where she got the poison or from who? It’s a zoo in the dining area at lunch.”
“Hmm, not a bad idea,” said Louise.
“People get food poisoning all the time on cruises,” Gilda continued. “You probably had a lucky escape. You could have gotten Norovirus.”
Louise frowned. “I’m not sure a broken leg is a lucky escape.”
“We’ll never know.” Gilda studied her. “You’re looking tired. How about some lunch? Then you can lie down on the couch and I’ll put on the movie.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” said Louise.
“Want a turkey sandwich? You’ve got sandwich meat and lettuce in the fridge.”
“That will be great,” said Louise.
Gilda put her crocheting back in its bag and went to the kitchen, Darling trotting along after her, ready to supervise, and Louise relocated to the dining table to think of possible names for her murderer.
She supposed using the name Gary would be a bad idea.
Gary could take it in his head to sue her for libel or something.
What about Luke? Same issue. What if she named the killer Lucas? Gary Lucas? Garfield Lucas?
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway next door distracted her. There was Alec James’s houseguest, unloading several bags of merchandise. More shopping. The woman certainly loved spending money. Was she spending hers or his?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a strangled squawk coming from the kitchen, followed by the sound of a plate breaking and the firm command, “Move, dog.”
Gilda was not a dog lover, and Darling wasn’t exactly winning her over. He did love to hang around in the kitchen and had a habit of getting underfoot when Louise was working.
“Here, Darling,” she called.
Darling didn’t come. Maybe Gilda had given him a treat and he was busy with that.
“Everything okay out there?” she called.
“It is now,” Gilda called back.
Five minutes later she appeared, bringing two plates. She set one in front of Louise. “There you go. We had some breakage, but I’ll pay to replace it.”
“Thank you,” Louise said. “I’m guessing that wasn’t your fault though. Was Darling making a nuisance of himself?”
Gilda frowned. “I tripped over him. He shouldn’t be in the kitchen when you’re working,” she added firmly. “You could fall and break a hip.”
“He’s usually much better behaved,” Louise fibbed, which inspired a disbelieving raised eyebrow. “Is he still in the kitchen?”
“No, I put him in the backyard. He was scratching at the door to go out.”
“He probably needed a potty break. We should bring him in.”
“Let’s wait until we’re done eating,” Gilda said. “He’ll be fine out there for a few minutes, won’t he?”
“He should be, but I don’t want him out for long. It’s too hot. Plus, he’s liable to dig holes.”
Gilda made a face. “Dogs,” she said in disgust.
“Darling is a sweetie,” Louise insisted and frowned at her.
Which made Gilda backpedal. “He’s a nice dog. But if he’s a hole digger, you’ll never break him of that. My brother’s dog was a hole digger.”
“How did they break him of it?” asked Louise.
“They didn’t. They gave him away.”
“That’s sad. Poor dog.”
“Poor dog? What about my brother? Always having to fill in holes. I don’t know how many flowers that dog killed.”
“If I have to choose between my flowers and my dog, the dog wins,” Louise said. “We probably should bring him in.”
“All right,” Gilda said and went off to the kitchen. Louise could hear her out there calling in Darling. Then she was calling the dog again. “Darling?”
That wasn’t a come-here call. That was a where-have-you-gone call. Louise’s sandwich began to roll around in her stomach.
Gilda returned. No Darling by her side.
“Where’s Darling?” Louise asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Gilda was frowning. “He’s escaped. Dug a hole.”
“Oh, no,” Louise said miserably.
“Now, don’t you worry. I’ll find him,” Gilda said, and made for the front door.
Forty minutes later, she’d returned, sweaty, frustrated, and alone.
“Where could he have gone?” Louise fretted.
“I don’t know. I’ve been up and down every street within a two-block radius calling him.”
“Maybe he went to see Martin,” Louise said, and grabbed her phone.
The call went to Martin’s voice mail.
“Where does Martin live? I’ll go to his house,” Gilda offered.
“Just two houses down,” said Louise. The minute the words were out of her mouth she realized that if Darling had gone to find Martin, Gilda would have seen the dog. She shook her head. “He’s not there. You would have seen him. I hope he’s not hurt.”
Gilda’s eyebrows pinched together. “I’ll go look again,” she said. “This time I’ll take my car.”
“Who knows how far he’s gotten,” Louise fretted.
“I’m sorry, Louise. I’ll find him. I promise,” Gilda said earnestly. “He can’t have gone that far.”
A dog didn’t have to go too far to get hurt or lost. Louise bit her lip and nodded.
Gilda’s second search didn’t prove any more helpful. “Where could he have gone?” she moaned.
Please, not to doggy heaven.