The Case of the Invisible Dog Read Online Free Page A

compared to the state I was in when I first returned to Springville. She likes to celebrate what she considers my victories. And she wanted all the details.
    There was one awkward moment when she reminded me that I had left my receptionist job and taken up waitressing because I didn’t want to sit behind a desk. But I was able to iron over that little inconsistency by informing her of the fabulous salary that Shirley was offering.
    When I told her about the odd interview, thinking she would find it funny, Anna became a little concerned.
    “I don’t know, Tams,” Anna said. “She sounds a little strange. Maybe that’s why she pays so well.”
    “Oh, she’s strange, all right,” I agreed. “But you should have seen the manager at Endless Refills. I swear he has bodies buried in his basement. And she can’t be any crazier than Mirabelle, the woman I answered phones for. She used to make me separate out all the different colors of rubber bands that I kept in my desk to bundle up her mail. I was only supposed to use the blue ones. It was very
important
to her. One time I accidentally put a green one around the mail, and she got so upset I thought we would have to call the paramedics. And if the phone rang more than two times before I answered, it was literally the end of the world. Trust me, I’m used to crazy bosses.”
    “I guess,” she said, not sounding convinced. “And it’s just the two of you there?”
    “As far as I know.”
    “What kind of business does she run?” she asked.
    “Um…”
    “You didn’t ask?”
    “Well,” I said, embarrassed. “It sort of didn’t come up.” Anna gave me a strange look. “Besides, I’m sure that being an assistant is pretty much the same everywhere,” I assured her, waving my hands dismissively. “I’ll answer the phone, and file things, and type things, and organize things, and run errands, and set up appointments, and run out for her latte from Starbucks. You know the drill. Whatever it is, with the salary she’s paying, I can learn to adapt.”
    “Of course you can,” Anna said, brightening. “You’ll do great. And you’ll probably make all kinds of contacts, and before long move on to something even better.”
    Anna is what you would call an optimist, especially when it comes to me. She continues to think that I am simply a normal person who tried to make it as an actress, failed (she actually thinks I just gave up too soon and that I was only weeks, if not days, away from my big break), and is now in the process of rebuilding her life, with some bumps along the way, which are only to be expected. She doesn’t realize that while there are many reasons for a person to go into acting, those reasons hardly ever include the words
robust mental health.
    So while Anna had her reservations about my new job, I did not. Now that I’d had some time to get used to the idea, I thought that working for Shirley Homes might turn out to be the best thing that could have happened. Finally, a place where I could relax. A place where I wouldn’t have to work so hard at being normal and fitting in. Because compared to Shirley Homes, I was the poster child for normal.
    —
    When I reported to work the next morning there was another handwritten note on Shirley’s door. This time it read: Welcome, Tammy. Please make yourself at home. If I need anything, I will let you know. For the time being, please see to it that there is always a fresh pot of hot water available for our clients so that we may brew them a cup of tea. I have left some insurance and tax forms on your desk. A necessary evil, I am afraid. Please fill them out and leave them on top of the right-hand bookcase when you are through. It would be most helpful if you would be so good as to take your lunch hour between noon and one o’clock. Until otherwise notified, I am not to be disturbed. Thank you—Shirley Homes.
    That same basic note—minus the directions about the tax and insurance forms—was waiting