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“Nope,” Brielle agreed.
“Thanks for the tip,” Charlie said. “I’ll check it out.”
We said our goodbyes and headed out to the parking lot.
“You wanna hit Leather and Ink?” Charlie asked as she put her key into the ignition.
“Can’t. I promised Mr. Clancy I’d visit. You want to come? He’s not in the hospital anymore. I know how you hate hospitals.”
“Who loves hospitals? I don’t know anyone who loves hospitals.”
“I think doctors love hospitals,” she said.
“Fair point.”
“Okay, I’ll visit Mr. Clancy with you.”
“We just have to make one stop first,” I said. “But we should probably take my car.”
Chapter 4
“This is the ugliest looking dog I’ve ever seen.” Charlie sat in the passenger seat of my car and stroked a hand down John Milton’s scraggly, furry back. “What kind of dog is he, anyway?”
“A terrier mutt of some sort.”
John Milton had wiry black fur that hadn’t become any softer despite a bath. At least he smelled like an oatmeal cookie instead of like sweaty dog.
I glanced at my best friend who looked a bit put out that she had to be the one to hold him on her lap.
But then the ten-pound mutt with a beard, underbite, and one ear that flopped, nuzzled his face underneath her chin.
“Damn it,” Charlie muttered, hugging the dog tighter to her, no longer caring that the dog was shedding fur all over her black sweater.
“Don’t get attached, he’s not for you,” I warned.
“I might make a run for it.” She rubbed her chin against the top of John Milton’s head. “You sure Mr. Clancy wants a dog?”
“Mr. Clancy doesn’t want a dog at all,” I informed her.
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You will,” I promised her as I pulled into the parking lot of Rose Hill Retirement Community.
John Milton, in all his scruffy mutt glory, scrambled from Charlie’s lap and placed his paws on the passenger car door, eager to go out and explore.
I grabbed the leash and clipped it to his collar and then I opened the driver’s side door. The cute mutt immediately came to my side of the car and jumped down, his little tail wagging in excitement.
“You’re really not going to tell me what we’re doing?” Charlie asked, grabbing her purse and then shutting the car door.
“Nope.” I grinned. “It’s more fun this way.”
“If you say so.”
We walked John Milton along the sidewalk, letting him do his business. I cleaned up after him and dumped the plastic bag into the designated trashcan labeled dog refuse.
“Yeah, never mind. I don’t want a dog.” Charlie shook her head.
“It’s just poop,” I said with a laugh.
