Page 13 of A Matter of Pedigree
“Quiet!” ordered Carole, in the authoritative voice the dog trainer had instructed her to use.
Poopsie ignored her and kept on barking.
“Please, Poopsie,” pleaded Carole, “the neighbors are going to complain.”
“Woof,woof,” replied Poopsie.
“I give up,” said Carole, scooping up the dog and grabbing her purse and jacket. Ten minutes later, Carole found a parking spot right in front of her favorite manicure salon, Happy Nails. Poopsie, apparently soothed by the brief ride in the car, gave in to exhaustion and curled up in a ball on the back seat for a nap. “Good dog,” said Carole, leaving the windows open a notch for air and locking the car. The temperature was only in the forties; the car wasn’t going to heat up.
She was pulling the salon door open when she bumped into Susan Weaver, the real estate agent, who was just leaving. “Hi, Susan,” she said. “I didn’t know you got your nails done here.”
“Always,” said Susan, displaying her fresh French manicure for Carole to see. “I can’t go with colors; doesn’t look professional.”
“So how’s business?” asked Carole. “Did you sell that condo?”
“Not yet,” said Susan. “And now that Hosea’s gone, maybe I owe your husband a big thank you…” She stopped in mid-sentence, and her face went scarlet. “I didn’t mean, I mean, well, it’s crazy to think Frank would have killed Hosea to get an apartment, even if he did say what he said. I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to imply that even for a minute I thought … absolutely not! Of course I’m absolutely positive that Frank is innocent.”
“It’s good to know people believe in him,” said Carole, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Of course I do,” said Susan, making eye contact and assuming a sincere tone. “Everyone knows the cops have got the wrong guy.”
“Thanks,” said Carole, “that means a lot to me.” She smiled and released Susan’s hand. “What were you going to say, about Hosea being gone?”
“Just that he was the main impediment to the sale. Nobody was good enough. He turned down so many offers I wondered why he agreed with his brother to put the place on the market in the first place.”
“Interesting,” said Carole.
Susan pushed the door open and paused on the stoop to give her an encouraging smile. “Hang in there,” she said, with a little wave.
Carole continued on into the salon, where she was greeted by Sonia, her favorite manicurist. “I thought you might be in today,” said Sonia, taking her coat. “By the way, that was a nice photo in the paper.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Carole, slipping into a chair. “I thought I looked old.”
“Not a bit,” said Sonia. “You looked happy.”
“I was happy—well, relieved—but now I think we were celebrating a bit too early,” said Carole, as Sonia got to work with the polish remover. “Frank’s still got to go to trial.”
“He’ll get off,” said Sonia.
“I don’t know,” admitted Carole, dipping her fingers into the soaking bowl. “I’m beginning to worry.”
“You’re not the only one with worries,” said Sonia, assembling her tools. “You know that lady who just left …”
“Susan Weaver?”
“Yeah. She sells real estate, but she says things are not good. She’s behind in her car payments, and this month, she says, if something doesn’t happen soon, she won’t be able to make her mortgage payment.”
“Really?” said Carole, as Sonia began to work on her cuticles. “I never would have guessed.”
“I know; she looks real rich, doesn’t she?”
“She has to keep up appearances; it’s part of the job,” said Carole, reminding herself that even though she had her troubles, she didn’t have to worry about having enough money, and she ought to be grateful.
“Well, it’s all appearances, believe me. She could barely scrape up the money for the manicure, and she didn’t even tip me; she said she’d get me next time.”
“She’s an excellent realtor,” said Carole. “Things will turn up for her. I’m sure of it.”
Sonia shook her head. “She seemed real depressed. Said she came so close …” Sonia held up her own perfectly manicured hand with her thumb and forefinger almost touch ing. “This close to selling a coupla-million-dollar condo, but some old man nixed the deal.” Sonia raised her eyes and met Carole’s. “Not just once, but every time she had a buyer, she said. He wants to get the right person.”
