Page 19 of A Matter of Pedigree
“Okay, it’s worth a try,” said Carole, rising from her chair. She never ate this much and felt stuffed, but in a good way. Big Frank was busy filling a big plastic cooler with packages of frozen food for her.
“I got some manicot’,” he told her, piling on the containers. “Some gravy, some chicken parm, some cacciatore.”
“Great. Frank’s got to keep up his strength, right?”
“Right, baby,” he said, giving her a hug. “Want me to carry it out to the car for you?”
“Sure, thanks,” said Carole, figuring he wanted to get her alone, out of Mom’s hearing.
He was already out the door as Carole gave Mom a parting hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised. “I’ll wear polyester.”
“Good girl,” said Mom, patting her on the back. “No heels.”
“Right, Mom.”
She followed Frank outside, finding him standing by her car. “What’sa matter with the dog?” he asked. “She’s out like a light, didn’t even wake up when I opened the door.”
“She’s on tranquilizers,” said Carole. “Wouldn’t stop barking this morning.”
“She’s probably worried about Frank,” said Big Frank, nodding wisely. “I just want you to know, you gotta take this serious. I know Mom thinks he’s gonna get off ’cause he’s innocent, but there’s other stuff going on here. There’s plenty of people wouldn’t mind seeing Frank go down, you know?”
“Yeah,” agreed Carole, giving him a parting hug. “The price of success, I guess.”
Then she was back at the wheel, starting the car and studying her freshly done nails. How was she ever going to convince anybody she was a cleaning lady with nails like these? She’d have to cut them, that was that. She sighed and was starting to back out when her phone rang. She braked and, seeing Susan Weaver’s name, swiped it.
“Hi, Susan,” she said, cheerily. “I was hoping we could get together for lunch.”
“Thanks, that would be nice. I checked my schedule; how about noon tomorrow?”
Carole calculated. She had the interview at ten; it would be tight, but she figured she could be dressed and ready by noon. “Okay,” she agreed. “What’s convenient for you? Red Stripe?”
Susan said Red Stripe, a French-themed bistro, would be perfect. “See you then,” said Carole, ending the call. She checked the backup camera screen and began rolling out of the driveway, deciding this investigating wasn’t so hard, after all. In fact, she thought to herself with a little giggle, it was actually kind of fun.
Chapter Seven
Poopsie was still out like a light when Carole parked the Cayenne in her favorite spot in the garage, on the second level near the pedestrian bridge. She knew she couldn’t manage to carry the big cooler up to the apartment, so she left the sleeping dog in the car and went on down to the lobby to check the mail and borrow one of the wheeled carts the concierge kept for the tenants’ use.
Barry was on duty today, sitting behind the slab of angled steel that had been salvaged in the rehab and recast as a modernistic, industrial-chic desk. Carole loved the desk, but she wasn’t that keen on Barry, who was a stickler for detail. That meant she’d have to sign the cart out and, worse, return it. Big pain.
“Hi, Barry,” she said, giving him a big smile. “I need to use the cart.”
“Sign here,” he said passing a clipboard across the desk to her. He pursed his lips and leaned toward her, whispering, “There’s a note from the management in your box.”
“I probably got an award for being the best tenant,” she joked. That was one of the things, maybe the only thing, she didn’t like about renting: the way the management bossed the tenants around. Considering how much they were paying every month, you’d think they would be treated like valued customers, customers who were always right, right? Wrong. The management held all the cards; they wrote the rules, and the tenants were supposed to knuckle under and follow those rules, or else. Opening her mailbox and pulling out the assorted bills and letters, Carole knew exactly what the complaint was this time.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Capobianco:
As property manager, it is my responsibility to inform you that I have received numerous complaints from tenants concerning your dog, which barks excessively and persistently, according to reports. These reports, I might add, have been confirmed by building staff.
Pets are allowed in the building at the discretion of the management, as long as they do not interfere with the comfort and enjoyment of the other tenants. For further details, see Section VI, paragraph 3 of the Rental Agreement.
Unfortunately, this is not the first time there have been complaints concerning your dog, and if the situation does not improve, there is a strong possibility that we will no longer be able to accommodate your pet here at the Esplanade.
Sincerely yours,
Doriss Chomsky,
Property Manager
