Sink Trap by Christy Evans Page B

the new valves. “Looks good, Georgie. Let’s test these things, shall we?”
    “That’s it? You’re just going back to work?”
    Barry pushed himself upright, leaning against the vanity. “Paula said something a while back about Miss Tepper’s housekeeper having to move out of her house. She
said it wasn’t like the Martha she knew to leave this woman homeless and out of a job, but she had to move out of the house when it was put up for sale.
    “So, this woman shows up, says she’s the housekeeper, and all she wants are some beat-up old clothes? I don’t think it’s worth worrying about.”
    Barry might think it was nothing to worry about, but I didn’t agree. I was beginning to feel that there was a lot to worry about at the Tepper house. And Janis Breckweth was only a small part of it.
    I didn’t really want to argue with my boss, though. I was still trying to figure out how to tell Barry I thought there was something very wrong here, when he headed for the stairs.
    “Let’s test those valves, Neverall, and see what kind of a plumber you are.”
    From the bottom of the stairs, Barry called up to me. “Do you see an adjustable wrench up there? I thought it was down here, but I can’t find it.”
    I checked around the areas Barry had been.
    No wrench.
    “The housekeeper didn’t take it, did she?” I called back down. “I don’t see it up here.”
    Barry laughed. The man knew how to take a joke. “I carried the bags myself, remember? There weren’t any wrenches in them.”
    “Hang on, then. I’ll grab you one from my toolbox.”
    I carried the wrench to the top of the stairs and Barry climbed up to meet me, shaking his head.
    “I have no idea where that dang thing is,” he said. His brow furrowed in concentration. “I know I had it somewhere, but I can’t find it for the life of me.”
    “Do you think somebody might have taken it?” As far as I was concerned, this was another reason to worry. Too many weird things had happened so far on this job, and missing tools were a bad sign.
    “Naw.” Barry shook his head. “Just got a lot on my
mind right now. I must have put it somewhere and forgotten about it.”
    I still thought there was plenty to worry about, but Barry was already heading back down the stairs.
    I kept my comments to myself.

chapter 11

    “He just let her walk out?” Sue stopped walking and stared at me. “Just like that?”
    Daisy strained at her leash, pulling me along. I yanked back, and she slowed. Sue trotted a couple steps to catch up, Buddha at her heel in perfect position. Like his name-sake, he was the calm one of the pair.
    Daisy had never really got the hang of “heel,” or “sit.” She especially didn’t get “stay.” Never name a dog after a flighty fictional heroine. She will live up—or down—to her name, guaranteed.
    They were from the same litter, had attended the same obedience classes, and had the same parent, namely me. But Buddha knew all his commands, walked at heel without reminding, and stayed calm, even with strangers.
    Daisy had decided the rules were for other, lesser, dogs. She was sometimes snappish with strangers, though she was easily distracted by the offer of her favorite green treats. She was a sweet dog, but discipline wasn’t one of her best qualities. In that, I suppose, she reflected her owner.

    Sue moved a few steps to the side, so she wasn’t blocking the narrow shoulder. My part of town hadn’t seen any development yet, and there weren’t any sidewalks.
    “Sit.” Buddha plopped his rear onto the damp grass, and looked expectantly at Sue. She slipped him a small treat, and patted his head. “Good Buddha.”
    Daisy fretted at the end of her leash, ignoring me. Sue watched, her mouth twisting with suppressed laughter, as I tried all the tricks I knew. Finally, desperate, I reached over and pushed down on Daisy’s hindquarters.
    I got an Airedale glare, but she finally planted herself next to Buddha. Her body language let