Page 45 of In for a Treat

The bowl had only just touched the ground when a knock landed on the door. Rhubarb jumped up, equally curious about who would drop by unannounced at this hour.

I peered through the peephole in the front door, and my heart did a double take. “Just a minute,” I called out. “I’m, uh, naked.”

I looked at Rhubarb, praying she wouldn’t start barking. The knocker had turned out to be Jim, my landlord. If he knew I had a dog in there, he would freak out. No matter how tiny and unpractical my shoebox of an apartment was, I liked living there.

“Come here, girl,” I whispered.

I scooped the dog up in my arms and frantically turned around a couple of times. Where was I going to put her?

There was another knock on the door. “Is everything okay in there?”

“Just fine, I’m still getting dressed.”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. The time I was taking made it look as if I was putting on a skiing outfit when it was summer already and some light clothing would suffice.

I pushed the bowl of dog food into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and put Rhubarb down in front of the bowl.

“I’ll be right back. Enjoy,” I said before shutting the door. I then rushed to open the door for Jim. “Good evening, Jim. How can I help you?”

“Do you mind if I come in?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

I blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, of course, come on in.”

I didn’t offer him a seat or a drink. I wasn’t normally this rude, but I hoped making him stand would also make him leave faster.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

He scratched his head. “Well, Diane told me you have an animal in here. A rat or something? Anyway, pets are not allowed in the building.”

I nodded. “I know, but I think Diane must’ve been mistaken.”

“Really? Because she sounded pretty convinced to me,” he said while peeking over my shoulder to scan the room for illegal residents.

He was looking straight at the bathroom. I didn’t want him to become suspicious, so I grabbed his arm and twirled him around. “Ooooh,” I sang. “She was wrooong.”

I came across as crazy, but at least now, Jim was facing my couch and not my bathroom.

“Olive, are you okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, sorry, I’m taking singing lessons, and I’m practicing every opportunity I get.”

He frowned. “You’re acting suspicious. Like a tenant who has something to hide.” His tone came out all accusatory.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” I said. “I work at the vet clinic now, and Diane saw me there with a patient. I swear the animal didn’t belong to me.”

“What’s that bag of dog food doing there?” he asked with a triumphant look, pointing at the table where the opened bag stood. He acted like the thing was a murder weapon, and he was the proud detective to have caught it. “Maybe you don’t have a rat in here, but a dog.”

“Oh, that’s just testing material from the clinic.”

He put a hand on his hip. “Who’s testing it then?”

I swallowed. Any minute now and Rhubarb would start scratching the bathroom door to be let out, or worse, bark. I had to think of something.

“Me,” I said. “That’s right, I’m testing it.”

“You?” he asked, clearly disgusted.

I nodded. “Totally. So now that you know the truth, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go. My stomach isn’t reacting so well to this dog food. The experiment has failed for sure.”

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