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head one way, then the other, then shot forward with a burst of nervous energy. I had him in my arms now, his little body shaking like he’d just gotten out of a freezing river in December. I tucked him under one arm and went back inside.
    His fur was dirty and had some snarls, but nothing that wasn’t easy to put right. His paws were whole, no cuts or scratches that I could see. I held onto him as I searched the entire ground floor. There were no broken windows, no broken doors. The kitchen, I now noted, wasn’t just devoid of a broken bowl and peas, it was clean. There was nothing on the counters, no dirty dishes in the sink, nothing on the stove or in the microwave.
    I opened the cabinet under the sink and there, in the garbage can, I found the remains of the peas and broken shards of bowl. Well, I thought, there was no reason my aunt couldn’t have swept that up and put things away before letting the paramedics in. But the nurse had told me she’d arrived at the hospital unconscious. Had she passed out on the way?
    Pip eyed me curiously as I carried him out the front door and went to the third flowerpot along the driveway, the one that was shielded from view of the road and the other houses by a weeping willow that drooped its long, leaf laden branches all around three sides of the pot. I dug about three inches down in the soil and came up with nothing.
    Someone had taken the spare key.
    I carried Pip back into the house, shut the door behind me and threw the deadbolt. Unease warred with the rational voice in my head that pointed out that my aunt could have moved the spare key. Aunt Nora’s laptop sat on the dining room table. The china in the glass cabinet still crowded those narrow shelves. The silver tea service was out on the sideboard and her plasma television hung, unmolested, over the fireplace in the sitting room, framed by the two paintings I’d done of pansies that went with the rest of the décor. Her e-reader sat next to a stack of mail on the table in the entryway.
    I was jumping at shadows. Odds were, Nora had merely fallen asleep waiting in the emergency room for treatment and someone had put down that she was “unconscious” when she arrived.
    I went out onto the service porch and filled the sink with warm water. Pip wriggled with excitement as I lowered him in. His dog shampoo was on the shelf, just as I’d remembered, and I scrubbed the mud out of his coat, which was mercifully short. He was patient as I ran the wire brush through his fur, cleaning away the last of the dirt, though it snarled enough that I had to pick the knots out with my fingers.
    After I got him out of the water, I fluffed him with a towel and then blew his fur dry. This he also tolerated; he was accustomed to being spoiled and stood still as I dried his coat and ran the brush through it some more.
    “Better?” I said.
    He rewarded me with bright eyes and a wag of the tail. I noticed then that his food and water dishes were full. There was wet dog food in the dish that hadn’t congealed too badly yet. It wasn’t three days old. I put Pip down in the kitchen, got a change of clothes from Aunt Nora’s room, and then set out for the hospital again. Since I didn’t have my suitcase to lug, I could walk there.
     
    B y the time I arrived, Aunt Nora had been moved to the main hospital. I found her in the lobby with a splint on her arm. “There you are,” she said. “They got my x-rays done and put this splint on, but when I asked for a phone, you’d think I’d asked them for a special referral to a holistic care clinic. They said they’d get back to me once they handled all the procedures for my request.” She rolled her eyes as she got to her feet.
    “Do you have a housecleaner?” I asked.
    “Yes. You don’t see her often, she’s such a quiet little thing, but yes.”
    “Would she have come while you were here?”
    “Mmmm, I’d have to check. I suppose so, yes. She comes on alternate Fridays.”
    “It looks