It’s probably safe to say that Viv has me a little more than concerned about my cleaning abilities. And if we’re going to be taking my car, I’m going to have to make sure that there’s no hidden blood on any of the surfaces.

I hustle home as fast as I can while still staying relatively within the speed limit. Sometimes I wish this was a smaller town with one cop because as soon as you know where he is, then you’re good to go. But nope, there are more than a couple of cops tooling around Kalamazoo.

Red light after red light and I’m finally home. Squeaker is waiting for me on the back of the couch. I’m pretty sure she licks the window during the day, but if I was stuck at home like her, I might just end up licking the window too.

I grab my bag and head into the house. As soon as I open the door, my furry friend is jumping on my legs. “Hi Squeaks! Whatcha been doing?” I fluff up the fur on her head and lean down to give her a little hug. Dogs are the best. They are always happy that you’re home. “Okay, Squeaker, I gotta clean the car and then we have to pack. We’re going on a little trip tomorrow!” I pat her on the head again and she has her tongue hanging out the corner of her mouth.

Once I set my bag down, I go and change my clothes, get some cleaning supplies and a garbage bag. Ah crap! I forgot to give Viv a key to my house! I set down all my cleaning supplies, grab my bag, slip on some loafers and head back out the door. “Ugh! Of all times!” And I had the extra key in my bag the whole time. I guess I was a little distracted with everything.

I hop back in my car and head back to work. At least a couple of the stoplights are green this time through, but it doesn’t make up for the loss of nearly forty minutes to do this one dumb thing that I should’ve remembered to do while I was at work.

When I get back to work, the parking lot is empty. This should be quick then. I slam my car in park and grab my bag. The quicker I get this done, the quicker I can get back to clean my car. And pack. This night is going to be a long one.

I punch the code and go inside the building. The camera snaps a picture of me, like always, and I hear the door close behind me. Now where am I going to stick this key? I decide to get an envelope from my desk, write a quick little note letting Viv know “this is the key,” and then I can drop it in the chute through the door to Barbie’s little playhouse. I mean, office.

I race up the stairs and when I get to the top, I have to catch my breath. I know I’m not that out of shape but apparently sitting behind a desk for hours at a time every day is starting to catch up with me. I slip the envelope through the slot and hear it hit the floor with a thud. I hope that Barbie doesn’t ask too many questions. It might be a little weird for people if they found out that Viv has a key to my house.

I turn to face the steps to go downstairs, and I swear I hear something hit the glass entrance door. It’s not dark yet. Maybe it was a bird. Once I hit the bottom step, I see a bloody smear on the glass next to the door. My heart stops beating in my chest, and I can’t breathe. Does someone know and they’re hunting me, trying to blackmail me? I have nothing for anyone to blackmail me. I’m not rich, far from it actually. Why would anyone do this?

“It still could be a bird,” I say to myself out loud as I walk to the door.

I glance around first to make sure no one is standing out there waiting to pounce on me, but I don’t see anyone. Sometimes I’m really glad that Viv had all of the trees and bushes put in here. It really does look nice. But when it’s times like this, and something bloody just hit the glass, I would really like to know that there’s no one out there.

I punch in the code and when I walk through the door, it’s not a bird I see on the ground. It’s a squirrel. And it didn’t do it on its own. Someone caught it, slashed its throat, cranked its head back so that the wound is wide open, and then smashed it on the window.

I think I’m going to throw up.

I feel the bile rise to the back of my throat as I run toward my car. I’m not throwing up here. No way. I don’t know what the person’s plan is that did this, and I am in no way going to have my physical evidence mingling with this atrocity. These are the times that I know without a doubt that I like animals more than people.

I hurry and unlock my car door and whip it open. As I get one leg inside, I see him. Or her. I can’t tell. Someone dressed all in black is standing off to the side of the building, hiding in the bushes. As soon as I see them, they part the limbs of the bush, and start coming at me. They flick open a knife and as the sun hits the blade, I can see the blood on it. I can only assume it’s from the squirrel.

I get all the way in my car, slam my door, and lock it before shoving the key into the ignition. The car roars to life just as the person in black makes it to my car. They slam their fists against my window as I ram the gear shifter into reverse. Now is when I wish I would’ve backed into the parking spot, but who knew this was going to happen?

My car quickly pulls away from them and when they see that they aren’t going to get me, they race back into the bushes. I zoom down the driveway to the road and pull out onto it, barely looking to make sure that the road is clear. Tears start running down my face and I don’t even know why. Seeing that squirrel was horrifying but being chased by the person, that was almost worse. Right now, I can’t even process what would be worse.

I hate to say it, but I think I have to call Viv. Does she know that someone is after me?

I find her number in my phone and push dial. It rings twice, three times, and then she picks up.

“Yes?”

“Viv, I’m sorry to call you after hours.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Yes, this better be good. I do not mix business with pleasure. Work life is done during work hours. I don’t normally give out my cell phone number but for some reason I did when I hired you. Thankfully you’ve never abused it.” She sounds exasperated on the phone.

“Right. Well, someone dressed in black killed a squirrel at work.” My brain is going faster than it should and I already know that I didn’t use enough words to constitute an after-work call. “Okay, this person killed a squirrel and smeared its blood on the front window of work. And then he, she, I don’t know, tried to attack me when I went to get into my car!” I’m breathing so fast now that I need to slow down before I need a paper bag.

“Okay, I’ll send the cleaning crew to go clean that up. We don’t need any clients coming in tomorrow to that lovely little welcome.”

My head swims at how calm she sounds. “But what about that person?!?”

“Do you know if it was a male or a female?”

“No…”

“How tall were they?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” I should’ve paid attention, but I was kind of concentrating on not getting killed.

“Were they skinny or fat? Can you remember anything?” The exasperation is back in her voice.

“They were medium build. I remember that. But like I said, they were all in black. They even had a black ski mask over their head with black sunglasses over that.”

“Hmm, maybe you should take some pointers. Sounds like a good disguise. Well, I don’t know what to tell you. You could go to the cops but then you’re on their radar and I don’t think you want that at this current moment in time.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Right. So, like I said, I’ll send my crew over to clean it up and you need to get ready to go to Connecticut. Is there anything else?”

I’m silent for a minute. This phone call made me feel even more alone. She really is just here to clean up the messes. Oh, and give me new clientele, if you can call them that. “No, that’s all.”

“Okay then, have a good night.” And with that, Viv hangs up the phone and I’m left in silence.

I drive home and try to figure out how that person knew I was going to be there. Or maybe, this wasn’t for me at all. Maybe I’m just hyper-aware and think that it’s all because I killed Mike and decided to do this crazy deal with Viv. Maybe that squirrel was for someone else, and I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yeah. That’s what I’m going to go with. That theory is what’s going to help me sleep tonight. If it weren’t for that damn key, I wouldn’t have even been there in the first place.

When I pull in my driveway, Squeaker is just about as dependable as an atomic clock. I make my way back in the house, say hi to Squeaker, and then grab the cleaning supplies and the garbage bag. Once I’m back out in my car, I first vacuum everything and get any garbage out. Then I take the flashlight on my phone and use it to illuminate all of the shaded places.

There is blood!

I need gloves. I don’t know why because I never thought about it before but something about cleaning up old blood makes me want to have gloves on. I walk back into the house and Squeaker doesn’t run to greet me. She must be outside. That’s good. I need something normal. I raid the medicine cabinet and find some nitrile gloves. I take out a pair and then decide to take out a few more pairs to keep in my glove compartment. You never know and I don’t want to get caught in the middle of a bloody situation with my bare hands. The thought of that grosses me out. It was kind of different with Mike because I had so much adrenaline going through my veins. But these people that Viv is going to sick me after, I don’t know who they are, or what kind of diseases they might have.

Ew.

The thought makes me want to have a hazmat suit.

Yeah, that won’t be obvious. The headlines would read: “Here comes the hazmat killer!”

Ugh.

Once I’m back to my car, I find numerous spots of blood. I clean the radio volume knob, the back of the steering wheel, the seatbelt buckle, even the emergency brake. I have no idea how I got blood there but at least I got it off. After about an hour, my car is spic and span. It’s probably cleaner than it was when I bought it used. I wonder how much a car detailer makes. Maybe I should do that instead.

I guess it’s too late for a new career.

I take my gloves off and toss them into the garbage bag laying on the ground next to my feet. I gather up all of the cleaning supplies, the garbage bag, and lock the doors on the car. When I get back inside, Squeaker is back where she normally is. It’s going to be weird taking her to Connecticut. I have no idea when she even has to go outside to do her business. Most people who have to take their dogs out know their schedule. I do not.

Okay, maybe Kendra is right. It would be nice not to have to worry about Squeaker. Especially if she has to go do her business in the middle of the night and I have to take her down multiple floors. There’s Mrs. Labadie down the street. Squeaker loves playing with her little pomapoo, Jake. And they have a doggy door too.

I poke my head out the door and see Mrs. Labadie working in her garden in the front yard. “Hang on Squeaker. I’ll be right back. Maybe you can play with Jake for a few days.” I quickly open the door and make sure it closes behind me. Squeaker has been known to sneak through a partially opened door. She will usually stay with me if she gets out, but I don’t have the time to risk it.

As I get to Mrs. Labadie’s driveway, she sees me. “Hey Effi! How’s it going?” She always has a smile on her face every time I see her and it’s really nice.

“Hey,” I smile back. “It’s going good! How are you?”

She brushes her gardening gloves off and gets to her feet. She places her hands on her hips as she says, “Why I’m doing just fine! What’s going on?”

“My work is sending me to Connecticut for a couple of days…”

“Oh! Squeaker shouldn’t go with you. You’re not going to try to take her, are you?”

“Well, I was, but my friend said the same thing that you just said. I think it would be really hard on her. She’s so used to a doggy door and doing her own thing. She would be locked in a hotel room and that sounds awful for her. Could you…”

“I bet Jake would love to have her stay with us! When do you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh Effi, just bring her in the morning. Me and Earl, we’re early risers. We’ll be ready for your little friend whenever you’re ready to drop her off. She’s such a good dog. And her and Jake have so much fun together. It almost makes us want to get a second dog just for him.” She wipes the end of her nose and leaves a dirt mark on her face.

“Well, my work is going to start having me do these little trips more often. Could she stay with you guys when I have to go?” The thought of leaving Squeaker behind hurts my heart but having to leave her in a hotel or worse, in my car, makes me sick.

“Of course! That works out well for both of us!”

“Oh, good! Thanks Mrs. Labadie!”

“You can call me June, hon. Mrs. Labadie is my mother-in-law,” she says with a giggle. She waves at me as I make my way down her driveway, and I suddenly feel relieved.