Vanishing Acts Read Online Free

so far I don’t have much to go on.”
    Cassie handed Bean over to me, then sat cross-legged on the floor and closed her eyes. She sealed her lips together and breathed in and out through her nose. I supposed this was her concentration pose; I hoped she’d start talking soon, because it was getting late.
    â€œI remember laughter,” she said, finally.
    â€œLaughter?”
    â€œYes, laughter,” she repeated.
    I pulled my notebook from my backpack and wrote this down. “Whose laughter?”
    â€œNo idea.”
    â€œDo you know where it was coming from? Any clue? Any small detail could help.”
    â€œI don’t know about the egg, but as for the laughter—I think it came from above,” said Cassie. “At least it sounded that way.”
    I added “From above” with a question mark to my notes.
    â€œPlease give me your honest, professional opinion about Bean,” Cassie said. “Do you think she’ll ever recover?”
    I raised Bean to my face so I could look her in the eye. Bean stared right back at me, letting out a low growl. I put her down gently. “I think she’ll be back to herself in no time,” I replied as I took her yellow polkadotted leash out of the closet.
    â€œThe problem is, the symptoms can lay dormant for years,” said Cassie. “Don’t worry, though. I’m doing what I can. I stayed home from work so I could bathe her. I’ve also called a pet therapist, who’s coming at five thirty to begin counseling Bean through the trauma. And I’ve signed her up for Doga as well. I hear it’s a great stress reliever.”
    â€œDoga?” I asked.
    â€œDog-yoga,” Cassie replied, like it was obvious. Then she held up a tiny headband and a matching pair of Bean-size yoga pants. “Look what I got her. Cute, right? Our first class is tomorrow morning. It’s supposed to do wonders for her flexibility, too.”
    I knew better than to question it. “Um, should I still take her out, or do you think she’s too . . . fragile right now?”
    â€œNo, please, take her for a walk!” said Cassie. “I don’t want her regular routine interrupted. That’s whyI decided to put her in bows, because it’s Tuesday, and she always wears her fur up on Tuesdays.”
    â€œGood thinking.” I struggled to keep a straight face. Dog eggings were serious, and seriously horrifying. But weekly hairstyles? Well, they were horrifying in a different sense.
    â€œPlease keep her away from Ninth Street. And could you put her in this, too?” Cassie handed me a yellow rain slicker. “You do have an umbrella, right?”
    I glanced out the window. The wind had blown away all the clouds, leaving blue sky and a golden late-afternoon sunshine. “No, but I don’t think it’s going to rain.”
    â€œThe umbrella is to shield her from another attack,” said Cassie. “Because what if this wasn’t some random act of violence? What if someone’s after poor Bean?”
    â€œI really don’t think—”
    â€œYou can take mine. It’s the pink one with puppies on it—by the front door.”
    I grabbed the first umbrella I saw.
    â€œNo, the one on the left.”
    I glanced at the umbrella in my hand. “This one has puppies on it,” I said.
    â€œBut it’s magenta,” Cassie said. “I’m talking
true
pink.”

Chapter 4

    On our short walk, Bean acted uptight.
    High-strung.
    Nervous.
    Hostile to other dogs.
    And people.
    Even birds.
    Also? She snapped at a butterfly.
    In short, Bean acted like herself. But we made it back without any major incidents. Something I reported to Cassie, who’d been anxiously waiting for me by the front door.
    â€œThat’s a huge relief. Thank you, Maggie!” She gave me a squishy hug that left traces of fruity perfume on my fleece.
    My next client lived right upstairs. Dog-Milo is