Finding Isadora(49)

* * *

On Monday, I found it hard to concentrate on work, wondering if Richard had spoken to his father.

Late in the afternoon, Althea Fitzsimmons came in with Princess Anne. The woman was in black again, this time a pantsuit with a high-necked jacket. Her short gray hair was slicked back in the same mannish style she’d worn at the fundraiser. In daylight, I noticed her eyes were large and jade-green, fringed with dark lashes. They were the most attractive thing about her.

The cat, on the other hand, was delightful: a silver Persian with blue-green eyes and the gentle, friendly temperament that characterizes the breed.

“She’s lovely,” I commented, to which Ms. Fitzsimmons responded with a “hmph” sound that could have meant anything.

“All right, let’s take a look at your friend. You mentioned some sores?”

“Yes, on her head. I stopped using antiseptic and I’ve been treating them with antibiotic lotion but they’re not getting better.”

“Poor Princess Anne. Let’s take a look.”

The cat submitted graciously to my examination. The sores were roundish, scaly areas of hair loss. “It could be ringworm.”

“Ringworm!”

“It’s one possibility. Has she been in contact with another cat?”

“We were at a cat show two or three weeks ago. But those were pedigreed animals, all very well cared for.”

“Ringworm is contagious. All it takes is for one of those pedigreed cats to have contact with an infected animal. Anyway, I’ll have to run a test to be sure what’s causing this.” I collected a few hairs, explaining I’d do a fungal culture and let her know the results. “You can take her home and we won’t start any treatment until we know what it is.”

“What if it is ringworm? How serious is it?”

“Not serious at all, but you’ll want to deal with it quickly. I’ll give you some tablets to give Princess Anne, and a shampoo to use on her. It would be easier if you clipped her hair, but I imagine…”

“No, not unless it can’t be avoided.”

“Then you’ll have to be really assiduous about shampooing. And you’ll need to decontaminate your home. I’ll give you instructions on how to do that. I’m assuming there are no other animals in your house, or in regular contact with Princess Anne?”

“No, there’s only the Princess and I.”

“Uh…” I had to ask the next question; there was no way around it. “You haven’t by any chance noticed any scaly or inflamed patches of skin on your own body, have you? Itchiness? Hair loss?”

Her green eyes widened in appalled shock. “Good lord! You mean I could have it?”

“Humans can get it from cats.”

Althea Fitzsimmons eyed her cat with a certain degree of horror.

“If you’d prefer,” I said, “we can keep her here until I’ve made the diagnosis.”

She hesitated. “No, no. Princess and I will deal with this together.” She reached out and rather gingerly picked up her cat, then relented and gave Princess Anne a warm hug.

My own feelings for Ms. Fitzsimmons warmed significantly, too.

I ushered her back to the reception area where she tilted her head and studied me carefully. “Those earrings suit you better than the diamonds did. Still think you’d look good in amethysts, though.”

Today I was wearing dragonflies with blue and purple wings. “I’m afraid my budget doesn’t extend to gemstones,” I said with a smile. “Besides, I like earrings with animal themes.”

“Dragonflies are insects.” She turned and strode out the door.

Of course dragonflies were insects. I’d been speaking generically, not scientifically. Then I chuckled. Althea Fitzsimmons wasn’t boring, I’d say that for her.

I went back to the lab and began work on the fungal culture. Ringworm wasn’t at all uncommon among our animal clients, so the procedure was familiar.

Suddenly Margarida, the Portuguese receptionist who alternated with Betty, shouted my name and I put everything down and dashed out to the front.

“Gabriel!” My eyes widened, taking in the sight of him cradling a black, blood-covered dog in his arms. I could never have imagined Gabriel looking panicky, but there was no mistaking the expression in his eyes.

“Isadora, thank god. I found her in the alley behind my office. Hit by a car, I think.”

“Bring her in.” I turned to Margarida. “Could you get Martin or Marianna to finish up the culture for Princess Anne?”

I hurried toward one of the examining rooms and motioned Gabriel to lay the dog on the table while I grabbed a fresh surgical gown and slipped into it, then pulled on a pair of gloves.

The dog, a female, was probably a poodle cocker cross. It was hard to tell because the creature’s coat was soaked with blood. She whimpered pitifully and tried to raise her head, but otherwise her body didn’t move. I had a bad feeling about this.

Tentatively I reached my hand toward her, then, when I realized she wasn’t going to snap at me, I stroked her head gently. “Steady there, baby, I know it hurts but I’m going to do something about that in a moment.”

As I examined the dog, I asked Gabriel, “You didn’t see what happened?”

“No. I was walking down the alley toward where I park, and heard her whining. Hit by a car?”