One of the assorted things I had learned about Nunzio’s past was that at one time he had been an animal trainer, so I tended to believe him. I was a little disappointed, however. I had been hoping that Buttercup’s reaction to me would provide a confirmation as to what did or didn’t happen between Cassandra and me the night before, but it seemed there were other, more rational, possible reasons for his standoffishness.
Of course, fast on the heels of my disappointment came a surge of guilt. I had been neglecting my pets badly . . . along with a lot of other things.
“That reminds me, Nunzio,” I said, eager to shift the guilt, “how are you doing with Gleep?”
My bodyguard frowned and wiped a massive hand across his mouth and chin in thought.
“I dunno, Boss,” he said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s somethin’ wrong there. He just don’t feel right lately.”
Strangely enough, that made sense. In fact, Nunzio had managed to put into words my own nebulous concerns about my pet … he didn’t feel right.
“Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” I said. “Maybe instead of trying to pin down what’s wrong with him now, we should try to backtrack a bit.”
“I don’t quite follow you,” my bodyguard scowled.
“Think back, Nunzio,” I urged. When did you first notice that Gleep wasn’t acting normal?”
“Well … he seemed okay when Markie was around,” he said thoughtfully. “In fact, if you think about it, he was the first of us to figure she wasn’t on the up and up.”
Something flitted across my mind along with that memory, but Nunzio kept talking and it disappeared again.