Grandma glared down at the letters. "Those sons-of-bitches," she said.
I bit my lip. "Maybe it's just a bank error."
Grandma snorted. "Bank error my ass."
"Or maybe just an honest mistake?"
Grandma was still looking at the letters. "You just got these today?"
"Yeah, but it's been a couple weeks since I checked my box." I sifted through the envelopes, looking at the date stamps. "Oh shit," I said.
Grandma looked up. "What?"
"These aren't even the latest ones. I've deposited two more since these. Do you think they bounced, too?"
If they did, I was in deep trouble. Before the Parkers had left for Costa Rica, they'd left me a series of post-dated checks. Those weekly checks covered everything – regular expenses, my house-sitting salary, incidentals, whatever.
That salary wasn't a fortune, but it still had me worried. Because my salary was nothing compared to the other expenses those checks were supposed to cover. Thosewerea fortune, at least by my standards.
For starters, Chucky ate only the best dog food, some custom organic stuff from a specialty shop. Pound for pound, it probably would've been cheaper to feed him prime rib and be done with it.
And then, there were the countless other things related to the house itself – the lawn service, the pest control, some guy who came once a week to trim their hedges and trees. It all seemed beyond wasteful to me. The hedges and trees had stopped growing weeks ago. It was nearly winter, after all.
The Parkers probably spent more money on yard care than I spent on groceries and gas.
Except – oh God – it wasn't going to bemepaying for their lawn care. Was it?
"You call 'em yet?" Grandma asked.
"I tried. I couldn’t get through."
"I knew it!" Grandma said. "Those fuckers bailed on you."
I shook my head. "They couldn’t have bailed. They've got a house, a dog, family photos, the works. " Again I sifted through the letters. "This has to be just some, I dunno, bank thing or something."
Grandma gave me the squinty eye. "What kind of degree you got again?"
"You know perfectly well what it is."
"I just wanna hear you say it."
"Fine," I said. "Accounting."
"Uh-huh. And you believe that horseshit you're shoveling at me? Well, then you better call that school for a refund, because they did a shitty job of teaching you."
"Sorry. They don't offer refunds." It was too bad in a way. They hadn't done a shitty job, but my degree wasn't exactly paying off.
"Here's what you do," Grandma said. "Go back there tonight, and clean 'em out. Take everything. The china, the fancy artwork." She leaned closer. "In that house of theirs, they got copper pipes?"
I gave her a look. "I don't know. And it doesn't matter, because I'm not gonna clean anyone out."
"Why the hell not?"
"I dunno. I mean, it's probably just some snafu with their bank transfers or something. Theyarein Costa Rica. Remember?"
"Calling it a snafu don't make it right," Grandma said.
"Besides," I said, "I'm watching their dog."
