Blaize Clement - Curiosity Killed The Cat Sitter

“But you doubt it.”

“I really don’t know. It’s just that Marilee is more the type to take a limo.”

“Did she leave a number where she could be reached?”

I felt my face redden. “I told her to leave it for me, but I didn’t look for it while I was there.”

Judy slid a plate of eggs and potatoes in front of me, and put another in front of Guidry. “I’ll be right back with your bacon and more coffee,” she said.

To cover my embarrassment at having to admit that I’d let a client leave town without making sure she had left a number where she could be reached, I dug into my backpack and took out my client notebook.

“I have every client’s information in here,” I said. “When I first interview them, I get names of their vets and numbers to call in an emergency.” To emphasize that I hadn’t been irresponsible, I added, “Sometimes people go mountain climbing or something where I can’t call them directly.”

Judy plunked down a rasher of crisp bacon in front of Guidry and refilled both our coffee mugs. I eyed his bacon wistfully. It was exactly the way I like it, stiff, with no icky white bubbles on it.

Guidry moved a pair of slices to his plate and buttered his biscuit while I flipped to Marilee’s page in my notebook. “She gave the number of a woman named Shuga Reasnor as her emergency number,” I said.

“Shuga?”

I spelled it out for him, and forked up some egg. He had left four slices of bacon on its special plate.

“What’s her number?”

I jerked my eyes away from his bacon and peered in the book. I read it off to him, and while he wrote it down, I looked at his bacon again. He sighed and picked up the bacon plate. He raked two slices onto his own plate and then tipped the remaining two onto mine.

“You know you want them,” he said.

“Well, just this once,” I said. “I never eat bacon. I love it, but I never eat it. All that fat…”

“What do you know about Marilee Doerring?”

“Not much. She has some sort of decorating business, I think.”

“Husband? Boyfriend?”

“I’ve never seen a man at her house, and there’s never any sign of one.”

“You look?”

“I don’t look for man signs, but I do give the house a quick once-over every time to make sure the cat hasn’t done something that needs cleaning up. Sometimes pets get bored and knock over a plant or poop in the middle of the bed. It’s part of my job to check for things like that.”

“How many times have you been in the house?”

“Lots. I can get the exact dates for you if you want. I keep a file at home of every visit.”

“Isn’t a week a long time to leave a pet alone?”

“Yeah, but cats can handle it. I go twice a day and play with them and comb them and talk to them. During the day they watch TV, and I always leave the blinds up so they can sit on the windowsill and watch the birds and squirrels outside. At night I put the lights and the radio on a timer. They get a little bored and lonely, but most pets would rather be at home alone than with strangers in a strange place.”

He was watching me closely. “You really like doing this, don’t you?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“It just seems like a big jump, from deputy to pet-sitter.”

I shrugged. “It’s really not so different. You always have to be alert, you always have to expect the unexpected, and every now and then somebody tries to hump your leg.”

He laughed and then sobered. “Do you have any idea who the dead man is?”

“Not a clue. Do you?”

“We’re checking it out.”

That meant he wasn’t going to tell me.

He said, “We’d like to keep the details of how he was killed quiet as long as we can. Have you told anybody about him being taped to the water bowl?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t told anybody anything.”

“Good. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t. Some reporter will get your nine-one-one call and report it, but until somebody does, we’re not going to make that public.”

“Is Marilee a suspect?”

He shrugged. “Everybody’s a suspect.”

I had scarfed down a whole slice of bacon before I realized that included me.

Guidry tossed bills on the table and stood up. “You’ll be around?”

I nodded. “I’ll be on the street behind Marilee’s this afternoon walking the Graysons’ dog. I’ll stop by while I’m there.”

“Okay.”

He left without any “See yous” or “It’s been nices” or “Glad to meet yous.”

As soon as he was out of sight, Judy plunked herself down opposite me with coffeepot in hand.

“Okay, who is he?”

“He’s a detective. There’s been a murder at one of my pet houses and he’s the investigator. I found the body, so we ate while he questioned me.”

“Well shit, I thought he might be a man. You know, a man for you. Who got murdered?”

I ignored the part about a man for me. In spite of the fact that Judy has had terrible luck with men, she persists in thinking it’s time for me to get one.

“I don’t know who he was.”

“Shot?”

“I’m not sure. I turned on the kitchen light, and there he was, stretched out on the floor.”

“No!”

“Yep, DRT—dead right there.”

“Good God. Did you freak out?”

“Come on, I used to be a deputy, I don’t freak out at things like that. Well, I freaked out a little, but just for a minute.”

“Who’s house was he in?”

“Marilee Doerring’s.”

“I know who Marilee Doerring is. She’s a piece of work. You know her?”

“Just from taking care of her cat. She’s always been fine with me. Pays on time, takes good care of her cat. I don’t have any complaints about her.”

Judy looked around to make sure nobody was listening, and leaned closer. “See that man at the counter reading the paper? That’s Dr. Coffey. He’s a heart surgeon. He and Marilee Doerring were engaged a couple of years ago.”

A bell dinged from the back to get Judy’s attention, and she got up with her coffeepot to go pick up an order.

I studied the man at the counter. He was lean to the point of boniness, with sharp shoulder blades jutting from his back like mountain ridges. His dark hair was shorn high, with a longer shock flopping down to meet the shaved part. It was a cut for a much younger man, a cut meant to be cool and mellow. It made him look like the nerdy kid in high school who never quite fits in, the one who’s always on the sidelines watching the popular kids. He was wearing the Siesta Key male uniform—khaki shorts, short-sleeved knit shirt, and docksiders, which exposed a lot of straight black hair on his arms and legs. For a quick second, I imagined running my hands down his bare back and felt my fingers tangle in a thicket of hair. Ugh.

Somehow I couldn’t imagine him with Marilee, but if they’d been engaged, he must have known where she went on her business trips. Before I could talk myself out of it, I got up and went to the counter and took the stool next to Coffey. He turned his head just enough to give me a quick glance to reassure himself I wasn’t anybody he knew, and turned back to his paper. He had a smooth rectangular face like a department store mannequin, with a high forehead and long cheeks. His sallow skin was perfect as plaster, and his dark eyes were velvety and dull, like ripe olives that have set out too long and lost their sheen.

I said, “Dr. Coffey, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I’d like to ask you something.”

He looked at me again, this time with a furrow of distaste forming on his unlined forehead.

“I’ll be quick,” I promised him. “My name is Dixie Hemingway, and—”

Looking flustered and anxious, Judy came trouncing to us bearing his order and her coffeepot. He moved his paper out of the way so she could set his plate down. Scrambled egg whites, dry rye toast, sliced tomatoes. I guess if you’re a heart surgeon, you eat like that.