Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

“They put him in the ICU,” I said. “He was stable, but the cardiologist said he’s in bad shape. He might not make it.” Diesel meowed and rubbed against my leg. He knew I was upset.

“I’m sorry,” Stewart said. “Will they call you?”

I nodded. “If I have to go out during the night, I’ll let you know.”

“Of course.” Stewart picked up his magazine and rose from the table. “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I think I’m going to head upstairs and wait for Helen Louise to call.”

“Okay. You know where I am if you need me.” Stewart left the kitchen, and I soon heard him jogging up the stairs.

“Come on, boy,” I said. “Upstairs.”

Diesel scampered out of the room ahead of me. I turned out the lights downstairs, except for a couple that stayed on, one in the hall and another in the kitchen. Upstairs I found Diesel on the bed, and after I undressed I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I emerged, Diesel appeared to be asleep. As I neared the bed, he opened his eyes and trilled at me.

I joined him on the bed and stretched out beside him. I stared up at the ceiling, and Diesel put a front paw on my arm. He meowed softly, and I turned my head to look at him.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. He blinked sleepily and seemed to relax. His paw remained on my arm, however.

Gazing at the ceiling again, I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from Bill Delaney and my part in upsetting him to the point of a heart attack. I had always had a tendency to worry over things, particularly over something like this. I mustn’t let Helen Louise know about this when we talked tonight, though. She would be tired after a long day, and I didn’t want her to lose sleep over this. There would be time enough to talk to her tomorrow or the next day, depending on her schedule.

Despite my worries, I soon dozed off, to be woken later by Helen Louise’s ringtone on my cell. I answered, and right away I could tell by the sound of her voice she was exhausted. We talked only a few minutes, and then I told her to go to bed and rest. After a final exchange of endearments, we ended the call.

I turned out the light and waited to fall asleep again. I tried not to let my mind dwell on Bill Delaney and succeeded enough that I finally did drift off.

My alarm went off at five thirty, and I woke quickly, at first thinking it was the phone. When I realized that I had slept through the night without a call from the hospital, I felt better. I hoped this meant that Bill Delaney’s condition had remained stable. Surely they would have called if he had taken a turn for the worse.

The drive to Tullahoma would take about ninety minutes, and that meant I would allow an additional fifteen to twenty minutes in case of complications. As soon as I was showered and dressed, I hurried downstairs with Diesel at my feet. By then it was six o’clock, and Azalea would be here soon. I looked up the number for the hospital and called, asking for the ICU nurses’ station.

Moments later I was speaking with a nurse. I identified myself and asked whether I would be allowed to visit Bill Delaney this morning. The nurse put me on hold but was back in less than a minute.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the patient isn’t able to have visitors this morning,” the nurse said. “He’s still sleeping, but in stable condition. By the afternoon you might be able to see him. Just check back with us later.”

“Thank you, I will.” I hung up the phone and uttered a quick prayer of thanks that Bill Delaney had made it through the night.

Diesel, I noticed, was sitting at the back door, watching it intently. He was waiting for Azalea. He knew what her schedule was and often greeted her when she entered the house. Moments later the door opened, and she walked into the kitchen. Diesel chirped loudly, and Azalea laughed.

“Good morning, Mr. Cat, and how are you?” Azalea set her purse down on the counter while Diesel warbled and meowed to let her know he was starving and surely could eat some bacon. Azalea laughed again. “Good morning, Mr. Charlie. When are you going to feed this poor thing?”

“Good morning, Azalea,” I said. “He knows that when you’re here there could be bacon. You’ve spoiled him.”

“Seems to me you’re the one done all the spoiling,” Azalea said. “Don’t go pushing the blame on me.” She looked down at Diesel. “You hold on, Mr. Cat. At least give me time to cook. You’d be turning your nose up at raw bacon.”

As Azalea set to work getting breakfast ready, I told her that Diesel and I were heading to Tullahoma this morning. “We need to leave around seven thirty.”

“Then I reckon it’ll be toast instead of biscuits this morning,” Azalea said.

“That’s fine,” I replied.

I headed to the den to check e-mail. By the time I was done, breakfast would be ready. Diesel remained in the kitchen. As long as Azalea was frying bacon, he wouldn’t go anywhere.

I read my e-mail, surfed the Internet for a bit, then went back to the kitchen. Breakfast was on the table. Diesel and I ate alone this morning. Haskell was probably out the door before I got up, and Stewart was most likely at the gym.

After a quick trip upstairs to brush my teeth, I was ready to leave. Diesel and I bade Azalea good-bye, and soon we were on the road for Tullahoma.

As I headed out of Athena, I hoped that this day would bring new and helpful information. We needed a break in the case, and we needed it soon.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I accomplished the drive to Tullahoma without incident and, as usual, arrived early—nearly twenty minutes early. Jack’s directions led me easily to the Kountry Kitchen. I pulled into the parking lot and texted Jack that Diesel and I had arrived.

We would wait for him in the car. Since Helen Louise’s bistro was the only restaurant where Diesel was allowed, I had to stay with him. Had the temperature outside been mild, I could have left him in the car for a few minutes. With the late July heat, however, I remained with him, air-conditioning running. I simply couldn’t understand people who left their pets—or children—in hot cars. If they were that ignorant they shouldn’t have pets—or children—at all.

Jack texted back to let me know he was on the way and would arrive soon. Sure enough, only seven minutes later, he pulled into the parking space next to me. As he got out of his car, I rolled down my window to greet him.

“Good morning, Charlie,” he said as he came up to my window. “How are you? And how is Diesel?” He bent to look into the backseat where Diesel sat, nose pressed to the glass.

“Fine,” I said. “Why don’t you join me in the car so we can talk?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jack said. “Wanda Nell’s boss, Melvin, said we can use his office so Diesel can come inside. There’s a door around on the other side of the building.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Better than sitting in the car burning gas.” I turned the car off and got out. Jack moved back so I could get Diesel out, too. Diesel wore his harness with a leash attached. He hopped out of the car onto the pavement and we followed Jack.

As we walked I kept an eye out for anything on the paved surface of the parking lot that could harm Diesel’s paws. The temperature wasn’t high enough yet to make it unsafe for Diesel to walk on. I was relieved to see that the owner kept his parking lot clean. We made it around the front of the building and down the side with no problem. Jack opened a door near the middle of the side wall and ushered us inside.

We were standing in a cramped hallway. To the left I could hear the sounds of the kitchen. Diesel detected the smell of bacon, as did I. There were two doors in the inner wall, and Jack opened one of them and motioned for us to enter. The office contained a desk, a couple of chairs, and two filing cabinets. There was room enough for the three of us and maybe one other person. We settled into the chairs, Jack taking the one behind the desk, and Diesel sat on the floor next to me.