Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter And The Canary

He took care of me for two weeks, and the rest is history.

I like dealing with animals better than humans. For one, a dog might bite your neighbor or dig up your lawn, but he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, no questions asked. And a cat might pee on your pillow, but she’ll never betray you.

Ethan stirred in his sleep, and I realized I’d been standing there staring at him for God knows how long, playing through all my old memories like a sappy after-school special. I think seeing that poor girl’s lifeless body must have jostled something deep inside me, knocking loose all the ghosts of the things I hold dear and sending them flying out.

I knew Ethan didn’t have to be at work for at least another hour, and since Ella’s only job is keeping the mice at bay, her schedule is completely flexible. I knelt down next to the bed and gave her a little kiss on the nose, and then I gave Ethan a little kiss on the nose too, and then I tiptoed out and closed the bedroom door softly behind me.

I have to admit—there’s something nice about having a man in your bed. It puts a slightly different spin on things. I could even go out on a limb and say: Yes, I like knowing Ethan’s there snoozing away on the pillow next to mine. Yes, I like thinking he’ll be there when I come home at the end of the day. And, yes, I like pretending I’m not alone in the world.

Is that love?

I don’t know.

Let’s change the subject …

11

In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of orange juice and leaned against the counter, staring at the off-white coating of the refrigerator door. I could feel my stomach turning into a nervous ball of knots.

It felt more like a dream than a memory—kneeling over that poor girl’s body and seeing my name written on that card. How was it even possible? And who could have done such a thing? And why? And the man’s suit and the wig and the mustache and sideburns drawn on her face … Who even knew I’d be at Caroline’s house that day? If the person who’d killed Sara Potts had been the person that left that note, then they must have had information about my schedule. They must have known I’d be arriving at Caroline’s house to discover her body … but who ?

I sighed and shook my head slowly. I told myself if there was anyone who could figure it out, it was Detective McKenzie. And then my eyes landed on the little basket at the end of the counter where we keep the mail. Inside was a single envelope, unopened. It had been there for weeks—an invitation to a wedding. Namely, Guidry’s wedding.

Detective Jean Pierre Guidry … If you don’t recognize that name it doesn’t matter, because he’s gone now. But to make a long story short—Guidry was the first person who managed to make his way into my heart after it had been dead for so long, after I lost Todd and Christy. Until Guidry, I’d built a thick wall around myself, wrapped in razor ribbon and thorny vines and concrete as thick and impenetrable as the shell of coconut, safely protected from every man, woman, and child. Somehow, Guidry managed to slide through all that like a sharp knife through butter.

He’d been the lead homicide detective for the Sarasota sheriff’s department before Samantha McKenzie took over. He was smooth and bronzed, with laugh lines that fanned out from the corner of his kind eyes, a beaky nose, and dark hair cut short, with hints of silver showing at his temples. He taught me that I could feel again, that the heart’s table always has room for one more, and that even though Todd and Christy were gone, I owed it to myself and to their memory to keep on living, no matter the consequences.

Of course, that’s easier said than done, especially given how bumpy the road of life is. We hadn’t been together long when a job offer came in from New Orleans, his hometown. The police department there was looking for a lead detective. It was a good opportunity, and his entire family was there. He would’ve been crazy to turn it down, so I didn’t blame him one bit for accepting. I even considered moving there with him … but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave Siesta Key and all my memories behind. I grew up here. It’s my home.

So, that was that.

I could probably blather on for hours about what Guidry means … or meant to me … but I won’t. The last I’d heard from him, he’d called to tell me he was engaged, which was of course confirmed by that wedding invitation. And, by the way, I’m fully aware it sounds like I’m still pining away for him, but I’m not. Truly.

It’s just … complicated .

I opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Behind the orange juice carton was a six-pack of Coronas, and for a split second I considered popping one open, thinking it might clear my mind, but instead I splashed a little more orange juice in my glass and threw open the french doors to the balcony.

Outside, the air was warm and heavy. I welcomed the sensation of it pouring over my body like molten wax. The birds were in full chorus now, the dark sky having morphed into a field of cotton-candy blue, and perched on top of the Bronco was a small brown squirrel, surrounded by empty shells and munching away on an acorn.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Michael was beaming up at me from the deck, dressed in jogging shorts and a tank top, standing next to the big teak table our grandfather built. Laid across it was an off-white tablecloth with an embroidered border of blue cornflowers. In the center were two big bowls: one with fresh mango, pineapple, grapes, blackberries, and kiwi, and the other with heaps of crispy fried bacon.

I nearly burst into tears.

“Oh my God.” I took the steps down two at a time like a kid on Christmas morning. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re home.”

He said, “Oh, please. Don’t bullshit me. You’re just happy there’s bacon.”

He turned and started laying forks and knives down on the table as I gave him a bear hug from behind. “Okay, that may be true, but I’m equally happy you’re home.”

He squeezed my hand. “You and me both.”

Michael inherited the same blond hair and fair skin I did, but he’s built like a … well, like a fireman. He’s basically a beefier, hairier version of me, with blue eyes, broad shoulders, and biceps as big around as my thighs. I’ve heard more than one woman call him a hunk, but to me he’s just my goofy older brother.

Like our father before us, he works the 24/48 shift at the firehouse, meaning he works two days straight and then has one day off. Most days he cooks for the crew, which can often be as many as a dozen men and women, but Michael loves it. He’s always been a provider … for as long as I can remember.

I said, “You’re up early.”

He stretched. “Yeah, I woke up thinking about work yesterday, which totally sucked. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I thought I’d go for a jog, but then Paco started making breakfast so I took a shower instead. I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you were out pretty late. Paco and I were up reading when you got home last night.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess it was kind of late.”

“But what’s Ethan’s car doing here?” He glanced over at the carport. “I thought I heard his car leave right after you got home.”

I said, “Oh,” and then racked my brain for an explanation.

The night before, when I’d pulled in with Deputy Morgan following in his squad car, I had breathed a huge sigh of relief the moment my headlights lit up the carport. Michael’s truck was on the left in its usual spot, Paco’s Harley was parked next to it, and Ethan’s Jeep was right next to my spot.

Of course, I’m always happy when the boys are home, but this was different. It meant I had a whole stableful of big strong men to protect me. Not that I needed it, but I knew if Deputy Morgan thought I’d be spending the night alone, he’d try to convince me to check into a hotel or stay with friends, at least until we figured out why my name had been on that card.