Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter And The Canary

I was about to move on when I realized if I positioned myself just right, I could see out the doorway and down the open hall in the mirror’s reflection. I inched a little bit closer to the window as the entrance to the family room came into view.

I had a clear line of sight through the doorway to Gigi’s cage. I could see his red front door and the two miniature brass lamps on either side of it. I could see the yellow mounds of his bedding, and I could see his glass water bottle perched at the top of the stairway on the second level … but there was no sign of Gigi at all.

Even as I told myself to stay calm, I felt a scream forming at the base of my throat, and then the next thing I knew I was racing through the camellias toward the back of the house with the branches slapping my face and Charlie announcing our presence with a string of frantic, high-pitched barks. Now, whatever cover we’d had was completely blown, and if I happened to be right and there was somebody still inside, things were about to get very complicated.

Just as we came around the corner, I slid to a stop and gasped.

Gigi was sitting under one of the lime trees. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to remember the screen door to the lanai. I slid my hand down into the side pocket of my cargo shorts and felt around for one of the carrot sticks I’d brought, thinking I could use it to coax him out.

Unfortunately, Gigi had other plans.

As soon as he saw me, every bunny nerve in his bunny survival system must have kicked in, because he darted across the lanai and disappeared like a flash through the raceway to his cage.

Charlie was still barking at the top of his lungs trying to figure out what the heck was going on, and I was frantically trying to shush him when there was a faint click from above and the entire lanai filled with blinding white light from the security lamp. I felt like I was caught in a searchlight, and then, as if to confirm it, there came a faint crunching sound from behind, and I realized with a jolt that it was growing closer.

Somebody was moving down the pebbled path, headed straight for me.

Without even thinking, I pulled Charlie close, and in the instant it took to turn around and see the metal glint of a gun pointed at my face, all the options I would have had as a sheriff’s deputy flashed before my eyes: my two-way radio, my canister of high-pressure mace, my baton, my .38 caliber pistol …

Instead, I screamed bloody murder.

6

It’s funny what a scream can do for you when you’re in grave danger.

First, if you do it right, your eyes clamp shut and everything goes dark. Next, your body shrinks into a tight little ball, like a turtle pulling into its shell, and then your mind goes completely and utterly blank. The result is pure oblivion: you can’t see a thing, and all you can hear is the sweet high-pitched singing of your vocal chords in all their stunning glory. You become the literal embodiment of the Three Wise Monkeys—hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil.

I don’t know how long I was in that state of bliss—probably just a few milliseconds—and I wasn’t sure whether I’d heard a gunshot or not, but luckily when I opened my eyes I didn’t find God waiting for me at the pearly gates or angels floating around on clouds and playing harps, nor did I see a fork-tongued demon welcoming me to the underground. Instead, I found myself looking straight down the barrel of a 9 mm Sig Sauer handgun, which I recognized immediately as the standard-issue firearm for all deputies with the Sarasota Sheriff’s Department.

The man standing in front of me had piercing blue eyes, one of which was lined up with the trigger of his pistol, the other squinted half-shut. He had blond hair cut close to his scalp, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones that in the harsh light of the security lamp appeared to be chiseled out of concrete. A single diamond stud twinkled from the lobe of his left ear.

His eyes widened. “What the…?”

I said, “Morgan?”

“Jesus, Dixie, you nearly scared me to death!”

I tried to speak, but my throat felt like I’d swallowed glass, and that, combined with the fact that there were dogs barking in the distance from every direction, told me that I must have screamed loud enough to terrify the entire Key.

I bent over and put my hands on my knees to steady myself. “Sorry. You scared me too.”

Deputy Jesse Morgan. He had joined the department not long after I left, but, given my talent for discovering crime scenes, we had met on several occasions since.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dixie, what in hell’s name are you doing? You have any idea how dangerous it is to be sneaking around out here?”

I nodded. I knew exactly how dangerous it was, and I felt a lot safer now that Charlie and I weren’t alone. Deputy Morgan is one of the Key’s only sworn officers, meaning he’s trained and licensed to carry a gun. He’s slimly built but muscled and tall, with broad shoulders and a sharp mind—exactly the type of guy you’d want around if there were any murderers hiding nearby.

He hissed, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“I know.”

Given how much noise we’d made already, it seemed pointless to go on whispering, but I kept my voice down just in case. “I didn’t have a choice. I was trying to check on the animals. If I can just get in there and…”

He held up one hand. “Hold on: 911 said you discovered a body.”

“Yeah. He’s just on the other side of the door. He’s wearing a light blue suit, and he’s got a scarf over his face, so I have no idea who he is.”

“A scarf?”

“Yeah. Silk. It’s lying flat across his face.” I wanted to add, like a death shroud, but I figured he got the picture.

“And where’s the homeowner?”

“She’s on vacation in the Keys. I’m not sure yet when she’s coming back, a week or so, but I’m taking care of her pets until then, and the thing is—they’re still inside.”

“Who’s inside?”

“Her pets.”

That didn’t seem to faze him one bit. “What’s the homeowner’s name?”

“Greaver. Caroline Greaver.”

“She live alone?”

“Yeah. She’s only been gone for two days. I was just here yesterday and everything was totally fine—nothing suspicious or out of place or anything—but then the second I got here today, something seemed weird.”

“Which door is he at?”

“The front door. Caroline didn’t say she’d have any visitors or anything. As far as I know, I’m the only one authorized to be here.”

Morgan’s pistol was at his side, pointed at the ground, but now he slipped it into its holster. “Okay.”

I said, “You know what? I’d keep that handy if I were you. There might still be somebody in there, and if there is, I have to get…”

He stopped me. “Wait. When you called 911, you said the body had been there for at least twenty-four hours…”

“It’s a guess. There’s no pulse and his wrist is cold as ice. But when I opened the door … I don’t know. Something didn’t seem right. I just had a really weird feeling somebody was still in there…”

“But did you see anybody?”

I shook my head silently.

“Anyone on the street when you arrived?”

“No, not that I noticed.”

He lowered his chin to his chest but kept his eyes locked on mine. After a quick moment, he motioned me to follow.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

He turned and headed back down the walkway, talking under his breath the entire way. “First, let’s get you out of here until I can get some backup on the scene. If there’s somebody in there, I don’t want you anywhere near this house. After that, I can do a search of the premises and make certain it’s secure. You can leave your car where it is…”