Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Whiskers

My cell phone!

Ethan looked a little woozy himself. “What?”

“I just remembered—Mrs. Keller called this morning.”

He frowned. “So?”

I pulled away and glanced around for my cell phone. “So I should listen to her message. It’s been such a crazy day I forgot all about it.”

“Yeah, but what’s the hurry?”

I tied the sheet around me and shuffled down the hall to the laundry room where I’d tossed my shorts. “I don’t know. Maybe she knows something. I mean, with the day I’ve had, I wouldn’t be surprised if she called to warn me about Dick Cheney. Maybe she got a call from the alarm company that there was a break-in.”

As I grabbed my shorts off the washer and pulled my cell phone out of the back pocket, Ethan said, “Wait a minute. What break-in? And what the hell does Dick Cheney have to do with it?”

I cringed.

Of course. I should have known. Judy has a big mouth, but she’s no dummy. She had probably only told Ethan that I’d hit my head and nothing more. She knew I’d kill her if she told him there was a possibility I’d been attacked before I could tell him myself.

As I flipped my phone open, I said, “Well, it’s kind of a long story…”

He stopped midway down the hall, his arms dangling limply at his sides. “I’ve got time.”

“Okay. Now, Ethan, don’t freak out, but there’s a slight possibility that maybe, just maybe, I sort-of kind-of didn’t actually faint.”

He blinked. “What do you mean, sort-of kind-of ?”

I punched in the code for my voice mail. “I’m not sure, but it’s possible somebody broke into the Kellers’ house this morning and attacked me, and that’s how I got hit on the head.”

His jaw dropped open. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

As I brought the phone to my ear, I flashed him a smile that was half disarming grin, half grimace, and held up one finger. “Hold that thought.”

Just then, I heard the familiar beep announcing a new message, and in the few seconds between that and the sound of Mrs. Keller’s voice, I could easily have hung up the phone. Or, I could easily have flushed it down the toilet. Or, I could easily have carried it over to the sink and run it through the garbage disposal. I could easily have done any number of things, and then I would never have known what Mrs. Keller was about to say.

Instead, I kept my finger in the air to keep Ethan quiet, and listened.

15

“ Good morning, Dixie. It’s Linda. I hope you’ll forgive me for calling so early in the morning … or is it late? I’m so turned around I have no idea what time it is. I wanted to let you know we arrived in Rome safe and sound. I’m afraid Mr. Feldman was none too happy to see us go, so I hope he’s not being too naughty…”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the message info as Mrs. Keller’s voice rambled on. The screen said her message was only two minutes long, which for her is surprisingly brief. I love Mrs. Keller, but sometimes I wonder how Mr. Keller makes it through the day without flinging himself off a cliff.

“… and we nearly left my purse in the taxi, can you believe it? Of course, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but in Rome? That would have been an absolute disaster … but anyway, Dixie, the reason I called…”

There was a pause, and now her voice was quiet.

“Dixie, the reason I called … well, I hate to trouble you with this, but it’s apparently urgent. A few weeks ago, I bought something at a gallery. Remember that little shop I told you about outside Tampa? Well, I know what you’re thinking—I promised Buster I wouldn’t buy any more masks—but, this was different, and I just couldn’t stop myself. I even left my number with the gallery owner just in case he came across any more like it. Well, now I wish I’d never done that, because he called just before we left for the airport, full of apologies. It seems he made a mistake. His partner had already sold it to a collector there in town.”

I was pacing up and down my short hallway while Mrs. Keller talked, and Ethan had moved over to the laundry alcove and was very slowly but deliberately bumping his forehead against the doorjamb.

“He said it was a communication error or some such nonsense, and of course I could have put up a fuss, but the man seemed so upset I didn’t think I had a choice but to return it. I put it under the bench by the front door while Buster was loading the car. You may have noticed it.”

I said, “Yep,” and nodded.

Ethan looked up, “Yep, what?”

I held the phone away from my ear and said, “I think she wants me to mail a package for her.”

He snatched the phone out of my hand and pressed the pause button.

I said, “Hey, I’m not done with that!”

“Yes, you are.” He backed away toward the bedroom with the phone held behind him as he fixed me with a level gaze. “Dixie Hemingway, if you don’t tell me what happened to you right this very minute, I’m going straight down to the water and your phone is taking a little walk with the fishes.”

I grinned. “I think you mean swim .”

“Yeah, that.”

I shrugged. “Baloney. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would. You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m desperate.”

I sighed. “Okay, but you’re not gonna like it.”

He was still holding my cell phone behind his back, but now the grin on his face fell. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you better sit down.”

“Really?”

I nodded solemnly. “Yep.”

He stared at me for a second, trying to figure out how serious I was, and then handed over my phone as he walked past with slumped shoulders into the living room. He lowered himself gently on the couch while I sat down in the armchair opposite him.

Ethan looks like a tough guy. He played football in college, and he was on the wrestling team, too. He can bench-press a million pounds, or something like that, and his biceps are about as big around as my thighs. But one thing most people don’t know—he’s a bit of a softy.

I put my hands on my knees and took a deep breath. “So…”

“Wait!” He grabbed one of the pillows off the couch and hugged it to his chest. “Okay. I’m ready.”

I told him the whole story, at least a PG version of it anyway. I did my best to downplay the drama, like how disoriented I was at first, or how terrifying it was when I woke up and realized there might still be an intruder inside the Kellers’ house. I didn’t want him to get too upset before I got to the part about Levi, especially since I was pretty sure when he heard what I’d found there he’d keel over right in front of me.

The whole time I was talking, he just hugged his pillow. In fact, he seemed to be taking it pretty well—no swooning, no dramatic groaning—he just sat there and listened quietly. Once he realized I’d gone over to Levi’s house, though, he looked up and frowned.

“Dixie, why in the world would you do that?”

“I know. It was dumb, but when we found out people didn’t get their morning papers, I started getting worried.”

He said, “Yeah, maybe. But what if it was Levi that followed you to the Kellers’ and attacked you? Did you ever think of that?”

I shook my head. “No. That’s not possible. I went to high school with him.”

“You know as well as I do that doesn’t mean a thing. I’m sorry, but that was a really dumb decision.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I know, I just said that. I agreed with you in advance.”

“Okay, well, was he there?”

I nodded. “Yeah, he was there.”

“And? What did he say?”

I looked around the room and tried to figure out how to tell him, but there just wasn’t any other way.