Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives

I said, “Sort of. It’s about that letter, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Listen, I don’t want to pressure—”

“Ethan, I promise I’ll open it tonight. I don’t know why I’ve been putting it off.”

“Listen, it’s none of my business if—”

“No, you listen. It’s completely your business. I’m just not in the habit of thinking about anybody but myself, and it’s been so crazy the last couple of days, and I know you think things were left up in the air with Guidry and me, and I know you know I wouldn’t want to do a thing to make you—”

He interrupted. “Hey.”

“What?”

“First, stop talking. Second, would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?”

I took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

“Sweet. I’ll pick you up at eight, but promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you see anything weird in that store, call me right away.”

I said, “I promise.”

Suddenly it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, a weight I’d been carrying around ever since that letter had arrived. For a long time, everything that had happened to me, big or small, happened to me and me alone. I was beginning to realize that no matter what Guidry had to say in that letter, I wouldn’t have to deal with it by myself now.

That was a feeling I hadn’t had in a very long time.

After I hung up, I pulled a Baggie of kibble out of my pocket and filled the empty bowl under the desk, and then I topped off the water bowl, too, just in case.

As I headed up toward the front of the store, I’d already planned my course of action. First of all, I’d phone Mrs. Silverthorn and tell her Cosmo had probably been found, and if she wanted me to confirm it I’d be happy to check with the local shelters. If he did turn up, I’d take him to the Kitty Haven, where I knew he’d be safe until we figured out what happened to Mr. Hoskins.

Second of all, I’d go home and open that letter. If Guidry was writing to say he’d changed his mind, that he missed me, or that he was unhappy with his new job and leaving New Orleans to come back to me, I’d just have to tell him it was too late, that I was with Ethan now and nothing could change that.

I was just about to get to “third of all” when something stopped me dead in my tracks. I was standing at the front door, my backpack slung over my shoulder, with the cash register and counter just to my right.

My fingers started to tingle.

I took a step back and looked down.

There on the floor, just a few inches from the edge of the counter, was a single, glistening red paw print.

My mind went numb. I gently pulled my backpack around and pulled out my penlight. Then, as quietly as possible, I put the backpack down on the floor and slowly lowered to my hands and knees. I clicked the light on with my thumb and directed its beam into the gap under the counter.

There were a few pennies lodged in a bed of dust and cobwebs next to a yellowed pencil, its edges pocked with teethmarks. To the left, tucked into the corner, was another air-conditioning vent, its metal grille covered in dust and lying on the floor in front of it. The vent opened up into the crawlspace beneath the big picture window, and as the light moved across the opening, I saw from deep within the reflection of two gleaming points of yellow, floating in the dark and staring back at me.

“Cosmo?”

I lay down flat on my stomach and pulled myself even closer under the counter. If I turned my head just so, I could wedge myself close enough to the vent opening to see all the way inside the space under the window. I squeezed my arm through and maneuvered the point of the penlight into the vent.

It illuminated an unfinished crawl space, directly beneath the big display window. It was less than two feet high, about four feet wide, and only about three feet deep. It was the perfect size for a nice kitty hideout, but as I swept the light from one corner of the space to the next, I felt a tremor start to well up from somewhere deep inside my body. The two yellow points of light weren’t cat’s eyes.

They were the shiny brass buttons on Mr. Hoskins’s shirt.

His lifeless body was folded into a crumpled pile in the corner, lying in a pool of half-dried blood, his red beret laid across his face like a death mask.

20

It’s hard to say exactly how long I sat there on the floor, my legs folded under me, leaning back against the front of the counter. A kind of calm took over my entire body, as if I were sleepwalking and everything I’d just seen was a dream.

After a while, I pulled myself up off the floor and went out on the sidewalk. My legs were rubber, and I had to lean against the side of the building to steady myself as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I was covered in dust and cobwebs, but at that point I didn’t really care. There was pulsing reggae music playing across the street at Amber Jack’s, and the crowd of revelers there was so loud and boisterous I wondered if Detective McKenzie would think I was at a party when she answered the phone.

As usual, she picked up on the first ring. “McKenzie here.”

I took a deep breath before I realized I hadn’t figured out how to tell her what had happened. I had just dialed her number automatically without even thinking.

I said, “Detective, it’s Dixie Hemingway. I’m not sure what to say, but … I’m standing outside Beezy’s Bookstore. I just found Mr. Hoskins.”

Without skipping a beat she said, “Is he alive?”

I tried to answer as calmly as possible. All I had to do was say one word, but when I tried it choked in my throat. After a couple more tries, McKenzie said, “Oh, Dixie … I’m so sorry.”

I blinked. I hadn’t expected that. Why she was apologizing to me, I had no idea.

“Where is he?”

I swallowed hard. “He’s hidden in the crawl space beneath the display window.”

There was a long pause. Then she said, “Dixie, I don’t know how you got in that bookstore, and for the love of God I’m not sure I want to, but don’t go back in until I get there.”

She rang off, and I almost laughed out loud. The first thing that popped into my head was No problemo —from that moment on I had absolutely no intention of ever setting foot in Beezy’s Bookstore again.

* * *

It felt like an eternity, but within a few minutes one of the sheriff’s patrol cars arrived with its lights flashing red and blue, and then a deputy in full uniform stepped out and looked up and down the street. It was Morgan. He reached into the car through the open window and pulled out his deputy hat, which might have seemed strange on such a hot day, but I knew why. Except for at funerals and official events, deputies aren’t required to wear their department-issued hats, but it’s a symbol of reverence and respect. He also took his mirrored sunglasses off and slipped them down in his breast pocket.

I held my breath and kept completely still as he walked up to the front of the bookstore and looked through the window. Then he scanned the street again.

I’ll admit it wasn’t the most mature thing in the world, but I just couldn’t talk to anybody yet. I needed more time. I needed a little breathing room. At first I had considered sneaking over to Amber Jack’s and downing a shot of whiskey and a beer or two. Or three. Instead I just climbed into the backseat of the Bronco and slumped down with my legs stretched out over the center console.

Basically, I was hiding—and that’s where I stayed until McKenzie’s unmarked sedan pulled up a couple of minutes later, followed by another patrol car and an ominously silent ambulance.

The whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about what McKenzie had said on the phone. Oh, Dixie, I’m so sorry … as if Mr. Hoskins had been my father or my dearest friend. As if finding his body would be a devastating blow to my delicate sensibilities. It was only later, when the street was cordoned off with police tape once again, and forensic workers, crime technicians, and Sarasota cops were swarming around the bookstore, that I realized: McKenzie must have thought seeing a dead body would bring up long-lost memories of Christy and Todd.