Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives

Judy slid my breakfast down on the table, along with a platter of extra-crispy bacon, just as Ethan slid into the booth opposite me. For a second I couldn’t decide which made me feel better, Ethan or the bacon.

Judy winked. “What can I get you, handsome?”

“Nothing for me. I just stopped by to say howdy.”

She fanned herself with her notepad. “Well, thanks, Ethan, that’s so very sweet of you.”

As she sauntered off, Ethan’s smile fell away and he lowered his voice. “What did I tell you on the phone last night?”

I flashed him a face that was half grimace, half disarming cuteness, but he just sat there, waiting for an answer.

“Umm, you said if I found anything weird in the bookstore to call you right away.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said. And did you find anything weird?”

“So … you heard.”

He was trying to keep his voice low, but I could tell he was upset. “Dixie, why didn’t you call me?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have called you right away. I just didn’t want you to worry about me, and it was late … and I don’t know, I just wanted to go home and go to bed. I should have called you, though. I barely slept all night.”

He put his hands on top of mine. “Dude, I am really sorry that happened to you.”

I looked into his eyes and decided I’d thank Judy later. “Thanks. And don’t call me dude.”

We sat like that for a bit, his hands resting on top of mine. I eyed the plate of steaming bacon not five inches from my fingers, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

I sighed. “I just can’t believe it. And I’m so sad for his daughter, too. I can’t even imagine what she must be going through right now.”

He slid my coffee over and took a sip. “Who in the world do you think could have done something like that?”

My mind flashed again to the image of the woman in white disappearing inside the bookstore, but I just shook my head. “No idea. That’s for the detectives to figure out, I guess.”

He turned his head to the window but watched me out of the corner of his eye. “Right.”

I took a deep breath. “Anyway, let’s change the subject. Are we still on for tonight?”

“I’m on if you’re on, but you’ve had a rough couple of days. Maybe it would be better if we stayed home tonight?”

It actually seemed like a good idea, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper.

I shook my head. “No, no, I’ll be fine. But Ethan, listen…”

He raised an eyebrow.

I said, “I have an admission to make. I didn’t open that letter yet. I know I said I would, but I was so beat when I got in last night. I didn’t even brush my teeth. I just went straight to bed.”

I started to pull it out of my back pocket, but he shook his head. “No, it’s not my place to say whether you should open that letter or not. That’s between you and Guidry. Believe me, I totally get it. All I want to do tonight is have dinner and hang out and stuff.”

“Stuff?”

He grinned. “Yeah, you know … fun stuff.”

As I looked into his dreamy brown eyes, I took a bite of Tanisha’s bacon. It really was a toss-up. The bacon was mighty tasty, but …

He looked around and then leaned closer to me. “Hey, I shouldn’t tell you this, but I was talking to a guy I know in the DA’s office. The cops ID’d your friend.”

“What friend?”

“That guy in the car accident.”

“Mr. Vladim?”

He shushed me. “Yeah. They took fingerprints and ran them through the national database. He’s a bank robber.”

I gasped. “A what!”

“Yep. A Russian bank robber. He and his wife have been on the run for more than a year. They came here a couple of years ago and then found out their kid had cancer. Apparently they didn’t have money or health insurance, so they went on a tear from one end of Florida to the other, holding up small-town banks to pay for the treatments.”

I shook my head. “That is truly, truly terrible.”

“I know. Can you imagine? Sick kid, no insurance, no money, no friends…”

“That poor man. So where’s his wife?”

“Nobody knows. And he’s not talking.”

I shook my head. “Who knew people still robbed banks? I thought that just happened in the movies.”

He reached for a piece of bacon, but I swatted his hand away. “It happens more than you’d think. Banks get robbed all the time. I think it’s mostly small stuff, but your friend and his wife racked up a ton of cash, which I guess they just handed right over to the doctors—they’re like the Russian Bonnie and Clyde. But look, don’t tell anybody. They’re keeping it under wraps until they find his wife. They figure she has to be somewhere nearby.”

I shook my head. “Ugh. I hope they never find her.”

“Yeah. You and me both. But hey, look on the bright side. You saved the guy’s life. And maybe you’ll get a big reward for catching him.” He picked up his briefcase and winked at me. “You’re … I mean, we’re rich.”

I rolled my eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He bent down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll work on it.”

As he strolled out, all the other women in the diner, Judy included, craned their necks and practically sighed out loud as he walked by. I probably would have done the same thing except that with what he’d just told me about Baldy, I felt like I’d been hit over the head with a rolling pin.

I looked down and thought, Really? A Russian bank robber?

There was a tiny crumb of bacon left on my plate, sitting all by itself. I picked it up between my thumb and forefinger, and right before I popped it in my mouth, I said, “Huh.”

* * *

When I was done with my afternoon rounds, I pulled into the parking lot at Siesta Key Beach. I figured I had avoided calling Mrs. Silverthorn long enough and it was time to bite the bullet. I sat there with the engine idling quietly and watched the gulls play in the waves while I tried to figure out what to say to her.

I had decided that it wasn’t my responsibility to tell her about Mr. Hoskins. If she didn’t already know about it, I would keep that part to myself. Anyway, I knew Detective McKenzie was probably planning on talking to her. She was Mr. Hoskins’s landlord. It was entirely possible that she might know things about Mr. Hoskins that no one else did.

As for Cosmo, I decided I’d just tell her exactly what Butch the Butcher had told me, that someone had found an orange cat in the alley, and that I couldn’t be sure it was him yet. I’d promise her I’d keep asking around and let her know if I learned more.

I was half hoping she wouldn’t pick up and I could just leave a message, but by the tenth ring I realized she probably didn’t even have an answering machine. For a split second it put a tiny smile on my face. I’ve spent most of my adult life avoiding electronic gadgets like the plague, but Mrs. Silverthorn was clearly way more old-school than I.

I was just about to hang up when a woman answered with a breathless “Good afternoon. The Silverthorn residence.”

I said, “Oh … Mrs. Silverthorn?”

“No, this is Janet. Who may I say is calling?”

I knew it wasn’t Janet. I recognized Mrs. Silverthorn’s voice immediately, even though she seemed completely out of breath. I pictured her running from one end of the mansion to the other to get to the phone in time. Why she was pretending to be Janet I had no idea, but I figured I’d just play along.

I said, “Oh, hi, Janet, this is Dixie Hemingway.”

She said curtly, “Please hold,” and then there was a short pause and a shuffling sound, followed by a whispered “Dixie, I can’t talk to you right now.”

I said, “Oh, I was just calling about Cosmo.”