Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Cradle

Michael said, “What? Are you kidding me?”

I waved my hand like I was waving away a fly. “He has a truck for his pool-cleaning supplies. He may sleep in it occasionally if the weather’s bad or he doesn’t have a house-sitting job.”

Michael said, “Seems pretty suspicious to me.”

“Maybe he’s just saving up his money. I like that in a person.”

Paco raised one eyebrow. “Or maybe you just like the sexy blond surfer type.”

I said, “Please. He’s a good worker, and he’s honest, and he’s always been fair with me. People can fall on bad times. That doesn’t make them criminals. Anyway, you should have seen how much he loved that old cat of his. In my book, anybody that loves a cat can’t be all bad.”

Michael didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t worried. I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I knew Kenny was a good guy, even though I had to admit, you could see how they might think Kenny was a bit sketchy. I chalked it up to one of the many occupational hazards of being in the line of work they’re in. When you’re in close contact with danger or criminals on a daily basis, you tend to look for the negative in everything and everyone.

To change the subject, I said, “I got a new job today. At a house with a mermaid in a tank in the bathroom.”

Michael grinned and said, “The toilet tank?”

“No, you doofus. I’m talking a huge mermaid. Nearly life-sized. The aquarium is so tall you have to climb up a flight of stairs to feed the fish. Mrs. Harwick said combined the fish are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

Paco said, “Wait a minute. The Harwicks? Roy and Tina Harwick?”

“Yeah, do you know them?”

He shook his head. “Not personally, but Roy Harwick is one of the top executives at Sonnebrook.”

He had a tone in his voice, as if saying the word “Sonnebrook” explained everything. Unfortunately, it kind of did. Sonnebrook is the Oklahoma-based company that inevitably comes up whenever there’s a conversation about war, or oil, or consummate greed. It’s one of the largest oil-drilling and construction companies in the world, not to mention one of the biggest private employers in the country. In the last twenty years, they’ve raked up billions of dollars in no-questions-asked government contracts to maintain military bases or help rebuild war-torn countries. Along the way, they’ve been exposed countless times for corruption, illegal practices, and worse.

Michael said, “It’s all over the papers today. He’s giving a speech in Tampa tomorrow at a conference on earth-friendly energy. Do you believe that? The head of one of the biggest oil-manufacturing companies talking about how we can make the planet greener! That guy is hated all over the world. Sonnebrook has probably bumped off more potentates in those little Middle Eastern countries than the CIA and MI6 combined.”

Paco and I rolled our eyes. Michael’s sense of morality is more highly tuned than ours, and he has a tendency to see conspiracy and skullduggery around every corner. It doesn’t take much to get him going about all the underhanded things done by the world’s biggest corporations and governments, including our own. He can get himself pretty worked up.

“They’ve been implicated in propping up despots just to make a dime and bribing senators to get their way in Congress. I mean, you name it, they’ve done it. They’re all cutthroats and thieves. And of course you can’t touch them with a ten-foot pole because their money is spread all over Washington. The whole operation smells worse than dog shit.”

Paco chuckled and said, “Alright now, calm down.”

Michael laughed. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t help it, and I read they have a world-class art collection, too, all of it bought with dirty money, of course. I’m guessing they live in a huge mansion on the water, right?”

I said, “Yep. And they have a gold-plated toilet.”

Michael practically jumped out of his chair. “See? I told you! What kind of person wants to sit on a gold toilet?”

Paco and I both burst out laughing. Paco has a knack for disarming Michael. No matter how worked up Michael gets, Paco can flip his mood like tossing a coin, but I’m good at pushing all his buttons, so together we make a pretty good game of mercilessly teasing him up and down like a yo-yo.

“Yeah, very funny,” Michael said. “We’ll see if you two get any dessert tonight.”

Michael’s desserts are nothing to joke about. He makes the most amazing pies and cookies. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a slice of his key lime pie, which he makes from actual key limes he collects from a wild tree, the whereabouts of which he won’t tell a living soul.

I said, “Okay, okay. No more talk about the Harwicks. They do, however, have a beautiful little Siamese cat named Charlotte that I’m trying to win over. She’s a big grump.”

Michael turned to Ella and smiled. She slitted her eyes and gazed at him with rapt adoration.

He said, “You’d be a big grump too if you lived with murdering thieves.”

Paco and I exchanged grins, but we didn’t say a word because Michael reached over and took the key lime pie off the kitchen counter and set it in the middle of the table.

“Mmmm,” I said. “What were we just talking about?”

Paco said, “I have no idea. Pass the pie!”

All in all, it had been a normal, ordinary end to a long, surreal, and crazy day. I helped clean up the kitchen, kissed Michael and Paco on their handsome cheeks, nuzzled the top of Ella Fitzgerald’s head, and staggered up the stairs to my apartment, drunk on good wine, good company, and good key lime pie.

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I heard a little voice in my head say, Well, at least tomorrow can’t be any crazier than today!

Sometimes that little voice in my head is dead wrong.

7

My morning routine is pretty much written in stone. I get up, stagger to the bathroom to splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and twist my hair into a ponytail. I stumble into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, and then I’m out the door in my regulation cargo shorts, white sleeveless tee, and a fresh pair of clean white Keds. The secret to being a good pet sitter is having good shoes. I’m on my feet about as much as a big-city mailman, so I have a row of clean Keds drying on a rack at all times. The minute a pair starts getting even the slightest bit raggy, out they go.

On my porch, I took a minute to inhale the clean salt air and to nod good morning to the glossy sea. At that hour, only a few early birds are walking along the shore’s edge picking up the choicest goodies brought in on the overnight tide. There were a couple of snowy egrets standing perfectly still, watching a small team of piping plovers that were running back and forth in the sand to the rhythm of the waves rolling in. Some sleepy chirping sounds came from the trees as other birds opened an eye and nudged one another awake, but mostly I had the fresh new day to myself. I need that moment of connection to life, need to pull it into my lungs and feel it climbing from the soles of my feet up my bones.

When I was fully aware, I clattered down the stairs, shooed away a brown pelican who had roosted on my Bronco overnight, and turned on my headlights for the drive down my twisty lane. I went slowly so as not to wake the parakeets, but they’re so sensitive they rose from the treetops in agitated flutters that made me feel guilty. At Midnight Pass Road, where a line of mailboxes stand guard, I turned left and headed off to bring food, fun, and frivolity to all the pets that were home alone and waiting for my arrival.

As always, morning or afternoon, my first stop is the Sea Breeze, a big pink condo building on the Gulf where Billy Elliot lives. Billy Elliot is a greyhound that Tom Hale rescued. Like most race dogs, once Billy Elliot stopped winning races, he wasn’t much use anymore and his days were numbered. Tom is a CPA, and in exchange for his handling my taxes and anything else having to do with money, I go over to Tom’s and let Billy Elliot drag me around the parking lot a couple of times a day. It’s a perfect arrangement. I’m not good with money, and Tom can’t run because he’s been in a wheelchair ever since a wall of lumber fell on him in a freak accident at a home-improvement store.