Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Cradle

Have I mentioned that I like that in a man?

When I was finished with the whole story, I fully expected to hear a lecture about never putting myself in that kind of situation again, or how I should have let the police handle it, or what would have happened if, blah blah blah. Instead, he merely nodded with an impressed expression on his face, as if he’d just watched me hit a baseball out of the park.

“Nice job, Dixie.”

He walked me over to the steps with his arm around my shoulder. I was thoroughly exhausted, but luckily this time he didn’t need to carry me up.

When we got to the top, Ethan said, “Looks like somebody left you a present.”

Sitting on my doorstep was a small paper gift bag, tied shut at the top with a scallop-edged pink ribbon.

I put my hands on my hips. “Did you put that there?”

“No. I wish I could take credit for it, but I didn’t. Any other guys I should be worried about?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Come on.”

“No, seriously, I got here right before you did.”

“Really?”

I knelt down and picked up the bag. Then it hit me.

I said, “Oh, no. I bet it’s from Michael. He was teasing me earlier, and I got mad.” I handed it to him and pulled my keys out. “He’s so sweet. I was going to apologize to him in the morning, but he beat me to it. Open it up. Knowing Michael, I’m sure it’s something good to eat.”

I dropped my backpack just inside the door and collapsed on the couch. Ethan walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled the pink ribbon off and rustled through the tissue paper inside.

He said, “Cynar. Nice.”

He pulled out a wine bottle with a red cap and a picture of a green artichoke against a red background on the label.

I said, “What the heck is Cynar?”

“It’s really good. It’s made out of artichokes.”

“Ick! Artichoke wine?”

“No, it’s liqueur. It’s kind of bitter, but sweet, too. Tasty!”

It figured Michael would have gone out and bought me some strange, fancy liqueur. He knew damn well I’d be just as happy with some homemade brownies or a six-pack of beer, but he’s always trying to get me to develop a taste for more sophisticated things. I felt like I recognized the label on the bottle, but I was pretty sure I’d remember drinking something made out of artichokes.

Ethan tossed a card on my lap. “Here.”

I said, “He’s really trying to make up with me, isn’t he?”

“Let’s have some. After what you’ve been through today, you deserve it.”

“Okay. There are some glasses in the cabinet over the sink.”

He opened up the cabinet and rummaged through my sad, ragtag collection of mugs, plastic cups, and wineglasses.

“Don’t you have any liqueur glasses?”

I shot him a disdainful look.

He laughed and pulled down two mismatched wineglasses. “Gotcha!”

I slid the card out of its envelope. It was the color of light butterscotch, with a black border around its edge. There was no signature, just a short note. It said, “Dear Dixie, love doesn’t always have to be a sacrifice.”

It was written in the tiniest, most precise handwriting I’ve ever seen.

Actually, that’s not true. I had seen that handwriting before: when Mrs. Harwick handed me her feeding instructions for the fish.

I stood up and brought the bottle into the kitchen, studying the cap. I couldn’t really tell if it had been tampered with, but I had a pretty good idea. I have to admit, I was definitely in the mood for taking chances, but drinking artichoke liqueur laced with a narcotic, or worse, was definitely not one of them. I twisted the cap off and tipped the bottle into the sink.

Ethan jumped. “Wait! What are you doing?”

“I’m pouring it out.”

“What is this? Prohibition month? I promise you that is perfectly delicious stuff.”

I clucked my tongue at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have no idea where this came from. You can’t just go around drinking whatever you find laying on your doorstep.”

He grabbed my hand and tipped the bottle back up. “Dixie, seriously, just try a little. I promise you it’s not that bad.”

I sighed and looked him in the eye. “Ethan. It’s not from Michael. It’s from Mrs. Harwick.”

He withdrew his hand and hopped back a little. “Oh.”

“Exactly. She must have stopped by here on her way to Kenny’s houseboat. Obviously, she didn’t intend for her evening to end the way it did.”

I tipped the bottle back over, and we both watched the amber liquid as it gurgled out and disappeared down the drain. As the last drop fell, we sighed in unison. I rinsed the bottle out several times with hot water and threw it into the recycling bin.

Ethan watched in silence. Poor sweet man. I’d promised him there wouldn’t be any more drama, but it turned out the drama had only just begun. He pulled me close to him and wrapped his arms around me. I put my hands on the back of his neck.

He said, “I wish I’d brought a bottle of wine for you.”

“I don’t care. I didn’t really need a drink. What I need is right here.”

He said, “Talk about corny,” and lowered his lips to mine. Again I felt that wave of goose bumps move with lightning speed across my entire body. When I opened my eyes, he was looking down at me and smiling.

He said, “Don’t you even want to know if she put something in it?”

I thought for a second.

Did I want to know if Mrs. Harwick had planned on killing me so I wouldn’t tell the police about what was inside that package? Did I want to know if I had just narrowly escaped being poisoned to death? Did I want to know if fate had dealt one card, but I’d picked up another?

I heard a voice inside my head say, Hell no.

28

It took a couple of days for Kenny to come out of hiding. He eventually turned himself over to the police, but of course he waited until the news got out that Mrs. Harwick had been arrested. I couldn’t blame him. It would have been pretty hard for a jury to ignore the fact that Kenny had a lot to gain from Mr. Harwick’s death, both emotionally and financially, and if there hadn’t been any evidence against Mrs. Harwick, it’s entirely possible that Kenny might have ended up in jail for a very long time. But Detective McKenzie had questioned him and let him go, and the last time I’d heard, he was planning on going back to California to try to pick up his life where he left off. As for Becca, I wondered if I would ever see her again.

I woke up early and made my regular morning rounds. At Tom Hale’s place, Billy Elliot spotted a wild rabbit in the azalea bushes alongside the parking lot, so he’d gotten an extra good workout. In his glory days, Billy could probably have worked up enough speed to catch up with that rabbit, but now that he’s retired, it’s all just for fun. I think the rabbit was probably just toying with him, too, because after zipping back and forth in the parking lot a couple of times, it disappeared down a hole as fast as lightning. Billy came trotting back all happy and panting nevertheless. I could tell he was grateful to have somebody who could run at a respectable pace for a change.

After Billy Elliot I stopped at Timmy Anthem’s apartment. Timmy is a former pro hockey player who coaches for the local high school team. They’d just won the regional playoffs, so as a reward he had taken the whole team to Sunrise, Florida, to watch the Panthers play. His pit bull, Zoë, was recovering from surgery to repair a torn ligament in her leg, so we couldn’t play fetch in the courtyard like we usually did. Instead I made up for it with some peanut butter treats and lots of tummy rubs, which I think she was just as happy with. Pit bulls get a bad rap. She’s one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known.