Блейз Клемент - Raining Cat Sitters And Dogs

The descent seemed to take forever, but it was probably less than five minutes. At the shore, a long dock stood with its feet in the water. A sliver of lemon peel moon left the sea hidden in darkness, with only occasional glints of starlight reflecting its humped sleep. The only sound was the sea’s rhythmic gasps and my own breath. At the dock, three boats nosed the planks like nursing sea creatures—a forty-footer, a twenty-foot pleasure cruiser, and a run-about. At the far end of the dock, a graceful little gazebo made an incongruously delicate note.

Turning toward the gazebo, I strode past the line of boats with what I hoped was the walk of a rich woman. I kept my gaze straight ahead and tried to breathe normally. At the gazebo, I paused and tilted the flashlight to search the interior before I stepped inside. On the one occasion when I’d been there for lunch with Maureen, tall woven chairs with flaring peacock backs had been arranged around a cane table. Around the perimeter of the room, bench seats had been topped by bright colored pillows.

The floor was paler than I remembered, probably bleached by salt breeze, but the peacock chairs and table were still there. The chairs had a strangely shabby look, as if they needed attention, and the pillows that had topped the bench seats were probably stored in the benches. From what I remembered of Victor’s iciness, I doubted that he and Maureen had enjoyed many romantic times in the gazebo.

I stepped inside and made a straight line to the cane table. For a second, I couldn’t decide whether to leave the duff el bag in one of the chairs or on top of the table. The voice of reason in my head screamed, It doesn’t matter! Just put it down!

I set the bag in one of the chairs and turned on my heel. I’ll bet the guards at Buckingham Palace don’t turn any more smartly. For some reason, it seemed important to move crisply so people watching me wouldn’t know how uneasy I was.

Heading back across the dock, I told myself that all the kidnappers wanted was money, and I had given it to them. They would come get it and they would be grateful to me. Well, not grateful maybe, but they’d think kindly of me. Not of me, of course, because they thought I was Maureen. And maybe not kindly, because kidnappers probably don’t have kind thoughts, but they would dismiss me from their minds, which was good. I hoped they were busy dismissing me from their minds right that moment.

I didn’t exactly run, but I definitely crossed the dock in double time and then chugged back up the path as fast as possible. When I got to the top of the path, I broke into an all-out gallop.

I smelled Maureen’s cigarette before I rounded the corner of the garage. She was standing in a puddle of light from a security lamp, and when I ran toward her, she tossed the cigarette down and ground it under her heel. Ididn’t even slow down, just ran straight to the SUV and got inside. I switched off the flashlight and held it in my lap. My hands were trembling and it felt good to grip something solid.

She crawled in the driver’s seat. “Did you see anybody?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. My jaws were trembling, and I had to clench my teeth to keep them from rattling.

She started the engine and backed out of the garage. “How long do you think it will be before they bring him home?”

I shrugged and tried to stop shaking.

She did that secret magic thing again that opened the gate in the wall. “You think he’ll be home when I get back?”

I gave her a jerky smile. “I hope so, Mo.”

Maureen was energized, shot through with excitement. I was a wreck.

I felt as if I’d just gone through a rite of passage into an exclusive world, like my first period or my first kiss with tongue. Now I was a member of a club whose members have delivered ransom money to a kidnapper. It was a creepy feeling.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back for the rest of the drive. Maureen chattered without seeming to notice that I wasn’t responding. When we rolled to a stop at my place, I opened my door and slid out.

She said, “I owe you one, Dixie.”

I said, “Mo, please don’t ever mention this night again. Not to me or to anybody else.”

She held her thumb and forefinger together in an O. “You got it, friend!”

I clicked the car door closed and walked away. As I started up my stairs, she backed out and zoomed down the drive loud enough to wake Michael, the seagulls, and all the parakeets.

Feeling as if I were wading through deep water, I went upstairs and dropped my clothes on the floor beside my bed. The clock on my bedside table said it was twelve forty-five, slightly less than an hour since I’d left. I fell into bed as if I were drugged. As I lost consciousness, I reminded myself that even though it had been a stressful night, Maureen would get her husband back.

At least that’s what I thought.

14

My alarm went off at its regular time, and I got up with a surprisingly clear head, as if my middle-of-the-night tryst with a million dollars had given my nervous system a boost. I was so full of energy that I ran an extra lap around the parking lot track with Billy Elliot, and I spent a few extra minutes with every cat playing spirited games of attack-the-peacock-feather or leap-at-the-flying-dish-towel.

Even pilling Ruthie went faster. Now that she knew what to expect, she seemed to look forward to being lifted from her head. I’ve found that to be true with most cats. I’m not sure whether it’s because they associate the feeling with being kittens carried by their mothers, or if they just think they might as well get it over with. She and I did our act in about a minute flat, and then she ran to Max for praise.

Max said, “I think Ruthie knows you used to be a cop. She’s intimidated by authority.”

He said it in a joking way, but I suspected he missed being able to intimidate people with his authority.

I said, “That’s an act she puts on. She’s really using me to save face. This way she doesn’t have to give in and swallow the pills by herself, plus she gets extra attention from her favorite human.”

He looked pleased. “She does follow me around like a dog.”

I wasn’t surprised. Even when they live with more than one human, Foldies typically become especially bonded with one person.

I left Max and Ruthie admiring each other and sped to Big Bubba’s. When I whisked away his night cover he fluttered his wings as if he had as much extra pep as I did. I opened the door to his cage so he could hop out, and he clambered from his doorway to the top of his cage and surveyed his domain like a king. Parrots are like cats in their belief in their own superiority over all other beings.

I left him there and went to the kitchen for his morning fruit. He was still atop his cage when I came back, so I gave him half a peeled banana.

I said, “Would you like fries with that?”

He gave me the one-eyed bird stare and pecked at the banana.

I scraped poop off his perches and washed his dishes. I removed the dirty paper from the bottom of his cage and put down fresh.

I said, “I’m giving you the sports section today. You like that?”

He spread his wings and sailed to the floor. I opened the sliding doors to the lanai so he could go out into the fresh air. Instead, he waddled to the table that held his TV, and pecked at a table leg.

I said, “Not talking today, huh? Well, that’s okay. I have days when I don’t feel like talking either.”

I put fresh seed and water in his cups. I hung a fat sprig of millet from his cage roof.

I said, “How about some Cheerios with your seed this morning?”

He didn’t answer, but I gave him some anyway.

He flapped his wings and hopped over the slider groove to the lanai where he stalked around the perimeter like a border guard. Wild birds in the trees immediately began loud insistent chirping, and he squawked bird-language replies that sounded like a military commander ordering his troops to shape up. Max would have been proud of him.