Блейз Клемент - Cat Sitter On A Hot Tin Roof

He gave me the numbers and I wrote them down, even though Hal had already left his cell number and hotel number and the hospital’s number several times. We were all repeating ourselves, doing an overkill of efficiency to make ourselves feel organized enough to keep Jeffrey safe.

Pete said, “Is it okay if I give Mazie a treat? So she’ll associate me with good things?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. The rules for service dogs are that only their trainer can give them treats. But she’s a smart dog, she knows you’re a good person.”

“I guess all we can do now is pray for the boy. For all of them, really.”

I went over and kissed his cheek. Mazie wasn’t the only one who knew Pete Madeira was a good man.

I said, “I’m going to leave my Bronco in the driveway here, but I’m going to have a glass of wine with Laura Halston. She lives next door. Have you met her?”

Pete’s face took on a guarded look. “I met her this morning. Mazie and I went out to get some air and she came over. Said she was doing some gardening.”

“I don’t know her well, but she seems like a very nice person.”

“Can’t always tell about people by the way they look, Dixie. She’s pretty, but pretty is as pretty does. We had a woman in the circus with the ugliest face you ever saw, but she had a beautiful soul. That woman next door has a beautiful face, but don’t let that fool you.”

That was the first time I’d ever heard Pete say something mean or cynical, and I was disappointed in him. On the other hand, Laura was so outstandingly beautiful that she might have made him uncomfortably aware that he was no longer a man who might attract her.

I said, “Don’t worry, I’m just having a glass of wine.”

I didn’t stay to debate the wisdom of spending time with Laura, just blew kisses at Pete and Mazie. As I hotfooted it over to Laura’s house, I could feel Pete and Mazie watching from the doorway, both of them with worried faces.

5

Once I got past the greenery that hid Laura’s house, I was surprised at how modest it was. An L-shaped frame bungalow, it had a covered carport on the long side and a multi-glass-paned front door on the protruding side. The former deputy in me made me think how those square panes of glass in her front door made the house easy to break into, but I certainly didn’t intend to mention it.

I skirted the red Jag, rapped twice on the door to the kitchen, and turned the knob. But before I pushed the door all the way open, I stuck my head in to announce myself.

I heard Laura say, “Don’t come here, Martin. And don’t call me again. Not ever.” Her voice was hard and angry, full of bitter animosity.

I froze with my head inside the kitchen and the rest of me outside. Laura stood at a bar on the far side of the kitchen, cell phone at her ear, her face drawn tight. She had taken off the dark shades but still wore the Cowboys cap.

Motioning me in, she said, “Goodbye, Martin.”

Hesitantly, I pushed the door open and got my whole self inside. But the instant I was completely in, a banshee scream sounded at my feet and caused me to leap like a kangaroo. Leo streaked to Laura’s side and glared at me.

I said, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I step on him?”

In a heartbeat, Laura’s face went from savage fury to wry humor. As if stepping on a cat were a trifling thing, she said, “It’s his own fault. He has this awful habit of sitting beside a door and stretching his tail across the opening. Gets his tail stepped on all the time, but he keeps doing it. I don’t know if he’s too dumb or too stubborn to give it up.”

Waving her cell phone for emphasis, she said, “He’s a lot like my soon-to-be ex. Either too dumb or too stubborn to know when it’s time to let something go. That was him on the phone, being a complete ass, as usual.”

I said, “If this is a bad time—”

“Oh, no! This is a perfect time. I have much more need of a friend than I do to talk to my ex!”

I liked being called a friend.

Putting the cell phone on the bar where a bulky black land phone squatted, she took off her cap and shook her hair. She wore a long skirt with a brief ribbed cotton sweater and high-heeled espadrilles. Even with her Cowboys cap and dark glasses, she would have been the glamorous one at the supermarket.

She said, “I have to get out of these clothes. There’s a bottle of Chablis in the fridge. If you’d rather have red, there’s some in the rack. Wineglasses in the far right cabinet.”

She scooted down a hallway, and Leo trotted after her. In a minute or two, I heard two screeches, one from her and one from Leo.

She hollered, “Leo! You’ve got to stop doing that!”

In a softer voice, she said something else I couldn’t make out. Whatever it was that Leo had done seemed to be forgiven.

Left alone, I considered the wine options. I actually prefer red, but I didn’t want to risk staining my teeth before the evening with Guidry, so I got out two wineglasses and poured Chablis in both of them. Men wouldn’t do that. Men eat garlic and onions without worrying about their breath and they drink whatever they damn well please no matter what kind of stains it may leave on their teeth. Women are dopes. But I was a woman, so I would drink white wine.

Searching for napkins, I opened several drawers that held flat-ware and cooking stuff, then pulled out a drawer that turned out to be a deep pull-out storage cabinet. It held all kinds of cat supplies—cat vitamins, packets of kitty treats, bottles of food additives to make coats shiny, and two twenty-pound bags of organic dry cat food. I grinned at the generous oversupply, sort of a sure sign that Leo was Laura’s first cat.

Behind me, Laura said, “What are you doing?”

Her voice had gone hard again, and when I turned to her I saw frost in her green eyes. She had changed into baggy drawstring pants and a sleeveless knit top, but that was the only thing about her at the moment that looked relaxed.

I said, “Sorry, I’m looking for napkins. It’s an illness I inherited from my grandmother. She got the vapors if anybody used paper towels.”

She laughed, easy and friendly again, and padded barefoot to pull out a slim drawer full of cocktail napkins. Flapping a couple at me, she said, “Do they have to be cloth, or will paper do?”

I shoved the drawer of cat stuff closed with my hip. “My grandmother would have preferred cloth, but paper works for me.”

She smiled, handed me a napkin, and picked up one of the glasses of wine. Raising it toward me, she said, “Cheers, new friend.”

Again, I was flooded with the warm fuzzy feelings that come with discovering that somebody you like likes you back. The fragrance of some very expensive perfume wafted toward me. I hoped I wasn’t sending off wafts of doggie smell.

Leo trotted into the kitchen and stopped beside Laura to give me a calculating once-over. Havana Browns are graceful solid-brown hybrids with emerald eyes and big forward tilting ears. As svelte as they are, they’re muscular cats, and it’s always a surprise to pick one up and discover how heavy it is. Males like Leo weigh about ten pounds, and every ounce is strong.

I didn’t speak to him, just waited for him to deign to speak to me. Cats like for you to acknowledge their superiority right away. Dogs are so happy to have new acquaintances they’ll throw away every shred of dignity and approach you first. I’m afraid I’m more like a dog.

Laura said, “I know it’s early for dinner, but I’m starving. How about you?”

“Whenever there’s food, I’m hungry.”

Putting her wineglass down, she opened the refrigerator, dived into the vegetable bin, and began tossing out plastic bags of mystery things, hurling them more or less accurately into the sink.