Лори Касс - Pouncing On Murder

“What’s the matter?” Kristen asked.

“Just thinking,” I said, then started to tell her my exact thoughts.

But before I got halfway through, she rolled her eyes, stacked our dishes, and got up. “Sometimes you think too much,” she said. “And you can quit with the protest; you know it’s true.”

“Do not,” I muttered.

“Well, you’re wrong.” She opened the door to the closest refrigerator. “And if you want dessert, you’ll admit that you’re wrong.” Grinning, she pulled out two ramekins of crème brûlée, both already topped with local greenhouse strawberries and sprigs of mint.

Clearly blackmail, but it was blackmail of the most excellent kind.

“You were right,” I said mechanically, “and I was wrong.” When she continued to hold the ramekins out of reach, I sighed and finished our time-honored litany. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” She slid the desserts down the counter. “So, are you going to try to stop thinking so much?”

“Don’t see how that’s going to happen.” I picked up the spoon that was sliding toward me.

Kristen plopped onto her stool and picked up her own spoon. “Just as well. If you didn’t overthink everything, you wouldn’t be you, and then where would you be?”

On a count of three, we plunged our spoons through the crackly sugar crust and I knew there was absolutely nowhere else in the world I wanted to be at that moment other that sitting next to my best friend.

• • •

It was when I was walking home, post-dessert, that my cell rang with Tucker’s ring tone. While we’d been texting almost every day, or nearly, we hadn’t actually talked since I couldn’t think when.

“Hey,” I said, smiling into the phone. “I was just at Kristen’s, eating way too much excellent food. What did you have for supper?”

“Leftover pizza, I think. Although that might have been yesterday.”

I laughed. “Doesn’t your mother feed you?”

“I’ve been taking extra shifts,” he said. “There’s a lot to learn here, and the more hours I work, the more I learn.”

Which sounded good, but I was suddenly getting a bad feeling about the turn the conversation was taking. I stopped walking and sat on a nearby bench. The sun was down, the streetlights were on, and the sunset’s afterglow filled the west part of the sky with a fading golden blush. “So you’re working a lot,” I said carefully.

“It’s the best way to learn.”

“Yes, you said that.”

The silence between us grew long and thick. I sat there for so long, not talking, that I almost forgot who was on the other end of the phone.

“So,” Tucker said, “it looks like I won’t be able to make it up there in June.”

“Yeah.” I suddenly couldn’t stand to sit any longer. I got to my feet and started walking. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

“Minnie, I’d come up if I could.”

“Sure. I know.” Sort of.

“It’s just that I don’t want to miss any opportunities. If I’m going to go anywhere and do anything, I need to make the most of this fellowship.”

“Sure. I know.” Which I’d already said, but Tucker didn’t seem to notice my repetition.

“Why don’t you come down here?” he asked.

And do what, sit and talk to his parents while I waited for him to come home from the hospital because he couldn’t turn down a chance to take an extra shift, even when it was the first time he’d seen his girlfriend in months? No, thanks.

“It’s a really busy time for me,” I said. “With the book fair and all the summer people coming and vacations starting, it’s going to be really hard for me to get away.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I kind of figured, but I thought I’d ask.”

I squinted at the sky’s last light and wondered exactly what he’d meant by that. Had he hoped I’d say no? Because that was what it sounded like. “You know I’d come down if I could,” I said, echoing his own statement. And again, he either didn’t notice the repetition or chose to ignore it.

“Sure.”

We made stilted small talk for a little longer, and by the time I got back to the houseboat, my phone was back in my pocket. I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of my cat sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor and staring straight at me.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You overheard that entire conversation and are now ready to offer romantic advice.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“Strike one.” I tossed my jacket onto the pilot’s seat. “Second guess. You were deeply lonely without me and have been sitting there for hours, pining for my return.”

Eddie lowered his head slightly but didn’t break eye contact.

“Strike two, huh?” I leaned down to scoop him up. “Third guess. When you woke up from your most recent nap, you realized I still wasn’t home and have been sitting there for the last thirty seconds, wondering if your food supply will ever be replenished.”

“Mrr!” He nudged the side of my face with his head.

“You are such an Eddie,” I said, nudging him back, and as his purr started, the sting of Tucker’s phone call faded away almost as if it had never been.

Almost.

Chapter 12

My sleep that night was interrupted by sporadic dreams that featured a book fair attended by a total of zero people, and a wooden boat that had sunk under me the first time I launched it in Janay Lake.

I woke up with Eddie’s body snuggled around my neck and his tail tangled up in my hair.

“You know,” I told him, “if you stayed down by my feet, I’d sleep a lot better.”

He rearranged himself slightly and didn’t say anything.

It probably wasn’t fair to blame him for my poor sleep, but I hated waking up while I was still tired, and at the time, it seemed entirely reasonable to point fingers at the furry creature who was on my face.

“Off, already, will you?” I gave him a shove.

“Mrr!” He rolled around in a lengthwise somersault and lay there, looking up at me.

I should have apologized right then and there, but I didn’t. Instead I flung back the covers and trudged up to the shower without a word to my furry friend. By the time I was dry, he’d retreated to the back of the closet and wouldn’t come out, even when I tried to tantalize him with the last of the milk at the bottom of my cereal bowl.

“Come on, pal. I said I’m sorry.” I swirled the milk around. “You were right and I was wrong and I’m very, very sorry.”

Sadly what had worked with Kristen didn’t do anything for Mr. Ed.

“Tell you what. How about I leave the bowl here and you can finish it up on your own schedule?” I put the bowl on the floor and peered into the closet’s depths. He was back there behind my boots, but all I could see of him was the furry arch of his spine. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? And I am sorry.”

He might have said “Mrr,” but then again it might have been my imagination. Sighing, I headed up to the library, figuring that my day could only get better. And it did until I went into the break room in answer to Holly’s e-mail of Got something for you. Come and see!

I grabbed my empty coffee mug and headed out. Holly’s chocolate chip cookies were on my list of the top ten best cookies ever, and her peanut butter fudge was better than my mom’s, something that I’d never told my mom and never would.

I was in the mood for cookies, so when I walked through the door, my anticipatory smile went flat when I saw there were, in fact, no cookies on the counter. Or fudge. Or brownies or even cupcakes. Instead Holly was sitting at the break table, sorting through a packet of paint samples.

“What’s that?” I asked, filling my mug with coffee. I hoped either Holly or Josh had brewed this pot and not Kelsey, who was still trying to convince everyone that coffee thick enough to use as frosting was the best kind.