Лори Касс - Tailing A Tabby

“Have I ever told you how much I like having a restaurant owner for a best friend?”

“Only almost every Sunday evening, May through November.”

Kristen’s restaurant was named the Three Seasons because it was only open for three seasons. Come winter she closed everything down and hied herself to Key West, where she tended bar on the weekends and did absolutely nothing during the week.

“Sure, but tonight is Saturday.”

She flicked her index finger at me. “Only because I have to drive down to Cadillac tomorrow for my grandmother’s birthday party. For you and me, this is Sunday.”

“How’s the new chef coming along?” I asked. “Misty, right?”

“So far, so good.”

Harvey knocked and bustled in with a tray of dessert, decaf coffee, cream, and silverware. He unloaded it all on the small table in the corner, asked if we needed anything else, and bustled away.

“Have you heard if the restaurant is going to make it onto Trock’s Troubles ?” I asked.

“No, and every time I think about it I start to hyperventilate, so let’s change the subject, yes? Yes.” Kristen pushed the latest newspaper over to me. “Did you hear about this?” Since I’d already read the article she was pointing at, I didn’t reach to pick it up. But even from five feet away, I could easily read the main headline, blaring its bad news in big black type: LOCAL WOMAN MURDERED.

“The weird thing?” Kristen asked. “I knew her.”

“You… did?” While our circles of friends didn’t completely overlap, I’d thought I was familiar with all their names.

“Sort of. She came in to apply for a waitressing job when I first opened.” Kristen pulled the newspaper back toward her and stared at the article. “It’s weird knowing someone who was murdered.”

“Yes,” I said quietly, “it is.” We sat for a moment, thinking our own thoughts. Then I asked, “What was she like? Do you remember?”

She smiled a little. “Most of the time I don’t remember the ones I don’t hire, but she was different. It was too bad she didn’t have a lick of waitressing experience. If she had, I’d have hired her in a flash, but I had to have people who knew what they were doing. I didn’t have time to train a complete newbie.” A strand of hair had escaped Kristen’s ponytail, and she brushed at it impatiently. “Makes me wonder. If I’d hired her, would things have turned out differently for her? Would she have been killed?”

Kristen was starting down a path that shouldn’t be taken. Diversionary tactics were required, stat. “Why did you want to hire her if she didn’t have any experience?” I asked.

“Personality,” my personality-loaded friend said. “Beyond the basic waitstaff skills, personality is what makes a waiter memorable. Carissa was loaded with it. Funny, smart, charming.” Kristen sighed. “And gorgeous, too. I should have hated her, but I couldn’t find a way.”

Someone had, but the fact was too obvious, and too painful, to say out loud.

“What other jobs were on her résumé?” I asked, but Kristen didn’t remember.

I wanted to talk about Cade, about my run to the police station, about Detective Inwood and Daniel Markakis and Barb and the letter D. But I didn’t want to share that information without Cade’s permission. Though I didn’t like keeping secrets from Kristen, this wasn’t my secret to tell.

“Let’s eat,” I said. “Our crème brûlée’s going to go stale.”

Kristen frowned. “Are you trying to distract me from dark and depressing thoughts?”

I grinned. She was getting in some good D words and I hadn’t even told her about the game. Maybe it was time to set up rules. “Is it working?”

She picked up her spoon and cracked the sugar. “Getting there.”

“Maybe it’ll help if I tell you how the bookmobile’s candy guessing game is turning into a debacle.”

“Now you’re talking.”

So I did, and soon the sadness that had been filling the room flowed out and away.

• • •

“You got quite a mess down here, Minnie.” It was Sunday morning and Rafe’s head and upper body were deep into the houseboat’s engine compartment.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said gloomily. It would have been nice if I could have afforded the fees the marina charged for boat repairs, but without going into serious credit card debt, something I sincerely hoped to avoid, paying Rafe the peanuts he’d charge me was my best option. “Please tell me you’ll have it finished before you go back to school.”

“Oh, sure, not a problem.”

Hope sang in my heart. “You mean it won’t take very long?”

His habitual humming wafted up into the clear morning air. “I bet it’ll take almost exactly as long as it’ll take you to develop a new after-school reading program.”

“A what?”

“Of course, it might take me longer to fix this mess, but we’ll call it even up.”

“Call what even?” I asked.

He lifted his head and peered at me over his shoulder through black hair that he wouldn’t get cut until the day before classes started. “After. School. Reading. Program. You got a problem with English?”

Rafe often spoke in badly constructed sentences just to annoy me. From my perch on the end of the chaise longue, I laughed and kicked him lightly in his backside. “Stop that.” As my foot touched the seat of Rafe’s jeans, I heard footsteps on the dock. I turned to see Tucker staring at me with an odd expression.

“Tucker!” I stood up and brushed my hands for no good reason. “What are you doing here?”

Rafe looked around. “Hey, Doc. What’s happening? Don’t tell me you’re making boat calls. Besides, I’m healing great.” Rafe held out a very dirty arm. He glanced at it. “Well, maybe you can’t see it through the grease and all, but it’s fine.” He sat up, frowning at the small gadget he held. “Say, Minnie, my voltmeter is running out of juice. You got any spare triple A’s?”

“Sure,” I said absently. “In the same place. Remember where?”

“Bedroom, top shelf in the back corner. Gotcha.” Rafe clambered to his feet. “Be right back.”

Tucker’s odd expression went a little odder.

I frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Well,” he said, “I’m just wondering why—” The phone in his pants pocket rang loud and long. “Hang on, it’s the hospital.” He answered it and I watched his face go still. “I’ll be right there.” As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he said, “Sorry, but I have to go.”

“Sure. I understand.” What I didn’t understand was why he was looking at me like that. “Is everything okay?”

“Just another hospital emergency. I’ll call you later.” He waved and headed off.

I watched him go, thinking that I hadn’t been asking if the hospital was okay; I’d been asking if we were okay.

“The doc gone already?” Rafe asked, letting the houseboat’s screen door slam behind him. “He just got here.”

“Hospital called,” I said shortly. Tucker hadn’t kissed me good-bye. Or even hugged me. Maybe I wasn’t looking my best this morning, but I wasn’t so ugly that the neighbor’s dog would bark at me. Was I?

“Yeah, suppose that happens.” Rafe got down on his hands and knees. “That’s the beauty of being a school principal. No emergency calls in the summer.”

I sat down on the chaise longue again. I’d talk to Tucker later and find out what was going on. No need to worry about that right now. Now, in fact, was the time to continue the conversation Rafe had started. “Let’s get back to that reading program you were talking about. What, who, when, and where?”

He put his head deeper into the engine compartment. “We have too many kids who don’t have anything to do between the end of school and when their mom or dad gets home from work. I have a line on a volunteer and there’s a small grant available from the local foundation that’s the perfect target for buying some books. All I need is some direction.”