Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery) (5 page)

“I call him Mage. His registered name is Black Magick.”

Nice accent. British, maybe? “Nice to meet you, Mage.” I reached up to shake his hand.

“I’m Darwin.”

“Landon Stark, pleased to meet you.”

Something about Mr. Stark felt familiar and not in a good way. “Likewise.”

“Vacationing?”

“No. I came here to open up a pet boutique with a friend, Darwin’s on Beach Drive?”

“Ah, yes. The place is getting quite a good reputation around here. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. My partner, Sylvia, and I are very happy with the response so far.”

“Wow, that’s great. And it’s not even season. I’ll have to stop in and see what all the fuss is about.” He smiled and I tried to figure out if I knew him from somewhere. Had I seen him around town? “Well, good luck getting your friend there to cheer up.”

“Thanks.” I waved goodbye and then glanced down at Karma. “What do ya think, boy? Friend or foe?” He cut his eyes sideways at me. “Okay, I get it. This isn’t your cup of tea. Let’s head back.”

He plodded along beside me, his toenails clicking on the warm concrete when we had to use the sidewalk. I tried to keep him in the grass as much as possible in case the cement was too hot on his pads. What else would cheer up a grieving dog? Food and belly rubs was all I could think of and those weren’t working. Neither, it seemed, was the flower essence. Maybe he just needed time. Or…

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and Karma looked up at me, ears perched in a questioning pose. Maybe there was someone else in Mad Dog’s life that Karma would respond to. Maybe a friend at…what did he call the place? Pirate City? Yeah, that’s it!

“Want to go visit Pirate City, boy?” His gaze kept locked on mine. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I led him forward again. Now I just had to find out where it was. Oh, and bonus, maybe someone there knew something about how Mad Dog was getting those injuries. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner.

CHAPTER NINE

I couldn’t just ask Sylvia about Pirate City because she would start yelling at me in Portuguese for sure. I was learning quickly that her motto was ‘mind your own business,’ except when it came to me. She had become very protective of me, like a big sister. Not that I minded, considering how much I missed my own sisters. It was easy enough to find on the internet though. Lots of local news articles. Apparently having a homeless tent city in the area was quite the sore spot to a lot of folks. I made a plan to take Karma there on Saturday morning.

“Karma, we’re going to go visit your old stomping ground, boy.” I plopped down beside him on the polished teak floor, ignored the dust bunnies and stared out the French doors. Night had fallen. The lantern-style porch light illuminated my flower garden and—beyond the black iron railing—tiny white lights twinkled in the park trees. Beyond those, the moon lit up the bay waters. Karma repositioned his head to fill my lap.

“The treats are almost done. You’re not going to be able to resist the peanut butter ones, I’m telling you now.” I kissed the wrinkles on his wide head, between his ears, then rested my forehead on the space and slowed my breathing, trying to open myself up to any images he might send me. Anything else you remember about that night? Anything at all that would help me find out what really happened?

I had never wanted to have control over this gift before. I just took it as it came, used it when it happened to help whatever distressed animal I found. Even shunned it because I just wanted to be like everyone else. But, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see more, to know what Karma knew about that night. The oven dinged. One more kiss and I pushed myself off the floor.

I pulled the treats from the oven, filling the place with the smell of warm peanut butter. I had already made the chicken jerky for the boutique, but I didn’t think Karma would be able to gum those. He’d probably end up swallowing it whole…if he was interested at all. I had tried plain chicken in broth when we got home. He lapped at the broth a bit, then assumed his position in front of the French doors and hadn’t moved since. Was he watching for Mad Dog? Was he remembering their afternoons in the park? How much did pets understand? I wish I knew. His depression did seem to indicate that he at least missed Mad Dog greatly.

I wrapped cellophane around the treats and flipped off the lights. “Come on, Karma. Bedtime.”

He navigated around the furniture, knocking my candles off the coffee table with his tail, followed me up the stairs and launched himself onto the bed. It creaked and moaned beneath his weight. “Hey, that’s my side.” I slipped out of my clothes and into a worn-thin cotton t-shirt, shaking my head. Actually it was both sides. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, too, big guy.” I pulled ear plugs out of the nightstand drawer, scratched his belly and pushed my way into bed. “Snore away, Karma. Sweet dreams.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Okay, Karma, today’s the big day.” I unzipped my backpack and stuffed in bottles of water, organic raisin cookies, ten cans of Off bug spray, five packages of new t-shirts and a few packs of playing cards. A peace offering I hoped. Maybe it would help them trust me, to see that I only had Mad Dog’s—and their—best interest at heart. I slipped into the back pack, threw on my straw hat and rubbed Karma’s ears. “We’re off.”

It was a pretty good trek north, down a dead end street and into the woods. Karma jogged beside my bike the whole time, sitting to pant when I stopped to give us water and spray myself with bug spray. When we got to the edge of the woods, his demeanor shifted. His head and ears were now up. He seemed alert. It was a nice change from his moping. He took the lead down the well worn sandy path. I decided to walk my bike. Florida woods were different than Georgia woods. More leafless pine trees and overgrown palmetto bushes with loud bugs and frogs and things sent scurrying by our movement through their world.

“Ptt!” I spit. Bug. Flew. In. My. Mouth. “Ew!” I waved a hand in front of my face to discourage any more of his friends from trying it. Karma stopped and glanced back at me. I stared up at the sign above him, strung between two trees. The black and orange quintessential “NO TRESPASSING” sign along with a homemade “Pirate City- Keep Out!” Warning.

“Well, that’s not exactly a welcome mat now is it, boy?” I leaned my bike against the tree and readjusted the back pack, which I had to say was heavy and I’d be glad to unload the goodies for more than one reason. “Lead the way, Karma.”

He lumbered into the camp like a lion, his head still raised and alert, me behind him trying to get the moss off which had attached itself to my hat. When I looked up, I stopped to survey the camp.

It was a bit shocking. I mean, this wasn’t like a camp where families roast marshmallows and teach their kids how to fish. This was a community in the rawest, most heartbreaking sense. Flimsy octagons of material and strung up blue tarps that people called home? How? How in this soaring Florida heat, summer storms and blood thirsty bugs did these people survive? It was mind boggling. Also, coming from the sprawling home that I did, I felt more than a twinge of guilt.

Karma was on the move again so I followed him through the dirty sand-mulch mixture right into the heart of the camp. There, I encountered a group of men who were standing around a makeshift table of plywood and stacked milk crates. I briefly thought about Mad Dog telling me the homeless could be dangerous, but these guys—by their wide eyes and startled glances—seemed more scared of me.

“Hello,” I called out with a wave, moving toward them. “My name’s Darwin. I was a friend of Mad Dog’s.” When I got within ten feet of them I stopped. The smell was bad. A mixture of body odor and hot garbage. Well, what did I expect? Not exactly any showers or trash pickup out here. Karma pressed against my leg so I rested a hand on his back. “Y’all remember Karma? Thought I’d bring him by for a visit. See some familiar faces. He’s been in such a funk since Mad Dog left us."

A burst of laughter broke the silence and two of the men stepped forward. The younger one—with dirty blonde hair in a dreadlocked nest—crossed his arms and looked me up and down. I couldn’t help but think of a pirate. Hence the name Pirate City, maybe?

“Well, this is a first, ain’t it, Pops? Don’t think we’ve ever had a visitor before.”

“Not one we’d want anyhow.” The large, Santa Clause looking guy chuckled. “Hey, Karma.”

Karma sat down, relaxing, his tongue hanging down the side of his jowl. His eyes were still alert though.

The others started gathering in front of us.

“So, it’s true then? What they said about Mad Dog? That he got hooched up and drowned?”

I tucked my hands into the pockets of my khaki shorts and shrugged. “That’s what the police think.”

“Pshh…po-po don’t know nothing. Don’t care to know about nothing.” This came from a woman I hadn’t noticed. She now pushed her way through to stand beside Pops.

“Mind your mouth, Minnie.” A gray-haired man stepped out of a tent to our right. His skin was ruddy red and he wore only a pair of cut off jeans and flip flops. He looked at me suspiciously and then gave Karma a pat on the head. “Hey, Karma. We wondered where you’d gone off to. Got a new friend?”

“Darwin.” I offered him my hand and he shook it roughly.

“Mac.”

“Nice to meet you, Mac.” Now would probably be a good time for my peace offering. I brought my backpack around to my front and unzipped it. “Mad Dog was a friend of mine. He told me about y’all and so I thought I’d bring some things that might be useful.” I pulled out a t-shirt pack and held it out to the gathered crowd. No one moved forward. “No one?” Finally, the woman called Minnie reached out and took it with a soft “thanks.” I noticed Mac watching me closely as I passed out the rest of the contents of the backpack. I also noticed that Karma had wandered off. When my back pack was emptied, I walked around the crowd and found Karma sniffing at a red and white tent.

‘Whatcha doing, boy?”

“That there was Mad Dog’s.” Mac walked up behind me. I was beginning to guess he was sort of in charge of things in the camp. Probably the guy I needed to ask questions of then.

“You knew Mad Dog pretty well?”

“Well, it’s not like we sit down and have heart to hearts in here or nothing.” He crossed his arms and pushed his tongue into the side of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me. “What’d you want with Mad Dog, anyhow?”

“I told you. He was my friend.”

“Hm.” He stared at me for a long while. I just waited. He seemed to push his suspicion aside. “So, you’re not lookin’ for his money?”

“Money?” Was this guy kidding? Or maybe he wasn’t playing with a full deck? “No, sir. Why would I think Mad Dog had money?” That did bring back the memory of him laying the twenty down for breakfast. Did he have money? And if he did have money, did he buy the bottle of expensive rum? As I pondered this, Mac nodded.

“Well, I can tell you, I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t drinkin’.”

It was my turn to study him. I decided I believed him. Or at least I believed he believed he was telling the truth. That still didn’t mean Mad Dog didn’t fall off the wagon. Something had been going on with him. Maybe it had all got too much.

“Did you happen to know his real name?”

“Naw.” Mac pursed his lips. “Can’t say I could tell you anyone’s real name here.”

“Well, did he leave anything behind that might help me find his next of kin?”

“We have a plywood wall nailed to a couple a trees over there,” he motioned behind me. “The folks who have family to speak of, someone they want to be told when they’re gone, they write the information there. But Mad Dog, he never wrote on the wall.”

“Oh.” I watched Karma nose his way into the tent and then reappear a few moments later.

“He had a back pack that he carried with him but it wasn’t at the lake when they found him. Did he leave it here?”

Mac thought for a moment and then called over my shoulder. “Hey, G!” He waved his arm. “Come here for a sec!” He leaned over to me. “G inherited Mad Dog’s tent when he left us. Course, some of the others may have gotten into his stuff already. Hard to say.”

G wandered over with a toothless grin, holding a half-eaten raisin cookie. His skin looked more like a brown leather mask, so it was hard to guess his age. My heart lurched a little at his apparent happiness with the cookie. Such a simple thing.

“Hello, G.” I waved.

“Hey, G…you see Mad Dog’s back pack anywhere? Was it in the tent?”

“Mad Dog’s gone. Sad.” His dark eyes were swollen and clouded by a milky film. Still, even though he was obviously mentally impaired, I could see the real emotion stirring.

“Yeah, it is sad, buddy.” Mac put a hand on his shoulder, which helped him focus. “What about his back pack. You seen it?”

He lifted up his pant leg. “Socks. He left socks. And a flashlight. Oh yeah and a jacket. No back pack. Nope.” His expression morphed from thoughtful to bright as he looked up at me. “Will you bring more cookies?”

“Sure, G. I can bring more cookies. Will you keep an eye out for Mad Dog’s back pack for me?”

“Yes, nice lady.” G wandered off then, munching as best he could on the rest of the cookie. His words warmed my insides. Then I spotted a man—well, teenager really—dark, greasy hair curling out from under a red bandana; olive skin; split, swollen lip and bandage over his right cheek.

“Hey, Mac. What happened to that kid over there?” Karma came and leaned against my leg. I rested a hand on his head.

Mac eyed the kid and then his gaze fell to the ground. “No offense, Miss, but this is a world you wouldn’t understand. Violence is just part of that world.” His sudden eye contact felt like a warning. I knew he wasn’t going to offer anything more. I glanced back at the kid. Did Mad Dog and this kid get in a fight? Didn’t seem likely. The kid was tall, but gangly. No match for Mad Dog. So, was someone else beating up the homeless? And did that have anything to do with Mad Dog’s murder?

“Look,” Mac said, resting his hands on his hips. “You’re a nice girl. I suggest you go on about your life and forget about Mad Dog. Leave well enough alone.”