The Cat Sitter's Whiskers (18 page)

At the stop sign, I turned right on Calle Florida and took it all the way to Beach Road. Then I headed north along the coast to my next client. Just as I passed the turnoff to Ocean Boulevard, my phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my seat. I didn't even look at the caller ID before I answered it.

“Mrs. Keller?”

“No, this is Wilfred Paxton. I'm calling for Miss Hemingway.”

He sounded younger than what I would have imagined for a man named Wilfred, and there was a slight British clip to his voice.

I said, “I'm so sorry, yes. Mrs. Keller told me you might call.”

“Yes, brilliant. I believe she asked you to meet me at the gallery?”

“She did, and I'll be there at three.”

“Yes, that's why I called. I'm afraid my flight was canceled and I had to take a plane to Miami. I'm waiting for the connecting flight to Sarasota now.”

I pulled over to the side of the road in front of Beach Palms, a tiny bungalow hotel that faces the ocean. In Florida, it's perfectly legal to talk on the phone while you drive, but I'd recently been rear-ended by a young woman who was too busy talking on her phone to be bothered with watching the road. Other than a cut on my lip and some tears, we were both fine, but I interpreted it as a subtle warning from the powers above. Ever since then I've tried to be a little more careful.

I said, “Not a problem at all. I didn't realize you don't live here.”

“I do. I'm just returning from a buying trip in the Andes. My plane arrives this afternoon, and I should be at the gallery no later than five.”

I said, “It's Pineapple Avenue, right?”

“Yes. 3535 Pineapple, just down the street from the Opera House. It's a hideous pink building. You can't miss it.” There was a moment of silence, and then he said, “Miss Hemingway, does anyone know you're meeting me today?”

I blinked. “Well, Mrs. Keller knows, of course, but other than that I don't think so. Why?”

“I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, just … the item you're bringing, it's quite valuable.”

“Don't worry, Mr. Paxton, it's safe with me.” I started to ask him what the yellow powder was in that clay jar, but I decided for now it would be better not to confess that I had opened it. Instead, I said, “I promise I won't let it out of my sight.”

“Very good. I'll see you then.”

I dropped the phone back down in its cup holder and rested both my hands on the steering wheel. Right in front of the Bronco was a squat palm tree, and there was a small red-crested woodpecker making her way around its fat trunk, hunting for insects. To my left, on the other side of Beach Road, was an open field of sand, filled with sea oats, pencil trees, wild yucca, and patches of prickly pear leading all the way down to the beach, and to my right was the little white picket fence that surrounds the Beach Palms' back patio. There were four blue-and-white-striped lounge chairs lined up in a row, and I considered getting out of the Bronco, hopping the fence, and stretching out in one of them for the rest of the day. I thought if anyone asked what I was doing there, I'd smile pleasantly and order a Corona with a wedge of lime.

I looked down at Mrs. Keller's package on the seat next to me and sighed. There'd been something in Mr. Paxton's voice, a nervousness perhaps, that I didn't like one bit, and I was beginning to wonder what the hell I'd gotten myself involved in. There are all kinds of powders in this world, powders that aren't necessarily valuable because they're rare or ancient or may have come from Cleopatra's makeup kit, but because they can be produced with relative ease and sold to users and dealers for outrageous amounts of money.

Not that I thought for one second that Mrs. Keller's new hobby was dealing in illicit drugs, but it did make me wonder if she herself had the slightest idea what in God's name was inside that jar.

 

22

As soon as I walked into the Village Diner and saw the look in Tanisha's eyes, I should have known something wasn't right. She was in the kitchen, her big round face framed in the order window, and when I waved to her, instead of waving back and winking like she normally does, she shook her head slowly and frowned.

There was an elderly couple in front of me, standing by the cash register waiting to pay for their breakfast and holding hands. The man was tall and good-looking, his silver hair neatly combed over to one side to cover his bald spot, and the woman was wearing a baby-blue poodle skirt with two pink appliqu
é
d flamingos at the hemline on either side. Her shoulder-length gray hair was held up in the back with a matching pink hair clasp, and I muttered a silent prayer that when I was her age I looked half as fabulous as she did.

Just then Tanisha came through the swinging door of the kitchen, holding both hands up and massaging the air in front of her like she was trying to soothe a rabid dog. She's built like a linebacker, almost as wide as she is tall, and the elderly couple in front of me practically flung themselves into the aisle to let her through.

She said, “Now, Dixie, don't be mad, but I got somethin' to tell you.”

“Oh, no. Please don't tell me you're out of biscuits…”

“No, nothin' like that. In fact, before you say another word I want you to know I got two big fat cheese biscuits warmin' in the oven especially for you.”

Tanisha is a kitchen genius. Usually by the time I slide into my booth she's already got my breakfast started, and without even asking she makes my bacon exactly the way I like it—practically burnt to a crisp with no yucky white spots on it—but the way she was acting made me think she was worried about something more important than my breakfast.

I said, “Tanisha, why do you look so upset?”

She glanced up and down the counter and then lowered her voice. “Okay, you and I both know I got a big mouth, right?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don't know where you're going with this, but for now let's say I don't disagree.”

“It's just that poor child is so bad off, and I can't stand to see her suffer any more than she already has.”

My arms went limp at my sides. “Tanisha, what the hell are you talking about?”

With a sigh she closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly toward the back of the diner. There, in the last corner booth normally reserved for me, was Sasquatch.

“Tanisha…”

“I know, Dixie, I'm real sorry. It's all my fault.”

“What is she doing here?”

“Well, you know she lives right up the street from me, and all this business with her man gettin' killed and all, well those cops told her you and me is friends, and that's how you knew where to find Levi yesterday because I told you where he lives. Or lived…”

“Oh, no…”

“Oh, yes, and so she comes over last night, she's terrible upset, and she told me how she was so mean to you and says she wants to apologize, and then the next thing I know I tell her you're here every morning and now she shows up out of the blue wantin' to talk to you!”

As discreetly as possible, I glanced again toward the back. Mona was sitting perfectly still, her shoulders pressed squarely against the back of the booth. I couldn't quite tell if she was watching us, or if she was completely lost inside herself.

I pivoted around so my back was to Mona and said, “Tanisha, you don't understand. This is not good.”

“I know, I know. I was just as surprised as you when she came through that door, but what could I do? I can't tell the poor thing to go home.”

“Look, I'll explain it later, but I think you better call the police.”

She took a step back. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Tanisha, what happened to Levi yesterday…”

I couldn't quite figure out how to tell her what I was thinking, but I didn't need to. I saw it register in her eyes.

“No.”

I nodded. “It's possible.”

She looked as if she might burst into tears. “Oh, Dixie, are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?”

“I could be wrong, but it's possible she's dangerous, so we need to stay as calm as possible. I'll go talk to her, but I want you to walk back to the kitchen like nothing's wrong and call 911 right away.”

She whispered, “Now, hold on a minute. What if she tries to hurt you?”

I tried to sound as confident as possible. “No, if she wanted to do something crazy she wouldn't have come here. But we shouldn't take any chances. Just go on.”

She closed her eyes. “Oh, Lord. I knew I should've stayed in bed this morning.”

“You and me both. And by the way, you owe me for this. I'll expect a couple of those cheese biscuits every morning from now on.”

“Girl, unless you plan on windin' up fat as me you better think of some other options.”

She hustled back to the kitchen while I took a deep breath and thought,
Well, this should be interesting.

For some fool reason, I grabbed the morning newspaper off the end of the counter as I went by. I needed something to do with my hands. When I folded it under my arm I felt a quick jab of pain in the center of my chest, as if someone had poked me with the tip of their index finger, and then I figured out what it was: the
Herald-Tribune
had already found a replacement for Levi.

Sasquatch was sitting with her arms in her lap and her eyes fixed on the back of the head of the man in the next booth. Her gaze didn't waver, even as I came to a stop at the table. Anybody else would have looked up, but she didn't. Her jaw was set like a vise.

I said, “Umm…”

Without looking up, she said “I'm Mona Duffy. We met before.”

She was wearing tight black leggings and a large blouse buttoned up to the neck. It was white, with pink and red dots in crisscrossing lines forming a faded plaid pattern, and I noticed the dots were actually tiny cartoon strawberries. Her dyed magenta hair was messed and flattened on one side, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

She extended her hand. “Tanisha told me I could find you here.”

For once in my life I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just shook her hand limply and nodded. There was a purple canvas handbag on the bench next to her, with black fringe along the seams, and I noticed it was propped open. The shoulder strap was gathered into a neat coil next to it.

She said, “I need to talk to you.”

I laid the newspaper down on the bench and slid in next to it, glancing at the headline on the front page. It read: “Ringling Circus to Hold Local Clown Auditions!” in big bold letters, and for a few blissful nanoseconds I wondered what my chances were. I glanced around the diner looking for Judy, but luckily she was already headed to the table with a pot of coffee and two menus.

My eyes met Mona's, and for a few surreal seconds I think we both realized how strange it was to be sitting across the table from one another, especially considering how we'd met. Emotions were moving across her face like storms across a continent—fear, grief, anger—and I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd been up all night crying.

I said, “Mona, I can't tell you how sorry I am about Levi.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, really?”

Before I could react, Judy interrupted, her voice bright and cheerful. “Coffee?”

I nodded as she laid the menus on the table and flashed us a big toothy smile, as if everything in the world was completely hunky-dory. She filled Mona's cup first and then mine.

“You ladies know what you want or do you need some time to think?”

I said, “Maybe just a few minutes, thanks.”

Judy nodded pleasantly, but as she turned to leave I could tell she was watching me out of the corner of her eye. As soon as she was out of hearing range, I said, “Look, I know we didn't get off to a very good start, and I don't blame you for being suspicious, but you have to trust me. I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Levi.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Then what were you doing there?”

“I told you. I was just checking on him.”

“Why? What did he tell you?”

I could hear a note of desperation in her voice, and it occurred to me that she wasn't here for revenge or a confrontation or anything like that. Just like me, she was looking for answers.

I said, “He didn't say anything. I didn't even talk to him that morning. I was just worried something was wrong.”

A blush of scarlet appeared on her neck. “I don't get it. What do you care?”

“Well, I've known Levi for a long time. We went to high school together, and—”

Her lips curled, “Oh, I get it.”

“No, it's nothing like that. We were just friends, and we weren't even that close.”

“Then how'd you know something was wrong?”

I sighed. “That morning, I was at a client's house and somebody attacked me, at least I thought they did, and I was worried Levi might have seen something. I was worried that whoever attacked me might have followed him home, and…”

Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes and her lips began to quiver.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I know how hard this must be…”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “You don't know.”

I took a breath. “I do. I was married once … I know what it's like to lose someone you love.”

She shook her head and her voice dropped to a whisper. “It ain't like that … and anyway, it don't matter now…”

She put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands just as Judy went past the booth to the back corner. There was a wooden high chair and a couple of folding trays leaned up against the wall, and as she clattered the trays around pretending to organize them, she caught my eye and mouthed,
You okay?

I gave her a quick nod and said, “Judy, can you do me a favor and tell Tanisha I said never mind?”