The Cat Sitter's Whiskers (29 page)

“Dixie, I have no idea what … I mean, I don't know why…”

I nodded. “I can explain everything later.”

She sighed. “Okay, where are you now?”

“I'm in my car, a few miles south of Happy Time.”

“Where specifically?”

I looked out the window at the sign over the store in front of me. “I'm in the parking lot of Henderson's Liquors.”

“Okay, I want you to stay where you are. I'm sending a deputy straight there. I don't want you on the road alone, do you understand?”

I nodded. “Okay. I'll wait here.”

She hung up, and I dropped the phone down in the cup holder and took a deep breath. There was a steady stream of cars rolling by, and it suddenly occurred to me that if Fiori and his henchman came back anytime soon and discovered Daniela had let me go, they'd probably be cruising up and down this very road searching for me.

I started up the car and drove around behind the liquor store, where I pulled in next to a line of old metal garbage cans. Just then, my phone rang. The caller ID read
Sara Mem Ho
, and if I'd been thinking clearly I would have let it go to voice mail, but instead I flipped it open and said, “Yeah?”

The voice on the line said, “Uh, Dixie? This is Dr. Dunlop at Sarasota Memorial Hospital.”

I said, “Oh, Dr. Dunlop, I'm sort of in the middle of something, is it urgent?”

He said, “To be honest, yes. It's about Mona. I thought you should probably know.”

I frowned. “Know … what?”

He said, “I examined her yesterday, and … there's a problem.”

“Yeah, Dr. Dunlop, I should have warned you. She's a bit unhinged. I was hoping maybe you'd be able to refer her to a psychologist or something?”

“I already have. She's seeing an associate of mine today, but the reason I'm calling is … I don't know if you're aware of the cigarette burns.”

“I am. That's why I sent her to you, and I was worried about infection.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay, yeah. I mean, I'm not so worried about infection at this point … I'm more worried about her situation at home.”

I said, “Oh, gosh. I know it's a little hard to believe, but she's actually doing that to herself.”

He said, “No.”

I blinked. “Yes.”

“No. Those burns are not self-inflicted. That's why I'm calling. They're not just on her chest, but across her back as well.”

“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Maybe she's reaching around with—”

He stopped me. “No. That's what she said, too … but the burns on her back, they're not random. They're arranged in letters. Dixie, I think the police need to be notified. They spell out a name.”

I was staring at the line of garbage cans along the back of the liquor store, and the lid on the can closest to me was slightly ajar. Just then, almost as if on cue, something moved, and then a brown rat poked its little head out from under the lid and blinked in the bright sunlight.

I closed my eyes and said, “Dr. Dunlop. What name?”

He said, “Levi.”

 

34

As I drove down the main drag of Grand Pelican Commons and made my way slowly toward Mona's trailer, the sun was already spilling long shadows across the road to the east, so I pulled the sun visor over to the left to shade my eyes.

The street was empty except for a few cars parked here and there, and at the end of the road, just beyond Mona's place, the police tape was still strung up blocking the road to Levi's trailer, but the deputy who had been on guard there the past few days was gone.

Mona's car wasn't in front, and I couldn't see signs of Ricky anywhere except for his pogo stick lying in the lush grass just outside the porch. I noticed it had little red reflective streamers hanging from the handlebars.

Just as I started up the steps to the porch, I had the strangest feeling I was being watched. I looked up to find a great white heron, easily three feet tall, balanced on one spindly leg at the edge of the roof, with his long sharp beak turned to the right, glaring down at me with one hypnotic yellow eye. I got the impression he was trying to tell me to turn around and go home, and then, as if to make his point a little clearer, he turned his beak to the left and glared at me with his other eye.

I opened the screen door and knocked lightly, but there was no answer. I knew it was crazy, but at this point I didn't care. I needed to talk to her. I turned the handle and the door opened with a whisper, and as I closed it behind me, I said, “Mona?”

There was no answer.

I looked around the living room. None of the lamps were on, just the late afternoon light filtering through the windows. The snowmen were all lined up on the sofa watching me silently, and all the tinsel and glass ornaments were perfectly still.

I tiptoed into the kitchen, but there was no one there, and then I moved down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible. Mona hadn't yet cleaned up the mud stains off the carpet, and as I made my way to Mrs. Duffy's bedroom I tried not to step on any of them. The door was standing open, and in the dim light inside I could see she was sitting propped up against her pillows, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly agape.

I stepped around to the side of the bed and looked down at her.

Her long white hair appeared to have been recently combed. It fell perfectly straight across her frail shoulders and came to rest at her hands, which were folded together in her lap. The bones of her fingers were almost visible, as if they had been enveloped in a translucent layer of parchment.

I thought about the story she'd told me, how she'd taken that doll to Mona on Christmas morning. I thought about how hard it must have been for her … to report her own daughter to child welfare … to know she'd brought a child into the world who was capable of such unspeakable abuse.

I could only think that if I'd been in her shoes, I'd have done anything I could to make sure Mona never went through that kind of pain again.
Anything.
I glanced at the closet door next to the bed, and my mind went back to that morning in the diner when Mona had asked for my help. She'd told me all about her grandmother's illness, and how she was getting worse and didn't have much longer to live, and how she could barely get out of bed now, and how, when she did, she needed a walker.

I thought about that morning I found Levi, when I was sitting on his front steps and Mona was passed out in front of me. I had my arm locked in place to keep her from falling down, and I looked up to see that group of children. They'd been playing in the street, but after the ambulance arrived they stood in a quiet huddle at the end of the road, watching. Just beyond them was Ricky, Mona's little boy. He was standing on his tiptoes, straining to see, as if he couldn't go farther, as if he wasn't allowed beyond the edge of his own front yard.

And then I knew … Ricky hadn't played with his pogo stick inside the house.

I turned to look at Mrs. Duffy. My hand rose to my mouth as if it had a mind of its own. Her gaunt face became clearer and clearer, and everything around her blended into the background. It was then that I realized her eyes were open, and she was watching me.

She whispered, “Hello, child.”

I said, “Mrs. Duffy, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.”

She smiled slightly. “You can't disturb me.”

“I was just … I mean, I came by to see Mona, but…”

“She ain't here. She went to talk to a doctor, somebody that can help her. I guess we got you to thank for that.”

I said, “Oh, good. I'm glad. She needs help, but then … I guess you already knew that.”

The smile faded from her lips, and then finally she nodded.

I said, “Mrs. Duffy … Ricky's not allowed to leave the front yard, is he?”

Her eyes turned steely, and for a moment we just stared at each other.

I said, “I'm just asking because he seems like such a good boy, and I don't know how he managed to track all this dirt through the house … when your lawn is so perfect.”

Mrs. Duffy looked down at her hands and stared at them for a long time. When she finally spoke, her breathing was labored, as if every word was an effort.

She said, “The closer I come to leavin' this world, the more I think about my daughter, and the more I wonder. I think what kind of person she was … how she could lock up her own child, her own flesh and blood. Lock her up in a cage. Starve her. Beat her. I try to think what I done wrong … to make her like that.”

Tears began streaming down her cheeks.

She said, “God tried to tell me. He gave me this cross to bear … this sickness. He wanted to warn me, to show me I was no good, and that I shouldn't have no children to carry my bloodline on. But I was too proud … I wouldn't listen. That's why I know I'm goin' to hell, and I know one day I'll see my daughter there, too. But Mona … Mona's different. She's a good girl. She deserves a good life.”

Her voice had fallen to barely a whisper, and I found myself holding my breath and leaning in toward her. I said, “Mrs. Duffy … when did you know?”

She frowned slightly and turned to me.

“When did you know what Levi was doing to her?”

She took a long breath, and I thought I heard a distant rattling in her chest.
“She come out of the shower. I washed her robe and folded it up with some of her things, and it was there on the dresser. She thought I was asleep, and she come in to get it. That's when I saw … that's when I saw that boy's name … but I didn't say nothin'.”

Her voice trailed away. She looked down and stared at her hands, and for a moment I had the strangest feeling that time had come to a stop. It was almost as if I could see myself in her, and it made me think of my own little girl, and how I was never given the chance to save her. Then something else flashed in my mind … it was an image of myself as a little girl, outside Mrs. White's history class with Levi, my eyes wide open as he kissed me.

He didn't even ask. He just took it.

Mrs. Duffy whispered, “I'm tired now. It pulled out all the strength I got left.” She closed her eyes. “You go do what you gotta do.”

I nodded silently, resisting the urge to touch the top of her hands with mine. Instead, I reached out and carefully slid the door of her closet open. There, inside, was an aluminum walker, folded flat and leaning against a stack of shoe boxes next to an old vinyl suitcase.

The plastic handles of the walker were worn and stained with use, and as my eyes followed the curving metal down to the carpet, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Each of the walker's four legs were capped with a white rubber tip, and there was a ring of mud crusted around their edges. It was the same dark clay color as the spots of mud leading around the bed and down the hall … the same color, in fact, as the dirt road to Levi's trailer.

Without looking back at Mrs. Duffy, I slid the door closed as quietly as possible, and then walked down the hall and out the front door.

*   *   *

The sky had turned a pale orange, like the creamy glow of a frozen dreamsicle, and the great white heron that had greeted me from the roof had flown down to the yard. He was standing perfectly still now, one leg planted firmly, the other poised in the air, scanning the lush grass for earthworms and grasshoppers.

I had been sitting in the car outside Mona's trailer for who knows how long when my phone rang. It was Detective McKenzie. I let it ring a few more times while I considered letting it go to voice mail, but right at the last moment I flipped it open.

She said, “Dixie. I have a deputy in the parking lot at Henderson's Liquors. He says you're not there.”

I said, “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I couldn't wait.”

“Okay. Where are you?”

I thought for a moment. “I'm at the beach.”

“You're at the beach…”

“Yeah,” I lied. “I just … I felt like everything was closing in on me. I just needed something … something big to look at it.”

There was a moment of silence, and then she said, “Okay, I understand. I just wanted you to know, Mr. Fiori and another gentleman were caught lurking outside your house by a team of SIB agents. They've been arrested for the murder of Levi Radcliff.”

I held my breath.

“Also, I'm at Happy Time Self Storage now, and just as you said, it was indeed Wilfred Paxton in the duffel bag, but you were wrong about one thing. He was indeed shot. He was also gagged, and his arms and legs were wrapped in duct tape, but he wasn't dead. In fact, he's very much alive, thanks to you. We got him to the hospital just in time, and on the way there he confessed to being connected to a worldwide ring of stolen antiquities dealers.”

My jaw fell wide open. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I'm not. He told us a very interesting story about Mr. Fiori, the man who kidnapped you. At his direction, that figurine you saw was stolen from a church in a remote village in the mountains of Peru, but the man he paid to steal it decided to sell it himself, and Mr. Fiori has been after it ever since. Paxton was helping him, as was his assistant, Daniela, who not surprisingly has disappeared.”

I nodded, imagining Daniela returning Pachamama to her true home in Peru, and I imagined all of Pachamama's worshippers gathered around her, crossing themselves and bowing in prayer.

McKenzie said, “Hello?”

“Sorry, I'm here—I'm just trying to process everything.”

“Dixie, do you think you'd be able to identify the two men that kidnapped you?”

I gulped, knowing exactly what she was going to ask next. “Yeah, I can identify them. Where do you want me?”

“Let's meet at my office. I should be there within the next twenty minutes. All right?”

“Yes, of course.”