"And don't you forget it," she shot back from the kitchen.
Tony looked at me and I said, "She hears well too."
"I guess she does." He touched the back of his head and looked at his fingers. "At least I'm not bleeding."
"Waaah, you baby," came from the kitchen.
I yelled to her, "Yo, Fred, let's take a drive."
"Where to?"
"Coffee."
Fred poked her head out of the kitchen and said, "I'll get my shoes."
I smiled. "I'll get my dogs."
Evo cocked his head. "Coffee? We have coffee here. Why do we need more coffee?"
Sam leaned over the back of his chair and spoke quietly into his ear, "Coffee doesn't necessarily mean
coffee
to the Miller sisters.
Coffee
can mean anything from
you're in trouble now
, or
I need to talk.
Let them go. Let's you and I test that water Alfredo and Luis brought over. We can talk science for a while."
The hairs at Evo's nape stood up as her breath caressed his neck.
Oh, crap
.
That isn't the only thing standing up
. What the hell was he going to do now? He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Okay, let's test the water." Whoa, what the heck was he thinking? Testing water would mean that he'd be alone with Sam. "No, wait. We can't do that!"
She straightened. "Why ever not? Don't you want to test the water?"
Evo hoped she had no idea how much he wanted to not only test the waters, but to dive right in. "Uh yes, but no, that's not I, uh, just not now. Uh, I um." He gave her a brilliant smile, "I want ice cream. And if the Millers are going down town, why don't we tag along and get some?"
She looked skeptical. "Well, all right, if you're sure…"
"I'm sure." Public place, lots of people; he'd be safer there than he would be alone with her here. Timing was everything, and he had just begun to set the stage. He didn't want to jump her before she was ready–or before he was ready for that matter.
I wanted to talk to Fred alone, but that chance flew out the window when Evo announced that they would come too. I wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly everyone had business downtown and piled into my car. Let me qualify the term "car," it's actually a huge SUV, so the dogs and five people fit relatively easily. So it's a car, but not a car. See?
I sent the Gallegos brothers by way of an easier, but longer route to the bank. I took the shortcut and hoped to beat them downtown.
I stepped on the gas and Hillary passed some of her own. All the windows went down and Wes hung his huge furry face over Evo's shoulder. I looked in the mirror and saw Wes drip doggy slime onto Evo's shoulder. I opened my mouth to say something and I caught Sam's twinkling eyes in the mirror. She held a finger to her lips, and I held my tongue.
The bank sat on a corner a couple of blocks away from Sal's Diner, otherwise known as "Gossip Central." Actually, Sal's Diner is a couple of blocks away from anything in town. Anything about anyone at any time can be heard at Sal's. That's because everyone in town (and those passing through) stop in at Sal's for the best food and gossip this side of the Mississippi–probably the other side too, but I've yet to conquer the Wild West.
I slowed down outside the bank entrance. I saw the new Jeep pull around the corner on the opposite side of the road and park. Luis and Alfredo were so excited they tumbled out of the car and immediately crossed the street. At that moment a red Cooper came squealing and accelerating around the opposite corner on two wheels and headed directly for the Gallegos brothers.
"Oh, my God," I yelled.
In that instance I saw a blur off to my left. I hit the brakes just in time to avoid Mrs. Simmons' cat, Crapper, who at the moment was fleeing from a bat-wielding and livid Mel Brooster. "You damn crapper! He screamed at the cat as they both charged into the intersection.
"Oops," Fred chirped as she flopped back onto the seat, "The 'Creeping Crapper' must have laid a bomb on Mel's brand new patio furniture."
Luis and Alfredo stopped in the middle of the road to view the spectacle, and the Cooper picked up speed. I laid on the horn. Jumping out of the car I only had time to yell, "
Look Out,
" before Luis and Alfredo noticed the Cooper bearing down on them only a half a block away.
Luis and Alfredo dove for the curb as the cat streaked past them heading in the opposite direction. It ran right into the path of the speeding Cooper. The cat zigged when it should have zagged and launched itself into the air toward our side of the street. The Cooper didn't recover fast enough and I heard a loud
thunk
when car met cat. Crapper bounced off the front bumper and sailed through the air in our direction.
Mrs. Simmons flew out of Peabody's hedgerow like Bubba Smith on a pass play and yelled, "I got him!" As she screened left, her plump little legs pumped mightily and her arms stretched out to catch the cat.
Crapper came in for a landing about three feet in front of Mrs. Simmons and I mentally drew a line through another myth of the animal kingdom. Cats definitely do
not
always land on their feet.
The driver of the Cooper must have been startled when he popped the cat, because he skidded out of control and I instantly saw another disaster in the making. A man wearing a winter face mask darted into the street and had that "deer-in-the-headlights" look as he dropped his Nike duffel bag at his feet. The outside alarms on the bank added to the cacophony of us screaming, dogs barking, and sirens blaring.
In slow motion, we watched as the driver of the Cooper wildly spun the wheel trying to avoid the guy in the street. The guy took a step and remembered his gym bag. He turned to pick it up and the Cooper blasted him into the air. He rocketed over the back of the Cooper and landed with a sickening thud on the street. The Cooper slowed and jumped the far curb, stuttering to a stop against a tree. Moe the Deputy slid sideways to a stop in the intersection, burst out of the squad, weapon drawn, and ran toward the guy with the duffel bag, who lie frighteningly still in the street.
"Pooh." Mrs. Simmons exclaimed as she knelt to examine the cat's inert form.
Startled out of our stupor, Fred and I looked at each other and said, "Poo? As in poo-poo?"
Mrs. Simmons knelt beside the cat. "As in Pooh Bear, but because of his, uh, little quirk , I thought "Poo" rather apropos. Don't you?" She looked up at us through watery eyes.
Fred quipped, "Apro-
pooh
, you mean.
Hah
, I kill myself."
"Shut up Fred or I'll do it for you."
But Fred was on a roll. "As in curiosity killed the, uh, you know. Only, this was 'Cooperosity' killed the Crap."
"Not funny, Fred Miller," Mrs. Simmons said.
Fred and Mr. Brooster chuckled while Evo and Sam just stared at all three of us.
"Is it d-dead?" Luis and his brother came puffing over to my car.
Mr. Brooster nudged Pooh with his baseball bat. "As a doornail, I'd say, and good riddance!"
The voice of reason broke in on the conversation. I said, "Hey guys, what about the dead looking guy in the street?" Most of us turned to where the guy with the duffel bag was being attended to by EMS personnel.
"When did they get here?" I took in the whole scene.
"Do they work on cats, do you think?" Mrs. Simmons sounded hopeful.
The abandoned duffel bag looked ragged and forgotten with the zipper open and the tire track cleaving through the middle. Money hung out of the hole in the bag, and I realized the Cooper had foiled a would-be bank robbery.
Sam stepped up to a stricken Mrs. Simmons and put an arm around her slumped shoulders. She looked down her nose at Mr. Brooster. "Sir, saying 'good riddance' is an unkind and insensitive thing to say about this lady's cat!"
Brooster opened his mouth to point out Fred's tasteless jokes, but Mrs. Simmons patted Sam's hand. "No, it wasn't. He's right. Everyone hated that cat. He wasn't even really mine. I think he hung out at my house because I'm the only one in town who hasn't tried to murder him at one time or another." She sighed heavily and looked around at the gathering crowd.
I admitted, "She's right, Sam. I know I tried to off him once or twice myself. I even tried to convince Wesley to sit on him one time, but don't you guys think we should maybe check on the guy lying in the street?"
Fred acted as if she didn't even hear me. "Yep, I'm guilty too. He crapped on my patio furniture more than once. I turned the garden hose on him and half drowned him one time."
Mrs. Simmons looked up at Fred. "The man in the street crapped on your patio too?"
"No, no! The cat. I was talking about the cat." A murmur went through the small crowd. Like Saturday night confessions, the people in the crowd admitted how much they hated Crapper the cat, and shared the various methods they used to attempt to rid the world of his crapping ways.
Stanley Thorpe said, "Yep that damn cat cost me a new lounger, a-hundred-thirty-seven dollar ticket, and a night in jail because I tried loading his ass full of buckshot within city limits."
I yelled in my best outside voice, "People, the cat is dead! Should we try to see if that guy the Cooper ran over suffered the same fate?"
"Yeah, and who was it that shot off the end of his tail?" I tried to single out the voice in the crowd, but couldn't.
"Someone shot the dead guy in the ass?"
"No, you idiot! The cat! Crapper the cat got his ass plugged by Stan Thorpe."
Someone else yelled, "No, no, no. It wasn't Stan; Mary Cromwell shot off the cat's tail. I was there and saw the whole thing. Sheriff Green took away her gun."
Stan took off his ball cap. "I'm going to kind-of miss that damn cat."
Sounds of sympathy rippled through the crowd, and I almost smiled because I knew the disappointment wasn't because the cat croaked, it was because they no longer had a common enemy. I figured it was okay though, being a small town, they'd find someone else to hate before long.
Evo brought an empty box from the back of my car to Mrs. Simmons, and placed her cat inside.
I spotted our medical examiner coming out of the bank and waved. Shouts of, "Hey, Malcolm! We got you a customer over here," came from Stew Brenner and his big dumb brother, Lou.
Malcolm immediately changed course and hustled over to where we stood. Mrs. Simmons held out the box and said, "Crapper got croaked, Malcolm. Could you take care of him for me?"
"Uh…well…Uh, I don't usually do cats, Elda. I'm here to look at an, um, accident victim." He consulted his ever-present clipboard. "Car versus man, not car versus cat. Maybe we should call Mike Dudley. He would be the one–"
"No, no. It has to be you, Malcolm." Mrs. Simmons began to sob.
I, of course interfered once again. Pulling Malcolm aside, I spoke softly. "C'mon, Mal, you're her brother. Do the brotherly thing and take the damn cat. Stick him in the cooler and call her later. I'm sure she'll figure out what she wants to do by then. Ivan and the paramedics are still loading the body into the meat wagon over there."
The crowd backed me up and Malcolm, clearly under duress, and blushing a bright pink, snatched the box containing the dead cat and stomped off to his car. The crowd sighed and began to break up, heading toward the ambulance.
I watched as Deputies Larry and Curly took pictures of the spot where the Cooper hit the guy, and Shemp headed toward the tree where the Cooper still rested.
The Cooper! I grabbed Luis' arm. "Luis, I think that car was headed right at you guys. It looked like it was going to mow you down until it swerved and hit the cat; and well, that dead guy with the duffel bag."
"Dead guy?" The word drifted through the crowd.
Alfredo tugged on Luis's sleeve. "Hey, my brother, did that not look like the car our new friends, Mark and Tom drive? It was small and had a stripe just like that."
"Yes it did. Maybe they were trying to say hello and did not realize they were traveling so fast." Luis stopped and his eyes popped open wide. "That is it! They swerved to avoid hitting us and instead ran over the cat, and uh, well, that guy over there. I wonder where they are now."
"Oh, they probably feel very bad about the cat and, uh, that guy over there, and will be by in a minute." Alfredo tried to see over Evo's shoulder. "We should wait for them."
"Wait! I see their car by the tree. Maybe they're hurt. Let's go check on them."
I didn't want to scare them, but I also didn't want them standing on the street like sitting ducks. "Uh, why don't you run over to the bank before it closes and cash your check? We can check on your friends for you. Then we can all meet at Sal's for coffee and you can tell us how you met up with your new friends."
The Gallegos brothers brightened. "Okay," they said and once again trotted off toward the bank.
I spun back to Fred, Sam, and Evo. "That car was bent on mowing down your boys. I'd bet money on it, Evo. What's up with that?"
"How should I know? The only place they've been without me is Great Ameri–"
"
The car bomb
," we all said at once.