Dixie Diva Blues (38 page)

“Yes, last night. Dr. Coltrane already has it.” Even though I crossed my fingers, it wasn’t a lie. Kit had indeed taken custody of the kitten. “He said it’s pretty healthy.”

“Oh how wonderful! I’m sure he’ll get it fixed right up. Holly Springs is so lucky to have him as one of our vets. He’s very conscientious.”

Mr. Conscientious chose that particular moment to arrive at my bedroom door with a wicker tray. I smelled coffee and bacon. Both of those particular fragrances always have a powerful effect on me. I think my body is hardwired to respond immediately with a chain reaction of events: I drool. My stomach growls. My muscles begin to contract in spasms. If necessary, I will crawl over hot rocks to get to the source of those delicious scents.

This time, all I had to do was sit up in bed and the food would come to me. It’d have been perfect if my mother wasn’t still on the phone.

“Trinket,” she called into the phone, sounding far, far away, “are you still there?”

“Um hm,” I said soggily. It’s sometimes difficult to talk when you’re drooling. “I have to go, Mama. I’ll call you back later.” I sounded like the cartoon Sylvester the Cat. He spits when he talks, too.

“Oh. Well . . . get those phone repairmen out there as soon as possible, dear.”

We exchanged
I love yous
and hung up, and I still had the cell phone in my hand when Kit carefully placed the wicker tray on my lap and turned on my bedside lamp. There was a mug of coffee with tiny wisps of steam rising like the Folgers commercials. Four crisp brown strips of bacon edged a small plate, and perfectly browned toast with butter and jam took up the rest of it. A small jelly glass held several flowers obviously picked from Mama’s perennial beds. I sighed in pleasure.

“I made myself at home,” said Kit, who looked even more scrumptious than my breakfast with his tousled dark brown hair, dark eyes, and heart-stopping smile. “You’re out of eggs.”

“That’s all right. I’m a light eater,” I lied.

He laughed. He knows better. When he leaned forward, I hoped I didn’t have morning breath, but he just brushed his lips over my forehead and said he had to leave.

“Sorry I can’t stay to share breakfast with you, but I got an early call. You’ll be okay. I called to make sure the police are monitoring your house.”

“They are?”

“Well, they are now.” He grinned again. “For right now, you’ve got a twenty-four hour guard detail assigned to you.”

“How Princess Di. I suppose I should be comforted, but I’d hate to think some poor guy is sitting out in his patrol car waiting on me to be murdered.”

“Better than you being murdered. Be careful. I’ll see you later today, I hope, if you have time.”

I nodded. “My schedule just happens to be free.”

Kit walked to my bedroom door, turned and said, “I’m taking the kitten with me. He should be ready by the time your mother gets home in a few days. I’m sure she’s already called about it.”

“Ah, you have our family secrets figured out. My parents are fanatical feline fanciers.”

“It’s their daughter who interests me most,” he said, and leered at me, then laughed as he shut my bedroom door. I heard his steps on the stairs, and after a moment or two, the back door shut as he left. I smiled. What a lovely way to start the day. Not even my parents’ predawn call could tarnish the moment. You’d think that Colorado being an hour earlier than Mississippi would have encouraged them to sleep in, but I guess that fifty years of rising at five in the morning leaves a lasting impression.

I only had one strip of bacon left when Brownie suddenly reappeared at the side of my bed. I had no idea how he’d gotten back in, unless he’d come up with Kit when he brought my tray. Sneaky little dog, to hide under my bed until the very last bite. Big brown eyes looked soulfully up at me, and he lifted one paw and shivered pitifully. I think my mother let him watch Shrek II. He has the Puss in Boots “big-eyed waif” role down pat.

“Here, you wretched little fraud,” I said, and fed him half the slice of bacon. “If you throw it back up, don’t blame me. And for heaven’s sake, don’t do it inside.”

Brownie crunched happily. At least I didn’t have to worry about him leaving any crumbs on my bedside rug. He never leaves crumbs of anything he really likes.

By the time I showered, made my bed, tidied up the rest of Kit’s breakfast-making mess—he’s surprisingly neat—and got ready to trek the couple hundred yards to the barn, Brownie had thrown up the bacon onto the kitchen floor. At least he had the grace to miss the living room rug. I didn’t really scold him. After all, he can’t help it that he thinks he has the iron stomach of a goat when he really has the sensitive stomach of a dog that’s ruined his digestive system with metal and jewelry.

As my uncle used to say, “Those who will not learn must suffer.” Or was it my aunt who said that? And it might have been, “Those who will not listen must suffer.” Hm. Well, both applied to Brownie. And to other people I know, including myself.

After I cleaned the kitchen floor, I went out to the barn where the furry flocks waited impatiently for their breakfast. Since they’re more used to my parents than to me, and I’d like to keep it that way, few of them wanted to be petted. They were just there for food, thank you very much, and don’t try to touch or events will go quickly downhill. I’m growing accustomed to cat language. I can feed, wash out bowls, give clean water, and check the cubbies to be sure no sick cats are in hiding in record time now. Sick cats are another thing altogether. Thankfully, most of these feral cats are pretty healthy.

So, my good deeds for the day done, I went back to the house to wash up and change into clean shoes. Then I called Bitty. She answered on the first ring.

“Is that you, Trinket?”

“How did you guess,” I said dryly, “Caller ID?”

“Aren’t you clever. Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m still learning your number. It’s wonderful that you’ve finally stepped into the twenty-first century. For a while, I thought I’d end up having to get a time machine to be able to talk to you.”

“Aren’t you cute,” I said. “I’m glad I called.”

“So am I. It occurred to me last night that you probably needed someone to stay with you out there. I forgot Aunt Anna and Uncle Eddie are out of town. Were you okay?”

There was no way I was going to say one word about Kit staying over. Not even a hint. I’d never live it down if I did. Giving Bitty that kind of information would be like selling military secrets to the Taliban—dangerous with long-lasting consequences.

“I was just fine,” I said truthfully. “Where are you?”

“Oh, getting my nails done. It’s taking forever because they were so torn up. TJ is great, though. She’s so professional, not at all like my last manicurist.”

TJ is manicurist DJ’s replacement. Aside from the similarity in names, there is no resemblance between the two. DJ turned out to be a huge disappointment, so I hope that TJ plans to stay a while.

I looked at the kitchen clock on the wall. Nine AM. Bitty had certainly wanted to repair the damage done her nails, or she wouldn’t be up and out at this hour. Lately she seemed to be stretching her horizons. That could be unsettling.

“Are you pugless?” I asked.

“No, why?”

“I just thought I’d see if you want to meet at Budgie’s when you’re through getting your claws sharpened.”

“Oh, I can always take Chen Ling to Jackson Lee since his office is right around the corner. He loves to have her visit.”

I bet. Jackson Lee is no fool. He’ll say anything he thinks Bitty wants to hear.

“Okay. I’ll get us a small table at the window so we can keep an eye out for any suspicious looking characters.”

“Honey, that’s all of Miss’sippi,” Bitty drawled, and I had to laugh. She’s right.

“That’s why I love it here. I feel right at home,” I said.

When we hung up, I looked down at Brownie. He looked back at me with his eyes full of suspicion. He knew I was going to leave, and he hates staying alone. If I don’t remember to put everything edible up where he can’t reach it while I’m gone, I can come back to a disaster. That doesn’t make me feel special; he does the same thing to Mama and Daddy. He doesn’t really need an excuse to plunder.

I went upstairs and finally decided on my usual attire: jeans and a shirt. The only variable was the color and style of my shirt. I took out a short sleeved blue cotton, then put it back and chose a loose-fitting black shirt that might help hide my extra pounds. It took a while on my hands and knees in the closet to find my Nikes before I was ready.

Then it took longer than I expected to put away all the TV remotes and other chewable objects, so that I only beat Bitty to Budgie’s by a couple minutes. I had just settled into my chair by the window when she bustled into the café with Chen Ling in her arms. They were both dressed in pink. I made a face.

“I thought you were going to take Chitling to Jackson Lee.”

Bitty stopped short and glared at me. “Her
name
is Lady O-ya Moon Chen Ling, as you well know, not the name of a pig!”

“Whatever. I must remind you that Budgie has a new rule against pets in here. She doesn’t want to be shut down by health inspectors, and since Miranda said that you bring in your dog so she should be allowed to bring in her pig, Budgie’s gone to a No-Tolerance policy. You know this.”

“Of course I do, Trinket. That’s why I just stopped in to tell you that I heard on the radio our criminals have been spotted in Memphis. But never mind. I’ll just let you go on in your ignorance and—”

“Forgive me. I’ll never do it again. Did the police catch them?”

Bitty smiled at my immediate capitulation. She knows very well that I don’t mean a word of it, and it’s just an empty gesture to get her to hush about it.

“That’s better. No, they haven’t been caught yet, but police have said they have a good idea of their whereabouts and they put out one of those FTD things.”

“Uh, I don’t think you mean the police are sending out flowers. You must mean to say APB.”

Bitty blinked twice. “Maybe.”

“APB is an acronym for All Police Broadcast. I think. It just means all police in the vicinity should watch out for these guys, anyway.”

“For heaven’s sake, Trinket, I know that. I watch just as much TruTV as you do.”

I opened my mouth to say something along the lines of “Some of us retain what we learn” when I saw Budgie approaching from the rear of the café. I leaned forward.

“Better run. Here comes the Pug Police.”

Sometimes Bitty can catch on quickly. “Be right back,” she said over her shoulder as she scurried toward the door. Budgie arrived at my table just in time to see Bitty and pug disappear around the corner. She put her fists on her hips and looked at me.

“She’s going to drive me crazy. Can’t you do something with her?”

I feigned innocence. “With who, Budgie?”

Budgie gave me a stern look. “You know who I’m talking about, that pug-toting cousin of yours. She claims to forget my no dogs allowed rule. The sign I put out front is missing. I don’t suppose you know anything about that, either.”

I could honestly say no to that last comment. “I have no idea what happened to the sign. I’m not sure I ever saw it.”

“Probably because it didn’t stay there fifteen minutes before it got swiped.”

“Well, change is hard on some folks.”

Budgie sighed. “I guess it is. So. How you been doing, Trinket?”

“I can’t complain. Or maybe I should say, I’ll give you a break and not complain. Now, anyway.”

Budgie grinned. Since she and I lived close to each other as kids, we often played together when she wasn’t busy watching her younger siblings or helping her parents. We could always find ways to sneak off and stay hidden for a couple hours before someone found us.

We chatted for a few moments about my parents and her parents, who are now in a local nursing home, and then Bitty returned. Pugless, thank heavens.

“Hi Budgie,” she said, sailing in as if just arriving for the first time that morning. “Is that headdress new?”

“Do you like it?” Budgie did a half-turn to show us the side and back of her bright yellow, red, and green turban. “I found it online. It’s amazing what you can find online these days.”

“It really flatters your complexion,” said Bitty. She pulled out the chair across from me, sat down, and asked Budgie, “Do you think I could find out information about someone online?”

“That depends on who and what kind of information. It helps if you have their entire name, or address, or at least city to go on,” Budgie said.

“Who are you trying to find out stuff about?” I couldn’t help asking my innocent-looking cousin. I’m always suspicious when she puts on an air of innocence that couldn’t fool a blind man.

“Oh, just an old friend,” Bitty said casually.

“Uh hunh,” I said less casually. “Why do I get the impression that you’re keeping something from me?”

Bitty looked quizzical. “I don’t know why you’d get that impression, dear. It’s not as if you have a suspicious nature.”

“We both know I have a suspicious nature. Especially where you’re concerned. You’re up to something. Confess.”