Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery) (2 page)

His head dropped. Was I being rude suggesting he needed help? I’d never met a homeless person before, maybe I was being too forward? Change of tactic. “I’m new here and haven’t made many friends yet. I’d love the company.” Oh heavens, did that just sound like I wanted a date? Nice, Darwin. “What I mean is, you know, I’m a big dog lover…” Karma stopped gumming the bone and stared up at me, dripping drool, his ears cocked forward. “Yeah, I know.” I sighed, shrugging. “What I should say is I’m better with animals than people.”

Mad Dog glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and then a soft chuckle stirred in his chest. “Yeah, me too.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Good morning, boys an’ gals.” I slipped on the cheesecloth glove I had crafted so my vibrations wouldn’t be added to the pansies’ and rested one of the fresh petals between a thumb and forefinger. My eyes closed as a weak quiver tickled my fingers. “Not ready yet?” Okay.

I moved my hand to the next bloom. This one fluttered like a humming bird’s wings. Pulling a pair of tiny shears from my yellow gardening apron, I snipped the head off and placed it in a glass bowl of distilled water. Repeating this process, the water’s surface was almost covered when I spotted my new friend across the street.

“Mad Dog!” I held my straw sunhat down with one hand and waved with the other. “Good morning!”

Glancing around, he finally spotted me on the balcony above the boutique. I rented this “city home” from Sylvia, who purchased it as an investment with the large sum she inherited when her grandfather died. She said it was a sign from God that it was for sale right above the space we picked out for our pet boutique. I had learned early on in our new friendship not to argue with her.

This was the first place I’d lived on my own and I had to say—the million dollar, three thousand square foot, two story place was a bit overkill for me. It was, however, gorgeous and the perfect location.

Mad Dog held up a hand and I waved him over.

“I’m heading next door for some tea before I open the boutique, would y’all join me?” I called down to him and Karma. Both of them stared up at me, heads tilted. Before he could turn me down, though, I pulled off my glove. “Stay there, I’ll be right down.” I moved the bowl of flowers to the balcony table and covered it with a square of cheesecloth from my apron. I’d have to remember to retrieve it at lunchtime.

Hurrying back through the French doors, I tossed my sunhat on the couch, grabbed my straw bag and, as an afterthought, slipped into some flip flops. Wearing shoes was one of those things I was still getting used to.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it? Hello, Karma!” I exited the tropical courtyard tucked between buildings and pulled the iron gate shut behind me.

“Yes, ma’am. It is. A beautiful day.”

I scratched Karma beneath the ears and smiled at Mad Dog. He wore the same dusty gray t-shirt and the same guarded expression. “Shall we?”

We walked to the Hooker Tea Company a few shops down. This had been a big selling point for me when Sylvia and I had scouted out places for the boutique, being the crazed tea fanatic that I am.

“Don’t think they’ll let Karma come inside, so why don’t you grab a table out here and I’ll go in and order. Any preference? White, green, black?”

“No, ma’am.” Mad Dog sat down stiffly at the table in a corner with a large square bush protecting his back. Karma plopped down at his feet and stretched out. Well, at least one of them looked comfortable.

“You can call me Darwin, you know. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel like my mother.”

“Sorry.” He nodded. “Darwin it is.”

“You’re a trip, Mad Dog. All right, sit tight, I’ll be right back.” As I waited in line, breathing in raspberry and other exotic scents, I kept glancing back out the opened front door. I just figured he would bolt before I could feed them a hot meal. Why did I care? Looks like they’ve been doing fine on their own. Probably the same reason I snuck baby birds and abandoned kittens into the house, despite my mother’s protests. I just did. Couldn’t help it.

I spun around from checking the door and bam! A hot cup of tea was dripping down the front of my apron—which I had, to my embarrassment, forgotten to take off—and blazing a trail down my bare leg. “Ouch! Oh!” I glanced up at the man I had spun into. “Oh, oh, sorry!” Heavens, I really had to get used to other people standing in such close proximity to me.

Pursing his lips in an amused smile, he strolled to the counter, released a fist full of napkins from the holder and placed his cup on the counter. “Sandy, can I get another when you get a chance, please.”

As he moved back toward me, the gold badge clipped to his belt glinted. I took in the white dress shirt, gray slacks, tie and neatly cropped hair and groaned. Perfect.

“Thanks.” I hung my head as I accepted the napkins. “I’m really so sorry…officer?” I glanced up into his blue eyes as my hand brushed his. A small, electric charge zinged through me, bringing with it the smell of coconut and a weird feeling of euphoria. I jerked my hand away.
What was that
?

“Detective.” He looked down on me from his 6’4ish vantage point.

My head buzzed like I’d had too much caffeine as I wiped at my apron with the napkins.

“Detective, right. Well,” I straightened up and ignored the distracting scent and vibrations. “Let me buy you another tea, it’s the least I can do.”

He held my gaze and the tingling intensified until I had to rub my arms for relief.

“Detective Blake?” the girl at the counter called. “Got your refill.”

He cleared his throat and broke our eye contact. “Some other time.”

He nodded to her, grabbed his cup and left without another glance my way.

Some other time
?
What did that mean
? Okay, weird.

“Next,” the girl called.

***

“Here we go.” I slid the tray on the table and placed a steaming ham and Swiss cheese omelet in front of Mad Dog with a cup of black tea, then a second one on the ground for Karma. “Should be able to gum some eggs,” I said, as the drooling mastiff stuck his face in the dish. Entertainment at its finest.

“I can’t pay you back.” An uncomfortable, dark expression flashed across Mad Dog’s face as he ripped open a raw sugar packet.

“You are paying me back by keeping me company.” I stirred honey into my white tea, mala bead bracelets clacking on my wrist. “I’m the new girl in town, remember?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Mad Dog nodded, slid an arm around the plate and moved a forkful of steaming omelet toward his mouth. “We appreciate your kindness.”

I bit into a buttery croissant and eyed my breakfast company. “So, Mad Dog, what’s your story?”

“My story?” he asked, around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, everyone’s got a story, right? What’s yours?”

His weary eyes searched my face. The whole social aspect of human interaction, and how much butting in was polite, still baffled me. Maybe I had crossed the line?

Then he shrugged. “Persian Gulf and Iraq war vet turned homeless bum. Not much to tell.” His slow, self effacing words were hard to swallow. Thick waves of despair washed over me.

I sipped my tea, forcing down the lump and waited for the emotional storm to subside.

After an uncomfortable minute, it did. “Well, that’s not very nice.”

His shoulder moved slightly and his expression stayed neutral. “The world ain’t nice.”

“The world is what you make it.” At least that’s what I’ve always believed. Of course, it was easy to believe that back home, in our controlled corner of the world. But what about here in this balmy, enchanting city with a history and trajectory of its own?

Mad Dog sat back, scrubbed his mouth with the paper napkin and studied me. “You grow up with money?”

I popped a few blueberries into my mouth and crunched, holding his gaze. “I suppose, yes.” Though I never did like where that money came from. Or should I say
who
it came from?

“Then you were sheltered from the real world, Darwin.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but his words stung. Being sheltered was part of the reason I’d left home. I moved here to change that. And I liked hanging around Mad Dog because he didn’t judge me. Was I wrong? I moved my gaze across Beach Avenue to the sun-dappled park. “Well, you could teach me about the real world then.”

“I wouldn’t wish what I know about the world on my worst enemy. Let alone a kind soul like you.” He managed a small dry smile, though his eyes remained sad. “Thanks for the meal.” He stacked our plates and stood. Karma pushed himself up, yawned and stretched.

“Sure,” I said. “Same time tomorrow morning?”

Mad Dog eyed me with caution, lifting his back pack from the ground. “If you have something that needs done at the store. As long as it doesn’t require staying indoors too long.”

“Deal.” I could find something for him to do. Not indoors though? Hmmm. Why ever not? Mind your own beeswax, Darwin. Not something I excelled at. “Okay. See you two in the morning. Bye, Karma.” The dog swung his head around with a big, panting grin. I watched them cross the street then headed back to the boutique. Almost time to open up.

CHAPTER THREE

By Thursday I was exhausted but happy our first week open was going so well.

Just from walk-by traffic and word of mouth alone, Sylvia’s grooming book filled up for the next three weeks, which she celebrated with a box of apple and lemon tarts. We also had a good idea of which products were going to be a hit in the area. These folks definitely liked to pamper their pets and we definitely enjoyed helping them do it.

I busied myself in the boutique straightening up and signaled “five minutes” to Mad Dog as he wiped down the glass double doors. It was the only thing I could come up with outside, but it made him comfortable enough to accept breakfast for his effort. We had grown into this easy routine. He would show up at seven, we would do the morning duties and then head over to Hooker Tea Company for breakfast before I opened up.

This morning, I got a small shock when I stepped out to greet them.

“Good heavens, Mad Dog, what happened to your face?” A bruise had formed a purple half-moon under his eye.

“This ain’t no biggie, Darwin. Always trouble to be found when other people are involved.” He leaned the squeegee handle against the front door. I noticed he was babying his right side, too.

“Well, did you file a police report, at least?”

He just shook his head and walked with a slight limp on our way to breakfast. I kept eyeing him sideways, my concern mounting as I thought about his situation. It must have been a big guy to get the jump on Mad Dog—or lots of guys. He and Karma made a formidable target. I remembered how quickly he had pinned me down on our first meeting. What kind of skill and strength would take to actually hurt him?

I carried out our usual omelets and slid into the chair under the umbrella. “So, you know, if you need a place to stay for a few days, you’re welcome to my couch.” I fiddled with the tea timer, hoping I wasn’t crossing that line again. I didn’t have much experience with people period, let alone people in Mad Dog’s situation.

“I’m not really an indoor type guy, Darwin, and you shouldn’t go around making offers like that to homeless guys. They can be dangerous. Could get yourself hurt.” He dropped a croissant on Karma’s dish. “You can’t be so trusting.”

I watched Karma sniff it then go back to his omelet. I waved him off. “You’re harmless.” Why was he homeless, though? He seemed perfectly capable of holding a job, mentally stable. Drug problem? Police record? Okay, I would just have to be nosey. “What does that mean, exactly, ‘not an indoor guy’ and where do you stay then?” I had assumed in a shelter. Don’t cities have shelters for people with no place to go?

“Military shrinks call it PTSD. It just means screwed up.” He shrugged in that self-depreciating way that made my heart ache. “I was involved in door to door urban battles so I prefer to be out in the open now. As far as where I stay, you don’t know about Pirate City?”

Pirate City? Was he pulling my leg? Swallowing a mouthful of warm tea, I shook my head.

“Not part of the tourist attractions so I’m not surprised. Just a bunch of homeless people in tents, unmoored from society and trying to survive day to day.”

Tents? I glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. “So what do y’all do for things like food and clothes?”

A dark cloud passed over his face. “Whatever we can.”

I grew silent. Karma finished his breakfast, burped and rested his fifty pound head in my lap. I tensed up and waited. No image. No influx of energy. I usually only got zapped by animals who had suffered recent trauma—emotional or physical, big or small. Karma was a happy dog. I stroked his velvety ear.

Did Mad Dog mean illegal stuff? Is that why he wasn’t willing to file a police report for getting beat up? Did he try to steal something and get caught? Guilt crept in. Why did I automatically jump to something illegal? Am I judging him because he’s homeless? This interaction out in the world was so complicated. Just to clear my own conscience, I asked out loud, “So, nothing to do with drugs, right?”

“Naw. I managed to stay clear of that nightmare. I’m one of the lucky ones. Been sober for five months, too. Being responsible for another soul has been a life-saver. Ain’t that right, Karma?” Mad Dog shook his head at Karma, who cocked an eyebrow his way but didn’t move his head from my lap. “I think someone has a crush.” He drained his cup and reached down for the licked-clean plate.

“I think someone just appreciates a good meal,” I laughed, scratching under his ear with one hand and wiping at the drool on my leg with the other. Too bad scientists haven’t come up with something useful for dog drool, like spackling houses.

“Speakin’ of…” Mad Dog pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and shoved it under my empty plate. “This one’s on me today.” I started to protest but he stood up. “I insist. Come on, Karma. Time to go, boy.”