Venus in Blue Jeans (6 page)

Arthur took a breath, then shrugged. “Yes, well, she’s volunteered to do this. It’s another event for the festival, potentially good publicity for us all. The other members of the association I’ve spoken with all seem to be in favor of it. I appreciate your feelings, Margaret, but…”

Margaret bit her lip, trying to keep herself from saying anything unladylike. Tears of rage gathered against her eyelashes. This was almost as bad as the time the principal had refused to undertake a recount in the student council vice president election. Margaret knew she would have won then too.

Life was just not fair.

Arthur leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “Margaret, dear, I’m sorry. Please don’t distress yourself.”

Margaret took a breath, mentally counting to ten. It would never do to shriek something rude at the president of the Konigsburg Merchants Association, and it would ruin the impression of suffering womanhood she was trying to convey. “That’s all right, Arthur,” she sniffed. “I’m sure you did your best. And as for letting Docia Kent get involved in our festival… Well, I just hope we don’t all live to regret this.”

She gathered up Señor Pepe in his carrier and headed out the door again, smiling brightly at Midge on her way by. Let her think she’d managed to talk Arthur around to her point of view. At least Margaret could enjoy a sense of victory for a few minutes, fleeting though it might be.

She contemplated strategy as she walked back down Main toward her shop. What she needed right now was something to rock Ms. Kent back on her heels a bit. Maybe Docia had won this round, but Margaret wasn’t out of the fight yet. Wine and cheese were just a minor skirmish in the battle for the soul of Konigsburg, which, after all, was what this fight was about. Outsiders were not going to move in on Margaret’s town.

Ever since Docia Kent had arrived in Konigsburg, Margaret had sensed a rival in the making. It didn’t matter that Docia hadn’t made any moves toward taking over the Merchants Association yet. Margaret knew they were coming. If she’d learned anything from her marketing classes, it was the importance of heading off competitors before they became serious threats. The wine and cheese party was just the beginning, and Margaret had no intention of letting Docia get a foothold in her territory.

Too bad Cal Toleffson had proven to be such a disappointment. She’d had high hopes for last night. Landing him would have been a major coup, something people would have talked about. Walking into the Liddy Brenner Festival street dance on Toleffson’s arm would have put her right back at the apex of Konigsburg’s social life, where she belonged, as well as reminding Docia Kent just who was in charge here.

But Toleffson had turned out to be, well,
weird
. A vegetarian! Of course, Margaret’s mental image of vegetarians looked a lot more like Barney Fife than Cal Toleffson. She’d always thought vegetarians weren’t really…
virile
. Not eating red meat was supposed to make a man puny. But, well, Cal Toleffson had seemed pretty virile to her, even if he didn’t eat steak, and he definitely wasn’t puny.

Margaret gave her shop assistant one of her beatific smiles as she headed for the cash register.

A slightly plump woman in a lime green pantsuit smiled at Señor Pepe as Margaret passed the greeting card display. “What a cute little dog,” she cooed. “I’ll bet he’s a sweetie.”

“Oh, yes,” Margaret said, absently. “He’s my Precious.”

But Precious wasn’t exactly what she needed in her battle with Docia Kent. Virile would definitely be better. Maybe she should give Dr. Toleffson another chance.

Cal called the clinic as soon as he got back from his run that morning. One of the best things about living in the converted barn he’d found on the edge of town was the dirt roads leading off toward the hills. As long as he stayed out of the way of the pickup trucks that came barreling around the curves without slowing down, he’d had some of the best runs he’d had in years. This morning he’d seen three whitetail deer and a roadrunner within a half-mile of his place. Yet another reason Cal hoped he could actually afford to buy the barn at some point.

According to Bethany, the day attendant, Nico was still hanging in there. He’d even taken a faint swipe at her when she’d opened the cage to look at him.

“Game little bugger,” she chuckled. “When he gets back on his feet, I’m leaving him to Armando.”

Cal breathed a sigh of relief. He really hadn’t known if Nico would make it through the night or not, and he hadn’t relished the thought of telling Docia Kent her cat hadn’t survived after all.

He showered off the sweat he’d raised in his run, pulled on his jeans and a denim shirt, and headed for his truck just as a Konigsburg police cruiser pulled up at the end of the drive.

Cal groaned inwardly. Ham Linklatter was at the wheel.

“Morning, Doc,” Ham drawled. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses, and his buff-colored cowboy hat covered most of his lank, pale hair. The toothpick he was chewing sort of completed the look. “Heard you had dinner with Margaret Hastings last night. That a fact?”

Cal narrowed his eyes. “Gee, Ham, why would my dinner plans be a police concern?”

“Didn’t say they were.” Ham took out his toothpick and pointed it in Cal’s direction. “I’m just asking.”

“For yourself?” Cal raised an eyebrow. Was it possible that a woman was actually willing to be seen with Ham? In public? “I didn’t know you had any interest in Margaret Hastings.”

Ham put the toothpick back in his mouth, staring reflectively into the distance. “Margaret and I have had our moments.”

Cal folded his arms on his chest. Wonder was going to love this. “Moments? No kidding.”

“So what about you and Margaret?” Ham chewed on his toothpick again and looked up at Cal, his mouth thinning.

“It was a moment.” Cal paused. “More like a millisecond.”

Ham frowned, pulling the toothpick from his mouth and pointing it at Cal again. “You better be careful, Doc. Around here people don’t take kindly to men poaching on other men’s territory.”

Cal stared at him. He was at least eight inches taller than Ham and probably outweighed him by fifty pounds or so. Of course, Ham did have a gun. He might even know how to aim it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” Ham turned on the ignition and pulled away in a cloud of dust.

Cal stood shaking his head, watching the dust fade. If a day started out this weird, could it get any weirder?

Of course it could. Cal arrived at the clinic to find Margaret Hastings herself talking to the receptionist. Señor Pepe directed a desperate glance his way. Cal did his best to ignore him.

“Good morning, Doctor.” Margaret gave him one of those creepy smiles. “I wanted to see about getting Señor Pepe’s teeth cleaned.”

Señor Pepe trembled slightly, blinking fast. Cal took a deep breath, willing himself not to look into the dog’s eyes. “Bethany can set you up with Dr. Rankin. He’s really the dental expert around here.”
Forgive me, Horace.

“Oh,” Margaret’s lips formed a slight pout. “I really wanted you to do it, Doctor. Señor Pepe trusts you now. Goodness, the two of you are old friends, after all.”

Señor Pepe gave him a beseeching look.
Help me, help me, help me.

Cal managed to keep his smile in place. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll like Doc Rankin. Dogs love him.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, but Margaret was looking toward the front door.

Her shoulders stiffened suddenly, then her lips spread wide in a brilliant smile, showing gleaming teeth. Cal suddenly realized he’d never seen Margaret’s teeth before. They were small and sharp, rather like a ferret’s. He turned toward the door to see what was up.

Docia Kent had just stepped into the room. She wore a kind of gauzy white shirt that extended to mid-thigh above her jeans. The cuffs fell away from her wrists, emphasizing her strong, slender fingers.

Cal experienced the whole blood-draining-to-groin thing again. Apparently, she was going to have that effect on him frequently.

“Docia!” Margaret smiled ferociously. “How nice to see you again. Where’s your sweet little cat?”

“Hi Margaret.” Docia raised an eyebrow. “Actually Nico’s here at the clinic. I was hoping I could take a peek at him.” She turned to Cal. “Is that okay?”

Cal kicked his brain out of neutral. “Sure. I’ll take you back there. I’d like to get a look at him myself.” He put a hand on Docia’s elbow, ignoring the mild wave of heat that emanated from her body. Behind him, he heard Margaret suck in a short, indignant breath.

“Bethany, would you help Ms. Hastings?” He sent a smile somewhere in Margaret’s general direction. “She wants to get her dog’s teeth cleaned.”

The recovery area was fairly empty for once. Rufus, the ancient collie with the kidney problems, snored in a corner pen.

Docia half turned her head to look at him. “You keep the cats and dogs separated?”

“We try to,” Cal said. “Not too many cats in here as a rule.” He stepped into the next room. In his pen at the side, Nico raised his head enough to hiss.

Cal grinned. “Go for it, bucko, you’ve earned the right to snarl at anybody you want to.”

Docia dropped to her knees beside the pen. Nico stretched his nose toward her, then batted at her fingers through the mesh of the pen. “Oh, Nico,” she murmured. “Good boy. You made it.”

She looked up at Cal with amazing eyes. Deep green with some kind of flecks in the iris. Maybe he could tell what color they were if he got a little closer.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

Get up close and personal so I can check the color of your eye flecks.
Cal took a deep, steadying breath. “Do now?”

“With Nico.” She bit her lower lip—her very full, rosy lower lip. “What comes next for him?”

Cal sighed. “I wish we could get him to eat. We took out the intravenous line, but he hasn’t touched his food.”

“He hates it here.” Docia grinned. “No offense. He’s the world’s worst animal patient. Dr. Rankin won’t even touch him unless somebody’s holding him down.”

Cal rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Maybe you should take him home, then. He needs to have some recovery time, but he needs to eat and drink too.”

Docia straightened quickly, her eyes alight. “Can I really? Take him home, that is. I’d love to.”

“Sure.” Cal walked back toward the door. “I’ll tell Bethany to get him ready. Do you have the carrier?”

Docia nodded. “In my car. I left it there after I dropped him off.”

“Okay.” Cal made a sudden decision. “You take him home with you, and I’ll stop by later to check on him.”

“That’s very nice of you.” Docia raised a cinnamon-colored eyebrow, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she saw right through him. “A vet who makes house calls. Quite a service.”

Cal felt absurdly like blushing. “Hey, like I say, he’s earned it.”

Docia maneuvered Nico’s carrier behind the front counter in the bookstore. “I’m going to leave him back here,” she told Janie. “Where I can keep an eye on him.”

“He’s home? Already?” Janie knelt beside the carrier as Docia opened the mesh door. “Hi, guy, got any lives left or did you take care of them all this time?”

Nico made a guttural sound and flopped his front paws outside the door. Janie stood, dusting off her knees. “That cat’s a walking miracle, you know. He shouldn’t be alive.”

“Believe me, I know.” Docia tucked a towel into the carrier at Nico’s side, then placed his food and water bowls within reach. “At least he got to come back home sooner than they thought he would last night.”

“Where did it happen, anyway?” Janie frowned. “He didn’t actually get shot in the apartment, did he?”

“No, there was a trail of blood from the window to the bathroom.” Docia chewed on her lower lip, thinking. “You know, I don’t even know where it happened exactly. Couldn’t have been too far away, though. He was too seriously hurt to have gone far.”

“Follow the blood.” Janie shrugged. “He must have gotten shot before he climbed in the window, so the blood drops should go outside too.”

Docia pushed herself up from the counter. “Janie, you’re a genius. Can you hold off on leaving for lunch for a few minutes?”

“Sure. I’ll stay here and talk to Nico.”

Nico’s usual route to the apartment window was up the rickety fire escape that stretched against the back wall. Docia stood at the foot of it, looking up. A series of dried blood drops trailed erratically up the green metal steps.

She turned, following the faint splatters along the cracked cement walk that ran behind the shop. About three feet from the bottom step of the fire escape she saw a larger splatter. The remains of a blood pool.

Docia’s stomach contracted. “God, Nico,” she murmured. “In your own backyard? Why?”

She leaned back against the fire escape railing, staring down at the blood pool. The midday sun burned on her shoulders. Somewhere in the next block a child was crying.

And something glinted in the grass.

Docia knelt on the concrete, stretching a hand to push the grass aside. Pieces of glass. She raised her gaze again. The window to the storeroom had a hole in the corner, cracks extending out to the edge.