High Strung

by Jacki Moss

  Even though she was terrified of snakes, she still didn’t wish it any harm. She supposed it didn’t want to be in the house any more than she wanted it there. An hour later, with the help of a neighbor and a makeshift broom and picnic basket snake-catching kit, the three-foot garden snake was relocated, alive and well, to the back field.

  The snake incident notwithstanding, she had often thought nothing could be better than living in this paradise, but she was wrong. She now knew living here and having Cafton to share it with would be even better.

  She constructed two mugs of coffee for them and headed back to wake up Cafton. Not knowing what kind of sleeper he was, she decided to wake him up gently by softly tugging on the big toe of his foot resting on top of the covers, while she called to him. “Caf, good morning,” she quietly whispered, waiting for a response. Sophie wagged her stubby tail in acknowledgement of her mama’s voice, but she was warm and being snuggled, so she wasn’t about to move until she had to.

  “Caf, would you like some coffee?” Leigh whispered a little more loudly to him, tenderly wiggling his big toe.

  Cafton slowly opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times. His expression reminded Leigh of Grandfather Clock waking up on the Captain Kangaroo Show. “Leigh?” he asked, turning over and reaching for her hand. “Yes. Leigh. My dear Leigh.”

  She took his outstretched hand in hers, kissed his toasty palm, and put the coffee mug into his hand.

  “Leigh, Sophie, and coffee. How did I ever get so lucky?” he asked.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it, Sweetcakes. It was fate. Kismet. Inevitable. The long and circuitous path that led us to each other at this precise point in time cannot be attributed to blind luck. We are now ready for each other. It is our time.” Leigh crawled into bed on the other side of Sophie and leaned up against the headboard. “But to your point, what is, I guess you could call, unique, is we are so alike in so many ways.” Leigh sipped her coffee, cradling the mug in her chilly hands to warm them, enjoying something she had never enjoyed before, sitting in bed with her loves and being totally comfortable. She had not experienced true, relaxed intimacy before this. Today, with Cafton, she felt like they had been together forever.

  “I know what you mean,” Cafton agreed. “We’re not alike in looks, of course, but we are almost identical in who we are at the core. We approach the world in the same way. Our value systems are the same. With that understanding comes a great degree of trust, in that we always know what to expect from each other. We know beyond all doubt whatever we do, even when we disagree, we will do it with kindness and respect for each other.”

  “You have my promise,” Leigh vowed.

  “And you have mine,” Cafton echoed. “I so appreciate you understand being compatible isn’t about having the same hobbies or liking the same food or things like that. Those things can be adjusted and learned. But who we are in our souls and hearts is what makes two people compatible. I think, no, I know, we are compatible in those ways,” Cafton asserted.

  “Agreed. We’re both introverts. We’re both empaths,” Leigh added. “More importantly, how we feel about people and how we treat them is the same.” Leigh’s former dalliances had been with incompatible people, so they didn’t last beyond the initial curiosity. “I have learned the hard way there are two kinds of people in the world: givers and takers. I’m pretty sure I’m a giver, and I know I’ve had the misfortune to run into the takers. But you are a giver. Alert the media! Two givers have found each other! Nothing can stop us now!” Leigh held her coffee mug over so Cafton and she could toast to their fine relationship fortune.

  “Speaking of nothing stopping us, your series of weird-ass events is weighing heavy on my mind and heart. Since the law doggies don’t seem too interested in doing anything involving real detective work or that will help you or your engineer, nothing is stopping us from doing it.” Leigh already had a plan to get to the bottom of what her gut told her were not random coincidences.

  Cafton’s eyes brightened from the doe-eyed, love-struck look to his usual impish, puckish one. He thought Leigh had read his mind. That had been his plan for today, too. “Is it too early to tell you I love you?” Cafton blurted out.

  “Too early in the morning or too early in the relationship?” Leigh teased.

  “Either. Both.”

  “No, to both,” Leigh said. “And since we have established it’s not too early, I absolutely love you, too!” Leigh and Cafton leaned over Sophie and sealed the deal with a kiss. They had found love that put their dreams to shame.

  Sophie, sensing all the love and good vibes floating around, decided she would get in on the lovefest by giving them both super Pibble slobber kisses.

  “Sophie approves,” laughed Leigh, covering her head from the slimy slurps.

  “Okay, let’s get a game plan together.” Cafton was in high gear now. Having a partner in crime was an accelerant for his bountiful energy. “We can head into town, stop by my home and let me get freshened up, and then get our big adventure started!”

  “Sounds like a plan! By the way, it’s snowing.” Leigh gleamed.

  “Perfect! I love snow. Just hate driving in it. But no worries. You know what we say about the weather in Tennessee. If you don’t like it right now, just wait ten minutes, and it will change.” Cafton loved Tennessee’s weather. It had all four distinct seasons and often repeated them several times in a single year. You could be wearing an overcoat and sweatshirt to leave the house in the morning and have to change to a T-shirt by the afternoon. Every kid in Tennessee had half their winter clothing in the school’s lost-and-found box by October.

  “Yep. It will burn off by the time we have breakfast and head out. Can Sophie come with us?”

  “Of course. It won’t be too hot for her in the car. Besides, she needs to meet Dagwood, since they are going to be siblings.”

  At the mention of her name, Sophie started bouncing on all fours. She knew something fun was up and she was going to be right in the middle of it. “Now, Sophie, you have to be nice to your little Dagwood brother. Some cats don’t like to be bathed from head to toe in slobber by a strange dog,” Leigh advised Sophie, who only heard, as the Far Side cartoon so beautifully put it, “Blah, Sophie, blah, blah, blah, blah…”

  After breakfast, Leigh offered Cafton his pick of half a dozen brand new toothbrushes she had on hand. “I buy when they are on sale and I have a coupon,” she explained. That told Cafton all he needed to know about Leigh’s approach to money. Perfect.

  As Leigh padded by the bathroom while Cafton brushed his teeth, she noticed he turned the water off after he wet his toothbrush. He then brushed his teeth and turned the water back on when it was time to rinse. That told her all she needed to know about his approach to money and the environment. Perfect.

  They hammered out a plan while preparing to drive into town. “Okay, my master sleuth, I bow to your expertise. What’s our agenda?” Cafton asked.

  “First, it seems to me your threatening phone calls and your engineer coming up missing must be related, since they happened about the same time. Maybe your phone caller also had a beef with—what is his name?”

  “Dangcat.”

  “Like dang cat?”

  “Yep. Willie Dangcat.”

  “Well, how could anyone have a beef with someone named Dangcat? But let’s assume he does. We start with trying to locate Dangcat, since he seems to be in the most peril. What do we know about his disappearance?” Leigh delved.

  “Not much. Just disappeared one day. No one recalls any altercations with anyone, no indications of him wanting to leave, no risk for suicide. I checked out his office and the studio, and the control room at the label. The only thing I came up with is information that he was going to meet someone—not sure who—at the pancake place. Oh, and his car is missing,” Cafton explained.

  “That’s some pretty good sleuthing, yourself,” Leigh said. “Well, let’s start with something we can find. His car. It has to be somew
here. We can start with cruising by any pancake houses, the parks, bars…”

  “Oh, it won’t—or rather, shouldn’t—be found at a bar. He’s a recovering addict and alcoholic. He stays away from those places now,” Cafton interjected.

  “Hmm. Maybe he fell off the wagon.”

  “Nope, didn’t happen. That’s Chief Heckle’s theory, too, so he’s not in any big hurry to try to find out what really happened.” Cafton’s brow wrinkled at the thought Dangcat would fall off the wagon. He knew better.

  “I’m not doubting your assessment. I just need to know how you are so sure he’s not intentionally missing because he’s using again,” Leigh pressed.

  “No, I understand. I am so sure because I know him. I know he wouldn’t do that again to himself, or to me or Bynum.”

  “Bynum? Bynum McCooter?”

  “He’s our best friend. He’s been my only family since my mom died when I was a kid.”

  “Until now.” Leigh smiled.

  “Until now,” Cafton agreed, smiling back. “We have history with Dangcat. We literally saved his life. He’s a former heroin and cocaine addict. Bynum and I saved him after his former recording studio dropped him due to his drug use, and because they simply couldn’t depend on him to do the work.” Cafton shrugged his shoulders in agreement with their rationale.

  “Seems reasonable,” Leigh concurred.

  “The final straw for them was when Dangcat found himself on the banks of the Harpeth River one morning and had no idea how he got there. He had fresh track marks on his arms and needles beside him, when he came to. He had pooped his pants. Had to emerge looking like the Swamp Thing in Pinkerton Park, where kids were playing, and ask for help. He scared the beejeebers out of the kids and their parents.”

  “Oh, hell! I know that little park! That’s the very last place one would think a junkie would materialize. From the Cumberland River banks on Lower Board in Nashville, sure, but not in Franklin!” Leigh laughed.

  “Yeah. So instead of help, what he got was three Franklin police cars, a set of handcuffs, a trip to the medical center, and a jail cell. But, honestly, in the long run, being in jail got him clean and saved his life.”

  “Like they say, you have to hit bottom to head to the top,” Leigh added.

  “That’s right. Dangcat had hit bottom. His arrest and the embarrassing circumstances were the headline story all over the television news and newspaper.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember now. It was a heart-rending story, repeated too many times in the music industry,” said Leigh.

  “Until now, this story had a happy ending. His arrest and mandatory drying out time, plus thirty days in jail for the assorted misdemeanor charges, were his cold turkey rehab. Cheap and effective. He didn’t go to some posh, fancy-schmancy retreat where he was treated like royalty and learned trite, glib slogans about his addiction,” Cafton said, almost gritting his teeth.

  Cafton and Leigh were getting dressed as they talked. He loved watching her. The way she slipped her hand under her velvety hair and pulled it out of her collar. The little tugs and tucks to get the seams right. Then the shimmy to loosen everything so it was comfortable.

  “Hah! Tell me how you really feel! Got no love for money-sucking, exploitative rehab centers, I see.” Leigh laughed as she sat on the side of the bed, bent over, lacing up her hiking boots.

  “Hell, no. He did recovery the hard way. Not that there is an easy way, but he remained a guest of the county jail in seclusion while he lay on the metal jail cot getting clean and sober. During that time, he made his lists of amends and decided this second chance would be the only one he would ever need.”

  “There’s the ‘I want to live’ epiphany. Reality finally seeps in,” Leigh recognized.

  “And boy, did he want to live. But a month later, he was old news. His former best friends and colleagues had kicked him to the curb. He was the hush-hush laughingstock of the music industry, especially among the closet users. He became a pariah in the music industry for a number of reasons, some reasonable, some not. Then, when he got clean, but broke, no one would touch him with a ten-foot pole. He had the will and the skill, but his history preceded him. His options were very limited.”

  On the way to town, Cafton continued to fill Leigh in on the relationship between him and Dangcat.

  “About then, Bynum and I had decided to start Merriepennie Music. We needed a top-notch engineer. Either we were at the right place at the right time or Dangcat was. We contacted Sheriff Barcheers to find Dangcat’s last known residence.”

  “And he told you? That’s unusual,” Leigh noted.

  “Well, normally, yes, but the backstory is Barcheers is a closet user and pusher,” Cafton divulged.

  “I had heard that. I just wrote it off to the usual smear campaign against anyone in power,” said Leigh.

  “No, it’s true. It’s just a matter of time before he ends up in the same jail he now runs. We didn’t know it, but he was Dangcat’s dealer, so he made an executive, and self-serving, decision to tell us where Dangcat was, hoping Dangcat would continue to keep their little secret.”

  “Uh-huh. Quid pro quo,” Leigh acknowledged.

  “Yep. Scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. So we found Dangcat and sat him down for a come-to-Jesus talk about his drug use and future. We quickly found out Jesus had gotten to him before we did. From that point on, it was a no-brainer. First, we believe in second chances. Lord knows, we all need them at some point in our lives. Second, Dangcat is the best in the business, and we would settle for no less. The deal was done.” Cafton smiled. “He has been with us ever since.”

  “Sounds like it was the best time in the world to get him,” said Leigh, “even though it was a gamble.”

  Cafton rolled the back windows down a bit to allow Sophie to just barely get her snout out to enjoy the smells of the city, and to ventilate the smells of her breakfast backfires.

  “We have never regretted our decision for one second,” Cafton stated. “Now that I think about it, I wonder if Barcheers feels the same. Secrets and sin can make men do bad things,” Cafton pondered.

  “Good point,” Leigh agreed.

  Cafton pulled into the parking lot of a pancake house frequented by musicians in the middle of the night when they needed to take a break from recording, to grab some grub, or to sober up.

  “Let’s go talk to Miss Betty. This is her diner. She knows Dang.” Cafton rolled all the windows down enough for Sophie to poke her head out, but not enough for her to crawl out. He got out, rounded the car, and opened Leigh’s door for her.

  Before Cafton could get the glass diner door fully open, Betty was around the counter, arms wide open, making a beeline toward him. “Lawd have mercy! Look what da cat drug in! If it ain’t Cafton Sweeter-Than-Honey Merriepennie! Where have you been, baby? I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays!” Miss Betty was about three times Cafton’s size and had him in a bear hug, spinning around with him like he was a Raggedy Andy doll. Leigh looked on with delight, taking in the fondness that usually enveloped Cafton wherever he went.

  “Good morning, Miss Betty! I am so glad to see you. How have you been? Your arthritis doing better?” Cafton asked.

  “Lord, no, but you know, it’s all good. If I woke up in the morning and something didn’t hurt, I’d think I had died in my sleep!” Miss Betty laughed and put Cafton down gently.

  “Sorry I haven’t been around lately. I’ve been up to my ass in alligators for a few weeks. That’s no excuse, I know,” Cafton admitted.

  “Baby, you don’t need no ’scuses with me. So what’s going on with you?”

  “Well, my friend Dangcat is missing. I’m really worried about him. I’m trying to find him.” Cafton and Leigh sat down in one of the red Formica booths by the window. Betty waved at her waiter to bring them something to drink. “Thank you, Miss Betty, but we can’t stay. We’re on the hunt today. By the way, this is Leigh. She’s my, uh, my…”

  “Girlfriend,” interru
pted Miss Betty. “I can see it, chile. I can see it in your eyes. It’s about time you found somebody. Nice to meet you, Miss Leigh.” Leigh extended her hand, but Miss Betty leaned over and wrapped her in a stout hug, whispering in Leigh’s ear, “He’s a good one. Take care of him.” Leigh smiled and shook her head yes.

  “Dangcat? Missing? I just saw him the other evening,” Miss Betty said.

  “Here? Was he with anyone?”

  “Well, not exactly here. He was in the parking lot. Right there next to where you are parked. I wondered why he didn’t come in, but then some fella came up to his car window, and they talked, and the fella got back in his car. Then it looked like Dang followed the fella off in his car.” Betty squeezed up her eyebrows a bit. “It did seem queer, come to think of it.”

  “Do you know the other fella?”

  “No, and I didn’t even get a good look at him. It was dark and all, but I know Dang and his old beater, ya know, so I know it was him. The other fella didn’t look familiar.”

  “I hate to even ask this, but do you think it was a drug deal going down?”

  “Oh, no. Not Dangcat. He’s clean as a schoolgirl. He wasn’t making no drug deal. But the fella he was talking to sure was lively. He seemed to be all tore up about something. His fists were punching the air, and he was pointing inside the car and all, like he was throwing some sort of tantrum about something.”

  “Did he hit Dang?”

  “Not that I could tell. But he did lay rubber getting out of the lot and onto the street. You can probably still see the marks. Headed out toward the industrial district, with Dangcat right behind him. That don’t sound good, now that he’s missing, do it?” Miss Betty got very quiet and sat down in the booth beside Cafton. “You think he’s okay?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Betty. I just don’t know.”

  “Well, I know this much. He wouldn’t just up and leave you and Bynum. He loves you two like brothers. He told me flat out you saved his life. So if he’s gone, it ain’t ’cause he wants to be gone.”