A Catered Birthday Party

by Crawford, Isis

  Ines put her hands on her hips. Sean thought she looked particularly good in the black turtleneck sweater and suede straight skirt she was wearing,

  “What is ‘everything’ exactly?” she demanded.

  “Really, you’d be better off not knowing,” Sean told her. Which was true.

  “Because it’s illegal?” Ines asked.

  Sean waved his hands in the air. “No. No. It’s nothing like that,” he lied. “Absolutely not.”

  Of course the sheriff might not see it that way. Scratch that. Considering the sheriff was Lucy, there was no “might” about it. He’d arrest Sean without a second’s pause. What was Trudy worth? Fifty thousand dollars? Twenty? Ten? He really had no idea. But even if it was two thousand, it was still felony land. And Lucy would be happy to put him there. Sean couldn’t believe he was doing this. It went against everything he’d been trained to do. He should take the dog back to Richard. It was a dog, for heaven’s sake. Just a dog. All this trouble over an animal. He had to be nuts. And yet…and yet something in his gut wouldn’t let him.

  “Why don’t I believe you?” Ines said.

  “It’s just an awkward situation.”

  “How awkward?”

  “Awkward enough.”

  “I’d like to be the judge of that.”

  “I’ll tell you the whole story later. I swear.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “Really. Boy Scout’s word of honor. And I have to say you’re looking very nice today. Did you just get your hair done?”

  Ines laughed. “Nice try.”

  “It’s true,” Sean protested. “You’re looking particularly lovely today.”

  “Absolutely,” Samantha put in. “Love your cardigan. Is it vintage?”

  “Yes, it is. Just like me,” Ines answered. Biting her lip, she looked down at Trudy, who was snuffling around one of the legs of the oak table in the center of the room.

  “Come on,” Sean wheedled. “Look at her. She’s adorable.”

  “I admit she’s cute in a spectacularly ugly kind of way,” Ines conceded.

  “Exactly,” Sean said. “She needs some love. And a nice home for a little while.”

  “Lots of love,” Samantha put in.

  Ines looked at her. “Why can’t you take the dog?” she asked Samantha.

  “Because…because,” Samantha stuttered.

  “Because her father’s violently allergic to animals,” Sean said.

  “Exactly,” Samantha reprised.

  Ines looked skeptical. “And she can’t answer for herself?” she asked Sean.

  “Sometimes I forget things,” Samantha explained. “It’s the hair dye.”

  “Really,” Ines said. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh. “How curious. I’ve always heard that pink was toxic to brain cells. I just never knew it was true.”

  “Personally, I think it’s the purple,” Samantha said.

  Ines couldn’t contain herself any longer. She burst out laughing.

  Sean hastily changed the subject, as Ines wiped the tears from her eyes. “You don’t have any pets right now,” he pointed out.

  “There’s a reason for that,” Ines told him. “I like being able to come and go when I want.”

  Sean put on his most engaging smile. “Please. This is just for a couple of days. Maybe a week at the most.”

  “Okay,” Ines said. “I heard why Samantha couldn’t do this. Now, why can’t you? Are your daughters allergic too?”

  “Yes, they are,” Sean replied. “Fine,” he said under Ines’s unfaltering gaze. “The truth…”

  “For a change…”

  “The truth is that the dog just can’t be at my place,” Sean told Ines. “You have to trust me on this. It’s complicated.”

  “Everything with you is complicated,” Ines said dryly.

  Sean drew himself up. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would.”

  “She needs a good home,” Sean said, getting back to the matter at hand. This wasn’t the time to discuss his personal stuff. No time was, but that was a different matter. “And it’s only for a couple of days.”

  “You said it could be for a week.”

  “At the outside.”

  “I’d have to go out and get dog food and treats….”

  “Oh, we have them in the car,” Samantha said. “I’ll go get them.” They’d stopped at Pets Are Us on the way and Samantha had run in.

  “You swear it’s for a week at the most?” Ines asked.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Sean said. “And remember, if anyone asks about the dog tell them you got Mathilda…”

  “Mathilda?” Ines’s eyebrows went up. “What kind of name is that for a dog?”

  “I think it’s a nice one,” Sean said. What was wrong with Mathilda? Mathilda was a perfectly reasonable name as far as he could see. It certainly wasn’t any worse than Trudy. In fact, he figured it was a whole lot better.

  “All I can think of is that calypso song ‘Matilda.’” And Ines started humming it under her breath.

  Now it was Sean’s turn to smile.

  “What’s calypso?” Samantha asked.

  “Something that happened before your time,” Sean and Ines said in unison.

  Sean continued. “Be that as it may, the important thing to remember is that you got her from your cousin in Scranton….”

  “I don’t have a cousin in Scranton,” Ines informed Sean.

  “Well, you do now,” Sean told her. “A distant cousin. One you just reconnected with by the name of Elsiver Crandall.”

  Ines’s eyebrows went even higher this time. “Elsiver Crandall? You’ve got to be kidding me. Where do you get your names from?” she asked in wonderment.

  Sean pointed to his head. “They’re just there,” he said. “Pretty terrific, huh?”

  Ines groaned.

  “Or,” Sean said to Ines, “you can say you found the dog wandering around outside and took her in until you could find the owner.”

  “I like that better,” Ines said. She looked down at the little pug, who was now sitting on her feet. “I think I’m going to call you Edna,” she said.

  Sean blinked. “How is Edna better than Mathilda?” he asked.

  “It just is.” And Ines bent over and scooped the little dog up in her arms.

  As Sean watched Ines and Trudy interact, the churning in his stomach quieted down. For the first time since Samantha had invaded his home, he felt certain he’d done the right thing.

  By the time Sean left fifteen minutes later, Ines had replaced Trudy’s collar with the one Samantha had bought at the pet store and was busy feeding her a piece of leftover Swiss cheese from her lunch. She didn’t even look up when Samantha and Sean said good-bye, just gave them an absentminded wave.

  Which was a good thing, Sean thought as he reinserted himself in the Mini Cooper. He was incredibly grateful that Ines was distracted by the dog. Otherwise, she would have insisted on walking him out and he didn’t know what he would have done. He’d be beyond mortified if she saw him getting into this dratted green tin can. She’d want to help and that was simply not happening. In fact, as far as he was concerned, after today he’d never set foot in this vehicle again.

  “Can I ask you why you said what you did in there?” Samantha asked after Sean managed to fit himself back in the Mini Cooper.

  “Certainly you can ask,” Sean told her as he reached over and fastened his seat belt.

  “Seriously.”

  “I am serious.”

  “So, you’re not going to tell me,” Samantha said.

  “I am,” Sean said as he struggled to get his legs into some sort of reasonable position. “It’s called the doctrine of plausible deniability.”

  Samantha just looked at him.

  “Okay,” Sean said. “Now, if we leave Trudy in my house and the police come looking for her, I can say I found her wandering around outside and I thought she was just your average stray. They wo
n’t believe me, because Bernie and Libby are involved in the case. The facts aren’t plausible. But if they come to Ines’s house and she says that to them, they’ll believe her. Why shouldn’t they? Up to this point she hasn’t been involved with Trudy in any way, shape, or form.”

  “Do you think the police will really come looking for her?”

  Sean shrugged. “Let’s put it this way. Probably not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. Even they can sometimes put two and two together. It really depends on how much pressure they get to find her.”

  “You’re not a big fan of our police department, are you?” Samantha asked.

  “That would be putting it mildly.”

  “My dad said you got what you deserved, but considering my dad, I think that means you got a bad rap.”

  “Thank you,” Sean said.

  But as it turned out it wasn’t the police who turned up at the Simmons’s flat. It was Richard Colbert.

  Chapter 22

  Bernie and Libby had gone straight to the shop after their visit with Joyce and gotten to work on Mrs. Stein’s order. When they were finished, they went upstairs expecting to tell their dad about their visit with Joyce. There was only one problem. He wasn’t there.

  “Try his cell,” Libby suggested.

  Bernie punched in their dad’s number. It went straight to voice mail.

  “Great,” Libby said when Bernie told her.

  “He’s probably fine,” Bernie said.

  “Probably,” Libby agreed.

  But she felt this uneasy tugging in her gut and she could tell from Bernie’s expression that she felt it too. Their dad was always there—unless he was out with Marvin or Clyde.

  “He’s probably out with Clyde,” Bernie suggested as she dialed Clyde’s number. Only he wasn’t.

  “And Marvin’s working,” Libby said.

  Both girls looked at each other and headed out the door. The first thing they did was ask Amber and Googie if they’d seen their dad, but both of them had been busy and hadn’t noticed him. And anyway, as Bernie pointed out, there wasn’t a view of the entrance to their flat from the shop. If their dad had gone to the left, they wouldn’t have seen him.

  For the next fifteen minutes, they searched the neighborhood. No Sean. And given the pace at which Sean moved, neither Libby nor Bernie could see his getting much farther. Especially since he had to be extra careful because of the ice on the streets.

  Bernie pushed her hands down in her jacket’s pockets to warm them. “We’re making too big a deal of this,” she said.

  Libby nodded. Her breath was visible in the air. “It’s good that he can get around on his own again.”

  “Absolutely,” Bernie agreed. Then she said, “I hope he’s not dead, because I want to kill him when I find him.”

  “And I’ll join you,” Libby told her as she wound her scarf more tightly around her neck. She looked at the sky. Black clouds were hovering in the west. “I think it’s going to snow,” she observed.

  “Terrific,” Bernie said. “That’s just what we need. More white stuff.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for where Dad is,” Libby said as they did one last turn around the neighborhood.

  “I’m sure there is,” Bernie said. The problem was that she couldn’t think of one. “He should have called.”

  “We should go home and check the house phone,” Libby suggested. “Maybe someone called on that.”

  Bernie grunted. Even though Libby hadn’t said the words, Bernie knew she was talking about the hospital or the police.

  “Yes. We should do that,” she said quietly as she turned toward their house.

  They’d just gone back upstairs and hung their coats in the closet when their dad walked through the door. The girls ran over to him.

  “Thank God,” Libby said.

  “What do you mean, thank God?” Sean asked, even though he knew exactly what she meant.

  “Where were you?” Libby demanded of him. “We were worried.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have been,” Sean shot back. He was hungry and tired, and he was stressed from the Mini Cooper. He needed a cup of tea. He didn’t need to be attacked. Okay. Maybe his daughters had a point, but they could be more tactful about it. “I’m not two,” Sean told them. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

  “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” asked Bernie. She decided it would be better to skirt the topic her dad had raised.

  Sean took out his phone and looked at it. “Guess I forgot to turn it on.”

  “You’re always forgetting to turn it on. What’s the point of having it if you don’t use it?” Libby said.

  “He uses it,” Bernie told her. “He just uses it when he wants to.”

  “Are you saying I turned it off?” Sean said as he struggled to take off his jacket. He was damned if he was going to ask either of his daughters for help.

  Bernie nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “I’m entitled to some privacy now and then,” Sean responded.

  “We never said you weren’t,” Libby said.

  Her dad glowered at her. “These cell phones are the curse of the modern age. We’d all be better off without them.”

  Bernie rolled her eyes. “Let’s not go on that rant, shall we?”

  “I’m not sure you do value my privacy,” Sean told her as he wiggled his left arm out of his sleeve. The right sleeve was easy. “I’m not sure you do at all.”

  Bernie lifted her hands in the air and let them drop back down. “The point of having the phone is so we can call you too.”

  “Thank you for the technological update,” Sean snapped. The last thing he needed was to be chastised by his children. He wasn’t some old fart they had to keep track of twenty-four/seven and he’d kill himself before he’d let that happen. No nursing home for him, that was for sure.

  “We were worried,” Libby said. “Because you’re usually…”

  Sean gestured to the wheelchair. “Sitting there.”

  “Yes,” Bernie said. “I’m glad that you’re feeling stronger, but we were getting concerned.”

  “You don’t have to be.”

  “The least you could have done was leave a note,” Libby said.

  That made Sean even madder, mostly because he knew it was true. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m your father,” he informed them.

  “We know,” Bernie said. She paused while she thought of the right thing to say. When he got this bullheaded, it was difficult to know how to proceed. “Have you ever considered the fact that we may need to call you for advice?” she finally said.

  Sean softened slightly. At least his daughters cared for him—even if they were inclined to smother him, a trait they’d gotten from their mother. But still. They did love him. Which was more than a lot of other people could say about their children. So, in that sense he was lucky.

  “I talked with Ramona,” Sean said, changing the subject.

  Libby frowned. She didn’t understand. “Ramona? Did she come here?”

  “No. I went there.”

  “How did you get out there?” Bernie asked. She’d figured her dad had gone off on a walk someplace. “She’s out on Route Sixty-three.”

  “I know where she is. Samantha drove me.”

  Libby’s eyes widened. “Samantha? As in Samantha with the ever-changing hair color? That Samantha?”

  “That’s right. That Samantha.” Sean heard a roar from outside as she took off.

  “You went in her Mini Cooper?” Bernie asked.

  Sean drew himself up. “Why are you so surprised?”

  “It’s just that you’re too…”

  “Old?”

  “No,” Libby said. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Infirm? Hidebound?”

  “We’re just surprised that you’d ride in one,” Bernie said. “Considering your opinion of them and all.”

  “People ch
ange,” Sean said as he made his way to the straight-backed armchair next to the sofa.

  The chair had just the right amount of padding and depth. If he used the arms on either side for support, he could get in and out of it by himself. And even though his wheelchair was actually more comfortable, he’d sit in the armchair for as long as he could possibly manage it. In fact, he was going to ask Bernie to fold the wheelchair up and put it away. He didn’t even want to see the dratted thing. He was just going to assume that his remission would last forever.

  “So does this mean I can get one?” Bernie asked.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. My answer is no. Under no circumstances. Those vehicles shouldn’t be on the road,” Sean opined as he slowly lowered himself into his chair. Boy was he glad to be back. This afternoon had tired him out more than he thought.

  “How did you and Samantha get together?” Libby asked.

  Sean was just about to tell Libby that if she’d get him some tea and a couple of chocolate chip cookies he’d tell her when he heard the bottom outside door slam.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Sean asked.

  Both Bernie and Libby shook their heads.

  Then they heard footsteps on the stairs. They were coming up hard and heavy. Before anyone had a chance to do anything Richard Colbert burst into the room.

  “Where is she?” he demanded.

  “What are you talking about?” Sean asked.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Richard shot back. His face was red with anger. “I’m talking about the dog.”

  “Are you nuts?” Bernie demanded for the second time that day. “You can’t come barging in here like this.”

  “I certainly can,” Richard said. “I have.”

  “Obviously,” Bernie said.

  Richard pointed to Sean before Bernie could go on. “Ask your dad.”

  Bernie took a step forward. “Ask him about what?”

  “About the dog,” Richard cried. “I just told you. What are you, some kind of moron?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Bernie told Richard.

  Richard ignored her and moved closer to Sean. “Ramona called just after you left. She told me that you and Samantha had been out to her house to ask if she was missing a dog.”