“Hello, Lynn? It’s Ben. Benjamin Kalico.”
“Ben, how nice to hear from you. What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been packing.” Better to tell her his situation immediately.
“You’re moving?”
“Yes. I’m moving back in with my parents.” He waited for her response.
“I bet your mom is pleased—to say nothing of Stanley! How is that beautiful boy?”
Encouraged by Lynn’s tone, Kalico relaxed. He told her about Lois installing a “cat-cam” so that she could check on Stanley from work; he enjoyed her delighted laugh. “Say, I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner this evening?”
“On a school night?”
“Oh, sorry. Sorry! I didn’t think about….”
“Ben, I’m kidding. Teachers never quite grow up. We’re always doing homework, trying not to stay up too late on school nights, and waiting for Christmas break, spring break, and summer holidays!” She laughed again. “I’d love to have dinner with you with one proviso: can we have an early one? Say, around 5?”
Kalico readily agreed. He found himself grinning after he switched off his phone. He’d take boxes to his folks’ house, shower and change clothes there, and then pick up Lynn.
An hour later, he was adjusting his tie when Katie bounded into the room, hopped onto his bed, and sat cross-legged, appraising him with a critical eye.
“Hey, Kat! Ever hear of knocking?”
“Had to come in and see you in what Mom is now calling ‘the bachelor pad.’” She surveyed the room. “Not bad. But I can’t see you successfully seducing a bevy of beauties with that gallery gazing down at you!” She pointed at a bulletin board bursting with photographs of Kalico and his sisters at all ages.
“’Bevy of beauties?’ What have you been reading? And don’t worry about my seduction techniques.” Kalico smoothed his hair.
“Does my big brother have game?” Katie looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Eighty-six the tie. And why not wear your forest green shirt? It makes your eyes pop.”
“Who appointed you my fashion consultant?” He grumbled, but he removed the tie and found the shirt.
“So where are you taking her?”
“None of your business, kid.”
“C’mon, Ben. Give. Mom is over the moon that you’re dating Lynn. I can’t wait to meet her.”
“We’re not dating. We’re just going to dinner because she helped me find Stanley. I thought we’d go to Jack Allen’s.”
Katie nodded her approval. “And, for heaven’s sake, talk about something other than work. Don’t mention finances. And what ever you do, do not tell her that you’ve moved back in with Mom and Dad.” She formed an “L” with her thumb and index finger and waved it in front of his face.
“Already did.”
“And she still agreed to go out with you?” Katie shook her head in wonder.
“So what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be at the dorm studying or something?”
“Dorm food sucks. I thought I’d grab leftovers from our fridge, then raid my old closet for something other than jeans or shorts. Any word from Mr. Skifford?”
“No. He’s still in LA working on a movie.”
“Don’t forget that M’s and I are going to interview him with you.”
“I won’t.”
Katie bounded up the stairs, then skipped back down and engulfed her brother in a bear hug. “Remember, Benj: you’re a catch!”
***
Nearly four hours later, Kalico peeled off his mud-streaked and torn forest green shirt and threw it in the trash. He examined the ripped knees of his dress slacks, then tossed them away too before stepping into the shower. How could it all have gone so very wrong? He let water pound on his head and shoulders. He relished how the spray stung his scraped knuckles and cut knees.
Scenes from his date played and replayed: Lynn, lovely in a powder blue skirt and blouse accented by black tights and high-heels. Lynn, a cobweb in her hair, her cheek bleeding, her blouse streaked with mud and her tights shredded. Lynn laughing at one of his stories, and taking his arm as they walked into Jack Allen’s. Lynn shivering and silent as he drove her home.
He should never have answered the phone. When he saw Mrs. Buonanotte’s name appear as the caller, he should have let it go to voice mail. But, no: he answered. And, of course, Zoe was missing. And, of course, Mrs. B. was frantic. And, of course, he had to find the little Boston. Lynn had nodded her acquiescence and said that she’d enjoy ‘a ride along.’ He reassured her that Zoe never ran far and that they’d be back at the restaurant in forty-five minutes or less.
But the Boston terrier was not within her normal four-block radius from home. He drove slowly, windows down and heat on full to abate a cold north wind. They scanned the sidewalk for a white-tipped tail, calling Zoe’s name every few seconds. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He pulled up beside a neighborhood park that led down to a small creek. Although Zoe had never ventured out so far, Kalico decided to scan the area quickly on foot. Lynn, pointing ruefully at her heels, stayed behind in the warm car. If only she had remained there….
Kalico turned in the shower and let the water pound on his face. He’d felt rising panic as the temperature continued to drop and the skies threatened rain. He dreaded the idea of returning to Mrs. Buonanotte without Zoe. He jogged through the small park, whistling and calling for her. Then as he stood quietly on the edge of a small rise overlooking the creek, he heard a muffled bark from below. Skidding and sliding on rocks and mud, he searched the hillside and creek bank, pausing and calling, pausing and calling. The light was fading rapidly as the sun began to set and thunderclouds continued to build.
Then, he spotted the gaping mouth of a drainage pipe about four feet above the water on the other side of the creek. He crossed the shallow stream and pushed his way up to it, crouching to gaze into the concrete opening. The flashlight on his iPhone caught the shining eyes of an animal. Staccato, high-pitched barks echoed off the walls of the pipe. It was Zoe. He called her and heard scrambling but the terrier did not appear. Getting down on his stomach, he maneuvered his head for a better look: Zoe was caught on some kind of wire lodged inside the tunnel. Kalico cursed. He’d have to get her.
He quickly called Lynn and filled her in on the good and the bad news, directing her to call 311. Then he set up his phone so the light shone into the pipe, and began to inch his way forward. His left shoulder grazed the concrete and his shirt ripped. Rocks and broken glass wedged themselves into his knees. He sucked in his breath, hunching his shoulders forward; he pushed with his feet. Zoe’s bark changed to kind of howling whine. But Kalico could not budge; he was just too big. He tensed, afraid that he was stuck. Then he willed himself to relax, let out a breath, and inched his right shoulder back. His knuckles grazed the wall, but finally he emerged from the tunnel and sat back on his heels.
A cold drop of rain hit his forehead and lightning illuminated the creek and its narrow banks. In the flash Lynn materialized beside him. She calmly handed him her heels and the industrial flashlight he kept in his car.
Gleaning her intention, he protested: “Lynn, it’s too dangerous. We need to wait for animal rescue.” He grasped her arm.
“They won’t get here for at least an hour.” She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, looking remarkably like her aunt. “And, Ben, it’s going to rain!” She took three steps to the pipe, dropped to her knees, then onto her stomach, and disappeared into the tunnel. Cursing, Kalico knelt by the opening and directed the flashlight into the darkness. He could just make out Lynn’s body as she inched forward. Raindrops multiplied and thunder boomed.
Kalico stepped out of his shower and threw on his robe. The face that stared back at him from his mirror seemed older. The ten minutes or so that Lynn had been in that drainage pipe had seemed like a lifetime. She’d emerged, disheveled and bloody, clutching Zoe to her chest. She was crying. Kalico guided her down the hill, across the now rising cr
eek, and back to the car where she sat silently and cradled the little dog.
Kalico slumped into his couch and leaned his head back against the pillow. At least Zoe, the little monster, was safe. She had not even had the decency to be ashamed of herself, but had trotted up to her owner with her head high and tail wagging. But he didn’t expect to see Lynn again. He glanced at his phone, surprised that the time read just 9:20. Perhaps he should call to see if she were okay. On cue, the phone buzzed.
“Hey, you owe me dinner!” Lynn’s voice was light and teasing.
“Hi! How are you? I am so sorry….”
“I’m starving. Kerby Lane in fifteen minutes.” The phone went silent.
In eleven minutes Kalico, dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, walked into the restaurant where Lynn, likewise in jeans and a tee, waved to him from a booth. Her hair, still damp, curled softly around her face. The only sign of their adventure was a cut on her left cheek.
“I’ve ordered banana nut pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon for us. I hope decaf is okay?” She grinned at him.
“Yes. Great.” Kalico slid onto the bench across from her. “I love breakfast for dinner.”
“Me too.”
He studied the top of the table for a moment. “I’m sorry about this evening. I should never have taken that call.”
Lynn reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. “Nonsense. Zoe would’ve drowned! Ben, I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to save a life.” She laughed delightedly. “I read about and teach about adventures, but rarely do I get to live one. I can’t thank you enough, and if you apologize one more time for giving me one of the best times ever—I will punch you!”
Kalico relaxed. Between mouthfuls of softly scrambled eggs, they relived the evening’s events, sharing details from their own perspectives. Lynn recalled the moment of panic when she reached Zoe and could not free her collar from a wire grill—until it dawned on her that she could simply unfasten it. Ben told her about his terror as the rain began to fall, and he imagined a flash flood.
“If we’d been ten minutes later….” He shook his head.
As they dug into rich, buttery pancakes, they discussed work and politics and the crazy Texas weather. They shared family stories. Lynn told him about her mother’s death and how Aunt Emelia, her father’s no-nonsense older sister, had marshaled them through their grief. “She let me cry or hit my pillow, then she’d say, ‘Busy hands are happy hands,’ and we’d plant a bulb garden or make chocolate chip pecan cookies or create a memory scrap book or read Little Woman aloud.” Lynn smiled at the memory. “And you know, my hands were happy, so I learned that in time more of me would be happy too.”
Kalico recalled how his two older sisters, Karen and Karla, begged his parents to allow them to go on a high school sponsored camping trip to Big Bend. After weeks of whining and negotiating, his folks agreed on the condition that Ben accompany them. “Now, I was a freshman and the twins were exalted seniors. They did not want their nerdy little brother with them—especially since several senior boys from the swim team were there.” He chuckled at the memory. “I, of course, took my duties seriously and posted myself just outside their tent flap after lights out.”
Their waiter appeared and asked if they’d like dessert.
“I shouldn’t….” Lynn paused. “Oh what the heck! I’d like the apple cobbler, please, with the vanilla bean ice cream.” She looked at Ben: “Two spoons?”
“No. I’ll have a cobbler as well.” A question that had been pulling at the edges of his consciousness suddenly formulated. “Say, Lynn, do you know how Susan got a dish of cobbler the night of our book circle dinner?”
“No. Margie or Jane was passing out leftovers to everyone. I assume she just accepted the containers with a little bit of everything. Why?”
“I remember hearing her refuse the dessert. Yet when we found her….” Kalico stopped.
“It’s okay. Aunt Emelia described the scene for me. She won’t admit it, but she’s having a difficult time dealing with Susan’s death. I think she keeps reliving the discovery of the her body.”
Kalico tried to push the unbidden image of Susan so still in that old chair. “It was traumatic. But your aunt was a trooper.”
“She says the same thing about you.” She looked at the big redhead seriously. “I suppose as a detective, you’ve come across death often?”
Kalico shook his head. “No. I’m not a homicide detective. Cheating spouses, would-be insurance company defrauders, a bicycle thief, and lost pets, yes, but no murderers—yet.”
“Why are you concerned about Susan having the cobbler?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just the detective in me wanting to make sense of any loose ends.”
They paused as their waiter set hot apple cobblers topped with scoops of already melting vanilla ice cream before them. They ate in silence for a few moments.
“Susan had a serious sweet tooth.” Lynn dabbed at a trace of vanilla on her lips. “She was always trying to keep desserts out of her house, but she probably caved at the last minute.”
“I suppose.” Kalico pushed back from the table and sighed. “I’m stuffed.”
“Me too.” But Lynn kept eating her dessert. “Ben, tell me about how you found the Persian cat.”
“Diva? My claim to fame?” He grinned crookedly at her. “I never tell that story until the fifth date.”
“Fifth, hmmm?” Lynn raised an eyebrow, wondering just how many fifth dates Kalico had had. “We’d better get moving then—we’ve four dates to go before my curiosity is satisfied..”
“Just what I was thinking. How about dinner on Saturday night?”
“No. Let’s not try another dinner. How about a picnic? The weather is supposed to be nice. Let’s go to McKinney Falls.”
“Great.”
Lynn glanced at her phone. “I can’t believe it’s after 11! Ben, I really need to get home. It’s a….”
“School night. I know.”
Kalico walked Lynn to her car. The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and crisp and fresh. Clouds played hide and seek with the stars. She looked up at him, then stepped forward, lifted up on her tiptoes, and kissed him gently on the mouth. Surprised, he tightened an arm around her and pulled her toward him, but she placed a hand firmly on his chest. “Not ‘til the fifth date!” she whispered, then she was gone.
Chapter Twenty
Kalico whistled under his breath as he unlocked his office door, registering the newly emblazoned, CAT, now in bright orange, after his name. But nothing could bother him today. The move to his parents’ basement has been painless and would free up money for the business. He had four meetings this week with potential clients, and a date with Lynn on Saturday. Yes, life was looking up.
He ran downstairs and out into the bright late March morning. At 7:15 a.m. M’s and Katie pulled up in the yellow Beetle. His sister jumped out of the passenger seat and crawled into the back, leaving shotgun for her brother. Their appointment with Ghost’s owner Mr. Skifford was at 8 o’clock, so they had plenty of time to get out to Dripping Springs since they would be going against traffic.
“Morning, Ben.” M’s handed him a coffee. She merged into traffic, pointing the car west.
“How was the big date?” Katie leaned forward between the front seats.
“Okay,” said Kalico, but he could not hide his grin.
“Tell!”
Ignoring her, he asked M’s for news about Ghost.
“I scanned rescue sites throughout the Texas Hill Country last night. Nothing. It’s as if Ghost has dropped off the map: no one had spotted him since Dick Nichols Park. Even the inexhaustible Freddie has given up sending daily scouting reports.”
“Perhaps someone has taken him in without searching for his owner,” offered Katie.
“Or that beautiful husky is hurt or worse….”
They drove in silence.
Turning to look at his sister, Kalico asked, “What in the world are you wearing?” Katie was dressed in a cream-colored pants suit with a grey, high-collared blouse adorned with pearl buttons. Her mass of red hair was restrained in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and a pair of clear, tortoise shell glasses dangled from a gold chain around her neck.
“You like?” Katie grinned and placed the glasses on the tip of her nose. “I found these in our old prop box at home. Remember when we did scenes from How to Marry a Millionaire?”
“Kat, you look more like a reject from Mad Men.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous,” commented Kalico, who received a punch in the arm. “I bet Ghost ran away from the Skifford kennels because he was abused. I bet they mistreated that dog, and we’re going to need to get them to confess!” She pursed lips adorned with carefully applied cherry red lipstick.
M’s glanced at her friend in the rearview mirror. “Katie, you forget that Ben interviewed Mr. Skifford and his staff when Ghost first disappeared.”
“Ah! But Ben was not looking for nefarious deeds. He must have bought the gleaming façade. I bet beneath the surface there’s an ugly underbelly of greed and abuse. Skifford may be even running a puppy mill.” She nodded her head emphatically; the glasses dove from her nose.
“Nefarious deeds?” Kalico scoffed. “Skifford’s operation is professional. Remember, he’s the concerned owner, not a suspect.”
“For now. I say that we grill him and uncover the dirty underbelly of his operation.”
Amused and alarmed, Kalico intervened. “You’re terrifying,” he acknowledged, “but let me do the interviewing. I want you to observe, take notes, and remain silent.” Noting the stubborn jut of his sister’s jaw, he added, “Or you will stay in the car.”
M’s turned onto Fitzhugh Road and began looking for the Skifford Star Ranch and Kennels. A bright white and red sign directed them to turn left onto an unpaved road that dead-ended at a black wrought iron gate framed by large white rock pillars. M’s rolled down her window, pushed a button on the intercom and waited.
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