by Dixie Cash
In the kitchen, she found that Waffle had already nosed into her bag, opened the Styrofoam box in which the half a hamburger she had brought home from Hogg’s had been stashed and helped himself. She fed him anyway, then threw together a quick breakfast for herself.
While she ate, she watched the local news on the small TV she kept in the kitchen. The news anchor came on with a mug shot of John Wilson and a report that the damning DNA evidence against him had been illegally obtained and might be thrown out of court. Any minute now, she expected to see a picture of Richard grinning at the camera. Disgusted with Richard and his client and the whole situation, she clicked off the TV.
She hurriedly showered and shampooed, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and pulled her long hair back in a ponytail. When she returned to the kitchen, Waffle was lying prone, his chin resting on the floor. “Oh, baby.” She squatted and pulled his head to her chest. “I know you’re sad. We just have to get through it.”
***
At LaBarkery, Sandi went through the motions. While Betty Ann and Jessica ground and mixed the raw food to be sold in bulk, Sandi mixed, molded and baked cookies she labeled “Barkies.” Made of fresh ground turkey, eggs, cooked brown rice, a chopped broccoli-carrots-cauliflower mix, a smidgen of dried rosemary and tiny chunks of peeled apple for natural sweetness, her customers’ pets loved them.
She liked them herself, even ate a few. These days, instead of buying lunch or bringing it from home, she often grazed on her homemade pet food. The recipe fit into the healthier lifestyle she had adopted after her divorce and with no flour, the baked items were gluten-free.
In the beginning, she had baked a couple dozen Barkies a day and had an empty showcase at the end of the day. Responding to demand, her production had now grown to fifteen dozen a day. Thus, every morning, she found herself in the kitchen in the back of her store baking Barkies. Sometimes she was there before daylight.
At this pace, soon she would need more space for a bigger kitchen and even another employee. She was in the process of copyrighting her recipes and looking into packaging the various items she baked for mail order. If she started marketing on her website, she could definitely need more hired people and space.
“Are you upset about something?” Betty Ann asked.
“A little. I took Jake to his new home yesterday.”
Jessica chimed in. “Aww. I’m sorry. I know you’re going to miss him. I’m going to miss hearing stories about him.”
Sandi nodded as she used an ice cream scooper to place another Barkie on a cookie sheet. “But he had to go. My home is only a temporary stopover for most of my animals. Finding them a new place is what I’m supposed to do.” Tears welled behind her eyes again. She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. It makes me sad and I’ve got too much to do to let it distract me.”
“Okay, we won’t mention it again,” Betty Ann said.
“But who knows what might have happened to him if it hadn’t been for you,” Jessica said. “He went to live with your aunt, right?”
Sandi made a mental huff of frustration. “Girls, come on now. We aren’t going to talk about it, okay?”
She had just pulled the first sheet of cookies from the oven when the phone rang and she picked up. Richard. He didn’t even say hello. Instead, his first words were, “Well, did you get rid of him?”
She burst into tears and hung up. “Why do I tolerate Richard and his attitude about my animals?” she asked the air. “He has no soul. He only cares about criminals.”
Betty Ann and Jessica exchanged knowing looks.
Seconds later, the phone rang again. Neither Betty Ann nor Jessica, up to their elbows in raw meat, was in a position to answer the phone, so Sandi picked up again.
“I’m sorry, Sandi,” Richard said. “I didn’t mean to sound mean. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“Oh, really? Well, I heard on this morning’s news that the court might throw out the DNA evidence on John Wilson, so that should make you happy.”
“Oh, baby, it does. I’m waiting to see if my man goes free.”
“But you know he’s guilty. He’s already confessed.”
“A coerced confession. Not worth the paper it’s written on. I’ve never asked him if he’s guilty and he’s never told me.”
Sandi’s eyes rolled involuntarily. How many times had she heard Richard say he never asked his clients if they were guilty? “That is nonsense. You know he confessed. You’re being dishonest, Richard, and endangering the citizens of Midland.”
“Whoa! What is this? I’m trying to get the guy a fair shake. You’re beating me up over what?”
“You know what. We’ve talked about this a dozen times. I’m in no mood to deal with it today. I’m too upset.”
“About what? A friggin’ bird? Is it too much to expect a little support from the woman who’s supposed to be my girlfriend?” After a long pause, a huge sigh came over the line. “We need to talk about those animals, Sandi. I’ll be honest. I’ve been wondering how your menagerie is going to mesh with our future. One loud-mouthed bird was only part of the problem.”
“You know what, Richard? Maybe I’ve got a few problems myself. Maybe I’m not worried about meshing with our future. Maybe I don’t want a...a heartless, soulless...lout in my life!”
“Lout? Did you say lout? Sandi, you don’t mean that. Just a minute—”
“Do not “just-a-minute” me. You think you’d have a hard time living with me and my animals? I don’t have enough pens and papers to write down all of the things about you that get on my nerves, Richard.” She hung up with a loud Clack!
Waffle looked up at her anxiously, as he always did when she raised her voice. She had never had a dog that was so intuitive. “That’s that, boy,” she said to him. “The next thing he’d be telling me is he doesn’t want me to have you.”
Chapter 10
Friday, a week later...
Sandi was on the way to putting put her grief at parting with Jake behind her. Still, she hadn’t altogether abandoned concerns about him. After sliding three dozen Barkies to be sold over the weekend into the oven, she called her aunt to check on him.
“Sandi,” Aunt Ed said first thing. “How are you, hon?”
After they exchanged how-are-yous, Sandi said, “And how’s Jake? Are all of you getting along?”
“Great. Doing a little remodeling, but —”
“Remodeling for Jake?”
“We’re ripping the carpet out of his room. You must’ve forgotten to tell me how well his bowels work.”
Oh, hell. Indeed she had neglected a discussion with her aunt about how messy Jake was. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ed. I just assumed you knew...I mean, well, he’s a bird. And birds poop on things. I’ll admit I didn’t think of that when I first agreed to take him. After I figured out they might never find another home for him, I started to realize I had to make some changes.”
“Like what?”
“I had to re-do the bedroom. I added only hard surfaces that could be washed. Then I hired a cleaning service to come in once a week.”
To Sandi’s relief, her aunt cackled. “My God, he not only eats like a gourmet, he has to have a maid. This parrot might turn out to be a more expensive pet than a horse. Don’t worry about it, hon. The important thing is that Vic loves him and they’re getting along great. You should see the big cage he's built for him at the Styling Station.”
Her aunt followed up with a long description of an elaborate set-up that Sandi couldn’t quite picture.
“I’d love to see it. I’ll drive down one day pretty soon.”
Sandi disconnected, her thoughts channeled in a new direction. Just because her aunt was pleased with Jake now didn’t mean she would still want him a few months from now. Sandi thought about the painter she had gotten quotes from for re-painting the walls in Jake’s room. Maybe she should hold off on having that done, just in case her aunt suddenly had a change of heart and Jake ended up moving back to Midland. She ha
d planned to locate her office back in that room, but she might continue to use the dining room table a little longer.
Otherwise, her life was finally settling down. She had made up with Richard. He had brought her flowers and chocolates and an apology. He had taken her to dinner at the best steakhouse in Midland. He had even taken her to Tag Freeman’s Double-Kicker Barbecue & Beer, one of the hottest fun spots in town. She had accepted his gifts and extra attention, although she wasn’t sure why. She was more certain than ever that their relationship had nowhere to go.
He was in a great mood. The story of John Wilson’s botched DNA test in Midland had made headlines across the country. Richard had even done an interview for the local CBS-TV station that had filtered to the affiliates in major cities. He and the case had briefly been the talk of the town.
John Wilson’s trial appeared to be on a track to be thrown out of court and he would soon be released on bail. Mrs. Bean and all the good she had done in her long life had gotten lost in the legal haggling. A woman who would be hard pressed to find the will and strength to kill a mosquito had been savagely beaten and her throat had been cut. An extreme act when all it would have taken from the intruder was a firm reprimand to ‘keep quiet’ about the theft that had occurred.
Then, in the blink of an eye, everything had changed. Yesterday afternoon, the judge had ruled that the DNA evidence was acceptable after all and rescinded Wilson’s bail. When Sandi heard the news on TV, she had cheered. Richard would be devastated, but she wasn’t sorry to see a monster return to jail. She should have called Richard and consoled him, but she could not. And the fact that she couldn’t and didn’t had probably done untold damage to the fragile relationship that they had just put back together.
***
Debbie Sue arrived at the Styling Station early, toting the Odessa American newspaper. She spread it on Edwina’s work station with the headline obvious: “Midland Man Held Without Bond.” And the story went on from there.
Edwina soon came in the back door. “Morning,” she sang.
“Did you see the news this morning?”
“If you’re talking about John Wilson, yes, I did. Is there a reason I should care?”
“Ed. He’s guilty.”
“Debbie Sue, I know where you’re headed. And I’m repeating this has nothing to do with us.”
“But it might. They might need us. We should be ready in case they do.”
“Why, on God’s green earth, would the Midland PD need us?”
“I’m just saying—”
“Well, don’t be saying, Debbie Sue. This is one time I’m putting my foot down. I’ve got all I can handle with dealing with this damn parrot. You know what he said to me this morning? He told me my lime green glasses didn’t look good and he bit my finger when I fed him a grape. I nearly slapped him.”
“You can’t slap the parrot, Ed. Your niece would come down here and take him back.”
“I can only hope.”
“And what would you tell Vic?”
“That damn bird would make a nice meal. As much money as he has cost me, he would be the most expensive poultry we’ve ever had.
***
Nick had heard that the two women who owned the Styling Station were excellent barbers. His hair, being naturally wavy, required skillful cutting to keep it simple and manageable. Having taken the day off, he headed to the beauty salon for a haircut.
The salon obviously had formerly been a gas station. He couldn’t guess its age, but a pair of round gasoline pumps stood outside the red limestone rock building. Today, the antique pumps were dressed up in Halloween costumes and surrounded by pumpkins and black and white skeletons. The scene looked odd, but in the few months he had lived in Salt Lick, he had learned that a lot of things in this town were odd.
He was gradually growing accustomed to the place’s eccentricities. The hand-painted sandwich sign that stood near the beauty shop’s front door, for instance:
GOT A CHEATING SPOUSE OR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?
DON’T GET MAD, GET EVEN.
CALL THE DOMESTIC EQUALIZERS.
555-1212
Harley Carruthers had told him the two women who owned the salon called themselves detectives and had actually solved the mystery of his former wife’s murder. That piece of information had left Nick stunned. He had never known anybody associated with so violent a crime. That it had occurred in a desert burg like Salt Lick was incredible enough, but to learn the victim had been the wife of one of the nicest guys Nick had ever met as well as one of the richest fell into the realm of pure fiction.
Salt Lick appeared to be the epitome of an all-American small town. Not quite the Norman Rockwell type, but still as wholesome and clean as a desert town with a shortage of water could be.
Walking into the salon, the first thing he noticed was the far corner and what looked something like a cramped jail cell, except that it was made of new two-by-twos. It housed a mini-jungle.
A parrot sat perched on a round bar that spanned the width of the structure. This must be the bird the weepy redhead had told him about. He walked over to what could only be called a cage. Other than having the basic look of a parrot, the bird didn’t look like anything special. Gray and white and a couple of red tail feathers. Typical parrot’s head and thick beak.
“Mr. GQ Cowboy,” the bird squawked and ruffled its feathers. “What an asshole.”
Nick frowned. He had heard that bird before. Did the damn thing recognize him? “Did he say what I think he said?”
“He did,” the younger hairdresser said.
That would be Debbie Sue Overstreet. She was a good-looking woman who appeared to be close to his age. Her husband, a Texas Ranger captain, was a local legend, but Nick had never met him. The locals rarely saw him. He was usually down at the Mexican border chasing drug traffickers and people smugglers.
Debbie Sue walked up beside him. “That’s Jake. He’s got a potty mouth, but we’re trying to re-train him.”
“Oh, yeah? Good luck with that. I can’t imagine how you would go about training a bird in the first place, much less re-training one.”
He stared into the cage at a snarl of branches and perches, obviously put together with skill and care. “Who built the fancy cage?”
“My husband,” the tall skinny one said. She, too, crossed the room to look into the cage at the parrot.
That would be Edwina, the redhead’s aunt. She had a few years on Debbie Sue. Nick guessed her to be around forty-five. Harley had told him about her husband too, but Nick had never met him either. He was eager to meet a true military hero.
He turned and faced the two women. “I need a haircut.”
“You’ve come to the right place, cowboy,” the aunt said. “You’re the general manager out at the Flying C, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Nick put out his right hand. “Nick Conway. And you are?”
She took his hand. “Edwina Perkins-Martin, at your service. You’re the guy my niece met on the highway a couple of weeks ago, aren’t you? The day she brought Jake down here.” She tipped her head toward the cage.
Nick’s memory spun backward two weeks. How could he forget seeing any woman wearing a dress and sandals trying to shoo a cow and her calf off the highway, especially if the woman was a gorgeous redhead?
Debbie Sue laughed. “The one Jake calls an asshole.” She, too, put out her right hand. “I’m Debbie Sue Overstreet.”
Not knowing if Sandi had revealed she’d had supper with him the day she brought the parrot down, he chose not to mention it. “I remember running into her. So she just up and left her parrot with you.”
“Oh, it isn’t her parrot any longer,” Edwina said. “My husband would take a machete to somebody who tried to take that bird away from him. Me, on the other hand, I might take a machete to the bird. He craps on everything in sight.”
Nick laughed. “That’s a bird for you. Keeping one this size penned up indoors would create a lot of work for somebody.”
/>
“In spite of what Ed says about him, everyone loves him,” Debbie Sue said. “Her husband is taking him to the football game tonight. He used to live in a sports bar, so he’s a football fan.”
Ah, yes. High school football and Friday nights. Legendary in Texas. “Who, the parrot? Or her husband?” Nick followed up with a chuckle.
Debbie Sue ducked her chin and gave him a deadpan look. “The parrot. Ed’s husband couldn’t care less about a football game.”
Nick made another quick stroll down memory lane. He had played football from eighth grade forward until he graduated from college. He had been blessed with the smarts and leadership skills as well as the physical size, strength and coordination to win a full-ride scholarship and play quarterback. He thanked his Maker every day. Being able to hold his own among the best of them had bought him an education at Texas Tech University and an opportunity to escape the debilitating poverty into which he had been born.
“I haven’t yet made it to a Salt Lick Steers game,” he said. “I’m not familiar with six-man football’s rules.”
“Jake loves football. Ed’s husband has been teaching him some of the cheers the cheerleaders do. He’s going to take him down to the sidelines and the girls are going to do cheers with him.”
“Awrrk,” Jake piped. “Go Steers. Get that sonofabitch! Break his fuckin’ leg!”
“Ain’t that a hoot?” Edwina said. “So, cowboy, are we gonna cut your hair today or play with the bird?”
“What the fuck? What the... Fuuuck?” Jake squawked. “What an asshole.”
“Oh, my God,” Edwina said. “I’m so sorry. We have absolutely no control over what he says.”
“He does say a lot of words, doesn’t he?”
“He more than says words,” Debbie Sue said. “He knows what they mean and he can solve problems. He’s even got opinions on everything.”
“Debbie Sue and I are teaching him about politics,” the aunt said. “Some of our customers have started asking him for advice, so we’re coaching him to tell them who to vote for. We figure we can influence elections that way.”
