In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense)

by Patricia Mason

  “I don’t suppose you left it open.”

  “No.” She gulped and slowly pushed the door inward.

  Mo took a tentative step inside and Ross pulled her back.

  “If we’re going in, let me go first.” That’s right. Be a hero, Ross. He’d seen enough movies to know entering the house was a stupid action for a character to take. He didn’t know what he would do if they came face-to-face with a bad guy. He’d probably get pummeled for the second time today. Pummeled or worse.

  But when Mo smiled at him gratefully, Ross felt certain that whatever happened would be worth it.

  Ross crept forward with Mo behind him. There were no lights on. Afternoon had turned to dusk preventing him from seeing anything in the shadowed hall.

  A front parlor room was located to the right. He saw no one in the room now, but the cushions that had been swept from the sofa and chairs signaled that someone had definitely been there.

  As they stepped over the threshold, Ross stared down at the mess before them. A lamp, a vase and picture frames—some broken—were scattered across the floor. Papers were tossed about. Mo was either a terrible housekeeper or the place had been ransacked. He hoped for the former. He didn't want to think her house had been burgled.

  “You probably didn’t leave it in this state this morning, did you?”

  “No,” she said.

  Mo came around from behind him, picked up a floor lamp, and switched it on. She frantically darted about the room, looking this way and that. She strode into the next room and made another quick scan. Ross followed and saw several dining chairs from the table at the center of the room had been knocked on their sides. Mo brushed past him to stride to the next room.

  “Mo, wait! We don’t know if someone is still here,” Ross called, trotting after her. When he reached the door of the kitchen, she had turned back, and almost slammed into him. She pushed past with a surprisingly strong shove.

  “Get out of my way. I’ve got to look upstairs.”

  Mo ran down the hall and then up the stairs. Ross chased after her. The second floor rooms were in a condition similar to the parlor. Items were tossed about and broken, papers scattered, and furniture flung around. With each succeeding room, Mo became more and more distressed looking over and under furniture.

  Fortunately, they didn't meet up with the burglar.

  They finally ended up back in the parlor. Mo’s movements were twitchy as she paced with her arms wrapped around herself.

  Ross tried to pull her into his arms, but she wouldn’t allow the embrace and jerked away.

  “I know it must be upsetting, but we can get all these things replaced. It’ll be okay,” Ross said in his gentlest tone.

  “You don’t understand,” she cried. “I don’t care about any of these things.” She spat the last word. “They can destroy every thing I own. I just want my baby.”

  “Your what?” She had a baby? Ross thought back quickly. He didn’t think he’d seen a nursery anywhere in the house.

  Mo rushed to the corner of the room and then looked under the sofa. “Talley, Talley,” she cried. “Baby kitty. Come to Mommy.”

  Oh that kind of baby.

  Ross joined in the search. They walked through the house more slowly this time and examined every nook and cranny. Nothing. Mo became increasingly hysterical as they checked first in this cranny then that nook and didn’t find her cat. She went outside to call for Talley from the porch and then descended the steps to the sidewalk in front of the house. When they'd exhausted their search, she collapsed to sit on the steps.

  “Oh, Ross, what am I going to do? He’s nowhere in the house. He probably ran outside when… when whoever did this was still here.”

  Ross placed an arm around her shoulder and she turned into him, hiding her face against his chest.

  “It’ll be okay, love. He’s probably hiding. He’ll come out when things calm down,” he soothed. Ross hugged her tightly to him. Her face was wet with tears.

  “I’m soaking your chest,” she said, wiping at the fabric of his dress shirt.

  A distinct tingle radiated from the skin-to-skin contact. He suppressed the urge to press it further. This hug was all about comforting Mo, not about his urges. Anyway, he shouldn’t have any urges. Hadn’t he decided less than an hour ago to suppress his feelings toward Mo?

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, patting her hand partly to console her and partly to stop her from the stroking that gave him those dastardly urges.

  “I know I’m being ridiculous, but Talley isn’t an outdoor cat. If he got outside, he could get hurt. An alligator could get him.”

  Ross had heard about the extremely infrequent alligator sightings in downtown Savannah. Should he point out that her emotional concerns were probably unfounded? The cat would come out of hiding and come home in time. She only needed to wait. However, it felt wrong to try that type of reasoning with a hysterical Mo.

  “If something happens to Talley, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she cried, brokenly. Pulling away, she looked up at him, her eyes solemn.

  Ross opened his mouth to try to reassure her again, but before the words had time to actually emerge, Mo flung herself against him again and resumed her crying jag.

  * * * * *

  With her rational mind observing from a distance above her, Mo knew she was stupid and weak to blubber like this on Ross. No man had patience for a crying woman for long. Besides, she knew that chances were in her favor that Talley would be all right. Get a grip Mo. Get a grip.

  Ross disentangled her arms from around his neck and then stood up. She gazed up at him with hurt wet eyes.

  “I’m going to go—” he began.

  He was going to go? Just like every other man in her lifetime. They got going when the going got tough.

  “I’m going to go search for him around the neighborhood,” Ross said.

  “What?” she asked just to hear him make the offer a second time.

  His offer to find Talley—so unexpected— made her pause to process the words for a moment.

  “I’m going to go look for Talley. Do you have a flashlight? It’s getting a bit dark. Does he have a favorite toy? Or maybe a food treat. Something I could lure him out with. And I guess I better know what he looks like. Do you have a photo?” He glanced back at the house as if remembering the shambles the photographs were probably in. "Or give me a description. I don’t think it would be advisable for me to drag every cat in the neighborhood back here.”

  At that moment, Ross appeared to her the most dashing, handsome, heroic man in the history of the world. Mo hopped up before hurling herself against his body, kissing him hard on the lips.

  “You’re wonderful,” she said between more quick kisses.

  His expression revealed a pleased surprise. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Oh, yes you have.”

  * * * * *

  The endorphin effect of Mo’s grateful kisses had largely worn off by the time Ross rounded the block, flashlight in hand, for the third time. At seven p.m. the comfortable dusk had turned to cold darkness.

  Ross could probably indicate on a map the location of each tree, sewer grate, and foundation hole in the neighborhood after he’d examined them all tonight. Mo searched on the other side of the street with her own flashlight, inspecting the underside of bushes, the inside of trashcans, and the topside of sheds. Still no cat.

  At one point, Ross had wrenched a smallish black cat out from under a car, resulting in several scratches for his trouble, only to have Mo say she’d never seen the hissing beast before in her life. Thank you very bloody much.

  Ross almost pronounced the task impossible, and even opened his mouth to admit defeat, when Mo blew a kiss in his direction and then smiled. Blast. He was trapped into more searching.

  Bugger the woman and her fantastic legs. Just bugger her. Yes, exactly the problem, Ross realized. He desperately wanted to bugger her…and other positions. He longed to have those fantas
tic legs wrapped around him, which was why he was out here forever searching the cold darkness for an animal which would likely make his eyes swell shut.

  Being totally honest with himself, Ross had to admit that part of the reason he continued to search out here for the cat was that he wanted to be a hero for Mo. He stupidly wanted to rush in and save the day. Her dejected sobbing had stirred something primal within him. Ross wanted to be a superman. Worse than that, for the first time in his life, he wanted to be Stephen bloody Dagger.

  Shivering, Ross pulled the ridiculous phantom cape around him and again set off. He had almost reached the derelict blue house three doors down from Mo’s when he spotted a flicker of something shiny. If Ross had blinked he would’ve missed the faint gleam of two green eyes peering from the heavy shadows under the dilapidated front porch.

  He trudged across muddy ground, overgrown with weeds, to obtain a closer view. His shoes would never be the same, but Ross wanted to be sure of what he was seeing. No need to excite Mo about finding her cat if this one didn’t belong to her.

  Kneeling down, Ross felt the icy muck seep through his pant leg, which probably meant saying bye-bye to his deposit from the costume rental booth at the convention. He leaned on one hand, the mud squishing around his fingers. Fab.

  From this angle, Ross saw a cat crouched under the house’s foundation. The creature hovered just out of reach by mere millimeters.

  “Mo, I think I’ve found him,” Ross called.

  At the sound of his voice, the cat hissed and backed further away. Brilliant.

  Mo darted across the street and then knelt at his side.

  “That’s him.” She gave a gleeful clap of her hands. “Talley-baby, come to Mommy.”

  Talley gazed at them with solemn, unblinking, green cat eyes. He didn’t move an inch.

  “Are you sure it’s him? He doesn’t seem to know you,” Ross said.

  Mo held out a food treat, her hand reaching within six inches of the cowering mini-panther. “Mama’s baby boy. Itobito baby. Come on, baby-boo.” Mo tried to coax Talley by waving the treat back and forth. The cat didn’t budge.

  “Are you certain that’s your cat?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mo grumbled. “He’s obviously scared.”

  They sat in silence for long moments. Mo and Ross each stared at the cat who stared back at them. The only movement was the cell phone-sized palmetto bug that ambled out from under the house, crossed in front of them, and then scampered onto the sidewalk. At least they hadn’t seen one of the city’s famous armadillo-sized river rats. Ross didn’t want to lose whatever veneer of manly bravado he had by screaming like a little girl at the sight of a giant rodent.

  “We can either wait for him to come out or try to crawl in there after him,” Mo suggested. She turned those sad brown eyes toward him again. “But what if he darts out from under the house while we’re waiting and then runs in some other direction? We could lose him again. I think we should crawl in and bring him out.”

  Damn those eyes for being an effective weapon. But Ross wouldn’t go down without a fight. “When you say we, are you actually asking me to crawl in there with the cockroaches, rats, and any other beasties Savannah has to offer?”

  “Please?”

  His resistance melted.

  “Oh, all right. Hold this.” He dragged the cape from his shoulders before thrusting the garment toward her.

  Eyeing the foundation in order to estimate the height of the opening, Ross realized he would have to slither on his belly. He lay on his stomach and then pulled himself forward.

  The mucky ground tugged at him and Ross dug the tips of his shoes into the dirt to propel his body ahead. The motion reminded him of rock climbing in Australia. But the rocks had been a bit more scenic than the underbelly of this wreck of a building. He didn’t want to think about what substance was passing under his left elbow. The front of his white dress shirt was ruined no doubt. Yes, the deposit on this costume was definitely gone.

  The cat, unmoving, continued to stare at him. Was he in shock? Poor little beastie.

  “Hssss.” Talley clawed the top of Ross’s head.

  “Ow. Bloody hell.” He jerked back.

  “What?” Mo asked.

  “Your cat clawed my scalp.”

  “Awww. Poor baby.”

  Better. At last he’d received some of the concern his heroic deed merited.

  “Poor little Talley. He must be really terrified. He never uses his claws,” Mo said.

  "Poor cat?" Ross grumbled, a hand going to his lacerated scalp.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  Ross slithered to a stop within reach of the hellcat. Unfortunately, if he could reach the cat then the cat could also reach him.

  "Mrrrrwwww. Hssss." The cat clawed at him, striking his hand.

  “Ouch. Dammit,” Ross yelled.

  “He’s not hurt is he?” Mo cried.

  “He’s not hurt, but my right hand may never be the same. I’ll have to have a hand double for my next film. I’m certain I’m permanently scarred.”

  “Awww. Poor baby,”

  “The cat is okay,” Ross yelled with exasperation.

  “I know. I was talking about you,” Mo said softly.

  So she’d finally offered some pity for his battle injuries. Bolstered, Ross inched forward again. Fortunately, the cat didn’t move and didn’t strike this time. Ross reached for the beastie.

  “Come on, baby,” Ross gritted out.

  At the gravelly timber of his voice the cat’s back arched, his hair stood on end.

  “It’s all right. Nobody is going to hurt you,” he said, trying for a soothing tone.

  Ross’s plan seemed to work as the cat moved a paw toward him, but a police siren ripped through the night.

  "Hsssss." The cat scrambled out of reach again and into a piece of duct work that had come loose from where it had been connected to the house.

  “That’s brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.”

  The flash of the oscillating strobe lights seeped under the edge of the house, illuminating the crawlspace. At the flashing of the lights Talley burrowed further into the piece of ductwork.

  “The police are here. They must be responding to our call about the break-in,” Mo said.

  “Perfect timing as always.”

  The siren trailed off and the lights continued to strobe. Footsteps approached the rundown building.

  “Hey there. We were called to a house about a breaking and entering. Were you and Mr. Dagger getting amorous against the house and somebody thought it was a break-in?”

  “Ha. What a great sense of humor, Officer Tim.” Mo’s laugh sounded forced to say the least. “Good to see you again too, Officer Dan.”

  "What are you doing under that house, Mr. Dagger? Are you stuck?” Officer Tim asked.

  Ross abandoned the attempt to clear up the identity thing. “No. I’m trying to save Ms. Tuttle’s cat.”

  The footsteps trudged closer. Ross glanced back over his shoulder to see a figure peering into the crawlspace—Officer Dan.

  "The cat really seems to like that piece of duct.” Officer Dan moved away briefly and then reappeared making the cat hiss again.

  “We’ve got an idea, Mr. Dagger.”

  “Perfect. I could use an idea at this point.”

  “I’ll see if I can reach him from the other side.”

  The squishy footsteps moved to the far side of the house. Moments later, Officer Dan appeared, grinning at Ross from the opposite end of the crawlspace.

  “Where is he?” The officer flashed his hand-held torch around the darkness.

  Ross held a hand up to his eyes to prevent being blinded.

  “He’s still in the duct.”

  “Oh yeah? I’ve got another idea.”

  The officer pulled at an object connected to a belt loop at the side of his waist. Ross hoped the object wasn’t a gun. Surely, the officer wouldn’t shoot at the ca
t. But Ross half expected it. He’d heard that things were a bit like the Wild West in the American South. Instead, as the officer brandished it forward, Ross realized the object was a nightstick.

  “Officer, I don’t think—”

  Before Ross could complete his sentence, Officer Dan wielded the weapon. Bang, bang, bang. He pounded the stick against the backside of the metal duct.

  As a result, Talley bolted from the duct, running full speed toward Ross. Ross only had enough time to absorb a brief impression of wild green eyes and a tirade of cat-speak, before an angry Talley ran over the top of his head and then attached himself via some tremendously long, and extremely sharp, claws to Ross’s back.

  “Son of a—”

  Officer Dan laughed gleefully. “Hey. See there? That got him out of his little hidey-hole.”

  “Yes, it certainly did,” Ross said between clenched teeth as he crept back out of the crawlspace with his passenger still firmly fused to him. Ross immediately felt his sinuses clog. Then Ross sneezed violently.

  When he freed himself from under the house, Mo grabbed the cat and tried to pry him off of Ross’s shirt. He flinched as Mo pulled and Talley refused to be removed.

  “Talley. Let go, baby.” She tugged more forcefully.

  “Be careful, those claws have some of my skin attached,” Ross said through the congestion of his allergic reaction.

  “Sorry. He doesn’t seem to want to part with you right now.”

  Ross straightened, causing the cat to climb his body and settle in a curl on the backside of his shoulder like a live hump. A hump attached with nails, biting through the fabric and making a pincushion of his skin.

  “Call me Quasimodo,” Ross joked. Somehow it didn’t seem manly to cry about the puncture marks on his back.

  There was one benefit of this particular lump as Mo hugged him from behind. Ross felt a fierce tug of pleasure. Of course, she was mainly hugging the cat, as she mumbled loving baby talk to the beast. But Ross felt her arms enfolding him too, so he felt good. He wanted to relax into her embrace and enjoy this moment of peace.

  Officer Dan shoved a piece of paper and a pen at Ross. “How about an autograph, Mr. Dagger. For my wife this time. Could you make it out to Dora, the most beautiful woman in the world? Oh, do you have one of those posters you could sign instead?”