Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery)

by Esposito, Shannon

  “They don’t mess around, do they?” I eyed a large replica of Dali’s famous melting pocket watch hanging from the edge of a table stacked with colorful t-shirts. The air conditioner blasted welcomed cool air as we navigated our way around the merchandise.

  “Two adults, please,” Detective Blake said to the lady behind the counter.

  Oh no. He paid for me. Did that mean this was a date?

  “Er, thanks,” I said as he motioned for me to get my wristband.

  As we began our ascent up the double helix staircase, which spiraled skyward in the middle of the museum, I glanced upward into the glass and aluminum ceiling. “How high up is that?”

  “About 75 feet.”

  “Any reason in particular the exhibit is way up there?” I wasn’t in bad shape but, by the time we hit the second floor, my thighs burned in protest.

  “Yep. Weeds out the wimps.” His laugh tickled my insides. I couldn’t help but grin at him.

  “And you’re a comedian, too.”

  “Sorry, the art is on the third floor to protect it in case of flooding.”

  “Ah,” I said, “that makes sense.” Almost to the top.

  “So, are you a Dali fan?”

  “I like some of his stuff more than others. His surrealist work is great. Not as fond of the work he did after he moved to the US, the science and religious pieces.” We finally arrived at the top. It was a breathtaking view of the gulf. “Whew.”

  “That tells me a lot about you.” Detective Blake chuckled behind me.

  I whirled around. “What does?”

  “The kind of art you prefer.”

  “Oh, really?” I crossed my arms. “And what exactly does it tell you about me?”

  He was staring at me. “You know, in the sunlight, your eyes are violet?”

  I started to say something, but stammered and then managed to choke out a weak, “Don’t change the subject.” This moved his mouth into a slow, seductive smile. I was suddenly aware of the blood pulsing through my veins, of the evenness of his breath and the glassy, crystal nature of his eyes.

  A lady with a cane bumped into me in her effort to get around us. We broke eye contact, both turning away sheepishly.

  “Come on,” he cleared his throat. “The art awaits.”

  “Whoa,” I breathed as we entered the door and turned right, finding walls and walls of Dali’s work. “This is like stumbling into someone else’s dream life, nightmares and all.”

  We wound our way through the different sections in awed silence. There were oils and watercolors, drawings and photographs. Even sculptures. Whether you liked the man or not, you had to admire the volume of work he turned out in one lifetime.

  I stopped in front of Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s Angelus, one of my favorites. I was aware of the detective close behind me as a warm presence.

  Dali’s giant depiction of the farmer and his wife always made me think of aliens. “He claimed the two peasants in the original Millet painting were mourning over the grave of their dead child. And then later, when Millet’s painting was x-rayed, they did see the dark shape of a coffin under layers of paint.” This was one of the first things that intrigued me about the artist during our home studies of him. He seemed so in touch with the invisible, the unconscious, the unknown. Like he was a conduit for things he could pull from the universe—secret things. “Do you think he had some secret power?” I asked. Yeah, this was a test. Would he scoff? “Like some psychic ability?”

  “No.”

  My heart sank a little. He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t hesitate either. Obviously set in his beliefs.

  “He was just a master at confusing reality and unreality.”

  I wasn’t ready to give up. “How do we even know what’s real and what’s some grand illusion that we’re playing a part in?”

  “Exactly his point, I think.”

  I wanted to ask him a more pointed question about whether he believed in psychic abilities but what if he asked me what I believed? I’d have to lie or, at least, change the subject. Uncomfortable either way. If I wanted him to see me as normal, I’d have to let it go.

  Two hours immersed in the mind of Dali was about all I could take. I was emotionally drained, so when Detective Blake suggested lunch, I agreed.

  We took the looper over to the Pier and headed up to the rooftop restaurant, Cha Cha Coconuts.

  “Sit out on the deck?”

  “Sure.”

  A live band played some Jimmy Buffet song as we took a table beneath the shade. It felt good to sit down, a breeze blowing and the blue gulf water below us. I lifted up the plastic spray bottle next to the ketchup. Somebody had written ‘Bird B Gone” on it in black marker. I glanced around at the sea gulls and pigeons keeping their distance on the outskirts of the tables and smiled. “That’s funny.”

  “Yeah, you have to get creative with the birds around here or they’ll take over the place one French fry at a time.”

  The waitress came over, and after the detective’s insistence that I try “the best fish tacos on the planet,” we ordered and then he leaned forward on the table and stared at me. I squirmed. His stare could cut a diamond. I figured he must have honed it for interrogation purposes.

  “So, how’re things going with the new pet boutique?”

  “Mm, great. Wonderful, actually. Better than we had planned for. Sylvia’s booked up weeks in advance and we’re learning the specialty stuff really moves in this area, like the homemade treats, aromatherapy oils, flower essence. Pet owners really seem to want their pets to be happy, not just healthy.” I thought about Karma. It was true. I wanted so much for him to be happy. Detective Blake must have read my mind.

  “And how’s the big guy doing? Karma. Feeling better?”

  I wanted to say “he’ll feel much better when you catch Mad Dog’s killer,” but I managed to bite my tongue. Literally. Thank heavens the waitress came back with iced water, which I promptly held on my throbbing tongue. I gave a tight smile, swallowed and then said, “He’th fine.”

  Detective Blake did a little double take and then sipped his coke, while I pretended to be interested in the discarded straw wrapper on the deck until my face stopped burning.

  Once I felt my mouth was in working order again, I tested it out. “So, did you find out anything more about the townhouse?”

  He cocked his head and then nodded as if he just remembered what I was asking about. “I haven’t looked into it, no.”

  My heart sank. He wasn’t taking this seriously. Of course, I knew he had a million other things to do on his job, but still. “You don’t think it’s odd that a corporation owns the place?”

  “Not really. A lot of corporations are set up to invest in the real estate market, especially after the market crashed. They probably bought up a bunch of property for rental houses, hoping to sell if, and when, the market picks back up.”

  “Is there any way to find out who’s renting it?”

  He sighed. “I think you missed your calling, Darwin. You should have been a detective.”

  The waitress put our plates down in front of us. The tacos did smell delicious but I didn’t want to let go of this topic. I wasn’t above pouting, either. It seemed to work.

  “All right.” He picked up a taco and gave me a smile. It was half resignation, half irritation. “I’ll look into it for you if you promise me you’re going to stop poking around in dangerous places like Pirate City.”

  I crossed my fingers under the table. “Deal.”

  Shaking his head, he bit off a generous bite of taco, chewed, swallowed and then looked at me again. “So, I take it you don’t believe Mr. Fowler actually wrote that suicide note?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” I bit into my taco. Wow. Mmm. This was amazing!

  “Why?”

  Does there have to be a reason for everything with this man? Maddening. I finished chewing as I stared at the band and tried to put together a reason. They were actually pretty impr
essive.

  “Detective Blake…”

  “Will.”

  “Will I what?”

  “No, call me Will. It’s my first name.”

  “Ohhh.” I grinned. “Wait…William? As in William Blake, after the poet?”

  “What can I say, my mother was a romantic. Just Will, though.”

  “Okay. Will…” I adjusted my sundress under my legs so they wouldn’t stick to the plastic chairs. “I can’t tell you.” No, really, I can’t tell you. “I just knew him well enough to know that he would not commit suicide.”

  His eyes fell to his plate and a faint wave of regret washed over me. “People can surprise you, Darwin.”

  I’d give him that. “True.” I waited until the wave subsided before I took another bite.

  “They can surprise you in good ways too, though.”

  He let his eyes meet mine over our tacos and smiled. “True.”

  We finished our meal and sat for a little while listening to the band and watching a few brave souls sway around the deck to the music. I had a sudden urge to ask Will if he wanted to join them, so that’s when I knew it was time to go.

  “This was a really lovely day, Will, thank you. I better get back to Karma, though. He’s probably hungry by now.”

  “All right.”

  Was that disappointment? I had long since figured out by the way he looked at me that he probably did consider this a date. Was this the point where I was supposed to play hard to get? Oh heavens, I should have asked Sylvia what to do when it was time to go. Shake his hand? Hug? Leave without looking back?

  Turns out, by the time we rode the looper back to Beach Drive—between the tidbits he told me about the city and the kind of afternoon heat that makes for drowsy, lazy energy—I was so relaxed, I forgot all about my concerns.

  When I stood up to get off the bus, he pecked me on the cheek and slipped a business card in my hand.

  “That has my cell phone number on it in case you need me.”

  His kiss left a warm spot on my cheek and the smell of fresh rain in the air. “Thanks. I had a great time.”

  He smiled above me. “See you soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sunday afternoon, Karma and I were crossing North Straub Park with a backpack full of goodies when I spotted Frankie Maslow pushing a leopard skin pet stroller down the sidewalk. I rushed to catch up.

  “Hey, Frankie!” We came up beside her.

  “Oh, Hey, Darwin.” She glanced down at Karma, who was sniffing at the two pups through the netting. “He won’t think Itty and Bitty are snacks now, will he?” She eyed him warily. The two pups started yapping and Karma tilted his head and backed up.

  “No, he’s just curious and looks like a bit intimidated.” I laughed. “Itty and Bitty, huh? Cute.” I noticed a Kleenex in her hand and red blotches on her skin under oversized sun glasses. Had she been crying? “So, what are you three up to this gorgeous morning?”

  “Just taking a walk, trying to clear my head.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah.” She swiped at her nose with the Kleenex. “No. Well, it’ll be fine. It’s just my assistant, Maddy, she just up and quit on me yesterday. And you know, I don’t understand it, she was like a daughter to me. Her family is seriously screwed up. They steal cars, run a chop shop. Just trash. I got her away from them. Gave her a chance to go to school, to have a better life.” She stopped under the shade of a tree and pulled a dish and water bottle from beneath the stroller. “I tried to offer her more money but she wouldn’t take it. She seemed as upset as I was. I just don’t understand it.”

  I watched her unzip the netting, pour some water into the dish and put it in the stroller. One pup eagerly lapped at it with a postage stamp sized tongue; the other cowered in the corner, shaking and staring up at us.

  “What’s the matter little girl?” I reached down and stroked her head. Zap!

  Frankie was saying something but her words got lost in the white noise of the vision: Vick was yelling, his hand squeezing someone’s neck. Then I spotted the bleeding rose tattoo below his grip. Maddy!

  Oh boy. Why was he choking Maddy? I started jogging in place and pumping my arms up and down until I felt the jolt of energy disburse.

  “Hot flashes.” I leaned over with my hands on my knees. Karma had come over and pressed himself against me. I had figured out he does this when he’s worried. “It’s all right, boy.” I gave him a reassuring scratch.

  “Hot flashes? You’re a bit young for that.” She zipped the netting back up. “I didn’t start having those until I turned fifty. Not that fifty’s that far behind me, mind you.”

  I needed some time with Frankie to try and get some answers. “Hey, Frankie. I was heading over to Pirate City to drop off some supplies. Want to join me? It might help get your mind off of Maddy.”

  “Well sure. Why not? Be good to see what the boys have done with the place.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt for lying to Will about staying away from Pirate City. But my sense of loyalty to Mad Dog and Karma far outweighed a small lie in my mind. As we stepped onto the well worn path, off the dead end street, I veered off the small talk, too.

  “How are things going with Vick?”

  “Fine, I guess. Haven’t seen him an awful lot lately, though. He’s pretty busy with his business and all.”

  “That’s too bad. What does he do?”

  “Um,” she struggled to get the stroller over a root branch without jostling the pups. “He has a computer business, sells stuff online.” She reached down and smacked her leg.

  “Oh, hold on. I have bug spray.” As I rustled through the stuffed back pack, I asked as casually as possible. “How do Vick and Maddy get along?”

  “Oh, fine.” She accepted the bug spray. “Thanks.” The smell permeated the air as she sprayed herself. When she was done, she handed it back and put her hands on her hips. “You know, come to think of it, they have been acting funny around each other lately. Maddy was unusually quiet when he was around last time. You think they had a fight? That has something to do with her leavin’?”

  I shoved the spray back in and re-shouldered the pack. “I don’t know but maybe it’s something to ask her about?”

  “Yeah. If she’ll answer my calls.”

  As soon as we entered the clearing, I knew something was wrong. Karma stiffened and started sniffing the air. Frankie stopped beside me, listening.

  “Awfully quiet.”

  “Yeah, too quiet.”

  We walked deeper into the camp and came upon the overturned table. Karma sniffed it. The hairs on my arms stood up. “Where is everyone?”

  “Over here.” A voice called from the tarp that served as Mac’s office.

  We rushed over. Frankie parked the pups beside the makeshift shelter. “What in heaven’s happened here?”

  “Scary Harry happened.” Pops pressed a wet rag to his eye. Mac was laid out on the eroding carpet with a shirt under his head, blood drying on his nose and mouth. Minnie was trying to gingerly wash it off. “Bastard had a gun this time.”

  “He didn’t shoot anybody, did he?” Frankie asked.

  “No…not this time.” Pops grunted. “Took our week’s pool of money and food stamps, though.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll cover it.” Frankie looked around at the smashed stuff scattered about. “Christ on Christmas, did he have to destroy everything?”

  “Where is everyone?”

  Minnie looked up at me. “Left. For the best. He was in some kind of mood. Probably would’ve killed somebody today if he had any resistance.” So, they thought he was capable of murder? Maybe he had already killed.

  The despair hung thick as molasses under the tarp. I had to plant my feet to keep myself from trying to escape it. Such a hot and heavy emotion. “We can get you to the hospital.”

  “We’re fine.” Mac made a motion with his hand like he was swatting a fly. With it came a whoosh of anger as a streak o
f red through my mind.

  Kneeling down, I unzipped my back pack. “Well, maybe this’ll help the pain, at least.” I pulled out the icepacks. “Thought with all the injuries around here lately, y’all could use some of these.” Squeezing it firmly to activate the cold, I handed it to Minnie.

  “Thanks.” She held it to Mac’s jaw.

  The smell, the heat and the emotional overload were getting to me. Tiny black stars popped in my vision. My first thought was to call the police. But my second thought was of the two officers I had met and Frankie’s warning about not being able to trust some of them. Well, I could trust Will. Maybe he could do something about this Scary Harry situation. We turned as rustling and voices reached us.

  The people were filtering back in from their hiding places in the woods. I stood up and helped Frankie, who was trying to clean up the scattered and broken belongings. We both grabbed an end of the plywood that served as Mac’s desk and set it back on the bricks. I unpacked the rest of the items I had brought and put them on the plywood.

  “If you make a list for us, we can bring stuff you need.” I pulled at my white cotton tank; sweat was gluing it to my body. Karma was sitting outside, panting hard. I had to get him out of this heat.

  “How ‘bout a winning lottery ticket.” Mac’s swollen lips made his attempt at a grin look more like a grimace.

  “Glad Harry didn’t knock the sense of humor loose from that thick skull of yours.” Frankie shook her head. “Darwin’s right. Make a list and, Minnie, you meet me in front of the Vinoy at six tonight with it. We’ll take care of you.” She stepped out from beneath the tarp, then turned back around. “Be sure aspirin’s on there, you’re gonna need it.” She wrangled the pet stroller back out into the open and peeked in. “Come on, we gotta get these babies out of the heat.”

  Our walk back out of Pirate City was torturous. We were hot, drained and angry.

  “Hey, I got an idea.” Frankie’s mascara had smeared under her eyes, and her skin was pasty, but her face suddenly lit up. “I’ll throw a charity bash for the gang. We can do an auction, raffle off some stuff…invite all the rich folks. Be more profitable than a dog wash, right?”