Once everyone settled down, Dr. Linda started off the class by telling us she planned to publish a book of our short stories. That set everyone abuzz at the thought of becoming ‘real’ authors. My thoughts, however, were taken up with a more important matter––Sondra Sockerman. At the slightest sound I turned to the door, hoping that she would make her grand entrance––which would finally let me go back to envying her rather than worrying about what had happened to her.
Then, as if on cue, the door blew open and a tall slim figure appeared in the doorway, blocking out the Palm Springs sun. This time, however, there were no 38D’s, no tight mini skirt, no legs that went up to her armpits. Instead it was Fred Akins, Senior Center administrator. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, handing Dr. Linda a note. “The phone call came in earlier today but I was too busy to give it to you.”
My antenna went up. My instincts told me the note had something to do with Sondra.
I was right.
Dr. Linda glanced at the note. “It seems Sondra called to say she was out of town but would be back soon,” she said to the group.
“Probably went in for a boob job remodel,” Yettah snipped.
So Sondra was alive and well after all! Flo had been right, the screams I heard on the hiking trail were probably other hikers fooling around.
I sat back in my chair and sighed with relief. I would no longer have to worry about Sondra Sockerman.
“Izzy, why don’t you go ahead and read first today,” Dr. Linda said.
I glanced at Frank who was busy making last minute edits to his story. He must have caught my vibe as he looked over at me and gave a thumbs up.
When I finished reading the three pages, everyone was complimentary. Frank said it was a good beginning and I should definitely finish it. Everyone nodded in agreement.
Even Yettah had nothing negative to say, which I took as a sign of encouragement. I guess I wasn’t a good judge of my writing––I thought it stunk.
When class ended, Dr. Linda stopped me as I headed for the door. “Izzy, can I talk to you a minute about your writing?
“Sure. Is something wrong?”
“I’ve been concerned that you’re always starting different stories and you never finish anything.
My cover was blown. “That’s true,” I nodded.
“Perhaps you should focus on one story and force yourself to work it through from beginning to end. That way I can include it in our book. I don’t want to leave you out.”
“I’ll try. The problem is none of the stories grab me enough to finish them. But who knows, maybe it’ll happen one of these days.”
She looked doubtful.
Frank was waiting for me in the parking lot when I came out. “Izzy, I had a really nice time with you last night at the Meat Market. How about our doing it again sometime. Maybe soon?
“I’d love to.” I answered.
“Say, why don’t we go for coffee now?”
“Oh, I wish I could. But I have an errand to run right now.”
He nodded with obvious disappointment and opened my car door for me. As I started up the engine, I realized that I should probably give Lorna a call to tell her I was on my way.
I had just hung up the phone and was just about to drive off when my cell rang.
Merv! That son of a gun. He could go to voicemail for all I cared. Now that Sondra was out of town and unavailable, he obviously thought I’d jump whenever he deigned to call. Good old Izzy Greene, available on a moment’s notice. Well, he had another think coming.
“Hello,” I answered on the second ring, putting on my most seductive voice.
“It’s Merv.”
“Oh? Merv? I seem to remember someone by that name.”
“Very funny,” he said. “I called to see if you were free tonight.”
“No, I’m very expensive,” I said, then laughed at my own joke.
“Seriously, Izzy, everyone makes mistakes. Even you. Though I doubt you believe that. So why don’t we agree to bury the hatchet.”
“Oh I’m all for that. Though I’m not sure you’d like where I’d like to bury it.”
“There you go, making things difficult.”
“Me? I make things difficult? You’re the one who’s been screwing around.”
“Okay truce. Pick you up tonight. Six o’clock sharp. Sullivan’s Steak House.”
“Okay.”
I drove the rest of the way to Lorna’s, a ridiculous smile plastered on my face. I was enjoying the thought of juggling two men. Who knew? Maybe there’d even be a third.
As I pulled up to Lorna’s condo, she and her evil dog, Trevor, were waiting for me in matching outfits. Lorna as usual looked stunning in black lycra exercise pants and top, while Trevor looked macho, in a black muscle shirt.
“He’s looking very handsome today,” I said as I exited my car. I hoped my compliment might win me some points with him.
“We just got back from the gym when you called. Hold onto Trevor a sec.” She handed me his leash before I could stop her. “I’ll just run inside and get the ankle chain.”
Trevor seemed as unhappy with her decision as I, but at least I didn’t growl at him and pee on his foot. As I was contemplating what revenge to take, Lorna reappeared. “Oh, how lovely that the two of you have bonded. He’s very particular and doesn’t take to everybody.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“I’m sorry you had to drive all the way out here but I didn’t want to be responsible for Sondra’s chain any longer. I tried knocking on her door again this morning but she didn’t answer so it’s better that you keep it. When I see her I’ll let her know you have it.”
“Okay,” I said, dropping it into my bag. “I don’t think you’ll being seeing her any time soon though. She left a message for our writing group that she had to leave town unexpectedly.”
“Oh?” she paused, looking puzzled. “She left town? Without taking Sherlock? Why would she do that?”
“Sherlock?” I looked at her confused. “She left Sherlock?” I wondered who Sherlock was but I wasn’t going to let on how little I really knew about Sondra. “What will he do without her?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. She dotes on him, you know. They’re inseparable. I can’t understand what kind of emergency would make her leave him on his own. I mean, isn’t that a form of abuse?”
Just as I imagined. Sondra was so self-absorbed she didn’t care about anyone but herself. “How old is poor Sherlock?”
“I guess around 70,” Lorna answered.
Ah, Sondra’s father no doubt. Sherlock Sockerman.
“In cat years that’d make him ten.”
“Sherlock’s…a cat?”
“Why yes, what’d you think he was? I thought you told me you were a friend of Sondra’s.” Lorna’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“I am. I just forgot about Sherlock. My brain…age. You know how it is.” I looked at Lorna’s dewy, wrinkle-free complexion. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
“Oh, lord yes I do. My mother has these memory lapses all the time. Drives me up the wall. Say,” Lorna’s face lit up. “Since you’re such good friends with Sondra, perhaps you’ll take Sherlock. Just till she gets back. I’d keep him myself but Trevor hates him.”
So what else is new?
“Oh, I’m sure Sondra will be back sooner than you think,” I said. “I hate to admit it but animals don’t really like me.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. Why Trevor loves you, don’t you, Trevor darling?” She patted him lovingly on the head. “I can’t understand how she could have left Sherlock behind. He’s an indoor cat as you know. So when I found him wandering around and crying outside Sondra’s door I took him in. I guess you could say Sondra spoiled him rotten.”
Ha, look who’s talking. Sherlock couldn’t be anymore spoiled than that evil Trevor.
“It’s strange that she’d take off without him, don’t you think?”
I nodded and
echoed her view that it was indeed odd.
“But then again,” she said. “I’ve met the strangest people since I moved here to Palm Springs. They’re not like the folks I grew up with back in Cleveland.”
“No,” I said, “Palm Springs is definitely not Cleveland.”
“Would you at least consider taking Sherlock?” Lorna persisted. “I hate to keep him locked up in the spare room.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Not really.
I got in my car and started up the engine, still thinking about what Lorna had said. Why would Sondra leave her cat? It didn’t make sense, especially since Lorna said she was devoted to him. I turned off the engine, got back out of the car and yelled over to Lorna, who was heading into her condo. “Lorna?”
She glanced back at me. “Yes? Something wrong?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s about Sondra.”
“Why don’t you come in,” she said. “I’ll make us some espressos to go with the cake from Luscious Lucinda’s Bakery.”
Oh my God! I couldn’t believe it. I hit the jackpot. I followed Lorna inside trying not to step on her heels, praying it was the chocolate lava cake that Luscious Lucinda was famous for. I made sure to keep a safe distance from Trevor who, thankfully, appeared to have lost interest in me.
How like a man, I thought.
“So what’s on your mind,” Lorna said, placing a very generous slice of cake in front of me. What was on my mind was the cake. I was desperate to plunge into it but waited until she cut a slice––a small slice––for herself. I marveled at her self-control.
“I know this might sound crazy to you, Lorna, but I think something happened to Sondra. I mean why would she leave her cat? You yourself said she was devoted to Sherlock.”
Lorna nodded. “That’s true.”
“Besides, even if she had to leave in a hurry, wouldn’t she have asked someone, maybe you, to take care of him? Or boarded him?” I paused to take a bite of the cake. “Oh my, this is heavenly.” I would have to pace myself so as not to finish it off too quickly.
Lorna took a delicate bite of cake. “You’re right. She could have asked me to look in on him. It is strange, don’t you think?”
I managed to nod despite a mouthful of chocolate lava. “I don’t know how you can eat these fabulous deserts and stay so thin,” I said finally.
“It’s my genes,” she smiled. “I guess I’m lucky that way.”
Tell me about it. I took a sip of espresso and noticed that Lorna’s lips were pursed and she was frowning down at the table.
I took a calculated guess. “You know something about Sondra, don’t you?”
“I…I really don’t like to gossip,” she said, still frowning.
“I’m not one to gossip either (ha), but in this case I’ll be honest with you. I think something bad happened to Sondra on the hiking trail.”
Her large blue eyes grew even larger. “What do you mean?”
I gave her a quick recap of what happened on the trail, and how I’d gone to the police but they’d dismissed my concerns.
“Well…I guess I should tell you what I overheard,” she said, sliding another slice of cake onto my plate.
What a darling girl, not even asking if I wanted seconds. “Of course you should tell me. I’m all ears.” And stomach.
Lorna looked dubious.
“Trust me, Lorna, what happens in your home stays in your home.”
“I mean everyone has arguments,” she began hesitantly. “But something about this one struck me as strange.”
I sensed that Lorna would probably clam up if I pushed her so I decided to remain quiet and let her go at her own pace. Though I wished she’d get on with what she had to say.
“It’s probably nothing,” she mused aloud. “I mean I don’t want to create trouble for anyone but it’s been bothering me since it happened. Maybe I should tell you.”
I nodded encouragement.
“Well, it was about three weeks ago. I took Trevor out to do his business and I heard Sondra talking to someone on her front patio. She sounded angry. At first I thought she was talking on the phone but then I heard a man’s voice.”
“Do you remember anything that was said?”
“Not really. I’m not one to hang around listening to other people’s conversations. That wouldn’t be polite, you know.”
“Of course it wouldn’t. But you must have heard something. You said she sounded angry.”
“Actually I did. Now I want to get this right…” There was a long pause, then, “I heard her say something like, “I won’t stand for your threats.”
I nodded.
“She also said something to the effect of ‘you can threaten me all you want, but I’m not going away.’ Lorna took a deep breath.
“Did the man say anything?”
“Something about the fact that she was going to regret coming to Palm Springs.” Lorna looked at me, concerned. “Could that be why she left so suddenly?”
“If she really left,” I said. “I’m worried that it could be something worse.”
“Something worse? Oh my goodness, Izzy. Now you’re frightening me. Perhaps you should go back to the police. But please don’t drag my name into it. I hate any kind of publicity.’
“I understand,” I said. “But I’m not going back to the police. Like I said, I already tried that and they’re not interested in anything I have to say.”
She nodded, looking off into space, while I finished off the second slice of cake, wondering if I was going to die from a massive sugar attack. “Did you hear the man say anything else?” I asked.
“I think…he did mention Sherlock. Something like, ‘get that damn animal away from me or I’ll kill him.’ I remember it frightened me because he sounded so awfully angry. Oh, and I remember something else he said. Something about ‘that damn cat’ scratching him.”
Lorna and I sat in silence, mulling it over.
“Would you like another piece of cake?” she asked breaking the tension.
Would I like another slice of cake? Do angels have wings? “No, I think two slices are probably enough. Since I’m on a diet.” But one for the road wouldn’t hurt. “By the way, Lorna, do you remember exactly when that conversation took place?”
Lorna’s face lit up. “Oh yes. How could I forget? It was a Sunday night. Like I said, about three weeks ago. It was the season finale of Housewives of Beverly Hills. I remember thinking later how much that conversation sounded like something from that show.” Lorna stood up and cleared away the plates. “So you’ll take Sherlock? Just until Sondra comes back?”
No good deed goes unpunished. All I’d wanted to do was to return Sondra’s chain to her and I was now going to become her cat’s guardian. Well, I hated to disappoint Lorna but there was no way I was going to take care of Sondra’s cat—or any cat—for that matter. It was bad enough that I again had possession of her gold chain.
Lorna seemed to have read my mind. “I promise you, Sherlock won’t give you any trouble. He’s easy to take care of. Quite lovable once you get to know him. Wouldn’t you like to meet him? I’m sure you’ll fall in love with him.”
“Give me a few more days to think about it,” I answered, hoping that by then Sondra might be back. Though I was really starting to doubt that she would ever return.
**************************************************
I pulled into the Macy’s lot. I had more important things to think about now than Sondra’s cat. I needed to buy a pair of sexy heels that I’d be able to walk in––without breaking an ankle.
Before I got out of the car I rang Flo, who picked up on the first ring. I knew she wouldn’t approve of my accepting a date with Merv but I needed to borrow something from her wardrobe––preferably her sequined black top that showed plenty of cleavage.
“You accepted a date with that two timing scourge of mankind? I don’t believe it!” She was screaming so loudly I had to move the phone from m
y ear. No wonder my hearing wasn’t was good as it used to be.
“Look, it’s a done deal, so get over it. Yes, or no, can I borrow that top of yours? The one I call the black widow top––with all the sequins.”
“How can I refuse my best friend even if she is making a big mistake. Allow me to give you some motherly advice as long as you insist on going out with him. Buy yourself some sexy lingerie.”
After thanking her for the advice, I exited the car and entered Macy’s. I made my usual pit stop at the make-up counter to check myself in the magnifying mirror for any new wrinkles that might have cropped up over night. Then I took the escalator to the second floor, and headed to the lingerie department.
“Need help?” The sales clerk, who looked like an escapee from the fourth grade, asked.
“I’m looking for something that could give me some enhancement. You know, in the bust area.”
“Cutlets,” she answered.
“Like in poultry? I thought this is the lingerie department.”
Child-clerk didn’t crack a smile. Obviously she didn’t get it.
“Never mind,” I said.
“Today they’re called cutlets,” she said, suddenly springing to life. “In the old days, you called them falsies.”
It was clear that child-clerk took pride in showing off her knowledge of history. I thought about asking her the date of the French Revolution but figured why destroy her moment of academic success.
I looked child-clerk directly in the eye, daring her to laugh, as I pointed to a nearby table. “I’d also like to try on one of those.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “A thong? For you?”
Twerp. “Yes, a thong. For me.”
“Size?”
“I guess when you’re wearing two pieces of string it doesn’t much matter, does it?”
Mumbling something under her breath, child-clerk walked over to the table, where she spent what seemed an eternity sorting through the thongs. “Try this one,” she finally said, coming up for air. “It’s the largest I could find.”
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