Cat Sitter on a Hot Tin Roof: A Dixie Hemingway Mystery

by Blaize Clement

  I said, “It was just a squirrel or something.”

  She shook her head as if she were mentally lecturing herself.

  “I never know whether Leo’s heard a serial killer or whether he just gets a kick out of scaring me.” Leo lay back down with his tail draped across her lap. She pushed it aside and said, “You know, moving here has brought me the first sense of peace I’ve ever had.”

  There was a curious blend of innocence and world-weary wisdom in the way she said it.

  I said, “I’ve never lived anyplace else.”

  She grinned. “I know. You put on a tough front, but deep down you’re just a sweet southern girl who’s never seen the ugly side of life.”

  I bristled. “I am not sweet, and I’ve seen plenty of ugly.”

  She laughed. “Sweetie, what you’ve seen is chicken feed.”

  The landline phone in the kitchen rang, and an impersonal robotic voice announced, “Call from Number Available.”

  Laura went still, her jade eyes wary. After a few more announcements, the answering machine switched on. An unctuous male voice spoke loudly enough for us to hear every word.

  “Please pick up, Laura. I know you’re home. Please don’t reject me this way.”

  Laura scrambled to her feet to race to the phone, but she got there too late to keep me from hearing him. “I’m outside your house. Please open the door to me, Laura. That’s all I ask.”

  Laura snagged the phone from its cradle, her own voice sharp. “You have to stop this! I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone I’ll have you arrested for stalking me.”

  Leo had sat up again with his ears pointed forward. He and I sat frozen in place.

  Laura listened a moment and said, “No! I have company now. Please, please, please go away, and don’t call me again.”

  Another pause and then her voice became almost amused. “You misunderstood. I appreciated your help, but that’s all. Now leave me alone.”

  I heard the phone slam into its holder, and she stomped back to the living room with her lips tightened. “So help me, if that man calls again I’m going to report him to the police.”

  She sat down on the floor again. Beside her, Leo remained at attention.

  “Who is he?”

  She sighed. “Right after I moved here I twisted my knee running. It swelled pretty bad, so I went to the emergency room to see if it was something serious. This jerk was there, and he must have got my number from the woman at the desk. He calls every day begging to see me. He’s a nut.”

  I’m not exactly an eyesore, but I’ll never cause people to go all goggly the minute they see me. I wondered what it was like for Laura to know she had that effect.

  Rapping sounded at the front door, and we all swiveled our heads. Through the glass panels we could see the shadowy outline of a large man.

  Laura made a fist and shook it toward the door. “Go away!”

  The knocking continued, but Laura didn’t go to the door.

  Outside, the man shouted, “This is quite unacceptable, Laura! Unacceptable and unfair!”

  After a while, the figure disappeared. Leo stretched himself beside Laura’s feet, and Laura’s body relaxed.

  Even moderately beautiful women attract men whose fantasies can cause them to go to nutty extremes. A woman as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as Laura probably attracted them by the dozen.

  I said, “Has he come here before like that? Demanding to see you?”

  “No, he’s never gone that far before.”

  I was tempted to warn her that her front door would be a snap for anybody wanting to break in, but I didn’t want to add to her fears. Besides, any door can be opened by somebody really determined.

  I said, “If he does it again, you really should call the police.”

  “I know. It’s just that I’d thought I’d left all that behind. Being afraid, threatening to call the police. I hate it.”

  She leaned to pour the last of the wine in our glasses.

  “I was in an abusive relationship,” she said. “Very abusive. I’m not over it yet.”

  “Ah, so that’s what it was.”

  “You knew?”

  “I knew you were recovering from something. I recognized the signs.”

  “Like what?”

  I gestured around the impersonal room. “This place, for one thing. I know it’s not your home. Are you hiding from your ex?”

  She looked alarmed. “You’re very perceptive. He’s not exactly my ex yet, I’ve just filed for divorce. He’s a very powerful orthopedic surgeon in Dallas. You may have heard of him. He’s Dr. Reginald Halston. The Dr. Reginald Halston. Before he went to medical school, he was a linebacker for the SMU Mustangs. He’s big. Really big.”

  I could have sworn I’d heard her call him Martin, and I wasn’t sure if she meant he was big in size or just big in fame, but I didn’t press the point. Plenty of people are known professionally by one name but their families and close friends call them something else. Laura’s eyes had widened with awe when she said the name, so he must have been a big deal in Dallas. I said I’d never heard of him, and she looked faintly disappointed.

  In a rush, she said, “I was his receptionist for a year before he asked me out. He’d been married twice before, and he has children. He never sees them, but I always knew they were there, waiting in the wings for me to fall on my face. His first wives were college-educated and from rich families. Not like me. I guess I fell in love, but I’m not sure. I have to admit I liked the idea of marrying a rich doctor. And to his credit, I have to say he was never cheap. I could buy anything I wanted, and I did.”

  She drained her wineglass and ran the tip of her tongue around her lips to get the last drop.

  I said, “I’m guessing there was another side to him, right?”

  “At night, he would lie in bed and throw scalpels at the ceiling. They never stuck, just fell back down, and he would laugh at me for being afraid one would hit me. He carved my stomach with his scalpels too. He almost killed me several times. One time he choked me until I blacked out and my eyes were red for days from broken blood vessels, but he wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. He’s so big and strong, I was terrified of him.”

  She was watching my face closely, and I got the feeling she had never told anybody else about her husband’s violence. I was flattered she trusted me enough to confide in me.

  “Jesus, Laura, he sounds sick.”

  “He’s insane. If the hospital knew what he’s really like, they would kick him out. My folks don’t know either. They were so thrilled I had married a rich doctor that I never told them. I told my sister everything, but Celeste is the only one who knows.”

  I said, “It must have taken a lot of courage to leave.”

  She laughed shortly. “I left when I found out I was pregnant. I will not let him turn his sick mind on my child. I’m four months now, and nobody knows except my sister.”

  I looked at her drawstring pants. “You don’t show yet.”

  “I’ve put on a little weight, but I was too thin before.”

  “He doesn’t know where you are?”

  She looked smug. “When I left Dallas, I cleaned out our joint checking account. Then I drove my Mercedes to Arkansas and sold it at a used-car place. I took a bus to Sarasota and bought the Jaguar. I have enough money to live on for a while, and I have some good diamond jewelry. When I need to, I’ll pawn it or sell it.”

  Her face flushed, either with embarrassment at having revealed so much about herself, or because she’d called attention to the jewelry.

  “He told me if I ever left him he would kill me.”

  I said, “He knows how to reach you—”

  “He only knows my cell number, and it’s still based in Dallas. He doesn’t know where I am. But I’m always afraid. . . .”

  She didn’t need to finish the sentence, I knew what she was afraid of. I also knew that nobody can truly disappear if somebody wants them found. Especially if the somebody
has plenty of money to hire good private investigators.

  “Is anything in your name here? A lease? The house phone? Utilities?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve thought of all that. The house belongs to my folks. They live in Connecticut and all the bills go to them. They intend to move here when Dad retires, and in the meantime it’s a retreat for whoever needs it. Celeste, that’s my sister, lived here for a year when she got a divorce, and one of my cousins stayed here for a while when he was out of work.”

  “Your sister’s in Connecticut too?”

  She shot me a look that said I was dangerously close to asking too many personal questions.

  “Dallas.”

  Leo yawned with a big show of boredom, and I leaned to stroke his neck. There were some holes in Laura’s story, but people gloss over details in the interest of condensing an account to its main facts. For now, the fact that she had told me something so painful meant we had crossed an important hurdle in our beginning friendship.

  She said, “You said you recognized the signs that I was hiding from somebody. Does that mean you were—”

  “No. I was never abused.”

  A silence stretched, and I opened my mouth and told the thing so hard to say.

  “Almost four years ago, my husband and little girl were on their way home, and they stopped to pick up some groceries. My husband was a deputy, and he had picked Christy up at daycare when he got off duty. She was three years old. A man driving across the parking lot turned into a parking place, but instead of hitting the brake he slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He jumped over the wheel stop and hit Todd and Christy and three other people before he crashed into a parked car. They told me Todd and Christy died instantly.”

  Laura whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  That’s all. She didn’t try to make me feel better about it, didn’t tell me to cheer up because they were with Jesus now, didn’t tell me she was sure I’d get over it in time. She just absorbed a little bit of my pain. I don’t think there’s anything more generous one human being can do for another.

  I suddenly wanted to tell her more about myself, to be as open as she had been and share the kind of things that women share. I wanted to tell her that I was a lot better now, that I had actually begun to live again. I wanted to tell her that I had kissed two men a few months ago, and that while I had pulled back from both of them, I hadn’t closed any doors. I wanted to tell her I was going on a date with Guidry Saturday night. I wanted to tell her all the kinds of things women tell each other when they’re close friends. But it was late, and there would be time for those confidences later.

  When I told her goodbye that night, I knew I was leaving a new friend.

  She said, “I’ll see you soon.”

  But as it turned out, she wouldn’t.

  6

  Back in the Bronco, I considered my options. I could go straight home, or I could go shopping for something to wear to Guidry’s Saturday-night shindig. One good thing about living in a resort town is that a lot of posh shops are open late, even on Sunday. If I got the dreaded dress-buying over with, I could forget it. Or at least not have to think about it anymore. I decided there was no time like the present and headed downtown. For most of my shopping, I think the Gap or Sears, but for the Humane Society party I went to a little boutique on Pineapple Street where the price of a dress would feed a family of five for several weeks.

  An hour later, I was on my way home, with a big shiny white bag in the passenger’s seat and a dress bag hanging from the do-hickey over the back door. The bag held new underwear, new shoes, and a dumb little purse the saleswoman had described as “just big enough to hold a woman’s essentials—door key, lipstick, passport, and a condom.” She obviously was accustomed to women who had more interesting lives than mine.

  The dress bag held a short black strapless job I had to have the minute I saw it. But when I’d tried it on, it had given me a peculiar feeling—the same feeling I remembered having when I was thirteen and in a store dressing room trying on bathing suits. I had looked at myself in the mirror and realized I had become a woman. It had been exciting and scary. Totally appropriate for a thirteen-year-old, but totally idiotic for a thirty-three-year-old.

  At home, the light was on in Michael and Paco’s kitchen, so I made a quick stop to say good night and show off my purchases. They were sitting at the island eating key lime pie, and Ella was on her stool adoring them. It was the last night of Michael’s vacation. He would leave the next morning for a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse, then he would be home forty-eight hours—a rhythm that has been a constant refrain all our lives, beginning with our firefighter father. Paco’s schedule wasn’t so regular. Undercover cops don’t keep normal hours, and Michael and I have adjusted to that.

  Michael said, “Where’ve you been? Want some pie?”

  I flourished my shiny bag. “I had to go shopping. Got a new dress. I have a date Saturday night.”

  Both men gave me looks of astonished pleasure. For the past year, they’d been upping the pressure on me to find a man, have sex, get a life. They had loved Todd like a brother, but they both thought I had dragged widowhood way past its expiration date.

  Michael said, “With who?”

  “Whom.”

  Ella Fitzgerald put a paw on the island top, and Paco gave her a stern look. “You know the rules.”

  She made a meek thripp sound, withdrew her paw, and gave a demure twitch to her tail. Paco and Ella have an agreement—if she sits politely and keeps her paws off the table, she’s allowed to adore her men from a bar stool. I know some human females who operate under the same rule.

  For a moment, I thought Ella might have made Michael forget his question, but he was still waiting. I said, “Guidry asked me to a big party next weekend.”

  Paco said, “Hot damn.”

  Michael’s mouth drew up like he’d just bit into a green mango. “Guidry.”

  Paco said, “Michael,” in a warning kind of way, like Shut the heck up, your sister has a date, for God’s sake, so don’t quibble about who the guy is.

  Michael nodded, shrugged, and stuck a fork in his pie with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. Paco and I exchanged rolled eyes. Paco is protective too, but he’s not as extreme as Michael. I guess that’s because he hasn’t been protecting me since he was four and I was two, the way Michael has.

  I pulled the dress out of the bag and held it in front of me. Ella sat up straighter and squinted her eyes, while Michael and Paco made the noises men make when a woman says, “What do you think?”

  Fathers probably teach those noises to their sons when they’re young—“Stand up when you’re introduced to a lady, use your napkin instead of your sleeve, and make admiring noises when a woman shows you anything, no matter what it is, and asks you what you think about it. Never, never, never say you have no opinion.”

  Paco said, “High damn time you bought something sexy.”

  “I got shoes and underwear too. The works.”

  Paco grinned. “I do believe you’re about to take old Guidry to bed. You remember how the girl thing goes?”

  Unlike Michael, Paco thought Guidry was a fine candidate for ending my self-imposed celibacy.

  “I’m just going to a party with him.” My face got hot when I said it, because to tell the truth I wasn’t at all sure I remembered how the girl thing went.

  Michael got to his feet and noisily rinsed his plate. “There’s leftovers if you’re hungry.”

  “No, thanks, I had dinner with a new friend.”

  His eyebrows raised hopefully. “A guy?”

  “No, a woman.” Next thing I knew, I was telling them all about it, like a little kid reporting her cool new friend.

  “She lives next door to the little boy I told you about last week, the one who’s having surgery for seizures. He’s three years old. Surgery is tomorrow morning. The woman is Laura Halston. She has a Havana Brown cat named Leo. Longest tail you ever saw
, and he’s always leaving it across doorways so it gets stepped on.”

  Michael said, “What’d you say the cat is?”

  “Havana Brown. They’re sort of rare. Brown all over, even their whiskers. I think they’re called Havana Brown because they’re the color of the cigars. She said the boyfriend who gave him to her had called him Cohiba, but she changed his name to Leo.”

  “She should have named him Castro.”

  I rolled my eyes, partly to disparage Michael’s humor, and partly because he’d missed the point. The point wasn’t Laura’s cat, it was that I had a new woman friend.

  I said, “She’s here hiding from her husband until their divorce is final. He was abusive, and she’s left him because she’s pregnant. She said she didn’t want him inflicting his cruelty on their child. He’s a well-known surgeon in Dallas.”

  Paco’s eyes narrowed. “Hiding how?”

  “Oh, just that she’s living in a house her parents own so nothing is in her name.”

  “No car?”

  “Yeah, a car, but she bought it with cash she got from selling her old car. She cleaned out their bank account and drove to Arkansas and sold her car, then took a bus to Sarasota and bought a new one.”

  “What kind of car did she buy?”

  It struck me that Paco was being awfully nosy. He also had a look in his eyes that I recognized. It was his I-don’t-believe-a-word-of-this look.

  I said, “She drives a Jaguar convertible. Red.”

  “Uh-huh, perfect car for somebody trying to hide.”

  “Oh, come on, Paco, if her husband finds her, it won’t be because she drives a Jaguar convertible.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think a Dallas surgeon’s wife would come to Sarasota to get a divorce, she’d get it in Texas. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I could feel my face flushing with defensive anger. Being an undercover cop made Paco suspicious of every little thing that wasn’t consistent. Usually he was right, but this time he was wrong. I had misjudged Laura at first too, but now I knew she was an honest, good person going through a bad stretch.

  Ella chose that moment to hike her hind leg and gnaw on it, as if to let us know that she found it rude of us to discuss anything other than her majestic self. We all laughed, and my irritation evaporated.