The Telltale Turtle (The Pet Psychic Mysteries)

by Jim Lavene;Joyce Lavene

  The

  Telltale

  Turtle

  OTHER BOOKS BY JOYCE & JIM LAVENE

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  Hooked Up

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  ONE

  "THIS IS MARY CATHERINE Roberts, the pet psychic. You're live on Lite 102.5 WRSC in Wilmington, North Carolina. Tell me about your pet."

  "Hi. My name is Albert. I listen to your show every day, Mary Catherine. I'm calling about my dog, Ginger. She's getting older and has started chewing on things. Her teeth are falling outthat's how bad it is! I'm desperate."

  "Well, we know she has a problem, don't we? She wouldn't just pick up that habit. We have to figure out why she's chewing. She's trying to tell you something. Dogs want to do what we ask, ordinarily. What does she choose to chew?"

  "Mostly my shoes. She won't leave them alone. If I hide them in the closet, she scratches on the door to get at them. If I accidentally leave a pair out, she chews them to shreds." "

  I see. Do you walk her often? Besides the obligatory trip to the potty."

  "I used to walk her several times a day when I worked for myself. But my new job keeps me busy for longer hours. I had to cut back. Now I only walk her once in the morning and once when I come home. Just until she goes; you know?"

  "Dogs don't like change, Albert. None of us do. If you don't have time to walk her more often, hire someone to do it for you. Your dog needs some exercise. She's chewing your shoes because she knows you have to put them on to take her out. She wants your attention."

  "Wow! That makes sense. I'll try it." Albert sounded relieved. "Thanks, Mary Catherine. You're a genius, like always."

  "You're welcome. Good luck. Give my best to Ginger."

  Mary Catherine looked at WRSC station manager, Colin Jamison, who stood outside the glass sound booth. He looked unusually stressed. That was saying a lot for a man who looked unusual when he wasn't stressed.

  "Good job," he remarked absently when she stepped out of the glass box. "Your ratings are looking great this month, by the way."

  "Thanks" Sometimes she wished she understood humans as well as she understood animals. She wouldn't have to ask ridiculous questions. "Is something wrong, Colin? You look a little under the weather."

  He shrugged slender shoulders and adjusted his black wirerimmed glasses, which seemed to weigh heavily on his thin, sallow face. His curly brown hair was baby-fine above a high forehead and studious brown eyes. "I'm okay. I have a few family problems. But everything will work out. How's the clinic?"

  "It's good. Too busy sometimes. But good. You should come down and volunteer for a few hours. You might like it."

  He laughed uncomfortably, white teeth as even and straight as his childhood dentist could make them. "Wish I had time! You know my schedule."

  "You're digging yourself an early grave." She flung her marmaladecolored Batik shawl flamboyantly across one shoulder. "You should take some time to relax."

  "I would. But someone has to keep the sponsors happy." He glanced at the man in the sound booth who'd taken Mary Catherine's place at the microphone. "Jimmy won't do restaurant openings, even though he's a food critic. Stacey won't endorse her sponsor's hair-care products on the air even though she gives beauty tips"

  "And I won't pitch Meaty Boy dog food. I know." She smiled at him. "I guess we're lucky to have you to keep it all together for us. You're a very talented man."

  He tried to return her smile, but his pursed lips wouldn't turn up at the ends and he finally gave up. It made him look like he had a nervous tick. "You could do one small endorsement."

  The enormous, orange-colored tabby cat who sat on the green vinyl chair meowed loudly and shook his head.

  "Quiet, Baylor," she admonished. "Stay out of this. You aren't a dog."

  "Wow!" Mindy Evans, Colin's fiancee, looked at the cat as she joined them. "How do you get him to do that anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a cat that's trained like him. I didn't even know you could train a cat. Every time I see it, I'm amazed."

  "You mean sit in one place for an hour?" Mary Catherine smoothed Baylor's plush fur with an absent hand. "That's what cats do best. And he wants to be here with me."

  "You tell him where to sit every day and he sits there." Mindy took Colin's arm and smiled at him. She was a perfect foil for him; pretty, blond, and mostly unconcerned about things. She was good at what she did and kept everyone on an even keel. She'd been at the station since Mary Catherine got there two years ago. "How do you do that?"

  Before Mary Catherine could answer, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a gray Western-style suit and a matching Stetson pushed his way into the room. "There's my psychic angel! Mary Catherine, you're looking mighty fine today!"

  She rolled her expressive, dark-blue eyes. She wasn't sure if it was the terrible cologne he splashed on with a heavy hand, his obnoxiously friendly attitude, or the fact that he'd made his money being the Marlboro man on TV for years. Whatever it was, Clinton "Buck" Maybelle irritated her. Just being in the room with him made her want to hit him with something.

  Not a good sign, since most of her intimate relationships with men started out that way. She'd lost her fourth husband, George Roberts, only two years ago, just before she moved to Wilmington, North Carolina. She wasn't ready to go through all that again.

  "Mr. Maybelle." Colin shook the older man's hand, sucking up as always. Something he did best. "Glad you stopped by."

  Buck played a short game of seeing which man could squeeze hardest (Colin always lost at this game), only giving up as he saw Mary Catherine head for the elevator. "Say, how'bout some lunch? I've got my yacht tied up down at River Street. We could take a nice cruise while we're at it."

  "I'd love to." Colin cleared his throat. "But I'm tied up in meetings all afternoon. Maybe next week?"

  "Not you, squirt! I'm talking to Miss Mary."

  "Please don't call me that." Mary Catherine held out her arms and Baylor jumped up into them. He blended in perfectly with her shawl and her shoulder-length hair as he snuggled in close and warily eyed the man in the hat.

  "Sorry!" Buck winked at Colin. "The lady is touchy today."

  She gave him a cold stare. "The lady is touchy every day where you're concerned."

  "What else can I do to show you how I feel? Isn't it enough I pledge my faith by sponsoring your talk show even though you won't endorse my Meaty Boy dog food on the air?"

  "Not really. You manage to sell your dog food without my help. Or should I say because people think I'm helping you."

  "Now Mary Catherine, we've been over this. I took you to tour the plant. We use prime ingredients. There's nothing wrong with Meaty Boy!"

  "Except every dog hates it."

  "Dogs eat it!"

  "You'd eat swill if you were starving too!"

  "Please!" Mindy glanced nervously around the room. "Could you please move the discussion outside? I'm afraid you'll be heard on-air."

  Mary Catherine ignored Buck. "Of course. Baylor and I were on our way home anyway. I hope things work out for you, Colin. See you tomorrow, Mindy."

  The cat meowed again, face alert, whiskers twitching, ignoring everything to watch his prey. His blue eyes never strayed from Buck's florid face as the man followed Mary Catherine into the elevator.

  "Meaty Boy is healthy and nutritious. I don't get it. Dogs don't care what they eat as long as it has meat in it anyway. What do you have against it?"

  "The dogs I've spoken to hate it. They say it tastes like burnt turnips. The only reason you're still sponsoring my show is because you play golf with the stati
on owner! Make a palatable dog food or I'll find a local sponsor who knows how to play golf as well as you do!"

  Buck laughed. "You're really something when you're angry! Weehaa! I like a woman with spirit! Why don't you invite your dog friends for a taste test? You know, like people do. They can try different kinds of food and see if they can tell the difference. If they can and they won't eat it, I'll change the formula, even though it's been in my family for a hundred years."

  "Oh all right! If I can get any of them to come, I will. But don't blame me if no one trusts you"

  He started to move closer to her and the cat on her shoulder hissed, warning him away. "If you can really talk to animals, darlin', I suggest you talk to that fur ball there. He's a mite testy!"

  "He feels the same about you, Buck. Call me about the taste test later in the week. I'll see what I can line up. Maybe a few of the dogs at the clinic will volunteer. Although it hardly seems fair, since some of them have already been abused!"

  I'm only doing this for Colin because he looked so out of sorts today. Mary Catherine reminded herself of that fact several times as she left Buck at the Port City Java coffee shop downstairs from the station, grateful that Danny's cab was waiting at the sidewalk outside.

  Baylor tossed his big head and looked unimpressed.

  "You don't have to deal with him, do you?" she demanded of him. "He only called you a fur ball. He called me Miss Mary and his little psychic angel! How do you think I feel?"

  "MC!" Danny greeted her as she opened the orange taxi door. "Buenos tardes! Como esta? How did the broadcast go?"

  "It went fine until Buck showed up." She slid into the back seat. "You know how I feel about him."

  "As always," he sympathized. "Where to?"

  "Home. Baylor and I both need some lunch."

  "We could stop by Raul's cafe for burritos." He grinned as he hyped his brother's cafe. His teeth flashed white against his dark skin.

  "I don't think I'm up to spicy food today, Danny. Thanks anyway.

  "De nada." He shrugged as he pulled out into slow traffic that moved along the river in historic downtown Wilmington. "Baylor, you want a burrito?"

  The tabby cat meowed, but Mary Catherine hushed him. "You don't need that either. The last time you sneaked out and got a burrito, we were both sorry. No more beans for you!"

  Baylor slid down her lap and slumped on the floor.

  "Oh, now he's going to pout!" She shook her head. "It's not enough he's the only animal allowed into the radio station! It's not enough he does whatever he pleases!"

  Danny laughed, his agile hands loose on the wheel as he negotiated walking tourists and sightseeing traffic along the narrow street. "Sorry, amigo. Maybe some other time."

  A large yacht, the name Blockade Runner etched on the side, went slowly by, pine deck gleaming in the sun. Artists sat or stood beside easels all along the bank of the Cape Fear River in the old port town. They chalked and pasteled the picturesque river scene with the countless white sails against the warm blue sky. The new summer breeze shuffled through the streets, ruffling the leaves in the oak trees, and the smell of the river drifted across the city.

  Gulls followed the ocean-going ships, calling from the sky above them. It was hard to hear anything besides the racket their disordered cries presented. But there was something else. A faint small voice steadily called out for help in the midst of the louder shouts of the gulls demanding fish.

  Closing her eyes, Mary Catherine focused her concentration on that voice, ignoring all the other sounds that assailed her through the open window. "Danny, we have to stop!"

  The young Latino driver immediately put his foot on the brake, the taxi rocking as it squealed to a stop. Other cars behind him pushed on their horns to get him going. "Que pasa? Are you okay, MC?"

  "I'm fine. But Tommy needs help." Mary Catherine kept her eyes closed but Baylor grimaced, startled by the quick stop.

  "Tommy?" Danny looked around, his black hair gleaming in the sunlight that came through the open window. "Who's Tommy?"

  "I'm not sure yet." She held on to the sound of the tiny voice in her head. The breeze whipped her thick, tawny blond hair away from her face, blue eyes lost to the world as she stared out at the wide gray stretch of river.

  "Do you want to go back to the clinic?"

  "No. I need to go that way." She pointed toward the rows of large houses on the street above them.

  "Do you have an address?"

  "No. He's never been outside that he can recall. And such a small thing! Even if he had, how would he have seen an address?"

  Danny chewed on his lip. "Okay. Let me get through this traffic so we can turn up Market Street."

  She smiled back at him. "Thanks. I'll tell you where to stop."

  Not surprised by the request (it happened all the time), Danny drove quickly away from the river, past the old red brick buildings that had lined it for two hundred years and more. Wealthy residents of the city had built on the streets away from the river, turning the backs of their homes away from the water like old ladies. Their owners preferred not to see the sordid alleys and dingy taverns that served the pirates like Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet who came into port after ravaging the coast.

  Three-and four-story Queen Anne Victorians and solid Colonials with massive white pillars sat comfortably in their two or three hundred-year grace, happy to lean tired shoulders against soaring oaks and pink crape myrtles. Narrow streets suited the area, even if they didn't keep up with the traffic from more and more tourists every year. The lovely old-lady houses slumbered in the warm June sun, hiding the secrets of the families who lived inside.

  "Here!" Mary Catherine stopped him as he would have passed an old house snuggled between two larger ones. The red brick was mellowed to a pink color, half hidden by enormous magnolias whose white flowers swooned in the heat between glossy green leaves.

  Danny applied the brakes with a squeal again, turning sharply into the moss-covered brick drive, ignoring the horns that followed his action. "This it?"

  "I think so. I may need your help. Would you mind coming up with me?"

  "Wouldn't miss it!" He grinned, opening the door. "Every day is an adventure with you, MC. Remember last month when you heard that St. Bernard who was staked out at the garage because his owners didn't want to take him with them?"

  "Bruno" She nodded, getting out of the taxi quickly. Baylor trotted out behind her. "He's still waiting to be adopted."

  "No wonder! He almost ripped my jeans off when I reached for his collar"

  "He was scared," she reminded him. "He thought you might hurt him."

  "Hurt him? Dios! He weighs close to three hundred pounds! His teeth are an inch long and..."

  "Shh! I can't hear Tommy."

  "Sorry. Got anything to eat?"

  She raked through her huge brocade pocketbook, but could only come up with some stale pita bread in a plastic bag and a half-eaten Snicker's bar. "That's about it."

  He took the Snickers bar. "Gracias. I'm starving."

  She glanced up at the house. The pitiful cry coming from inside its lovely facade was enough to break her heart. She hoped it wouldn't take a prolonged discussion with Tommy's owners to help him. She didn't mind explaining who she was and what she did. She hated for any animal to suffer longer than necessary.

  The drive and sidewalk were made of the same aged brick as the house. Mary Catherine squinted up at the front door. Black iron letters graced the portal with the address. Ivy grew up the front and side walls. She put Baylor back in the car despite his pro tests. She didn't know what she'd find in the house and it would be easier without his interference.

  Even though they were on one of the main roads through Wilmington, the smell of summer was strong and sweet in her senses with magnolias complementing perfumed roses. Set back at least a block from the street, the house and land gave the appearance of being muffled and sheltered from real life. Mary Catherine could imagine looking out of those wide upstairs windows
every day, peering out from the blinds at the world.

  When she reached the front door, she stopped. It was a big door, made of strong hardwood, no doubt. An iron post held a lantern to light the way for guests, and there was mail in the fiercelooking black iron box on the wall. A pretty welcome mat with a smiling bumblebee lay on the porch. These were ordinary things people took for granted, like security and warmth. The people who lived in this house probably had no idea what it was like to look for a place to sleep at night or wonder where their next meal was going to come from.

  She lifted her hand to knock but the door swung open before she touched it. She blinked, pausing with her hand in mid air. "Hello? Anyone home?"

  "Spooky," Danny whispered around the Snickers bar in his mouth as he followed right behind her.

  Mary Catherine walked slowly past the pink marble-floored foyer, following the sound of fear and sorrow only she could hear. Dry. Pale. Bright. Sharp. Pain. The thoughts were rudimentary, scrambled. Something Tommy didn't understand was keeping him from escaping whatever he was trying to get away from.

  The sound seemed to be coming from a large sitting room immediately on the right. The instant she stepped on the champagnecolored carpet, she knew she was in the right place. The house seemed deserted, except for one small voice.

  "There you are!" She bent down and scooped up the tiny yellow-bellied slider that was trying to push through the plush carpet. "You're hurt. How did this happen to you?" She examined his back leg, a bloody gash leaving a trail behind him.

  Fragments of a lovely crystal bowl with a rock and some strewn turtle food came into her line of vision. The glass was shattered. It was probably where Tommy cut his leg. The bright light he saw was a huge chandelier in the ceiling that was turned on, despite the warm sunshine streaming in through the white lace on the front windows.

  The thing that wouldn't let him move forward, too large for him to surmount, was the body of a woman in her nightclothes. She appeared to be close to Mary Catherine's age. There were pink curlers in her gray-streaked brown hair and a cut on her neck that looked like it came from her fall against the large, broken piece of the turtle bowl. A pool of blood surrounded her, blooming against the pale carpet like the roses outside the door.