The Cat Sitter and the Canary

by John Clement

  “You’re kidding me.”

  She said, “I’m not. Guidry’s wedding is tomorrow.”

  I took a deep breath and sat down on the carpet next to Franklin. “Yeah. So I’ve heard.”

  Marge said, “Dixie, I’m sorry. I should have mentioned it before, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear it. Guidry’s mother and my mother are friends, and my sister went to college with him, so she’s going too, and it’s only an hour or so from her house, so I figured, why not?”

  I tried to regain my composure. “Oh, please. I don’t care. I was planning on going myself, but I had to cancel at the last minute.”

  “I’m sure it must be a little strange for you…”

  “Honestly, it’s no big deal.” I gave Franklin a couple of long strokes down his back and tried to change the subject. “I’m pretty sure this fella’s house is still classified as an active crime scene, but as soon as they’re done I can take him back home. I’m hoping maybe by tomorrow.”

  Franklin nuzzled up against my knee.

  Marge smiled. “I do believe he’s glad to see you.”

  “I wanted to stop by earlier, but things have been a little crazy.” I slipped my backpack off my shoulder and opened it up. “And then there’s this…”

  Marge peered inside and gasped. “Oh my gosh. Is that a rabbit?”

  “It is. He’s Franklin’s housemate.” I gave her as charming a smile as I could muster. “I know he’s not exactly your usual clientele, but I was wondering…”

  “Well, of course! We had rabbits when I was little.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “My daddy bred them for meat, but I promise he’s safe with me.”

  “His name’s Gigi. I’m worried he might be getting a little tired of riding around on my back.”

  She lifted him out and nuzzled him to her chest, cooing softly. “Well, hello there, Mr. Gigi. Welcome to the Haven!”

  If Marge thought the name Gigi was unusual for a boy, she kept it to herself. Over the years, she’s helped me with all kinds of animals that needed safe harbor from a troubled home, and she’s welcomed each and every one of them with open arms. Even Jaz was a bit of a troubled stray when I first introduced them, but Marge took Jaz under her wing with no questions asked. All she cares about is the here and now—a true believer in life, liberty, and the pursuit of treats—and she has zero interest in people’s pasts, no matter how sordid or complicated. As I made my way out to the Bronco, I made a mental note to tell my brother that if he and Paco ever get tired of taking care of me, they should just drop me off at the Kitty Haven.

  I found Deputy Morgan slouched down in his seat with the newspaper draped over the steering wheel. I was about to rap on the top of the hood to wake him when he sat up and said, “Where to now, boss?”

  I said, “Ever hear of the Scarlet Woman of Siesta Key?”

  21

  As soon as I turned down Old Vineyard Lane, my heart felt just the tiniest bit lighter. I had expected the front of Caroline’s house to be littered with evidence markers, sheriff’s cruisers, and police tape, but there was just a lone crime cleanup van parked in the driveway, which meant I might be able to get Franklin and Gigi home sooner than I thought.

  “Hey, good news for bunnies!”

  My backpack was open on the passenger seat next to me, and I almost reached inside to give Gigi a scratch before I remembered he wasn’t there. Now I understood why Caroline liked having him around so much. Life is better with a furry friend in tow—no doubt about it.

  Next door, the front of Elba Kramer’s house was hidden from the street by a looming hedge, and across the driveway’s entrance was a tall wrought-iron gate with menacing spikes. There was an intercom pad on a stone pedestal to the left, and just as I was about to roll down my window, I heard two short beeps and the gate swung open. I pulled up and parked in the shade of a giant jacaranda tree as the gate closed behind me.

  The landscaping around the house was so perfect it seemed almost artificial. The lush shrubs were all straight lines and right angles, and the thick grass was a flawless emerald green and perfectly manicured. Just then I noticed a woman in a wide-brimmed hat, long black slacks, and a white, long-sleeved blouse at the far side of the yard. She was reaching into the hedge and pulling out individual leaves, which she dropped into a metal bucket at her feet.

  I was about to call to her when the front door of the house swung open, and out stepped a woman in a pair of sheer white linen slacks and a low-cut gauzy blouse. She had long dark hair that flowed past her shoulders, with a necklace of chunky turquoise stones hanging around her neck.

  I gasped. By then I’d probably seen about a hundred pictures of Elba Kramer, but in person her beauty was astonishing, made all the more surprising by the fact that by conventional standards, she was—there’s no other way to put it—downright ugly. Her eyes were too widely set, her lips off-kilter, and her nose, although narrow, had a decidedly pronounced bump in the middle. It looked awkward and out of place, as if it might have been more at home on the face of a hockey player or a professional boxer. Still, somehow, everything came together as seamlessly as a Picasso: honest, vibrant, and above all, alluring. I could see why a man might be tempted to risk his entire career for her.

  That morning all those years ago, when I’d responded to what I thought was just another routine public-disturbance call only to find an enraged, half-naked senator screaming at some tourists, Ms. Kramer had already hidden herself down in the lower level of the yacht. I never talked to her, and if she’d seen me at all it would have been from a pretty good distance, so I didn’t think she’d ever recognize me. But now, when she held out her hand to shake mine, I saw a flash of something in her eyes … a distant glint of recognition.

  “Hello, Dixie. I’m Elba Kramer. Welcome to Custom House.”

  She stepped back to reveal a wide hallway with dark polished floors and a half-dozen crystal chandeliers hung across the vaulted ceiling. Down the center of the hall was a plush red carpet, and as she motioned me in, I noticed it had been newly vacuumed.

  “Please.”

  I walked ahead, conscious of her eyes on my back. Midway down the hall were two doors on either side—one closed, but the door on the left was standing open. Ms. Kramer stepped around me and smiled.

  She said, “We can talk in the living room. I’ll open the windows and let some fresh air in.”

  I was about to follow when she stopped abruptly in the doorway and I almost bumped into her. It was a small, dark room. The one wall I could see was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves of leather-bound books. On the floor was an intricately woven Persian rug with a giant antique desk in the middle, on top of which were about five cardboard boxes, each with labels in various languages. A few read FRAGILE.

  The first thing I thought was that the room stuck out from the rest of the house like a sore thumb—completely out of sync with the light, modern decor everywhere else. It was fusty and crowded, so much so that if I had looked away one second earlier I wouldn’t have noticed the elderly man that was slumped in a leather armchair behind the desk. He was jowly faced, with thinning red hair raked over his head and an unlit cigar dangling from his fat lips. He held a remote control in one hand, which he was pointing at an old, boxy television like he was holding it hostage. There was a somber-looking newscaster talking about oil prices as a ticker of stock market figures rolled across the bottom of the screen.

  Ms. Kramer laid her hand on the doorknob and pulled it toward us, blocking my view.

  She said, “Everything okay, Al?”

  There was an indecipherable grunt from inside.

  “Albert’s not feeling very social today.” She turned and whispered as she shut the door behind her. “Or ever.”

  I smiled to myself. His name fit him perfectly. I could hear my grandmother’s voice: That man is such an Albert! Paco had said Ms. Kramer and her husband owned an expensive women’s accessories store in the Village, but Albert hardly seemed like the ki
nd of man to trifle with jewelry and fancy women’s things. I knew the type well—gruff and inelegant, perpetually in a bad mood. There’d been a lot of them on the force, although that rough exterior was usually just a cover-up for a sweeter version hidden inside. I had a feeling Albert reserved that part of himself for Elba Kramer alone.

  She continued ahead, her stride long and confident, tempered only by a slightly restless fluttering of her hands. “He only comes out of his study to eat. It’s just work, work, work. My sweet Jane has her cage, and he has his!”

  The hallway opened into a sprawling living area. To the right was a full bar, glistening with hundreds of cocktail glasses of all shapes and sizes, and to the left was a giant marble fireplace big enough to park a car in. There was a sunken area in the middle of the room, with a trio of low-backed couches circling a marble-topped coffee table and a giant glass bowl piled high with lemons and grapefruit. It was all pretty breathtaking, but the most notable feature of the room, and the most impressive, was the back wall. It was made entirely of glass, and the view was nothing short of spectacular. I could see the entire span of the John Ringling Bridge sparkling over the bay, and I could even see halfway down the western shoreline of Siesta Key.

  Before I could say a word, Ms. Kramer nonchalantly pressed a button next to the fireplace, and I watched in mute amazement as the entire glass wall lowered seamlessly into the floor.

  Ms. Kramer said, “Fancy, huh?”

  I managed a nod and a muffled, “Wow.”

  A rush of warm air moved in, and now it seemed as if we were sitting in a very nicely furnished outdoor patio, where the polished granite floor of the living room continued out to the covered patio, ending at a row of giant columns entwined in blooming mandevilla.

  Rajinder appeared through a swinging door with a silver tray and two glasses of iced tea, each with a thinly sliced lemon wedge perched on the rim. He put the tray down on the coffee table, nodded discreetly, and then headed for the front hall. I noticed he was wearing woven grass slippers. They made a soft shushing sound as they slid along the tile floor.

  Ms. Kramer stiffened. “Raji? What are you doing?”

  He stopped and turned. “Mr. Kramer asked me to help him unpack the shipment that just arrived.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll help him with it later. I need you to pick up that prescription now.” She glanced at her watch. “I told you already. The pharmacy closes at six. If you don’t leave now, you’ll miss it.”

  Rajinder shrugged, which gave me the impression he didn’t care one way or the other, either that or he was well accustomed to following Elba Kramer’s every command. As he came back up the hall, Ms. Kramer sat down and handed me one of the glasses of iced tea.

  “It’s mint. From the garden. I’d like to take credit, but it’s the gardener’s doing. She’s the one with the green thumb in this family, such as it is.”

  So far, Ms. Kramer hadn’t mentioned why she needed me, like where she was going or for how long, nor had I seen any signs of a bird—which was, after all, the entire reason I was here—but I figured it must have been in a cage somewhere. Lots of bird owners give their feathered friends free reign of the house, but considering the entire back wall of Elba’s living room was open to the outside, I doubted she’d let hers loose.

  “Raji tells me you’re perfectly qualified to care for my little girl, and Raji’s a good judge of character. I’d trust him with my life, but I wanted to meet you first. This town’s full of hacks looking for gossip to sell to the tabloids, and I’ve been fooled more than once. As you can imagine, I have to be very careful about who I let in my house.”

  I nodded self-consciously, wondering what was the proper etiquette for meeting a semicelebrity. Was it more polite to acknowledge that, yes, I knew all about her exploits in the tabloids, or was it better to be discreet and treat her like any other client? And would she be offended, or even suspicious, if I pretended I’d never heard of her?

  She smiled. “I’ve seen that look before. It’s fine. I get a good vibe from you.”

  I cleared my throat, realizing I’d barely said a word since I’d arrived. I said, “Ms. Kramer, I take my job very seriously, and I treat all my clients with the same degree of professionalism, no matter who they are. I would never in a million years reveal any personal details about you to anyone, least of all the press.”

  “That’s good to know.” She set her glass down on the table as her expression darkened. “So … shall we discuss the elephant in the room?”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  The “elephant in the room” could only mean one thing—I was right. She had recognized me. It also suddenly dawned on me that even if she hadn’t immediately recognized my name, the chances she’d run a background check before deciding to hire me were very high. In fact, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if she knew every bit as much about my past as I did about hers … which meant she was probably well aware that our paths had crossed once before. And now I was in the very awkward situation of explaining why I hadn’t owned up to it earlier.

  I said, “Ms. Kramer, first of all, I’m sorry I didn’t say something when we first talked on the phone. But you have to understand, I was just doing my job. There’s a very strict code of ethics when it comes to law enforcement, and even though I’m a pet sitter now, I still have to be very careful not to violate anyone’s rights under the law, no matter how long it’s been, even if I’m talking to someone…” I gestured in her direction, trying to come up with the right words. “You know, someone who was … involved.”

  “Involved! What makes you think I was involved?” She shook her head and snorted. “Oh, my god. What a stupid cow!”

  My chin dropped and I felt my hands curl into fists. Yes, that business on the boat had eventually led to the end of Senator Cobb’s political career, and it had definitely put another black mark on Elba Kramer’s reputation, so I could understand why she might be angry—even though in the end it certainly wasn’t all my fault. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t put a few black marks there herself. But if this was the tone she was going to take, there was no point in my hanging around. I was in no mood for this woman’s drama. I’d had a hard enough week as it was.

  I stood up and pulled my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay. Again, I apologize. If you’d like me to give you recommendations for other pet sitters, I’d be happy to do that, but this is obviously not going to work out.”

  She shot off the sofa and made a step toward the front door, as if she might try to stop me. “Wait a minute. At least tell me what she’s saying!”

  “Huh?”

  She shook her head, disgust plainly visible on her face. “This is absolutely unbelievable. I should have known. When those cops came over here all full of questions, acting all suspicious … there’s no telling what that stupid woman has told them about me.”

  I said, “Hold on. Who are we talking about?”

  “Caroline Greaver! Who else? No wonder that detective acted so damn weird. The woman could barely look me in the eye.”

  I said, “Wait…” But she continued, getting more and more agitated.

  “Listen, whatever you’ve been told about me, it’s complete baloney. I mean, yes, it’s no secret Caroline and I are not exactly the best of friends, but this is low even for her. And you can be damn sure of one thing: if I ever got myself involved in a murder, Caroline Greaver would not be around to talk about it after!”

  I said, “Oh, no. Ms. Kramer, there’s been a misunderstanding. I wasn’t talking about the murder. And Caroline hasn’t said a thing about you as far as I know.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Then what did you mean by all that stuff about me being involved, and your strict code of ethics?”

  I said, “Wow. I feel like an idiot. When you said the ‘elephant’ in the room, I thought you meant…” I took a deep breath and sighed. “Ms. Kramer, I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t think it mattered, and also I didn’t wan
t to embarrass you, but … long before I became a pet sitter, I was a sheriff’s deputy.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “So…?”

  “So, I was the officer that was called to the scene that day…”

  “What scene?”

  “Um … the scene when you were caught with Senator Cobb … on his yacht.”

  Her eyes widened. “That was you?”

  I nodded.

  Her jaw opened slightly and then she threw her head back and burst into laughter.

  I stammered. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  She fell back down on the couch and held both hands up in the air. “Thank you! Finally something interesting in this godforsaken town! Honey, the elephant in the room I was talking about was that horrible business next door, not Morton Cobb!” She reached for a cocktail napkin from the tray and unfolded it. “I’ve always wondered what happened to you. Morton swore up and down he’d have you fired for not confiscating those tourists’ cameras, and now … Oh gosh, I suppose that’s what happened isn’t it? Is that why you’re no longer a deputy?”

  I sat back down on the couch. “No. Although he did threaten me that day, that’s for sure. But I quit the force years ago … for personal reasons. It was totally unrelated.”

  She sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes with the corner of a napkin. “That man is completely insane, you know. He’s still snooping around trying to get back at me somehow. He had it in his head he’d be president one day. Can you believe that? I guess the world has you to thank for putting a stop to that. It’s funny, when Raji first mentioned your name, I did think it sounded vaguely familiar. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  I said, “Well, I’ve always felt bad, but there really was nothing I could do. Those tourists hadn’t done anything illegal.”

  “Oh, please. We were lucky you didn’t arrest us both for public indecency. And, anyway, the whole episode gave me an excuse to leave him. And my God! How bizarre that you’re here now, especially with everything that’s happened next door!”