“Aunt Nina. Time for a drinkie-poo.”
I raised my head until my eyes were level with the sill. Even though Donna’s back was to me, I could see her pouring the cold medicine into a glass already half-full of a red beverage.
Yup. Just as I suspected.
She plunked a straw into the drink and stuck it in Nina’s mouth. “Aunt Nina! Wake up and drink this. It’s cranberry juice mixed with your liquid vitamins and your sleepy-time medicine. It tastes yummy.”
I have to get a photo of this.
“Wake up. You need your vitamins so you can get strong and move to Shady Acres. Won’t that be wonderful?”
Nina’s eyes popped open, and she spat out the straw. “No. Don’t want it.” She turned her head towards the window, and I could swear she was looking straight at me. I waved, but her face did not register acknowledgment. Probably all she saw was the reflection of her bedroom.
“Dammit, old lady! Drink it or else.”
Or else what?
Donna plugged Nina’s nose and jammed the straw between her lips. “Quit being a brat and drink your damned medicine. I’ve got better things to do than molly-coddle you. I’m worn out.”
Nina shook her head, swatting at Donna, trying to get free.
I had to do something. I dashed to Donna’s window and rapped on it, hoping to get Baby Girl’s attention. It worked! She tore through the house yipping. I rushed to the back of the house and tapped a living room window. The dog scrambled for that room, barking hysterically.
“Shut up!” screamed Donna.
I returned to Nina’s window in time to see Donna slam the drink on the nightstand and stomp out of the room. “Shut up, you damned dog, or I’ll give you something to bark about!”
I watched Nina, trying to think of some way to help her. I held up my phone and snapped a few photos. She raised her arm and wavered it in the air over the nightstand, connecting with the glass and tipping it over. A tiny smile of victory lit her face.
“What the hell are you barking about?” shouted Donna from the living room. “There’s nothing in here.”
I hurried to the corner of the house and threw a couple rocks at the back fence. Baby Girl heard the noise and zipped to the patio slider window, continuing to bark.
Seconds later, the back yard light flicked on. The slider screeched open and Donna yelled, “Who’s out there? What the hell happened to the fence?” The dog slipped through the open window. “Get back in here, Baby Girl!”
Donna stepped out, forgetting there’s over a two-foot drop from the slider to the ground since she removed the steps and patio. With a shriek, she landed in a heap in the dirt, blubbering and moaning like a sick cow. “My ankle! My ankle!”
Her accident had bought me some time. However, what to do with it, I did not know. It weren’t as though I could climb into Nina’s room, hoist her over my shoulder, and run home. I scurried back to her room and tried to push up the window, but I failed to open it just like the last time I had tried.
“Nina!” I whispered through the crack. “Nina!” She turned her head towards the window. “Nina! It’s Katy. I will figure out how to help you. I promise!”
Baby Girl poked my calf, whining and wagging her tail.
“Go ’way,” I whispered.
She shimmied around until she was between me and the exterior house wall.
“Go. Away.”
She licked my shoe, then gazed up at me like I should do something. So I did. I scooped her up into my arms. She’s heavier than I expected—around twenty pounds. I looked at Nina again. Her eyes were closed. I listened for a long, satisfying moment to Donna wailing about her ankle and then sneaked out of the yard.
When I got home, Daisy went bonkers over Baby Girl. The little dog rolled on her back and submitted herself for approval. With her tail thumping the floor, she continued to lie still while Mr. Snickers and Tabitha checked her out.
Even though she was being good, I wagged a finger at her. “Do not even think about chasing the cats. You got that?”
I gave everyone a small meal, then it hit me what I’d done. I’d stolen a dog, and her owner would hear her barking in my yard. What was I going to do?
While brushing my teeth before bed, I wondered if I should’ve called an ambulance for Donna. She might have been seriously injured. I may be a pet-napper, serial trespasser, and creepy window peeper, but I couldn’t go to bed without knowing if she was all right.
With great reluctance, I went back over to her house to take a look in the back yard. If she was still out there, I’d call an ambulance.
As I made my way along the side of the house, I glanced in the living room window and saw Donna sitting in the recliner with an ice pack on her ankle.
With a long, grateful sigh of relief, I went home.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Friday • July 10
Posted by Katy McKenna
Mom called this morning to talk about my spy mission last night. “Katy, I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but sneaking around peeping into windows could land you in jail.”
Darn it! I should have made that post private. “You’re right, Mom, but have you got any better ideas?”
“No. Just please be careful. I’m not going to tell your father about this, although half the time he never hears me anyway.”
“Mom? Are you guys all right?”
“Yes. Of course. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Hey, do you think Ruby would take care of the dog until Donna leaves?”
“About that. I am glad you took the dog. Clearly she wanted to go with you. I’m sure Mom would be glad to take care of her. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. I’ll handle it. Please don’t say anything.”
I fretted all morning about Donna’s ankle. Was she able to walk and properly take care of herself and Nina? If I hadn’t been so caught up in my “one woman neighborhood vigilante crusade,” I wouldn’t have knocked down that plastic fence, and Donna wouldn’t have taken a tumble.
Although, on the upside, it did give me the opportunity to save BeeGee—formerly known as Baby Girl. Plus, I took photos that prove that Donna has been forcing Nina to drink cold medicine. Photos that I can’t show the police, because I was trespassing.
I looked up my “crime” on the Santa Lucia Police website:
It is a misdemeanor to spy on—or take pictures of someone—in a private place without that person’s consent. Punishment can include:
Up to six (6) months in jail; and/or
A fine of up to $1,000
* * *
I could wind up in jail for trying to be a good neighbor, and I bet my photos wouldn’t be admissible in court because I was technically breaking the law. Plus, it was over-the-counter cold medicine that Donna was forcing Nina to drink. Not poison.
After pressing Nina’s doorbell several times, I yelled, “Hey, Donna. I thought I heard some commotion over here last night. Everything all right? I’m worried about you!”
“Go away!” she screamed.
“Show me you’re okay, and I will.”
“I hurt my ankle, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Do you need help? A ride to the ER? An ambulance?”
If I call an ambulance, they’ll go in, and then they’ll find Nina! Problem solved. I was about to call for help when the door opened.
Donna looked like hell. Frazzled hair, swollen ankle, red puffy eyes, and still in the blue nightgown. “I do not need an ambulance. Why can’t you mind your own business?”
“Because I’m a caring neighbor. It’s what neighbors do.”
“More like neighborhood busybody,” she grumbled.
“Somebody’s gotta do it. Might as well be me.” I gave her the once-over. “Obviously, you need help.” Then, without waiting for an invitation, I shouldered past her into the foyer. “Let me help you to a chair.” I steered the limping woman to the living room recliner, eased her down, then raised the foo
trest. “You need to keep that ankle elevated.” I glanced around the room. “Love what you’ve done to the place.”
“Hilarious,” she snarled. “When it’s all done, you’ll be shocked at the transformation.”
“I’m pretty shocked now. Haven’t seen the contractors over here in days. What gives?”
“They’re on vacation. It’s a family business.”
Yeah, right. You’re out of money. “How annoying for you. May I make you and Nina a cup of tea?”
“Coffee would be nice,” she said. “All we have is instant. None for Aunt Nina, though. She’s asleep.”
“No surprise there. Would you like something to eat?”
“Maybe some toast?”
“You got it,” I said. “What do you take in your coffee?”
“Black is fine. There’s jam in the refrigerator.”
From the kitchen, I hollered, “Where’s the stove?”
“I got rid of that old heap of junk. I ordered a six-burner stainless steel model, but I got a notice telling me it’s on back order, so I don’t know when it will arrive. What a pain! You can boil water in the microwave.”
While the toast got toasty, I bundled some ice in a plastic bag, and wrapped a kitchen towel around it. “Let’s get some ice on your swollen ankle. Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”
“Thank you for the ice and, yes, I’m sure about the doctor.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind.” The toaster oven dinged. “Be right back.” In the kitchen, I yelled, “Too bad about that stove. Hope you got a good price for it.”
“Who would buy that old out-of-date thing? I had it hauled to the dump.”
I returned to the living room. “Donna, that old stove was worth at least five thousand dollars.”
Her eyes widened, and I saw her swallow. “Five thousand?”
“Probably more. There’s a big demand for them nowadays. What a shame. Hopefully, someone at the dumped snagged it. Anyway, here’s your snack. Toast with blackberry jam and black coffee. Do you need any ibuprofen?”
Looking sick, she nodded. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“My parents raised me to care about my neighbors.” I squatted by the chair. “It can’t be easy caring for an elderly person and fixing up the house for her. I’m sure you would love to go home to Ketchikan.” I paused, watching her face, but her expression didn’t change at the mention of her former hometown. “You know, get back to your own life in Alaska. Yet, here you are. Doing the right thing.” I was laying it on thick, wasn’t I? “Now, how about that ibuprofen? Or acetaminophen? Aspirin?”
“There’s ibuprofen in the bathroom, by the sink.”
I patted her hand and stood. “Be right back.”
On my way to the bathroom, I took a quick peek into Nina’s room. She was asleep, of course. In the bathroom that had so far escaped Donna’s demolition derby, I poured a glass of water and returned to her. “I’ve heard that four equals prescription strength.” I dumped the pills in her hand and set the bottle on the side table.
After she’d eaten half the toast, I made a big show of glancing around the room. “Where’s Baby Girl? Outside? Do you want me to feed her?”
“I,” her voice choked, “I…don’t know where she is. Last night her fence fell over and she ran off.” A tear trickled down her ruddy cheek, and I felt a tiny twinge of guilt.
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, looking so sorrowful I could have won an Oscar. “Boy, this family has the worst luck for pets vanishing. First Mr. Snickers and now your sweet doggie.”
She swiped her eyes with her hand and sniffed. “I wasn’t very nice to you when you asked for a picture of the cat.”
“No, you weren’t, Donna. It surprised me since you obviously are an animal lover.”
“I didn’t know how awful it feels to lose a pet. I’m thankful that Nina doesn’t realize her cat is missing.”
Because you’re keeping her doped up. “You’re kidding. How could Nina not know her beloved cat is gone?”
“Because lately she’s been, uh, out of it.”
“Every time I ask to see her you tell me she’s asleep. Maybe there’s something seriously wrong with her. Has she seen a doctor? You know, to be evaluated.”
“No. Not yet. I guess I should schedule an appointment soon.”
Soon as in never. “As far as your dog goes, I’m sure you’ll get her back, Donna. She had a collar on, right? And I’m thinking you had her microchipped. So even if she lost her collar, a vet could still identify her.”
She hung her head, shaking it slowly. “She didn’t have her collar on. I only put it on when we’re going somewhere. And she’s not microchipped.”
Thank goodness! But I’ll have her microchipped. “Tell you what? I’ll make flyers and tack them up around the neighborhood, and you can post about her on Facebook in one of those local lost pets groups.”
“I don’t do Facebook or any of that social media stuff. I hate it.”
“What about for your books?”
“I have a media company that takes care of that stuff. You know, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and whatever.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of it for you. Let me put my number in your phone so you can text me a photo of her.”
“You’re an angel.”
“Hey, Grammy! Whatcha doin’?”
“I’m talking on the phone with you,” she said flatly. “What are you doing?”
“Ha! Ha! Same thing. Hey! How about I run over for a cup of coffee?”
“You’re up to something, but come on over.”
Click.
BeeGee was at my feet staring adoringly up at me. “Hey, kiddo. Let’s go visit your new grandma.”
The word “grandma” prompted Daisy to do her happy dance routine until I told her she had to stay home. The expression on her mug was sheer misery while she watched me put her halter and leash on BeeGee. I had to tighten up the straps quite a bit, but it worked.
At Ruby’s, I left the dog in the car, parked under a tree with all the windows cracked. Talking my grandmother into taking care of her might take some finesse even though Mom was sure she’d be fine with it.
The front door was unlocked. “Hey, Grams. I’m here.”
“In the bathroom. Hold on.” The toilet flushed, and she joined me in the kitchen.
“I got fresh, warm donuts at the drive-thru donut shop.” I open the pink box. “Look, your favorites.”
She peeked in the box, raised a suspicious brow at me, and selected a buttermilk donut. “Pour yourself some coffee.”
I doctored a cup with half-and-half and sugar and got the usual remark from Ruby. “Want some coffee with your cream and sugar?”
I took a sip and added more sugar. “Ah. Perfect.” I set my mug on the counter. “Oh my gosh, I nearly forgot. I brought a friend with me.”
She made a big deal of looking around the kitchen. “Is it by any chance your old imaginary friend you had when you were in kindergarten? George Washington McKenna?”
“Nooo. She’s real. Be right back.”
When I left the room, she muttered, “This should be good.”
I opened the car backseat door to a delighted dog. “I didn’t forget about you. Let’s go meet your grandma.” I picked her up and hugged her. “You’re a sweet girl, you know that?”
I set her down and she trotted to the porch with me.
“And who do we have here?” Ruby stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking grouchy.
“This is my friend, BeeGee. Formally known as Baby Girl.”
“Oh, no. Nuh-uh.” She shook her head, waving her hands. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“It’s a funny story. You’ll laugh.”
“I doubt that.” She glared at me for a long moment. “Are her feet clean? You know I have beige carpeting.”
I lifted a paw. “Looks clean to me.”
“Wait here.” She returned and gave me a hand towel. “I have hear
tburn today, so I can’t bend over without urping.”
“You get heartburn every time you go to Martini Piano Bar Night.”
“I know. And still, I go.”
After I made a big show of wiping BeeGee’s paws, we sat in the living room.
“Did you by any chance read my blog this morning?” I asked.
“No, I’m a few days behind. Why?”
I cuddled the pup on my lap while I related last night’s events. When I finished, she jumped down as if on cue, and approached Ruby while wagging her feathery tail.
“Oh, brother. Did you two rehearse that move?”
“No, but you gotta admit, she’s pretty cute. I only need you to take care of her until Donna goes home. Then BeeGee can live with me.”
“If that woman ever goes home.” She cracked a smile and petted the pup. “Much as I hate to admit it, you did the right thing.” She leaned down to the dog’s muzzle. “Didn’t she?”
BeeGee licked her chin. And that was that. Ruby was on board.
“Here’s the deal, Katy. I’ll give her a trial run. If she minds her p’s and q’s, she stays permanently. I don’t want to get attached, and then you take her back and break my heart.”
BeeGee decided it was time to jump on the couch and cuddle up to Ruby. She was really selling it.
“What are the p’s and q’s?” I said.
Ruby stroked the girl’s silky black fur. “She can’t be barking all the time because the neighbors will complain, and the HOA board will kick her out.”
“What else?”
“I assume she’s potty trained?”
“Yes, but she’s used to a dog door. I’ll go to the pet store today and get one to fit in your slider. I’ll also get a collar and tag, and a harness and leash.”
“All right.” She paused, thinking. “She needs a couple toys, too. Oh, and dog food.”
I high-fived her. “Deal.” Then I snuggled BeeGee. “No one will ever hit you again, sweetheart.”
“Damned straight about that,” said Ruby.
While She Slumbered: The Murder Blog Mysteries #5 Page 15