Take the Monkey and Run

by Laura Morrigan

  “No, that’s not what I can do.” Ronnie looked at me for help.

  “She’s not talking about pursuing a career, Jason,” I said.

  “You mean you’re psychic, like, really psychic.”

  “Yes,” Ronnie said.

  He laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Okay, then, what am I thinking?”

  “I’m not that kind of psychic. But I do know what you’re thinking.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think I’m full of it.”

  “Well, look at that, maybe you are psychic.”

  Kai appeared in the doorway. He looked around at each of us, clearly picking up on the tension. “Everything okay in here?”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “Everything is perfect. Ronnie here has decided she’s a psychic.”

  Jason had said the word psychic like someone might say fairy godmother.

  Kai looked at me, then Ronnie. “I see. To be fair, I’m not sure it’s something you decide.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe this happy hog shit,” Jason said.

  Kai didn’t cross his arms but he leveled his gaze at Jason and held it. “I do, because it’s true.”

  “This is ridiculous. Hattie’s missing and you’re wasting time with this?”

  “It’s not a waste of time,” Ronnie snapped.

  “Great. If you’re psychic, then where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Because you’re not that kind of psychic, either?”

  “Actually, I am that kind of psychic but I just can’t get a good read on her.”

  “This is crazy. Okay, fine, you’re psychic. Great, let’s move on to something useful.”

  “Don’t you patronize me, Jason Broussard. You know I wouldn’t lie about this. Not now.”

  “You know something, Ronnie? I don’t think I know you at all.”

  “See?” Ronnie looked at me. “This is pointless.”

  “Hang on,” Kai said. “Everyone take a breath, for Hattie’s sake.”

  Though she looked like she was ready to spit nails, Ronnie pulled in a couple of deep breaths and said, “Okay.”

  Jason nodded.

  “Good,” Kai said. “Jason, you don’t have to believe Ronnie or us, but you can agree that we want the same thing, right? We want to help Hattie. And to do that, we have to work together. Everyone brings something different to the table.”

  “I’ll say,” Jason muttered.

  Ronnie shot him a withering look.

  Kai plowed on. “I have a few questions about a couple of unsolved cases that might be connected. Why don’t we talk about those? Grace and Ronnie, you work your angle.”

  I noticed Kai was careful not to say the word psychic, which was probably smart, given Jason’s bad attitude.

  I agreed, but didn’t know how much help I would be.

  “I’ve got some notes upstairs. We can start there,” Ronnie said.

  Moss and I followed her up the hidden staircase to the attic.

  “I’ve tried to keep notes, but it’s really hard to focus on what I’m seeing and try to describe it on paper at the same time.” Ronnie’s frustration was evident on her face.

  “What about using a tape recorder?” I asked.

  “That was my next option. I used to have an audio memos feature on my phone but . . .”

  “Right. No phone.”

  I thought about Logan’s sudden case of sticky fingers when it came to my phone and wondered if he’d taken mine to protect me.

  There was a way to track people with a phone, wasn’t there? Had Anya or Barry figured out a way to hack into my phone?

  I shook off the scary thought. I’d think about it later, when a grandmother’s life wasn’t in danger.

  “Did you manage to make sense of anything you saw?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. It all just seems completely random. Here,” she said, opening the drawer of the bedside table and taking out a notebook. “I’ll show you.”

  Ronnie set the notebook on the table and opened it. “These are just impressions, really. It felt like I could never get a firm grasp on her energy.”

  I looked over the notes. Basically there were a bunch of words and doodles. Things like dark road and chain-link fence along with a lot of question marks.

  “What’s this about diamonds?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Like the shape or the gemstone?”

  “Gemstone. I saw a bunch of loose diamonds sparkling—but that’s all.”

  “Does that mean your grandmother is somewhere where she can see diamonds? Or is that some sort of a metaphor?”

  “I don’t know.” Ronnie’s voice was strained. “My mamere knew a lot about all this stuff. I’ve been trying to learn but . . .”

  “Hey, remember the friend I told you about? I’m going to call her. I’m sure she’ll be able to help.”

  I called Emma, who put Belinda on.

  “You found her?” Belinda said. “You found Ronnie?”

  “We did. She’s been hiding out in the attic of Hattie’s place.”

  “Then who was the woman Cornelius saw?”

  “Hattie, maybe, we’re not sure. Listen, Belinda, we need your help.” I explained the situation.

  “Damn. I’ve got a client coming any minute. They’re persnickety, too. I can come when I finish up. Maybe forty-five minutes?”

  “We can come to you,” I said.

  “No, it would be better if I could get a feel for Hattie in her own space. And we’ll be able to find some personal items to use as a focus.”

  “Okay, we’ll see you soon.” I hung up and looked at Ronnie. “Help is on the way.”

  We settled in to wait, but Ronnie started pacing after about fifteen minutes, even though I’d explained that Belinda had a client.

  “You know,” I said, “Belinda did mention something about needing some of Hattie’s personal items. Maybe you could grab a couple of things so they’re ready when she gets here.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” Ronnie went down to the second floor, but my quest didn’t keep her busy for long. Ten minutes later she returned to the attic with a shoe box. I looked in the box. There were a couple of items of jewelry.

  “Why are you smiling?” Ronnie asked.

  “I thought you might bring bunny slippers.”

  “How do you know about her bunny slippers?”

  I explained that Coco had shown me a well-worn pair and referred to the woman wearing them as Mamere.

  “She loves those bunny slippers. They’re not here, so she must’ve been wearing them when . . .”

  Thankfully, Kai walked into the room then and Ronnie’s tears were stopped before they’d gotten started.

  “Is Belinda here?” I asked.

  “No. Actually I was just coming to see if you’ve heard anything.”

  “I’ll check with Emma,” I said.

  “She’s still in with her client,” my sister said when I got her on the phone. “The reading must be running late.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I hung up. “She’s running late.”

  “I’m going stir-crazy waiting around,” Ronnie announced.

  “I’m sure Belinda will be here soon.”

  “I need to go for a walk or something,” Ronnie said.

  “Not alone, you’re not,” I told her. “Moss and I will go with you.”

  “Hold it,” Kai said. “Neither of you are going anywhere alone.”

  “We won’t be alone,” I said. “We have a guard dog.” I waved to where Moss was sitting at the door, ready to go.

  “Make that two,” Ronnie added, pulling the stun gun out of her pocket and waving it in the air.

  “Okay, fine,” Kai said. “Just remember Barry h
as a gun and if he’s pointing it at either one of you and you zap him with that thing, he could pull the trigger and kill someone.”

  “We’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Call me if Belinda gets here before we get back.”

  With a quick peck on the cheek, I left him to hold down the fort.

  CHAPTER 15

  The dreary, sunless day and bracing wind made me wish for a parka.

  Moss, of course, was happy as could be in the cold. His wolfy roots always put a spring in his step on crisp days.

  He’d probably go bonkers in the snow. The thought made me promise myself to take him to play in it someday.

  Ronnie didn’t seem to mind the cold, either. I suppose her worry and impatience was keeping the fire within burning hot. That, and her argument with Jason.

  I hated talking about touchy subjects so instead I said, “Kai’s right, about the stun gun.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t sic my electric guard dog on anyone who’s holding a gun.”

  “Good, because I don’t feel like getting shot.” I shivered and picked up the pace.

  “Do you really think we’re going to run into one of the bad guys?”

  “You never know,” I said.

  “I almost hope we do, now that I have backup.” She pointed her chin to Moss.

  “Don’t even say that.”

  “Think about it. If we could grab one of them, maybe we could make him tell us where my mamere is.”

  “Really?” I said. “With what? Your stun gun?”

  “Or your guard dog.”

  I stopped. It took Ronnie a second to notice, but when she did she faced me.

  “No. These people are way out of our league, Ronnie. If we see them, we run.”

  She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, got it.”

  We continued down the sidewalk, and I took a second to admire some of the homes in the area.

  “Hattie’s house is pretty amazing,” I said. “She must’ve been a really successful psychic.”

  Ronnie smiled. “That, and she had a very wealthy lover.”

  “Really?”

  “Actually, more than one.”

  “Go, Grandma,” I said.

  “She’s coy about it, but I can tell. You want to know how she got the house?” Ronnie asked.

  “Of course.”

  “A man came to her for a reading. She told him he couldn’t trust his business partner and advised him it would be better to invest his money in a company with fruit as a logo.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “It’s true. All that Apple stock has paid off.”

  “I bet. Belinda said she was the talk of the town.”

  “She was, until my mom died,” Ronnie said.

  Okay, so much for avoiding touchy subjects.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She saw it happen. Standing at her potting bench one morning, she got a flash of her daughter dying. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” she said with a sigh. “I’m usually a lot less candid. But I feel totally comfortable with you. Maybe it’s the psychic thing.”

  “Odd birds of a feather flock together?”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” I said, remembering how at ease I’d felt talking to Belinda when we’d first met.

  Could there be a connection that went beyond the shared experience of being misunderstood or even disliked because we were different? Something more fundamental about the way our brains were wired that created a kinship?

  “I’d never met another psychic, before Belinda,” I said.

  “Yeah? My family’s full of ’em. And you know what?” she said with faux enthusiasm. “Every single one of them that’s had some sort of sensitivity or whatever you want to call it, ended up crazy or dead. Except my mamere.”

  The sadness in her voice made me itch for Emma’s knack for saying the right thing at the right time to cheer someone up. My sister knew when to sympathize, when to reassure, and when to just listen.

  I typically got the signals crossed and made things worse, so decided it would be easier on us both if I asked about someone else in her family.

  “What about Max?” I said. “Does he have any special ability?”

  “My brother?” she scoffed. “Yeah, he has the ability to cause trouble, get into trouble, and make trouble for everybody he knows. The idiot.” Though the words were harsh, the way she said them made me think she was not as critical of her brother as she let on.

  “He’s a good dancer,” I said with a half smile.

  “Oh Lord—you saw him dance? When?”

  I told her the story of chasing him through the parking lot, and she was actually laughing by the time we made it to the coffee shop.

  Maybe I was learning a thing or two about cheering people up after all.

  Ronnie started up the entry steps but I was stopped by a sign posted on the door that read NO DOGS. NO EXCEPTIONS.

  “Hang on, Ronnie.” I pointed to the note when she turned to look at me. “We’ll have to wait out here,” I said, shivering.

  Ronnie looked at the sign with a frown. “We can go somewhere else. There’s a place a few more blocks away.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t really want to spend that much more time out in the open where we could be spotted, or in the cold. My nose was already numb.

  “Dad, look!” The child’s voice was accompanied by running footsteps. “A wolf!”

  I turned to see a girl, maybe ten years old, headed toward us.

  “Anna, don’t—” The girl’s father was right behind her and looked a little worried about the fact that his daughter was running full tilt toward a giant canine.

  I smiled to reassure the man and, when Moss let out an excited whine, urged him to be gentle.

  Easy, big guy.

  Friend?

  Yes, but be easy, she’s a kid.

  Moss understood the concept of kids versus adults and usually instinctively knew who he could roughhouse with, but it never hurt to reinforce the idea.

  He wagged his tail and let his head drop low in his best I-mean-no-harm posture.

  “You can pet him,” I said, loud enough for the girl and her father to hear. “He won’t bite. He might lick you, though.”

  The girl squealed in delight when Moss did just that.

  “I’m sorry,” the dad said. “She loves animals. Is he really a wolf?”

  “Not completely, but his mom was a timber wolf. He takes after her,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Ronnie, who was still halfway up the steps waiting for me to decide what to do.

  “I can order and we can sit outside,” she suggested. “Though you look like you’re freezing.”

  “You can leave him with us while you go in,” the girl said. “Right, Dad?”

  “Ah—sure,” he said. Any resolve he might have had melted at his little girl’s wide-eyed plea. “But only if it’s okay with his owner.”

  “We’ll take care of him,” she said, turning her big, doe eyes to work their magic on me. “Really. I’ll hold his leash and won’t let him go anywhere.”

  I wasn’t going to break it to her that if Moss decided to go, he would. With or without her permission.

  Moss? You want to stay out here with your new friend while I go inside?

  Stay.

  He sat, for emphasis.

  “Okay,” I said to the little girl and her father. “But if you get tired of petting him or you need to go, come get me.”

  “He’s so beautiful,” she said, enraptured. “Can I brush him? I have a comb in my backpack.”

  Moss, beautiful. My dog looked up at me, with a smug expression on his face.

  “It’s your comb,” I said, and
looked at her dad.

  He shrugged and held out his hand for the leash. I handed it to him and he squatted down to partake in the petting.

  “You’re not worried they’ll try to steal him or something?” Ronnie asked.

  “Moss is undognappable,” I said. “Believe me, he’s not going anywhere.”

  We made our way inside and I immediately saw the reason for the ban on canines.

  A pair of long, lanky Siamese cats lounged on a cat tree in the corner. One was gazing out the window at Moss with unveiled disdain.

  His tail began to twitch rapidly as he eyed my dog.

  I knew, without having to be telepathic, that given half a chance, the cat would attack my hundred-plus-pound wolf-dog.

  I shook my head and walked to the cat’s perch.

  “Not the best idea, kitty cat,” I said. At the same time, I tried to calm his agitation with thoughts of friendship.

  Swat! was the cat’s reply.

  One of those, are you?

  Swat! the second cat added.

  Oh well. I shrugged off the twin felines’ attitude—it wasn’t important enough to pursue. Moss was staying outside, thrilled to be fawned over by the little girl. The cats could hold dominion as they pleased.

  “That’s Ming,” the woman working behind the counter said with a rueful smile. She was older, plump, and looked like she should be baking a pie. “The other one is Thing.”

  “Ming and Thing.” I glanced back at the cats. They were both focused on Moss. Thing had begun to growl softly.

  “I wouldn’t try to pet them with a dog around. They get hissy.”

  “I’ll take your advice and try the coffee,” I told her, turning to look at the menu items listed on the wall.

  Ronnie ordered a large mocha cappuccino. I decided to follow her lead and got the same.

  We sat at a booth by the window where I could keep an eye on Moss. Removing my gloves, I cradled the cappuccino in my frozen fingers and let the warm steam tickle my nose for a moment, then took a sip.

  Heaven.

  After a second, bigger sip, the hot coffee started working its magic, warming me from the inside out.

  I set down the mug with a sigh.

  “Better?” Ronnie asked.

  “Coffee makes everything better.”