Eyeshine

by Cy Wyss

  The short boy’s arm had jerked when Mutt barked. It almost looked as if he were flicking something off his fingers. When PJ stopped the footage and magnified it to maximum, she could almost make out a small bit of silver flying through the air, seeming to originate at the short boy’s out-flung hand.

  PJ went outside. She crouched in the gravel near the stoop of her trailer and ran her hands along the uneven rocks. Slowly, she inched forward, running her hands over the pebbles, looking carefully at every inch within several yards of the stoop.

  The sun had ascended almost to mid-sky when she finally found a metal object in the gravel a few feet from the stoop. The dulled surface of the ring almost didn’t distinguish it from the gray and white rocks around it.

  “Well, I’ll be,” PJ said out loud.

  Her dad’s ring.

  As she stared at it, on her hands and knees and covered with dust, a deep voice behind her said, “What’d you find?”

  She jumped to her feet. “Jeez, Robert. You startled me. Don’t do that.”

  “PJ, I drove up and everything. You were so intent you didn’t hear me. I’ve been standing here watching you for nearly five minutes. What were you looking for? What did you find?”

  She unfurled her hand and showed him.

  “Dad’s ring. You found that just now?”

  “Yup. Right there.” She pointed slightly away from her feet.

  “Imagine that. How’d you think to look for it?”

  “The video. When Mutt chased the boys, Trent dropped what he was carrying. I thought it wasn’t a stretch to think the other boy dropped his ill-gotten gains too. Plus, I sent the video to the police. Didn’t they give you a copy?”

  “PJ, I’m FBI. I’m after the big, bad drug dealers, not some small-time thieves.”

  “Even if they’re one and the same?”

  “What?”

  “Trent is one of their runners, as far as everyone says.”

  “You know, that is what everyone says. But those are rumors. I can’t arrest someone based on rumors.”

  “Well, at least I got Dad’s ring back.”

  PJ handed it to Robert, who put it on his right ring finger. He held up his hand. “What do you think?”

  “It suits you. Fits perfectly too.”

  “Uh-huh.” He took it off and handed it back to PJ.

  “So, Robert, are you here for any particular reason, other than to model Dad’s ring and startle the crap out of me?”

  “I’m here with a warning. Not that you ever listen to me.”

  PJ frowned. “A warning?”

  “You’ve been hanging around Jake Tipton, right?”

  “More like he’s been hanging around with me. We’re supposed to have lunch today.” PJ looked up at the bright sun, which was almost directly overhead. “Very soon, in fact.”

  “Well, maybe you should think about canceling that.”

  PJ’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why on earth would I do that?”

  “He’s not the one for you, PJ.”

  “Oh. I get it. Mr. Big Brother comes to warn Miss Little Sister about the big, bad boyfriend, right? Is there any man alive who would pass your tests for me?”

  “Probably. But Jake is not him.”

  “You know you’re going to have to give me more than that or I’ll laugh at you right now. And maybe elope.”

  “For your sake, I sincerely hope you don’t.”

  “Okay, why not? Is he too cute? Too nice? Too cop?”

  Robert sighed. “Be reasonable, PJ. It might be that I’ve heard things you haven’t. I am FBI, as you alway say, and it’s possible I know him professionally and a heck of a lot better than you do.”

  “Fine. So give me some specifics. What should I be worried about?”

  Robert rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s heresay as of right now.”

  “So tell me.”

  “I really shouldn’t. But your eyes—they’re almost hypnotic. No wonder you manage to get everyone to spill the beans to you.”

  “Is that a compliment? You’re just filled with sibling love today.”

  “I draw the line at rumors and innuendo. I hate repeating that stuff.”

  “Or maybe you just don’t think I’ll believe you.”

  Robert stared at her. PJ stared back. He dropped his gaze first.

  “Fine, PJ. I think Jake is out to arrest you for the Stoker Hills thefts. Or at least for entrapment of Trent and his friend.”

  PJ’s mouth dropped open, and she gaped at him, managing only to stammer an unintelligible syllable or two.

  “Uh-huh. That’s kind of what I thought your reaction would be. But it could be worse.”

  “W-worse? How could it get worse than that?”

  Robert sighed. He rubbed his chin vigorously. He said nothing.

  PJ felt like she’d been punched. “What? What could be worse? Tell me!”

  Robert straightened up to his full height and tucked his thumbs into his belt. He faced PJ full on.

  “PJ, he might also be gunning for you for the Greene murder.”

  * * *

  A few minutes after Robert left, PJ stomped around her trailer, talking to herself.

  “Darn it, Robert. Now you’ve gone and made me completely crazy right before my lunch with Jake. Jealous bastard.”

  She caught her reflection in her bedroom mirror.

  “But what if he’s right? What if I’m about to get sent up by a bad cop?”

  She stared at her ashen, indignant face. Her shoulders drooped, and the dress she was holding hung limp in front of her.

  “This is ridiculous. I’ll just be careful, that’s all. Jake’s not a monster. Plus, I always have to be very careful anyway. How is this different?”

  PJ dressed quickly in a gold shift dress that set off her eyes and emerald jewelry: a necklace, earrings, and a gorgeous pewter-and-emerald bracelet. It was probably the cat in her, but she was nuts about sparkly, shiny jewels. She had them in every color of the rainbow, hidden in all the nooks and crannies of her trailer. If Trent or his friend had known about all the bling PJ had out of sight, they would never have left with a figurine and a single ring. At the door, PJ grabbed a coordinating silver clutch purse and strappy sandals. Then she left to walk the half mile to Main Street to meet Jake.

  The Village Grille was crowded, but Jake had thought to make a reservation and they ended up in a cozy corner near the back. The decor was pub-like, dark wood and English-themed knickknacks. Their table was a picnic table in thick dark wood with comfortable warping where their seats were. A waitress in jeans and a dark green T-shirt came to take their order. After they chose their meals, they handed the menus to the waitress, and she walked away to get their drinks. PJ had ordered ginger ale and Jake only water.

  Jake silently watched PJ while they waited. If PJ had whiskers as a person, they would have been tingling furiously under his gaze. As it was, a faint pink tinge spread over her pale cheeks.

  “Beautiful jewelry,” Jake said at last. “You always seem to have the nicest pieces.”

  “Yes, these are from Lamont’s. It’s only two doors down from us.” PJ gestured vaguely in the direction of the jewelry store on Main Street that was near the Village Grille. “Lucy is a friend of mine and gets me the nicest pieces. Whenever something colorful or sparkly comes in, she calls me for first dibs.”

  “So you spend all of your hard-earned freelance cash on shinies?”

  PJ contemplated him, her amber eyes curious. “You really haven’t heard all the gossip about me, have you?”

  He smiled. “Nope. Why don’t you fill me in?”

  The waitress dropped off their drinks. PJ sipped her ginger ale through the straw.

  “Well,” she said, “I’m an heiress.”

  “Independently wealthy?”

  PJ laughed. “Not by a long shot. But I have what my parents left me invested, and the income keeps me in baubles like these.” She waved her arm, and the bracelet jumped and jingled,
the emeralds scintilating in the overhead light.

  “I see. So you live beneath your means.”

  “What?”

  “You live in a trailer park. I gather you don’t have to.”

  “I like Stoker Hills. It’s home. Plus, I have everything I need.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing Trent didn’t know the rumors about you then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They didn’t look very hard for goodies when they went into your trailer. You only lost a figurine and a ring.”

  “Oh.” PJ blushed. “About the ring.”

  Jake’s green eyes were suddenly intent. “Yes?”

  “I found it outside my stoop in the gravel. It must have fallen off the boy’s finger when Mutt startled him.”

  “You found the ring?”

  “Yes. Just this morning. My brother was there. He saw me find it.”

  Jake blinked several times before saying anything. “I guess that explains why we haven’t found it among the treasures in Trent’s room.”

  “Oh, did you search the Tate trailer? Did CSI finally get there?”

  “We’re still in the process of searching it. But when I left, we hadn’t found any ring like you described.”

  “Well, no need to look for it anymore.”

  “Yes, I guess not.”

  Their orders came. PJ had a full side of ribs with a side of prawns, and Jake had a steak. When the waitress retreated, Jake said, “Wow, you really know how to eat. For a girl, that is.”

  PJ’s eyes narrowed. Then she noticed the mirth in Jake’s green eyes and chuckled. “Yes. A ravenous girl.”

  He laughed. “Good. I like a woman with an appetite.”

  PJ flashed him her most winning smile. He reciprocated in kind, and she almost melted into a puddle of desire right there in the booth opposite him.

  They ate in silence for some time. Jake’s steak was large and accompanied by onion rings. PJ’s meal was heapingly huge, especially with extra sides of corn bread and potato salad.

  During a pause in eating, Jake said, “So you have receipts for all the jewelry in your trailer, right?”

  PJ put her fork down and finished chewing her mouthful. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do. Do I need them?”

  Jake frowned. “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I stole my jewelry?”

  “I don’t think you’re a petty thief, PJ.”

  PJ noted that wasn’t a ringing endorsement. “But?”

  Jake was silent. He cut a slice of steak, and PJ noticed his face had taken on a distinctly sullen demeanor.

  PJ said, “Well?”

  Jake folded his piece of steak into his mouth and chewed for a while. After he swallowed, he said, “Well, I’m not sure you’re not the ringleader.”

  PJ’s jaw dropped.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  PJ placed her utensils on the side of her plate and stared at Jake. “You can’t honestly believe anything like that.”

  “Think about it, PJ. You’re the one with the video footage of the so-called thefts. But it’s useless footage. It’s almost as if you wanted us to chase our tails.”

  PJ swallowed. “I don’t think I should say any more.”

  “You’re not under arrest or anything. I just wanted to talk about it. You know, casually.”

  PJ stared at her half-eaten plate of her favorite foods. Unfortunately, she had completely lost her appetite. How stupid was she? This wasn’t a date. Jake wanted to pump her for information about imagined crimes she was committing.

  “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”

  “Aw, PJ, don’t be like that. All I want is for you to give me some information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Where were you the nights of February 12 and 16?”

  PJ’s shock came to a fine point. She felt a growing rage under her collarbone. How could she possibly explain? She couldn’t have been stealing anything on those nights last month because she was a cat. She fidgeted with her fingers in her lap.

  “I’m not saying anything more without Liam, Jake.”

  “Oh. Liam. The great savior of Stoker Hills.” Jake shoveled another bite of steak into his mouth and chewed.

  PJ stood to leave. “Sorry, Jake. I have to go. I’ll pay for my own meal on my way out.”

  He stayed seated, concentrating on his meal. “I figured you might. Just don’t leave town, okay?”

  — 12 —

  What Kitten Saw

  After her disastrous lunch with Jake, PJ hid inside all afternoon. In the evening, Mutt joined her inside, and when PJ wasn’t sleeping off her anxiety, she was ranting about the vagaries of the male gender, tail in the air and voice a high-pitched near wail.

  I’m a male, Mutt said, and I’m not an ass.

  Mutt, you are an ass. But you’re not boyfriend potential.

  That would be weird. I can’t imagine marrying a cat.

  Later, PJ was sitting on her stoop with Mutt half in and half out of his doghouse. The sun had set and lit the sky behind them in dark streaks of apricot and fuchsia. The weather had turned chilly.

  Both of them gawked as a young black cat strolled onto the lot, gingerly stepping amid the gravel of PJ’s driveway.

  PJ called, Hello there.

  The kitten looked up at them. Oh. Hi there.

  PJ recognized the kitten as the one with the infected eye she’d seen previously. Indeed, the poor cat kept that eye half closed, and it was obviously smarting.

  Wait a minute, PJ said when the kitten made as if to leave the lot. What’s your name?

  The kitten turned and came closer, sitting near the bottom of the stoop and contemplating PJ and Mutt in turn. Name? he said.

  Yes. Like, I’m PJ, and this is Mutt. PJ waved her head in Mutt’s direction. The little cat nodded at both of them.

  I don’t think I have a name. At least not a human-given one.

  Everyone has a name. Why don’t you?

  I’m a stray. No one wants me.

  PJ waggled her whiskers. You don’t have to be a stray. My friend Clara is right down the road, and she takes everyone. Free food, free medical care, and a warm lightbox to sleep in.

  I know. The other cats told me. But I’m happy being free. If humans don’t need me, why would I need them? Do you know any squirrels?

  PJ sniffed loudly. Those rodents? No way. They’re food.

  Mutt barked in agreement.

  Well, a couple are my friends. Click and Clack.

  Okay, PJ nodded. What do the squirrels call you then?

  Kitten.

  Well then, that’s your name. Nice to meet you, Kitten.

  The small black cat eyed Mutt cautiously. You’re not going to eat my friends, are you?

  * * *

  Later, Mutt, PJ, and Kitten sat in the ravine near where the waters had taken Chip Greene for the second time. The crime scene tape had been removed, meaning CSI was done with the area, but Nanci’s yellow electrical tape remained.

  Kitten mused, I wonder why that old woman hasn’t cleared off that tape.

  This was the first PJ had heard of any “old woman” clearing things from the banks of the creek. Wait, Kitten. What old woman?

  Kitten nodded toward the house with the blue siding and the big screened-in porch. There’s an old woman who lives in that house. Sometimes when we’re down here playing, she comes and tries to wash us away with the garden hose.

  PJ and Mutt stared at each other.

  PJ said, Was she here the night all the commotion happened?

  What commotion? Kitten asked.

  The night there was a shot and a man fell into the water, and so did I.

  Kitten blinked slowly. I’m not sure I remember any of that. A human fell in the water? Is he okay?

  No, Kitten, he died.

  Oh. That’s too bad.

&nbs
p; I saw that he washed up here, near where that tape is. Do you think the old woman might have seen him?

  If she was down here like she usually is, then she must have seen him.

  PJ’s whiskers were tingling furiously. She washed the sides of her face carefully with her paw. She was almost sure now that there was another witness. Was it too much to think that the old woman Kitten was talking about was out that night? PJ believed in coincidences.

  How can we get that woman to come out? PJ asked Kitten.

  Kitten’s head reared backward at the thought. You’re kidding. I want to avoid her, not bring her out.

  PJ turned to Mutt. Mutt, bark for me, would you?

  At what?

  At that tape. I don’t care. At anything.

  Mutt sniffed the electrical tape and then started barking at it. Kitten retreated away from them north along the ravine. PJ kept the little cat in sight as she didn’t want to lose him again.

  It didn’t take long. PJ was distracted by keeping Kitten in her view and missed the old woman’s approach with the garden hose. Suddenly a spray of water soaked PJ’s backside. She howled and ran off after Kitten. Behind her, the woman turned the hose on Mutt, who yelped and ran with PJ. The entire time, the woman was muttering curses that sometimes peaked in a short, staccato yell. PJ recognized those curses and the shape of the dark figure with the hose. It was old Mrs. Norton—Doc Fred’s mother.

  * * *

  From a distance, the animals watched Mrs. Norton hose off the area. The hose didn’t quite reach to where the electrical tape was, so she got down on her hands and knees, pulled the tape off, and threw it into the creek. When she was done, there was no sign of any shoe, electrical tape, or crime scene at all. PJ’s whiskers were going crazy with tingles at the thought of what all this might mean.

  After Mrs. Norton finished and wandered back to the house with the blue siding and large screened-in porch, the animals made their way back toward Stoker Hills. PJ noticed that Kitten would stop every few paces to wash his infected eye with his paw.