by Marta Acosta
Her office had an L-shaped desk and steel chairs. “I think paranoia is an acceptable attitude.” A calico cat jumped on my lap and turned until she was satisfied. I stroked her fur. Cats were nice enough second-tier pets. “We had a town meeting about fracking. The vintners, many of whom have serious bank, are against it. Old-timers want to sell, and all the new organics and recreational ranchers were screaming about poisoning the land. Management at Towering Pines Casino is conflicted since the tribe does well with tourists, but they might do better selling drilling rights.”
“Where do you stand?”
“In terms of our lifetimes, or geologic time?”
She grinned. “For the fun of it, let’s go with ‘in our lifetimes’.”
“That’s the more complicated perspective. Kenzie and I have been back here for less than three years and we hoped our businesses would be established by now so we’re not solidly in either camp. One of our selling points to clients is that we have the cleanest air in California.” I slid down a little in the chair and the cat kneaded my leg with claws extended to object. “Everyone choses the outcome they prefer and works backward to cherry-pick supporting data. We should be asking for long-term studies of how the injection of undisclosed chemicals and fluids will act upon our unstable rock structure. If the process is feasible, would it even be profitable. What side are you on?”
“Totally against it, but I recognize that if locals had other sources of income, less would backyard breed or cook meth. Will fracking be a net gain or net loss? I have no idea.” Georgie leaned back and put her feet on the desk. “Is that the meeting where you said a bunch of crows told you about the dead body?”
“Not crows: blackbirds.”
Georgie burst into laughter. “I can’t believe anyone believed you.”
“Believed me? They’ve been itching for me to admit my supernatural powers for years. The psychic thing brings in clients, and Kenzie and I need every cent we can scrape together. Can I have this kitty?”
“No, she’s the resident office cat.”
“What’s her name?”
“Office Cat. If you want to adopt one of the others, I’d have to do a home check for safety.”
“A good policy. Our barn cats spend their time out of reach in the rafters. Bertie’s fine with cats, but I can’t vouch for the pets I board. Speaking of which, do you know of any Dutch Shepherd breeders or importers around here?”
“Nope.” Georgie turned to her computer and tapped her keyboard for a minute. “I don’t ever recall seeing a Dutchie come through here. They’re mostly used for security, aren’t they? Sniffing out drugs and attacking gentle potheads.”
“So far as I know. The one in question belonged to a meth dealer.”
“They get loaded and order a timber wolf online. Those animals are always so messed up, they end up here and we have to put them down.”
“No dog’s too messed up, Georgie.”
Her clear blue eyes settled on me. “I won’t take a risk with other peoples’ safety, Maddie, so let’s agree to disagree on this point.” Georgie smoothed her hands over her head. I always found her common gestures sensual, and I was smiling at her when she smiled back at me. “So, Mad Girl, why are you asking about security dogs? Did the meth dealer request a consult?”
“Even better: he’s now a guest of the county, so I acquired custodianship. Can you look up the owner’s address and tell me if you’ve had any reports?”
Georgie typed in the address and frowned at the results. “One of my officers investigated several anonymous complaints of excessive barking at 2387 Vine View and issued warnings. There haven’t been any bite or attack reports.”
“That’s good to know. You want to grab lunch? I’m jonesing for Burger Hut.”
We drove to the small grill shack with the best burgers in a 50 mile radius and caught up on things. Georgie told me about financial difficulties at the shelter, her daughter’s dance recital, and the big anniversary trip she was taking to New Orleans. After she ranted about the canals and malaria in the 19th century, we rated our favorite books about the Black Plague (mine was Connie Willis’s The Doomsday Book and hers was Kathleen Windsor’s Forever, Amber). We veered off into a discussion of tourism, and we fumed about the cartel growing weed on Mt. Hale, making it off-limits to anyone who didn’t want to get blown up by an improvised explosive device. “Speaking of off-limits,” I said, and then I told her about the recent incident with Claire, Oliver’s unpleasantries, and my encounter with New Doc.
“Doc Ben has already signed on as one of the contract vets with the county,” she said. “He saved Office Cat when she had congestive heart failure. I adored Dr. Pete like a sleazy uncle who gets handsy after a few drinks, but he always took the easiest route, pain medication, not actual diagnosis and treatment.”
“Dr. Pete knew all of us, though. He knew when he could put his feet up and when he had to get off his ass. He sure as hell knew not to slack off with my dogs. Anyway, Ben’s got the credentials but this is still the probationary period.”
“You are a strict judge, Maddie. What do you think of him personally? Because he has me rethinking this whole monogamy thing.”
“Hell, babe, I thought I was at the top of your list.”
She laughed. “You’re at the top of my ‘wish I’d met her when I was partying and adventurous’ list. He’s rocketed to the top of my ‘nameless fuck on the first night of my tragic and beautiful young widowhood’ list.”
“Except you know his name and your spousal unit is still among the living.”
“Not if Angus continues to leave the toilet seat up at night, because if I fall in one more time...” she said. “I’ve got to get back to work. Are you free Friday night? We’re having an adoption outreach karaoke party at Rudy’s Brewhouse. Animal themed songs only. We’re going to pass out flyers like a cult at the mall. I’m not asking you on a date, though.”
I flushed. “If you didn’t wear so many rings I would have known you were married. It’s your responsibility to send the right social cues to others and you were flirting with me.”
“I flirt with everyone and everything, including the coffee machine because I swear I get a better brew, but I wasn’t being a tease. I thought you were straight.”
“Don’t label me. Labels make others feel free to tell me what I should think, feel, do, and say, when my life is none of anyone else’s goddamn business. I like going for runs and I like swimming in lakes. They’re different experiences, but no one ever says that I have to choose one over the other, because that’s just stupid.”
“But if you had to choose one?”
“If I had to choose one, it would be one. It would be Claire. Claire over everyone, regardless of primary and/or secondary sexual characteristics.”
“Still mooning over her? Okay, back to the subject: Our crew sounds like a burlap sack of angry ferrets, so we need your dulcet tones. Bring Kenzie along.”
“I’ve got an excellent ‘singing in the truck over the noisy engine’ voice.”
“I bet you also sound great in the shower.”
“I never sing or have sex in the shower because I like to keep my wits about me. Water, soap and tile is just asking for a concussion. Maybe I’ll come.”
“No, not maybe. Yes. I’ll see you there. Because you’re going to be there, right?”
“Yes,” I said, and thought, maybe.
KENZIE MADE ME WATCH the six o’clock news with her. She set out our mother’s crystal wineglasses, a bottle of Syrah, and a tray of cheese and fruit. “Your first time on television.”
“Second time.”
“Being in a crowd shot at the Bonanza Day parade doesn’t count.”
“I count it. Counting is, by definition, counting everything. You can’t be selective. You can’t say one, two, and then skip a few before saying three.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I wish I did, Kenz. Most of the time I guess based on past experience and cont
ext.”
“Everyone guesses to a degree. You should practice body language skills more.”
“And you could try to be taller. I think you gave up on it when you went to college and haven’t bothered since.”
“Stop deflecting.”
While the news played, I plucked individual grapes off a cluster and removed their stems. I cut cubes of cheddar cheese into smaller cubes and then arranged them in a pattern of alternating purple ovoids and orange cubes.
As I was doing this, Kenzie jabbed my arm. “What the hell, Kenz?”
“Listen!”
The newscaster was saying “discovered by a local animal psychic on the property of Coyote Run organic farmers, has been identified as Sherry Rae Castleman, a Washington lobbyist who had been vacationing at the Towering Pines Casino and Resort. We’ll have an exclusive interview with animal psychic and law enforcement consultant Madeleine Whitney after the break!” A professional headshot of an attractive thirty-something blond woman in a dark suit filled the screen.
“Sherry Rae Castleman. I’ve heard that name before,” I said. “A Washington lobbyist who came all the way here to stay at a small casino hotel. I live here and I’ve never been inside the casino. Maybe the coins had something to do with a debt or financial conflict. Multiple gunshot wounds are significant. Professionals shoot once, execution style, but an angry ex might let loose a barrage. What’s the significance of the location and the careless half-burial? Was she sexually assaulted or otherwise mutilated and did she have defensive wounds?”
“Get those thoughts out of your head, Maddie. It has nothing to do with us.”
“Whoever killed her is still out there.” I let my mind drift until I made the association.
We’d just moved back to town and it was my first time checking out the Country Squire. I’d finished my first drink when a tall lunk of a man at the end of the bar came over and introduced himself. “Abel Myklebust, editor of the newspaper. We’re neighbors. Do you remember me?”
He looked like a lot of aging guys on the make with his chunky bolo tie, shiny belt buckle, and lizard skin boots. Definitely not my type. “No.”
“I used to know your grandfather. And parents, too. You’re Maddie, right? Let me buy you a drink.”
He signaled to the bartender and soon I had another gin and tonic in front of me. I endured his chit-chat about his newspaper, only interested when he said he’d plug my rehabilitation center in his “What’s New in Coyote Run” column. He took notes in a journal with a tooled leather cover, and seemed to think I should be impressed by him. I excused myself to the ladies room to escape.
When I returned, I saw him reaching for my glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
His skin ruddied up on his high cheekbones. “Nothing. I was going to ask the bartender to top this off.”
I’d grabbed the glass and shoved it over the polished wood surface to the drain. “Dump that and get me a new one,” I told the bartender. Then I’d gone to take a seat by the sleek businesswoman who’d come in. She introduced herself and said, “Let’s trade names. Yours sounds more like an attorney’s and mine sounds like—"
“Like someone whose job description includes cleaning up dog shit and plucking out ticks?”
She’d laughed. “You said it, not me.”
Abel kept looking at us while she told me about her lobbyist job and our conversation grew heated to the point that I crossed her off my list even if she was interested in me. Which she wasn’t at all.
As I’d left, I said, “Keep an eye on your drink. Animal tranquilizers are easy to buy around here.”
“Hon, I’m a lawyer who specializes in unpopular projects so I’m more worried about rat poison than roofies.” Then she’d laughed and I’d laughed, too, and now she was dead.
“She was involved with the Towering Pines Casino expansion,” I told Kenzie. “I ran into her once at the Country Squire. We talked for a minute. She didn’t take my opinions seriously.”
“So you didn’t...”
“Absolutely not. She was condescending as hell.”
“That’s usually your role, but she was a lawyer and lawyers always think they’re right.”
“Should I tell Oliver?”
“Is there anything to tell? Because if there’s not, there’s no need for you to insert yourself.”
“Why would she be at the Carozzos’ place? What does organic farming have to do with a lawyer on vacation?”
“Easiest dumping of the body probably.”
“No, it’s not the easiest place to dump the body unless she was already on the farm.” I tried to push the image of the white skull, the hair black with blood, the one shoe, from my mind.
“There’s no knowing what the killer was thinking. You don’t have to speculate.”
But I didn’t know how to stop speculating.
My segment came up, and afterward Kenzie shut off the television. “You’re so pretty on camera.”
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me my collar wasn’t even? Sasha was too occupied with her own appearance to tell me to fix it.”
“Did you mention this when you saw Oliver today?”
“My collar? I didn’t know it was crooked until this very moment. Geez.”
“Not your collar. The interview. Did you mention the television interview when you saw Oliver today?”
“Um, I didn’t get a chance to drop by his office.”
“I thought that’s where you were all afternoon.”
“Georgie Maguire urgently needed my assistance on an adoption project so I went to the shelter. I can see Oliver tomorrow.”
My sister took hold of my face and glared at me until I closed my eyes. Then she used her fingers to pull my eyelids open. “I think he left the ticket on your bicycle as a warning, not a joke.”
I jerked away. “I said I’ll see him tomorrow. I don’t want to think about using dogs to track...dead things.” I pushed away the memory of the flies buzzing and swarming around a body, around Sherry Rae Castleman, who’d smirked when I tried to discuss permutations and probability in gambling. Had she smirked the same way at the wrong person? “Kenz, will you paint my toenails for me?”
“Only if you promise not to kick me if it tickles. I’m going to color your hair, too. I like it better when it’s a little brighter.”
“You like it better when I look more like I could possibly be a distant relation.”
“You are my sister and you’re ridiculous.”
“You know what I mean.”
Soon we were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a small fan whirling to ventilate the peroxide scent of the dye solution turning my hair to Kenzie’s auburn, and soaking our feet in hot water with mineral salts. A kitchen timer ticked too noisily on the vanity. “Georgie invited us to go to karaoke with the shelter staff at the Brewhouse on Friday. Do you want to practice some songs?”
“I can’t come. I’ve told you I’ll be in San Francisco for the weekend.”
“You’re going for a whole weekend?”
“I’m part of a seminar on animal therapy during the day and I’m staying with Christopher at the Mark Hopkins, his treat. Mad, you’re going to be okay here on your own, aren’t you?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. I’m on my own most weekends.” A constriction began in my abdomen and traveled through my nerves, making my foot jerk, splashing water.
“I already made sure Jaison can come in for a few hours Saturday and Sunday.”
“If I get ambitious I can stay up all night to housebreak Thing One and Thing Two.”
“You might have more fun singing at the Brewhouse with Georgie’s crew.”
“Probably. If I do go, I want my feet to look nice, because I’m moving on from Claire and who knows who I’ll meet. Which reminds me, I saw new landscaping at the Lakeview Motel Cabins? So Dirk the Dick is going for a better level of clientele.”
“I can never decide if he is a sleazeball or only looks
like one.”
“I’d bet on both. I wonder what’s his real story.” I glanced at Kenzie’s smooth barely tan legs beside my longer olive-toned legs with their scars, scabs, and bruises. “People keep secrets. Do you think Mom will ever admit we have different fathers?”
She reached down to dabble her fingers in the water. “Every time you bring this up, it hurts my feelings, Maddie, because it says you don’t like being my sister.”
“That’s not what...” I began. “It’s about me and Mom, not you.”
“You can’t separate these things. We’re a family. If it’s about you two, it’s about all of us,” she said, and the timer alarm trilled, saving me from trying to think of a response.
AFTER THE BROADCAST, my business phone rang constantly. I let Kenzie and Jaison field the calls; if people wanted to talk to me, they could make an appointment. Also, I didn’t want to inadvertently talk to Oliver Desjardins.
It was easy for me to lose myself in my work, especially since I needed to put Ghost on the Search and Rescue fast-track. I only needed to teach her enough to pacify Oliver. After a few scuffles, she had adjusted to the other dogs in my pack. The puppies were rambunctious, though, and got rolled several times learning their manners.
Ghost walked nicely on a lead, sat on command, and had a general idea of staying. I tried to get her interested in an old sock, usually irresistible to dogs. She ignored it and went searching for rodents in a stack of rocks. I didn’t know if I could steer her instinctive drive in another direction.
I kept Zeus apart from the other dogs. A few good meals had done wonders and he accepted a bath patiently. For the hell of it, I let him sniff a dirty sock and then I hid it under a box in the evaluation room.
When I took him there, I said, “Voran,” and tried not to hope. Then Zeus raised his head and sniffed. I held my breath and watched as he began pacing in a back-and-forth pattern. He stopped at the box in the corner.
He sat and my heart filled. “So ist brav!” After taking the sock from under the box to show him, I tossed a tennis ball to him for five minutes as his reward.