Tales of a Drama Queen
Page 24
“—could hardly believe it when Miss Medina called,” Ameson says on TV. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s an angel. An absolute angel.”
When she said that, I attempted to look angelic, but merely achieved a sort of colicky expression. The TV cuts to a clip of the Dingle being shoved into the back of a cop car as the anchorman wraps up the details of his arrest.
“That wasn’t really Holly-Go-Lightly,” I say.
“The puppy you were holding?” Maya asks.
“Yeah. Holly’s all skinny and teenaged now. The producer insisted Sally substitute a more photogenic puppy for the story.”
“I’m not surprised,” Neil says.
“Okay,” PB says. “Now you have to tell us.”
Merrick smiles at me. He’s the only one who knows the whole story. And it’s just been a blur. It started with my epiphany during the fiasco in my apartment: all those credit card receipts. The golden retriever Dingle owned, the receipt from Ameson Kennels. And realizing that the Dingle was just a white-Mike Tyson version of Joshua.
I shoved Neil off the phone to speak with Carlos, my credit card expert. I called Spenser for Hire. Then Sally Ameson. Then the newspaper and local TV. Oh, and the cops got involved, too, of course. I had to let them take some credit.
I offer PB a mysterious smile. “It’s the Gift, Brad. I am merely a tool in the hands of a higher power, which—”
I am hooted down. Anyway, I keep him guessing for a few minutes, then spill. My version is quite a bit more accurate than what appeared the next morning in the Santa Barbara News-Press:
Local Psychic Finds Missing Puppy
After almost five months, the kidnapped golden retriever puppy, Holly-Go-Lightly, returned home late yesterday.
Acting on a tip from local psychic and intuitive counselor, Elle Medina, the Santa Barbara Police located the dog at the home of Anthony Dingle, 32, who has been taken into custody.
“She was abused and neglected,” said Sally Ameson, the owner of the dog. “If Elle hadn’t found her, I don’t know what would have happened.”
After receiving what she called “an intuitive auric transmission,” Medina put together a team consisting of James Ross of Spenser Investigative Services and Carlos Neruda of National Credit Affiliates. She then went undercover at Café Lustre Gentlemen’s Club. Posing as a stripper looking for employment, Medina obtained the evidence needed for Spenser and Neruda to identify Dingle as the dog-napper.
“I kept picturing naked women dancing,” Medina said.
In addition to the missing dog, investigators at the Dingle residence found evidence Dingle had been involved in an ongoing credit card scam. Employed as a security doorman at Café Lustre, Dingle has allegedly been stealing customers’ credit card information for months.
Investigators long suspected the dog-napper of involvement in a credit card scam, authorities say, as a stolen card was used during the initial attempt to purchase the puppy. But it took the psychic prowess of Elle Medina to connect the missing puppy with the strip club bouncer.
As for Holly, she’s safe at home. “She took her medicine well,” said Veterinarian Dr. Anna Van der Water. “It was a close call, but with quality veterinary care, she’ll be fine.”
Quality veterinary care, and the psychic prowess of Elle Medina! Though I’m not sure about that “naked women dancing” quote. Surely they could have used something better. Still, it’s the Sunday edition, and there’s a color picture of me with Holly and Spenser.
When I told Spenser he’d get some credit for the collar, he forgave me for the lawsuit and offered me a “consultant’s fee,” which I turned down. Well, I was getting the reward anyway, and it didn’t seem right. I did get a great testimonial from Sally Ameson, though, for the ads I’m gonna run in the local paper.
In the meantime, Maya and Merrick have convinced me to reapply to graduate school in psychology. There are four schools that offer programs here in Santa Barbara, so I won’t have to leave town, and I’ve decided maybe they’re right, it’s time to take myself seriously.
Carlos is trying to convince his bosses to reward me for stopping the Dingle scam, with a check in the exact amount of my debts. We’ll see. He says it’s a done deal, but I’m not counting on it. I don’t have to. I’m counting on me.
I am feeding Miu when the phone rings.
“Elle, this is Nyla. You probably don’t remember me, but—”
“Don’t be silly! Of course I remember you.”
I’m not even surprised to hear from her. I had coffee with Darwin and Adele—well, Adele had herbal tea—and I gave them my phone number. They’ve referred a bunch of old clients to me. So I do phone consultations in addition to my regular appointments. I’m averaging eight clients a week. One hundred bucks a client. There’s tax, of course, but I’m just starting out and work should increase once I get my degree and…well, you do the math.
“We got separated,” Nyla says. “Well, really, I left him.”
“You left him?”
“Temporarily. You know, I think he was taking me for granted. And I guess I was taking him for granted, too.”
“You sound pretty okay with it.”
“I’m really okay with it,” Nyla says. “I’m working at the bookstore, and we’re dating. Getting to know each other again.”
I laugh. “And getting to know yourself, too, right?”
“It sounds stupid,” Nyla says, “but you know…I have a feeling it’s gonna work. What do you think?”
“The cards tell me,” I say, “it’s all gonna be okay.”
Chapter 37
“Elle! What are you doing here?”
“Bathing,” I say.
“How did you get in?”
“Neil.”
“I knew he’d abuse his key privileges.” Merrick tries to sound disappointed, but can’t keep the grin out of his voice. “This is a terrible betrayal of trust.”
I smile as I sink beneath the bubbles in Merrick’s bathtub. It’s as good as my fantasy, soaking in a gigantic vat of steaming water overlooking the wide blue sea.
Merrick steps into the bathroom from the hallway. I like the way he walks across a room. I like the way his hand feels trailing though bubbles on my arm. I like the way his eyes crinkle when he notices the three-wicked candle. I like the way I don’t have to pretend when he’s around.
And I like the way his hair looks. Under the skylight I notice it’s a natural dark brown.
“My niece finally got it right,” he says.
Oh, my. Ginger Freak-head has turned to Mahogany Adonis.
“Speaking of getting things right,” I say, glancing at the windowsills. “I see what you mean. They are different shades. You better get your painter back in here—they’re ruining my bath.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, his hand moving deeper into the water. “Because you know what I learned?”
“What’s that?”
“The best things in life are always a little different.”
Hey! He learned that from me. I’m not only learning lessons, I’m teaching them. I tell him how wise I am.
He leans over the tub and I kiss him, pressing my wet body against his chest. A tidal wave sloshes over the edge.
“Whoa,” he says, laughing and drenched. “Settle down there, Medina.”
“I never settle,” I say, and pull him in.
TALES OF A DRAMA QUEEN
A Red Dress Ink novel
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4640-9
© 2004 by Lee Naftali.
All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Red Dress Ink, Editorial Office, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This book is a work of fiction.
The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. While the author was inspired in part by actual events, none of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
® and TM are trademarks. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and/or other countries.
www. RedDressInk.com