by Nic Saint
“This is a nightmare,” said Angel. “I can’t believe Carmel would do such a thing—or the others. I’ve known these girls practically all my life!”
“So how did it happen?” asked Marigold. “How did they… take her?”
“They put something in her drink at the club,” Odelia explained. “And the plan was for her to pass out so they could bring her here. But she’d had so much to drink she threw up before the drug could take effect. It did give her a terrible headache, so Carmel dropped her off near the woods, and sent her on her way home, but not before instructing Wesley and his brothers to follow Angel home and grab her when they were safe from prying eyes and possible witnesses. They dunked her in the pond, to make sure police dogs wouldn’t be able to pick up the trail, and brought her out here.”
“She must have lost her phone when that happened,” Chase explained.
“The cabin is actually owned by Carmel’s parents. But they hardly ever use it these days, and had actually planned to raze it to the ground and build a new, bigger structure.”
“I’ve been here before,” said Angel now. “Carmel used to bring us out here to party.”
“Well, and the rest you know,” Odelia finished the story. “The boys guarded you while Carmel and the girls decided what to do with you.”
“Frankly I think the whole thing started as a prank,” Chase said. “But then it got way out of control—especially when they involved Wesley’s brothers, who didn’t mind spilling a little blood to make this problem go away. As far as your friends are concerned, I think they soon realized they were in way over their heads, and are now deeply sorry.”
“They should be sorry,” said Marigold vehemently. “And I hope they rot in jail for what they did to my baby.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” said Angel as she pressed Odelia’s hand warmly, then hugged her and burst into tears.
“Why is she crying, Max?” asked Dooley. “Isn’t she glad she’s safe?”
“It’s the tension,” said Harriet. “It’s all getting through to her and she’s realizing now what those so-called friends of her had in store for her.”
Just then, Uncle Alec walked in. “You better clear the cabin,” he said. “Forensics arrived and they want to go over the place to collect further evidence.” He caught Marigold’s eye and slightly winced, then offered her a weak smile. “Hey, Marigold.”
“Alec,” said Marigold with a distinct lack of warmth.
“Okay, so what is it with you two?” asked Odelia. “Come on, out with it. What happened that you don’t get along?”
“Uncle Alec said something he shouldn’t have said,” Dooley now announced. “He said your bed or hers and she didn’t like it.”
Odelia frowned at my friend. His explanations often are a little opaque I have to admit, and it didn’t make her any wiser. And when neither Alec or Marigold spoke up, Odelia insisted, “Well? I’m waiting.”
Uncle Alec finally cleared his throat. “Well, the thing is that…”
“Alec,” said Marigold warningly.
“The thing is that Marigold and I used to date.”
“Oh, you call that dating? We went out on one date!” She turned to Odelia. “And before it was over, he’d already dumped me!”
“I didn’t dump you! I said, very politely, I might add, that I didn’t think we were particularly suited for each other.”
“You dumped me! You even let me pick up the tab!”
“I didn’t let you pick up… did I? I can’t remember.”
“You did! We were chatting nicely, and suddenly, in the middle of the meal, you just up and left!”
“Look, I can explain. And I would have explained a long time ago, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Well, I’m listening now,” said Marigold. “This better be good.”
“I think I can tell you what happened,” said Father Reilly.
Marigold turned to him with a frown. “You? What do you mean?”
“The thing is, I specifically asked Alec not to go on that date with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I liked you, Marigold!” said Father Reilly. “But you’d already arranged that date with Alec, and when he told me I told him how I felt about you—only he didn’t want to stand you up, so he decided to go through with it, but then halfway through the meal, he discovered that he liked you, too, and he didn’t want to do that to me, so he decided the best thing would be to simply leave. And so he did.”
Marigold was speechless for a moment, a rare occurrence. “So… you walked out on our date because you liked me too much?”
“I’ve always had a thing for you, Marigold,” Uncle Alec grumbled. “But I could see how you were crazy about Francis, and he was crazy about you, and I didn’t want to stand in your way.”
“I was crazy about Francis, but he was unavailable—obviously.”
“Yeah, well, he might have been unavailable, but he still asked me not to date you—said he couldn’t stop me, of course, but…”
“I was still wrestling with my feelings back then,” said Father Reilly with a smile. “But when Alec and you went on that date, I realized that if I didn’t act then, I would lose my chance forever, and that I’d be miserable for the rest of my life. So Alec did what he thought was right, and I decided that I’d been given a second chance, and this time I grabbed it with both hands.”
“I came to you after Alec stood me up,” said Marigold. “And you comforted me.”
“And then one thing led to another and…”
“When was this?” asked Angel.
“Well, now, let me think” said Francis.
“Nineteen years, nine months ago,” said Alec with a flicker of mirth in his eyes as he regarded Angel.
Angel blinked a couple of times. “You mean…”
“Yeah, you were born nine months later,” said Marigold as she studied the tips of her toes for a moment, then glanced up at Alec and said, “If you’d told me this sooner…”
“You wouldn’t let me!”
“And then you made that crack about my bed or Francis’s bed…”
“I was jealous, all right—couldn’t help it!”
“Oh, come here, you big lug,” she said, and then they shared a long-overdue hug. She placed a smacking kiss on his cheek, and the Chief’s face flushed a pretty pink, his grin something to behold.
“Finally,” said Angel with an eyeroll. She rubbed her dad’s back. “See what a nice little kidnapping is good for, eh… Dad?”
Father Reilly winced, but then rallied and said, “Absolutely… daughter.”
And then the three of them hugged it out.
“Aww, isn’t this nice?” said Harriet. “Just like in a movie!”
“Yeah, only Father Reilly won’t be a priest anymore,” said Shanille, “so where will we live?”
“You can live with us if you want,” Dooley suggested. “We have lots of space.”
Harriet looked up in alarm. “We don’t have that much space, Dooley.”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Harriet,” said Shanille. “I’m sure we’ll find something.” But she didn’t look entirely happy about this unexpected turn of events.
But then it was time to leave the cabin to the forensic investigators, and leave this latest adventure behind us. And so soon we were on our way home again.
Epilogue
“So what’s going to happen to Shanille now, Max?”
“I don’t know, Dooley, but I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“But if Father Reilly isn’t a priest anymore, he can’t live in that big house next to the church, and so they’ll have to find another place to live.”
“They can go and live with Marigold and Angel,” Harriet suggested.
“Shanille said they live in a small apartment,” said Brutus. “I don’t think there’s enough space for three people and a cat.”
“Like I said, they’ll figure it out,” I said.
We were on the porch swing, while a barbecue was in full swing in the backyard. We’d all been fed to our satisfaction and now enjoyed that postprandial drowsiness that is so enjoyable.
“And if Father Reilly isn’t a priest anymore,” Dooley went on, “then how are they going to pay their bills? Because Marigold will be out of a job, too.”
“Why?” asked Brutus. “Marigold can keep her job, and they’ll still have an income.”
“But she can’t. She’ll fall in love with the new priest, and then what is Father Reilly going to do, and Shanille?”
“Marigold isn’t going to fall in love with the new priest,” I said, closing my eyes to enjoy a nice little nap.
“Yes, she will! That’s what she does. She falls in love with priests!”
“What are you talking about, Dooley?” asked Harriet.
“Well, Angel always falls in love with the boyfriends of her girlfriends, and Marigold always falls in love with priests. It’s something mother and daughter have in common: a fixed pattern for falling in love.”
“Have you been watching amateur psychology documentaries again?” asked Brutus.
“I’m just giving you my analysis of the situation as I see it.”
“Your psychoanalysis,” Brutus corrected him.
“Amateur psychoanalysis,” Harriet added.
“Well, I still think they should all come and live with us, until they decide what to do.”
“And I’m putting my paw down on that,” said Harriet. “Shanille living with us—what an idea!”
Shanille and Harriet don’t always see eye to eye, both possessing the diva gene. And as everyone knows, two divas living under the same roof is simply asking for trouble.
“So how did Max figure it out?” asked Gran as she enjoyed a nice helping of leafy greens.
“I think it’s the McDonald’s thing that decided him,” said Odelia.
“What McDonald’s thing?”
“Well, Angel has always been a big fan of those nights out with her friends, and more specifically the meal they all share at McDonald’s at the end of it. In fact it had become something of a ritual for the girls, and so when Carmel told us that Angel had decided to leave early and skip McDonald’s this time, it struck him as odd.”
“And he was right,” said Chase. “Because that never happened. What happened was that they put something in her drink to knock her out. And when that didn’t work, Carmel instructed her boyfriend and his brothers to snatch her.”
“Oh, and also,” said Odelia, “Max felt that when Carmel told that story about Matteo Drews, she told it with a little too much fervor. He felt that she was probably in love with the guy, and didn’t like it when Angel stole him—or at least that’s how she saw it.”
“It’s also important to know that Carmel and Mariko had stayed friends, and Mariko had told Carmel the story of how Angel had stolen her boyfriend. So Carmel got so upset that she convinced the other girls that Angel was a threat to all of them: the kind of girl who stole her best friends’ boyfriends. So they didn’t feel safe from her either. And from there to deciding they needed to teach her a lesson was a short step.”
“But I thought this boy Angel was seeing was gay?” asked Scarlett.
“He wasn’t. That’s just a story Carmel invented out of spite. A story Mariko loved to spread.”
“Damn,” said Charlene. “Angel’s friends sound nasty.”
“Mainly Carmel,” said Odelia. “She was obsessed with Matteo, and when Angel started dating him, she had a complete meltdown, and dragged the others down with her.”
“And to think we thought Angel had run away from home,” said Charlene. “That’s the assumption you worked from at first, right?”
“Yeah, that’s how it looked to me,” Uncle Alec confirmed.
“Chase and I actually thought Angel had been grabbed by a serial killer,” said Odelia. “Isn’t that right, babe?”
“Yep,” said Chase as he buttered a piece of French toast, then placed some Brie on top and ate it with relish. “We saw a distinct pattern, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, we figured that the skeleton that was found in Blake Carrington’s field was put there by a serial killer—the same serial killer who’d targeted Angel as his next victim.”
“So who did put it there?” asked Charlene.
“Flint Dibbert and Bart Stupes,” said Uncle Alec with a flinty glint in his eyes. “And their buddies. Turns out they thought it would be a good idea to dig up a body and dump it in that field. All part of a so-called ‘zombie challenge’ that’s been doing the rounds on social media.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” said Marge, placing a large pot of mayonnaise on the table—there were lots and lots of pots to choose from, after all. “But I thought the remains that were found belonged to a girl who disappeared five years ago? And was never found?”
Chase nodded. “Serena Kahl. Went to a party and never arrived home in Hampton Cove. I talked to her parents, and turns out Serena had drug issues. She did arrive home, only for her mom to walk in on her in the morning with a needle in her arm, stone-cold dead. And since her folks didn’t want their daughter’s reputation shot…”
“Not to mention their own reputation,” Odelia added.
“… they decided to report her as missing, and in the meantime arranged for a discreet burial. Money changed hands with two gravediggers, no questions asked, and Serena was entrusted to the earth. And since those same gravediggers figured they could make another extra buck at the Kahls’ expense, they decided to pocket the money for the nice expensive coffin they ordered and put her in the ground without one.”
“Which explains why she was in the state she was found in,” said Odelia.
“So turns out Odelia and I were wrong,” said Chase. He glanced over to me, then raised his glass in a salute. “And that Max was right. You did it again, buddy.”
“Yeah, Max always gets it right,” said Odelia with a smile.
“Only you almost got it wrong this time, didn’t you, Max?” said Brutus with a grin. When I pulled a face, he thunked me on the shoulder. “Just kidding! You got there eventually—with a little help from your friends!”
“Thanks, Brutus,” I murmured, feeling profoundly sleepy now. “I owe you one.”
“You certainly do. And I know exactly what I’d like in return for sliding down that chimney and risking my neck.”
“And for making my beautiful fur all dirty,” said Harriet. “Took me hours to get it clean.”
I opened one lazy eye. “And what would that be?”
“For you to tell us what’s going on with Tex.”
We all glanced in the direction of the good doctor, who stood manning his grill like a captain behind the wheel of his ship: wide-legged and with a look of keen awareness of the responsibility of his position plastered all across those kindly features.
Brutus and Harriet were actually not referring to the man’s dubious cooking skills, though, but to the red ball cap he was wearing. It was odd to see Tex with a cap, since he normally never wears one.
“I can explain,” said Dooley. “I told Gran that Tex should wear a hat to protect his hair from the sun, so that must be it.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason,” said Brutus, studying me closely. “Max, you know something, don’t you? Something you’re not telling us. Spill, buddy!”
I smiled and said, “I promised Tex I’d never tell a living soul, and my word is my bond.”
“But you have to tell us!” said Harriet.
“Yeah, Max, I risked my neck for you,” said Brutus.
“You risked your neck for Angel,” I corrected him.
“You can tell me, can’t you, Max?” asked Dooley. “I’m your best friend.”
I glanced over to Tex, then shrugged. “Okay, I guess I can tell you now. The worst is over, and soon he’ll be able to remove his cap again.”
“Okay, so what happened?” asked Harriet, assuming the position of eager list
ener.
“Well, you know how Tex has been fussy about his hair lately, and how he thinks—”
“He’s going bald,” Harriet said, nodding.
“So he tried different methods: first he tried Dick Bernstein’s method of rubbing mayonnaise on his scalp, but that didn’t seem to have the desired effect. Then he tried Scarlett’s uncle’s method of sipping and applying his own urine every day.”
“He did? Yuckety-yuck!”
Scarlett, who was telling the same story to Charlene now, but in hushed tones so Tex wouldn’t hear, seemed to derive a lot of fun from the tale, and so did Charlene, for she was giggling uncontrollably all the while.
“So the urine thing was a bust, too,” I said with a smile at the memory of Gran telling me the story after the fact. She’d even shown me the bottle. And then she’d implored me to give the poor guy a helping paw, for there really was a small measure of attrition, even if Marge didn’t want to see it. “And so I gave the man a break—a couple of tips from a cat whose fine fur has been the envy of this town’s cat population since time immemorial.”
My three friends glanced at my shiny blorange fur, and Harriet shrugged. “Gran should have come to me. My fur is much nicer than yours, Max. My fur is fine.”
“Okay, but she asked me,” I said, not wanting to get into an argument over which cat’s coat was the nicest—an argument I could never win!
“And so I asked Max to help out the poor schmuck,” Gran was now saying, relating the same story to Chase and Alec. Tex must have become aware that he was the subject of conversation, though, for he directed a suspicious look at his gathered family, who now all abruptly stopped gossiping, sat up a little straighter, and gave him innocent smiles. He waved at them with his tongs, they waved back, then immediately resumed their story.
“So I’d already told Gran that I thought the secret to the perfect coat of fur is our saliva,” I explained to my captious audience. “Since that’s what makes us stand out from our human counterparts.”
“I think you’re wrong, Max,” said Brutus. “I think the secret is in our unique diet.”