Helen Louise rose and followed me to the door. I looked back to see the others getting up to follow us. I think we all needed the quiet of our rooms to let our emotions find some kind of equilibrium in the wake of what we had witnessed.
* * *
* * *
Thomas the bellman, whom I had seen only in passing the past couple of days, surprised me by coming to our room later that evening. He had changed out of his uniform into his street clothes.
“Good evening, Mr. Harris,” he said when I opened the door.
“Good evening, Thomas,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Thomas smiled. “It’s the other way around. It’s what I can do for you. Miss Ducote happened to mention that you’ve been looking for a pet sitter, and I came to offer my services.”
I was completely taken aback. This wasn’t what I had expected. “Come in.”
Thomas entered the room, and Diesel sauntered over to him. Thomas held out his fingers. Diesel sniffed them, and then allowed Thomas to scratch his head. He even warbled.
Thomas smiled down at Diesel. “He’s beautiful. I’m sure you want to know whether I’m reliable before allowing me to take care of this guy for you.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. From that he extracted a business card and handed it to me.
The card identified him as a bonded pet sitter, and he worked for a small agency that helped people find the sitters they needed.
I handed the card back to him. “I think that’s sufficient.”
We discussed rates, Diesel’s food, and general habits, and Thomas said he was available immediately. I called Helen Louise from the bedroom with the good news. She walked out, smiling, and extended her hand to Thomas.
“You’ll never know how grateful we are,” she said. “I am ready to get out of the hotel and, well, just get out of the hotel.”
“I understand, ma’am,” he said. “We know what happened.”
I nodded. “It’s over, thankfully.”
“Y’all go on and have a good time,” Thomas said. “Diesel and I will be right here when you get back.”
We needed no further encouragement. Helen Louise already knew the restaurant she wanted to try, and we took a cab there. Over an excellent meal with even better wine, we talked a little about what had happened here in Asheville.
“I feel so sad for everyone involved in this mess,” Helen Louise said. “I had no idea Burdine was in so much pain. And all those months she evidently spent blaming Denis Kilbride for her son’s suicide.”
“Ironic to a tragic degree,” I said. “I can’t imagine what it is like, losing a child, no matter the cause. I don’t know how I would cope if something happened to one of my children or my grandchildren.”
“I pray that we’ll never find out,” Helen Louise said. “I feel sad for Ellie, too. I think she might really have been in love with Denis. But when she found out about Zac, and that Zac wasn’t the only time Denis had been unfaithful, she must have been devastated.”
“I can only imagine her state of mind recently, poor kid,” I said. “She must really have felt alone.”
“There was no one she felt close enough to, I think,” Helen Louise said. “I wish I could have helped her.”
“No family to speak of, except an elderly aunt in Mobile, I think she said.”
Helen Louise nodded. “I’m so thankful you’re in my life. You and your family. You’ve all made me feel loved and valued. I never feel alone the way I used to before you came back into my life.”
I smiled at her, my heart so full despite the sadness and the waste of lives we had encountered here. “You have made me feel less alone, too. We are lucky to have each other, and our family.”
Helen Louise smiled and lifted her glass. “To home and family.”
I touched her glass with mine. “Home and family.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Michelle Vega continues to be the best editor I could ever have wished for. Every writer should be so lucky. The team at Berkley/Penguin Random House continues to shine: Jennifer Snyder, Brittanie Black, and Elisha Katz. Thank you for all that you do.
Nancy Yost and her able colleagues, Sarah Younger and Natanya Wheeler, make a formidable team, and I deeply appreciate all they do to help me continue to be published. I couldn’t ask for better representation.
As always, my friends have supported me through the vicissitudes of life. Stan Porter and Don Herrington prop up my morale and help me get the job done. Elizabeth Foxwell, a friend of three decades, greets me every morning with e-mail, and without it, I don’t know how I could start the day. Patricia Orr and Terry Farmer, my tirelessly enthusiastic beta readers and dear friends, never fail me. Carolyn Haines and Julie Herman, well, you both know how much I appreciate the unfailing love and support of my sisters. Finally, my pals, the “Cozy Mystery Share a Palooza” gang, are the delicious icing on top of the cake: Victoria Abbott, Ellery Adams, Heather Blake, Leslie Budewitz, Peg Cochran, Kay Finch, Mary Kennedy, Molly MacRae, and Leann Sweeney. Thanks for letting me be part of the sorority!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Miranda James is the New York Times bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks Mysteries, including Careless Whiskers, The Pawful Truth, and Six Cats a Slayin' as well as the Southern Ladies Mysteries, including Fixing to Die, Digging Up the Dirt, and Dead with the Wind. James lives in Mississippi.
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Cat Me If You Can Page 24