Part 9 (2/2)
Linda was describing a promising hint of flirtation between the clouded leopards when Cheyenne joined us at the time clock and interrupted. ”Pete and I are going out tonight. You're on your own for dinner. We've got some shopping to do, then a friend's in a gamelon performance.”
”Gamelon?”
”Indonesian. Bunch of people whacking on weird musical instruments. Strange and cool.”
”Have fun.” No need to mention that I wouldn't be dining at home either, so I didn't have to explain. I was on a roll. When Cheyenne was gone, I said, ”They've been out almost every night for weeks. Expensive way to get private time together.”
Linda said, ”You remember how to manage without them, right?”
”No problem. In fact, I'm going out tonight myself.”
”That sounds like a date. Unless it's a lecture on potty training.”
I looked around. No one else was within earshot. ”Dinner with an Animal Control guy. I met him at the Tipton place. Don't tell anyone.”
She did a little jig in place. ”Hot d.a.m.n! The price of my silence is full disclosure. Tomorrow without fail.”
”No way. You never tell me about your dates.”
She blushed. ”That's different.”
The blush was too intense. My eyes narrowed. ”Who is she?”
”I'll tell you later, if it keeps working.”
”Tell her that if she trifles with your affections, I'll come hurt her.”
”Tell your dog catcher the same.”
And I had to be satisfied with that. I crossed my fingers for luck, hoping for a happy ending to Linda's long, hesitant search for a partner. And crossed them again for myself.
In the parking lot, I sat in my car and called Marcie, hoping to catch her before she left work. This was a desperation move since calling her house wasn't working. She picked up, said she was fine, much better, thank you, and it wasn't a good time to talk. ”Let's get together soon,” I said, and we hung up.
I'd planned to coax her toward our normal relations.h.i.+p by talking about my date with Ken, but, on second thought, hearing about my romantic ventures was not what she needed.
She'd said it wasn't a good time to talk. She hadn't suggested a better time. I started the car feeling as uneasy about her as before.
After taking the dogs on a short walk, I put out the kibble, fed the macaws, and took a shower. I let go of Marcie and focused on courts.h.i.+p. A first date. How about that. If I owned any perfume, I might have put some on. ”Mountain Meadow” scented deodorant would have to do. What to wear? Jeans and a sweater were the obvious choices, given the weather and venue. My old black dress boots, still decent. Gold hoop earrings with a sparkly bead sliding on each. Lipstick.
What else? I glanced around the house, which was reasonably tidy. I wouldn't be bringing him home, so that didn't matter. I wasn't going to his place either. This was a long shot, an opportunity at friends.h.i.+p. Or a small disaster if one of us was enthusiastic and the other wasn't.
I'd pay for my dinner to avoid any sense of obligation. One gla.s.s of wine only.
What could we talk about besides dogs? Ah-Liana. Maybe he would have an insight that had escaped me.
Why was I wis.h.i.+ng he were Craig?
My fussing was cut off by the doorbell. My neighborhood is popular with door-to-door solicitors for political candidates and environmental causes. It wasn't election season, so probably a college student collecting for some outfit that saves endangered species or scrutinizes logging. Thanks to Pete and Cheyenne's rent, I could make a contribution now and then. But not tonight. I hadn't time or patience to listen to a pitch.
It wasn't a canva.s.ser.
It was Thomas Jefferson Tipton.
Astonishment hadn't time to turn to fear and action before he nudged his way in and shut the door behind him. The dogs ran up to us and barked, but when a wrenching crunch came from the kitchen, they bounded that direction hollering their lungs out.
Jefferson Davis Tipton stood in my kitchen, a pry bar in his hand.
I froze, feeling blood drain from my head, trapped between them.
The dogs kept barking. I wasn't welcoming these strangers, and they didn't know what to do. Neither did I. They subsided into uneasy bursts.
”Ma'am. We just wanted to talk to you for a minute.” The younger one, Tom.
Jeff waved the pry bar at the dogs, a mild warning. The dogs didn't scare them-they were used to big dogs that barked. Denim jackets, heavy cotton s.h.i.+rts, dirty jeans, muddy leather work boots, no hats. The macaws screeched in the bas.e.m.e.nt. The brothers glanced at each other.
I took a ragged breath. ”Sure. Have a seat.” I walked to the kitchen table and stood on rubbery legs by a chair.
I could look for a chance to pull out my cell phone, dial 911, and leave it open and hidden in hopes that the emergency operator would send someone by to check on us. They could track a cell phone. Or was that just on TV?
They were watching me. Tom said, ”You remember who we are? We don't mean no harm. Any harm.”
I nodded.
Cheyenne and Pete wouldn't be back for several hours. No one was likely to drop by. What the h.e.l.l did these guys want? I waved them to chairs. Tom sat. Jeff stood. My empty brain channeled my mother's reflexes. ”Would you like coffee?”
”Coffee would be real nice, ma'am.” From Tom.
I filled the kettle at the sink and put it on.
I could smell them-stale sweat, wood smoke. Jeff's beard was ratty, Tom hadn't shaved for a couple of days. Neither took his eyes off me. Wide-s.p.a.ced blue eyes in broad foreheads. Pale skin. Broad shoulders and big hands, although Jeff was taller and heavier. Jeff had yanked me out of the van and pushed me into the mud.
Tom said, ”Sorry to bust in on you like this, but we're sort of on the run. We just want to talk to you.”
I could throw boiling water on them. That might buy me enough time to get out of the house. No, it wouldn't.
At least Robby was safe with my parents. I had only me to save. I sat down at the table. ”So talk.”
Jeff finally sat down. His left eye twitched.
Tom said, ”We wanted to thank you for trying to save our father. We didn't know what to do and you and that other guy tried hard. We appreciate it.”
Right. They broke into my house to thank me. I waited.
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