‘Don’t listen to this bozo, Charlene,’ said her little demon. ‘He obviously doesn’t mean a word he says. He’s just trying to get under your skin so he can make you feel bad. He’s a big jerk, that’s what he is. Just tell him to take a hike.’
‘Oh, go on,’ said the little angel. ‘Kiss and make up already, before you lose this fella.’
‘Tell him to go and boil his head. Charlene, no, don’t you dare. Don’t you—Charlene!’
But Charlene had made up her mind. It was those puppy-dog eyes. She had always been a sucker for puppy-dog eyes. And that cute face, of course. Her big teddy bear…
So she brushed the little demon from her shoulder, patted her little angel on the head and said, “Do you really mean that, Alec?”
“Every single word,” he said, and she could tell that he did, the big softie.
“Oh, Alec,” she said. “I’m sorry. I think I may have overreacted.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, panting a little, like an overweight puppy.
“C’mere,” she said, and melted into the big man’s arms. Temperatures were still soaring, even this late in the day, but the warmth she felt wasn’t from the sun, but the relief she felt that things were all right again with the world, and with her big man.
“I’m sorry, Charlene,” he said croakily.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m not used to men being nice to me. So when you say something like that thing you said last night, I just assume it’s a nasty crack.”
“It wasn’t a nasty crack,” he said softly.
“I see that now.”
“This is new for me, too, you know,” he spoke into her hair, as he drew slow circles on her back. “I think it’s new for us both. And it’ll probably take some getting used to.”
“It’ll take a little time for me to learn to trust you,” she murmured, and then they kissed.
And Wilbur Vickery, who chose that moment to walk by, scoffed, “I’m a much better kisser than that,” spat a wad of spit on the hot asphalt, which slightly sizzled, and walked on, muttering dark oaths under his breath about oafish dudes and unreliable dudettes.
“Oh, we finally identified that unfortunate woman,” said Alec as they both got into her car and she turned the AC up high.
“You did? And? Was it Vicky Gardner?”
“Nah. Joanne Whittler, a fitness instructor from Hampton Keys. Went missing three days ago.”
“No idea how she got here?”
“Not yet. It’s up to the Hampton Keys police now.”
“Good,” said Charlene, and gave her man a warm smile. “I’m cooking for you tonight. Anything you like.”
“Anything?” he said, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
She laughed. If there was anything she knew about her boyfriend it was that he loved to eat. “Anything at all.”
“How about a light meal and then straight to bed?” he suggested, his eyes dancing playfully.
“How about no food and straight to bed?” she countered.
“Deal,” he said, and put on his seatbelt quick as a flash. And then she was driving home, butterflies dancing in her belly.
Chapter 34
That evening found me staring at the little inflatable pool. I’m the kind of cat who never says no to a challenge. Or let me rephrase that. I’m the kind of cat who rarely says no to a challenge, and the challenge of these swimming lessons was really bugging me.
Last night Fifi had saved my life, but now I vowed to learn how to swim without the assistance of a small Yorkshire Terrier. I mean, how humiliating would it be if word got out that a dog had saved me, a cat, from certain death? It didn’t bear thinking about.
The inflatable pool was still full of water, and before I could change my mind, I made the great leap into the middle of the pool, planning to make it back to shore by inflatable.
Only once I was standing up to my neck in that pretty cold water, suddenly that familiar fear gripped me, and I couldn’t move an inch.
“Max?” asked Dooley, who’d ambled up to see what I was up to. “What are you doing?”
“I… thought it would be a good idea to learn how to swim,” I said, realizing as I said it that my big plan was fraught with a measure of rashness I probably should have considered before I leapt in.
“But you can’t swim, Max,” Dooley pointed out. “And now you’re stuck… again.”
“Yes, I know that, Dooley,” I said, panic making me irritable. “So how do I get back?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“Maybe ask Odelia?”
“She and Chase just left. They went out for a pizza.”
“Gran?”
“I don’t think she’s home.”
“Marge or Tex?”
“At the library. Marge asked Tex to help her put up some new decorations for the children’s book section. She said the new theme is sea, seashells and fishes.”
“How appropriate,” I murmured, and realized I’d put myself in a bit of a situation. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until one of them gets home,” I said. Though already I was shivering. You would think that a inflatable pool in the middle of summer would be nice and warm, but Chase had only refilled it hours before, when the sun was already going down, and the water was pretty chilly.
“I know what I’ll do,” said Dooley. “I’ll ask Fifi to come. She told me just before how she helped you last night, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to do it again.”
“No, wait!” I said, but too late, as Dooley was already hopping away in search of Fifi.
To be saved by a dog, two nights in a row, was simply too much. Word would get out, and on top of my furry mishap, this was going to turn me into the local laughingstock. My name would soon be a byword for ridicule and mockery to such an extent I’d have to spend the rest of my days stuck at home.
“Oh, no,” I groaned as I longingly cast anxious looks at the shoreline. You’ll tell me I should simply have made the jump, the same way I’d jumped in, and I’ll tell you that a waterlogged body is much harder to propel upwards and away than a dry one. Also, the water simply sucks you in, and prevents you from making the kinds of powerful jumps cats usually have no issue with.
Struck down by the laws of physics—and water. Just my rotten luck.
“In trouble again, Max?” suddenly Brutus’s voice sounded from the hedge. And as the big cat came walking up, I expected to see him sneering, or hear him make searing comments designed to cut and wound. But instead his expression was soft and solicitous. And as Harriet followed in his wake, she, too, looked worried.
“How can we help, Max?” she asked immediately.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to move, as I’m going to fall on this slippery floor.”
“Can’t you dig in your claws and make your way over here?” Brutus suggested.
It was an idea I’d oddly enough never considered before, so I now applied it: I simply dug my claws in nice and deep, and started making my way over. It meant ripping up Chase’s pool again, but that couldn’t be helped. And I was making good progress when suddenly I had the misfortune to trip and fall, and I went under!
When I emerged again, gulping for air, I faintly heard Brutus and Harriet’s cries. But then I went under again, my legs having tired from standing for so long, and my muscles stiff from the cold. And as I went under for the third time, suddenly I felt myself coming up for air again, only I wasn’t even making an effort!
And then I noticed it wasn’t me coming up—it was the water level going down!
And as I glanced over, I saw both Brutus and Harriet at the edge of the pool, gleaming claws out, having slashed the puffed-up edge of Chase’s nice inflatable pool to smithereens.
Only strips of colorful plastic remained, all the water having drained from the pool.
“Come on, Max,” said Harriet as she joined me. “Let’s get you out of here.”