Cat's Meow, page 23
She chuckled. “I never did. I was always Nora Goldstein, just as I am now.” She paused, head tilted. “Maybe that’s why none of the marriages lasted.”
I grunted, looking back at the letter. “Maybe it was because all five of them were absolute stinkers. Except possibly the Bottomless Pitt, it would seem. Why in the world did he appoint you as his executor? Had you seen him recently?”
“No, not since the divorce.” She held up one hand, counting off silently on her fingers. “Let’s see. It’s been at least fourteen, fifteen years. I’ve seen his kids Merry and Martin more than I ever saw him.”
“That’s bizarre. Maybe he thought you were the most honest person in his life and could be trusted to handle this.” I handed the letter back to her.
Nora gave a short laugh. “And that’s a pretty sad commentary on his family, I’d say. Although,” she gave a small hitch of one shoulder, “I might agree with him. Both of his offspring were absolutely despicable.”
We sat silently for a few moments. I debated getting up and making coffee, but a twinge in my right leg changed my mind. Maybe I should give Brent a call. He’d be glad to come over and help. Actually, Brent would be glad to come over and escape his younger brother. I was about to make the suggestion when Nora abruptly stood and headed for the desk she kept in one corner of the living room. Tucked discreetly behind a folding Japanese screen, its shiny top held a state-of-the-art computer and printer.
I sat with my head leaning back against the cushions as I listened to Nora rummaging in the various desk drawers. What I really needed was a good, long soak in Epsom salts. Herc, my black-and-white rescue dog, would have to be contented to use the doggie door to leave the house to do his business.
I’d almost drifted off to sleep when the sound of a shot brought me straight up, my heart pounding as loudly as the bass drums in the high school marching band. Had someone broken in and targeted Nora?
“That rat. That unbelievable, absolutely despicable, downright irritating rat!”
Another loud bang told me exactly what had startled me. Nora was slamming desk drawers as loudly as she could.
“If you don’t want your neighbors to think you’re being attacked, I’d advise you to bring it down a notch or two.”
My best friend marched from behind the screen, two bright spots of red on her cheeks.
“And to which rat are you referring? Marcus? The Bottomless Pitt?”
She glared at me as she shoved her cell phone into her top, which doubled as her carrying case, and kept marching past the sofa and down the hallway. A loud slam told me she’d gone into her room and closed the door.
Marcus Avery was Nora’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, a private detective whose reputation as the local Lothario sometimes got him into hot water with her. I could never figure out why he was so attractive to the ladies, to be honest. His physique was on the rotund end of the scale, and his thinning hair topped a round face that had seen better days. Apparently, he had a charm that I couldn’t detect. As long as he kept my friend happy, though, I was content to leave it at that.
My own taste in men tended to run toward retired dentists with laugh lines and a wonderful smile. Particularly one named Roger Smithson, owner of two aging golden retrievers named Max and Doc, and lately, I had to admit, of my heart. Just thinking about him gave my pulse a little jump, and I was grinning like a loon when Nora banged out of her room and stomped back to the sofa.
Giving me another glare, she barked, “What’s got you so tickled? You think dealing with the Bottomless Pitt is funny?”
I came back to earth from the cloud on which I’d been floating, landing with a thud beside one very irate Nora. Something had put her panties into one king-sized twist. Maybe she’d spotted an unflattering review of Two Sisters Pet Valet on Yelp. Or maybe this last order from beyond the grave had her reliving the problems from her marriage to the occupier of said grave.
I stared back at her, my eyebrows riding near my hairline. “Funny? Apparently not.”
Leaning over, I gently touched one arm. She was trembling, almost vibrating, under my hand, and I was instantly on guard. This wasn’t like Nora, not at all. If I didn’t get to the bottom of the issue soon, I was afraid she’d make herself sick.
“Nora?” I spoke quietly as I scooted closer, placing my arm around her thin shoulders. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, okay?”
At first she sat there stiffly, acting as if she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. I was tempted to shake her and make her talk, but I wasn’t sure how she’d react in her present mood. Besides, we’d only had a handful of real disagreements over our decades of friendship, and I didn’t want to chance one now.
Finally, she gave a deep sigh and leaned back against me. The crisis, as my role model Miss Marple would say, had passed. She’d tell me in her own time.
“Hey, you.” I gave her shoulders a little squeeze and stood. “I’m going to get us some coffee, okay? Then we can talk about this.”
She nodded but said nothing. I got the coffee made in record time and carried the steaming mugs back into the living room. Handing her one, I took the other and reseated myself on the other end of the sofa.
“I’m not well-versed in the law and wills and that sort of stuff.” I took a cautious sip of coffee and winced. It was still too hot to drink, but the aroma of the smooth Ethiopian blend was delicious. “Do you have to abide by your ex’s request?”
Nora gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’m pretty sure it’s binding, especially since he used a lawyer.” She took a small drink of coffee. “Knowing him like I do, that man didn’t leave any loose ends. And that’s not what’s bothering me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Ah.” I looked at her, scrutinizing her face for any hint of what had made her so angry. When none was forthcoming, I decided to change tack. Whether she liked it or not, I’d get it out of her eventually. “If I were you, I’d make an appointment with the lawyer and get the scoop on what your role really is.” I kept my tone neutral, still observing her closely.
“Oh, believe you me, I intend to do just that.” Nora’s lips were a firm line of annoyance. “I wouldn’t put it past him to get in one last dig, you know? He never got over the settlement I got after our divorce.” She gave a short, unamused laugh. “What a piece of work.”
I gave her an uneasy look. She was beginning to sound cynical, something that wasn’t like Nora. She could be sarcastic, certainly, but cynicism wasn’t in her style book.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” Nora attempted a smile, but I wasn’t fooled.
I hadn’t been best friends with her for as long as I had to not be able to know when something was bothering her.
“You make that appointment and I’ll go with you.” I lifted my coffee mug in a salute. “One for all and all for one, right?”
She snorted. “Yep, that’s us, for sure. The Two Musketeers.”
I was glad to hear her sense of humor beginning to resurrect itself. “Then let’s get this show on the road.” I glanced at my cell phone. “It’s early enough to cancel tomorrow morning’s pet-sitting assignments. You can let the office know we can be there first thing tomorrow.”
“No need.” Nora’s tone became brisk, businesslike. “Between Brent and Rachel, they can handle the jobs.”
“If you say so.” I frowned slightly as I mentally counted off the jobs. “I think we might need to hire another dog walker and free up Rachel to take on more of the pet-sitting assignments.”
“Have anyone in mind?” Nora gave me a mischievous grin. “Maybe a certain gent who happens to like dogs?”
I wanted to stick out my tongue. Instead, I lifted my chin haughtily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And the Bottomless Pitt was the sweetest man on the face of this earth.” Nora shook her head in wry amusement. “You call Roger and ask if he’ll help us out. I’ll get busy calling this lawyer.”
Talking on the phone was never my favorite thing, and the advent of texting in place of actually speaking to a faceless voice had made my life easier. I never minded a face-to-face exchange, but there was something inherently awkward about carrying on a conversation with someone I couldn’t see.
Still, texting Roger instead of calling him seemed somehow discourteous, as if he wasn’t important enough for a call. I opened my contact list and found his name.
He answered on the first ring, and his cheerful voice made me smile. “Gwen! How nice to hear from you.”
I heard the muted sounds of a television in the background.
He went on. “How are you today? Anything new and exciting?”
“Not unless you call getting a letter from an ex-husband exciting.”
There was a momentary silence from his end of the line. “An ex-husband, you said? I thought you’d never been married.”
I chuckled, imagining the expression on his face as he tried to figure this out. “Not my ex. One of Nora’s.” At this, my best friend turned to stare at me, one eyebrow lifted. I waggled mine in return. “Apparently one of them made her the executor of his will, and now she’s got to talk to the lawyer. I said I’d go with her.”
“Aha. That makes more sense.” The sound of canned laughter rose in the background. “Give me a sec, would you? I need to shut this thing off.”
“Sounds like you’re watching ‘All in a Day’s Work.’ Those candid camera type shows can get really silly.”
“Indeed they can.” There was silence as he clicked off the television. “Now, where were we?”
“I was calling to see if you could lend a hand tomorrow with the pet business.” I shifted around on the couch, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit that didn’t make my legs ache more. “Rachel and Brent will be here, of course, but with Nora and me at the lawyer’s office, I’m afraid they won’t be able to handle it all.”
“Not a problem,” Roger said instantly. “I’d be happy to walk a few dogs for you.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I gave Nora a thumbs-up. “I’m sure there’ll only be one, maybe two at the most.”
“Fine. What time would you like me to be there? I’m assuming I’ll start off at Nora’s place, right?”
I paused, trying to think through the list of appointments. “Hang on a moment, Roger. I need to check before I give you the wrong information.”
Nora was leaning against her desk, polished fingernails tapping an impatient staccato on its shiny surface. “They’ve got me on hold, if you can believe it. And I’m stuck listening to some God-awful pop song that sounds like a cat getting its tail pulled.” She shook her head in disgust. “What was wrong with good ol’ elevator music, I ask you? At least I didn’t have to hear ‘ooh ooh baby baby’ over and over.”
I distractedly waved her complaints away. “Listen, Roger said he’ll be glad to help tomorrow. I just need to know if he should come over here in the morning or go straight to the client’s house.”
“Whatever you think.” Nora’s continuous fingernail tapping was getting on my nerves. “It might be easier to send him a text with the client’s information. Everything’s already open on my iPad.” She pointed with her chin to the desk where the tablet lay. “The list for tomorrow is right there on the first page.” Her fingers paused in mid-tap as she listened to something on the other end of the line. “And it’s about time too. Do you have any idea how appalling your hold music is?”
I shook my head, smiling to myself as I grabbed the iPad from her desk. A sassy Nora was a normal Nora. And if that lawyer had any sense about him, he’d better be ready with all barrels locked and loaded, or at least with some answers.
My job would be to get answers from Nora, including what it was that had suddenly set her off. Was the Ghost of Rotten Husbands Past about to make a visit? If so, it had better be warned: no one messed with my best friend, and I’d do everything in my power to see they didn’t, no matter if they were dead or alive.
About the Author
Dane McCaslin, USA Today bestselling author of the Proverbial Crime mystery series, is a lifelong writer whose love of mysteries was formed early in life. At age eight, she discovered Agatha Christie—much to her mother’s dismay—and began devouring any and all books she could find that featured murder and mayhem. After retiring from her career as a high school and community college English teacher, Dane now devotes her newly found freedom to writing mystery novels . . . and reading for pleasure.
Dane McCaslin, Cat's Meow
