W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

“No improvement at all?”

“They’ve been pumping him with antibiotics, which I gather hasn’t done much good. In a situation like this, things tend to go from bad to worse. I don’t mean to sound so pessimistic, but there’s no point in mincing words.”

“How’s Pearl holding up?”

“She’s currently off on a bender from what I hear. Your friend Dandy as well.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, yes. I was at the hospital last night and Pearl was conspicuously absent. She’d been at his bedside, as faithful as a hound, whenever she was allowed. Suddenly, no sign of her, so I stopped by the shelter as soon as I left the hospital. I couldn’t get a word out of Ken, the guy at the desk, but one of the residents heard me ask about her and he took me aside, which is when others chimed in.”

“Are they holed up someplace?”

“Someone suggested a sports bar in the area. I don’t know the name.”

“Dandy mentioned the place. They play darts there on weekends if they’re sober enough.”

“I doubt they’re playing darts. I’d have looked for them myself, but I don’t have the patience.”

Throughout this exchange, Ed was sitting in Henry’s rocking chair, following the conversation solemnly with his oval eyes, the one blue, the other green. He was short-haired and white, with a patch of black over the right side of his face and touches of black and caramel on the left. His ears stood straight up, triangles lined with pink and edged in black. His stub of a tail looked like a black-and-tan powder puff. Henry regarded him with a doting expression, which the cat seemed to think was entirely his due.

I nodded at the cat. “How’s he been? Looks like he’s settled in and made himself at home.”

“He’s a very good boy. He’s caught everything from mice to moles. Two lizards yesterday and one today.”

“I hope no birds or bunnies.”

“Of course not. We had a chat about that and I explained his limitations. He comes when he’s called and doesn’t play in the street.”

“I thought Japanese bobtails were supposed to be talkative. He hasn’t uttered a peep.”

“He only speaks up when he has something to say.”

“Is it okay if we discuss him like this when he’s sitting right there?”

“He likes being the center of attention. He’s even taught me a trick. Watch this.” Henry picked up a wad of yarn the size of a golf ball. Ed was instantly interested, and when Henry tossed it across the kitchen, Ed streaked after it, brought it back, and dropped it at Henry’s feet. Both Henry and Ed seemed extremely pleased with themselves. Ed watched Henry for a bit to see if they’d play again.

I said, “This is weird. Like you just had a baby and all we’re going to do from here on out is sit and stare at the little tyke and admire everything he does.”

“Don’t be churlish,” he said. “Tell me about your trip.”

This I did while I set the table and Henry put together a rustic apple tart, rolling out a round of pie dough that he covered with pared apple slices, butter, sugar, and cinnamon. He seemed to recognize that I was still trying to settle on an attitude about my newly discovered cousins, so we didn’t pursue the subject beyond the basic information. Meanwhile, Ed curled up in the rocker and closed his eyes, though his ears continued to twitch like rotating antennae.

“So what’s with Dietz? I can’t believe he called after all this time.”

“He put in a fair amount of effort looking for you. He said he tried you at your office and tried you at home. He left messages both places, but when he didn’t hear back he called me, asking if I knew where you were. I said Bakersfield, but you’d be back this afternoon. He said he was on his way and then he hung up.”

“No explanation?”

“He doesn’t strike me as a man who explains himself.”

“Good point.”

Henry opened the refrigerator door and took a bag of fresh salad mix from the crisper drawer. “I wonder if you’d give these a rinse. The package says ‘ready to eat’ but that’s a relative term. Lettuce spinner’s in there.”

He indicated the corner cabinet that was outfitted with a lazy Susan so that cooking items could be stored in otherwise dead space. I opened the cabinet and removed the spinner, took out the perforated inner bowl, dumped the loose lettuces in, and ran water over the greens. I popped the bowl back into the spinner and pulled the cord, which made the inner bowl rotate at high speed, excess water flung off by the centrifugal force. The rapidly retracting cord snapped back and caught me in the hand. Wow, shit, hurt, ow.