Claw & Disorder by Eileen Watkins

Author:Eileen Watkins [Watkins, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-10-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The next day, it was back to work early for both me and Mark. But while his clinic never lacked for patients, business remained pretty slow at Cassie’s Comfy Cats. Sarah and I took turns staffing the sales counter and keeping our charges amused during their turns in the playroom. I again told myself that, since the cats’ owners were technically paying for this, it wasn’t so bad to make part of my living playing with other peoples’ pets.

Just before noon, Dawn called me on my cell phone to complain about her own lack of customers. “I’m bored, and I need some business advice. Any chance you can get away for a quick lunch?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I’m trying to get this Siamese to move his butt, only so far nothing I’ve tossed through the air or pulled on a string has tempted him. I’d hate to be a quitter.”

“Maybe he’s more into zen meditation. Allow him to be himself.”

I laughed. “I like the way you think.”

By the time I told Sarah that I would be ducking out for an hour or so, I’d thought of another good use for that time. “I also plan to do some more sleuthing on Chester’s behalf, okay?”

“You’re the boss,” she reminded me with a smile. “But sure, anything more you could do for him will be appreciated.”

Downtown Chadwick is very walkable, so Dawn and I met at Chad’s, our retro diner. She made an entrance in her “new” vintage skirt, the black one with the art nouveau daylilies, which flowed almost to her ankles. She’d combined it with a simple T-shirt the same coral shade as the flowers, and with her long, wavy auburn hair it all looked spectacular. By Chadwick standards—and most people’s—Dawn would have been overdressed for a weekday lunch at the diner. But since she had opened her store three years ago, she’d become familiar to the town’s population, at least by sight. I’m sure they knew by now that Dawn marched to a different drummer, and some may even have envied the way she carried off such outfits. I certainly did, and felt dull that day by comparison, in my pastel-striped camp shirt and khaki shorts.

At Chad’s, they made no hard distinctions between breakfast and lunch, so even though it was past noon we both ordered omelets. My experiences that week had provided me with lots of gossip to share, but I tried to be judicious.

First, I told Dawn about Nick’s call to me the night before and the Fosters’ boisterous argument. I omitted Whitney’s confession that she had tainted the pease porridge with wheat flour. That tidbit might have legal repercussions, so I hesitated to spread it around.

Dawn did empathize with Whitney as the innocent victim of the turmoil. “Boy, I remember when my folks were breaking up, I hated so much to hear them argue. I’d lock myself in my room, put on headphones and listen to music to drown them out. By the time they divorced, I actually was relieved.

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