Death, Deceit & Some Smooth Jazz by Claudia Mair Burney

Author:Claudia Mair Burney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 2008-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

chapter thirteen

AS SOONas I got home that afternoon, I kicked off my cowboy boots, slipped out of my coat, and went to Amos’s cage. My poor neglected sugar glider.

I opened the door to his cage, guarded yet optimistic. He must have missed human contact since I’d seen him last on Tuesday. This time he didn’t hiss like the spawn of Satan merely because I’d come within three feet of him. I stuck my hand in the cage, praying,God, please don’t let Amos try to kill me, and breathed a sigh of relief when the animal didn’t rip into my wrists.

He came willingly into my hand, and I spoke to him in the low, soothing tones I used when an inmate at the jail was about to have an unfortunate psychotic episode that would not be beneficial to my person. Amos seemed pacified by my efforts, and I made the mistake of rubbing just behind his ear.

He hated it.

“Haaaaaach” emanated from his mouth, and it sounded so profoundly creepy that I could have sworn I’d seen a menacing green mist pour out with it. “Jesus,” I whispered, “there’s something wrong with Amos. I think he’s possessed.”

I didn’t think Amos appreciated my diagnosis. That thing went after the mound of my thumb with gusto.

“Whatever!” I yelled like a teenage girl. I’d had just about enough of Amos’s incursions into my tender flesh. I set him on the end table where his cage rested, not even bothering to put him safely back inside. “You’re on your own, you little beast. And I hope a vicious mouse gets you.”

Amos hates me. And I’m stuck here with him. Can my life get any more depressing?

I shouldn’t have wondered. As soon as I did, the telephone rang. I picked up the phone and heard the voice of Dr. McLogan, a friend of Mason May and the fertility specialist I’d seen about my endometriosis. The kindly silver-haired Irishman had seen me for the last few years, and I considered him almost as much of a friend as Mason did.

“Bell, my dear.”

“Hi, Dr. McLogan.”

“I’d like to see you as soon as possible. Can you come into my office in the morning?”

I worked at the jail on Thursdays, but my caseload happened to be light right now, and I didn’t have any testing scheduled. I supposed the county could get along without me one more day. I still had a glut of personal days I hadn’t taken. “Sure, what time would you like me to be there?”

“How about ten o’clock?”

“I’ll see you then.” A pause, more pregnant than I wanted it to be, followed. “Dr. McLogan?” I asked fearfully.

“It’s not the best news, dear one.”

Uh-oh. He’d gone from “my dear” to “dear one,” and there was a difference. “Is it really bad news?”

“It could be. Bring your friend with you.” He meant Rocky. I’d taken him with me the last time, and we’d actually discussed him being a donor for me.

“Okay,” I said. The doctor rang off, and I found myself standing in the living room, listening to the buzz of the dial tone in my ear.

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