Trouble in Tallahassee by Claire Matturro

Author:Claire Matturro [Matturro, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KaliOka Press
Published: 2017-09-11T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I purr and try to comfort her, but to little avail. Poor Abby. She’s trying hard not to cry, but I can see how upset she is. She pets me, wipes her eyes, and stands up from the restored aquarium—minus those little black fish she inexplicably adored.

“What a mess.” Abby picks up a few scattered things in the living room, but it doesn’t really make any improvement.

I glance over at the clock on the mantel. It’s an hour past midnight, and she should go to bed and sleep. It’s been hours since that young detective and the old grumpy one arrested Phillip and hauled him out of her house. She’d promptly called somebody called Delphine and told her about Phillip’s arrest, and then ran randomly about trying to clean up the disarray in her house. She simply will not try to rest. I meow at her and pad toward the bedroom, but when I turn around, she’s still standing in the living room.

“Phillip would never hurt Layla. I don’t care what those detectives think.” Abby looks right at me when she says that as if seeking my agreement. But I don’t know. I can’t trust the man. It’s not just his aftershave scent that I recognized from the backyard spying my first day, but the fact he was lurking around inside Abby’s house without being invited in.

Given my own suspicions, I wasn’t surprised at all when that rude, older detective came and arrested Phillip—though I first thought it was just for breaking and entering, not for murder or kidnapping.

“Delphine can help Phillip. She’ll get him out.”

I can only guess she is talking to me, though she is now staring out in space, her voice worried. As she walks, she staggers. Drunk with fatigue is not just a biped expression; it’s a very real state of being.

In my most persuasive voice, I tell her she needs to rest and once more try to lead her to her bedroom.

But she heads to the kitchen.

I follow. A midnight nosh—oh, okay, a wee-hours-of-the-morning snack—might be a good idea after all. But Abby digs around in the back of a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of vodka. She pours a stiff drink and gulps a big mouthful, sputtering and spitting most of it out. She tries again, with a smaller, slower sip.

Though I’ve learned bipeds are not usually eager for me to dance around on cabinet tops in kitchens, I jump up and rub against the bottle and meow a warning at Abby. Getting drunk is not going to clean up her house or find Layla.

We need sleep. Both of us.

Failing that, we need sustenance. A nice piece of cod or salmon would make us both think more clearly.

Abby doesn’t fuss at me for hopping on the counter. She puts the glass of vodka down, making a face at it. I leap down and race for the refrigerator. She follows me with her eyes, sighs, and shakes her head, making her red hair fluff about her face.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.