Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (10 page)

I
shrugged. “Sure.” Though I wasn’t really sure Trixie would understand.  She
thinks I’m overly-attached to Vinnie and Marie because I feed and water them
daily.   But it was still nice of her to offer.  Especially as she and Aunt
Muriel are pretty much chemically at odds with each other.  They’re a lot like
black mollies and angel fish.  Neither one matters a bit to the other.  But put
them in the same tank, and pretty soon you have dead angel fish.  I read
somewhere it’s because mollies are chemically toxic to them.

I
heard Aunt Muriel dive back inside the safety zone of public communications. 
She was dialing the phone and talking in some fairly officious tones.  I guess
she’d called the police.  I was glad she was dealing with them for me, and for
Vinnie.

A
little while later I heard a car pull up. Trixie came out back, equipped with
some Southern Comfort and a pack of Swank’s.  “You look like you just lost your
best friend.”

I
hung my head and sniffled.  “I did.”

She
shrugged, took out a small flask of Southern Comfort, and lit up a smoke.  She
hunkered down beside me and took a sip.  “How long’re you gonna sit out here
for him?” she asked.

“As
long as it takes,” I sulked.

“Well,
I like you, but I’m not sure that these steps aren’t gonna hurt my butt before
long.”

I
looked at Trixie.  Even when she was blunt she was nice.  But then again, she
was from Lancaster.

She
reached inside her pocketbook and pulled out a can from Finicky Fare’s Gourmet
Galore line: ‘Bitsy Toeses ‘n’ Fuzzy Noses’, Vinnie’s favorite.  Since the
Gourmet Galore line also comes with a gourmet price – like a buck a can – he
gets this at holidays only.  The thought of bitsy toeses and fuzzy noses as
food products generally makes me gag.  Now I held back tears.

“Let’s
get this party going sooner than later,” Trixie said matter-of-factly.  “If I
was scared of coming back home, especially if I’d been out when I knew I wasn’t
supposed to be out, it would take a lot more than Kitty Cookies to get me back
inside.”

I
had to admit it: she had a point.

Trixie
popped the lid and dumped the Gourmet Toeses and Noses on top of Vinnie’s Kitty
Cookies.  “Now, come inside this house and figure out what’s been lost,” she
commanded.

“But
Vinnie!!” I cried.

“Aunt
Muriel’s taking an inventory of your house,” she said warningly to me.  I
stared back blankly.  “Sooner or later she’ll get to the bread drawer,” she
clarified.  Trixie knew about the paint swatches.  “We’ll leave the door open.
That way Vinnie can come right inside when he shows up.  He’s probably just
having a romp,” she added.

I
took a swig from Trixie’s bottle.  “You realize this means fraternizing with
Aunt Muriel,” I warned.

“Yup,
and probably Officer Appletree.” She paused to take another swig of Southern
Comfort, stubbed out her cigarette and pocketed the filter.  “I came in as your
Aunt was calling the police. He’s usually assigned to this side of town.”

“Too
bad you used to date him,” I said.

“His
wife thought so, too,” she added.

Poor
Trixie.  Always the cheater, and never the cheated.  We’d both had our share of
boyfriend troubles.  Her ex live-in Chuck, pre-Appletree, lived a life of
luxury thanks to his maxing out Trixie’s credit card.  He’s been sending her
payments ever since, so she won’t press charges – which is how she got involved
with Appletree.  As for me, I moved to Lancaster after falling in love with the
wrong boyfriend for the right reasons.  Himself wanted a job in the country; I
got a job.  Himself spent; I paid.  Himself left me with Marie, his cockatiel. 
I stayed and bought Marie and me the house.   But, as Trixie says, I’m not the
first girl to have had her ex flip her the bird.

“Okay,”
I said.

I
propped the screen door open and went inside the kitchen.  A few seconds later
a zillion flying bugs joined us.

Trixie
and I paraded upstairs to make sure Aunt Muriel and Vito weren’t taking
inventory of my underwear and socks.   We ran into them in the upstairs hall,
and I peered over Vito’s shoulder and into my bedroom.  The floor was
wall-to-wall clothes, papers, books, tissues – you name it.  Aunt Muriel shot
me a look.  “Hey, I didn’t leave it like this!” I cried defensively.

I
started to go in, but Vito extended an arm and stopped me.  “We better not
touch nothin’ until the cops check this out,” he said.

I
looked inside the bathroom.  The entire contents of my medicine cabinet and
linen closet were strewn everywhere.  My foot throbbed.  I reached into my
pocket and munched on another Tylenol.

The
doorbell rang and Aunt Muriel slid past me to answer it.  Vito and Trixie and I
went downstairs behind her.  Officer Appletree and Trixie glared at each other
in the foyer affectionately. “Officer,” Aunt Muriel began.

“Appletree,
ma’am.  Trixie,” he greeted.

“Hi,
Adam,” she said, swiping a moth from her face.

Appletree
looked down the hall and into the kitchen at the open back door.  “You found
the back door open like this?   You don’t have to leave it that way,” he
started, heading through the kitchen to close the door.

“No,
we left it open.  We figured whoever sacked Mina’s place also let her cat out,”
Trixie explained.

“Oh,
okay,” he responded none too convincingly, schwooshing at bugs.  “You have any
idea what they took?” he asked, pulling out a pad for notes.

“Vinnie,”
I said glumly.

Vito
and Aunt Muriel filled in Officer Appletree with the particulars.  We clumped
back upstairs behind Officer Appletree to re-survey the damage.  “Any jewelry
missing?” he asked hopefully.  I opened my jewelry drawer and checked.

“Nope,”
I said.

“Your
purse missing?”

“Nope,”

“You
notice anything suspicious?” he asked Vito.

“No,
no, sir,” Vito stammered.  “I was, uh… doing some, umm… errands around 3
o’clock, got back around 4:30 and was just taking care of the flowers out
front.”

“Thanks. 
That helps.  Mr., uh…?”

“Spaghetti. 
Vito Spaghetti,” Vito responded.  “S-P-A-G-H-E-T-T-I.  Just like the noodle.”
He smiled.  Aunt Muriel and Trixie stared at me.  I shrugged.  At least Vito’s
last name was appealing.

Officer
Appletree tiptoed over the piles of clothes covering the floor.  I think he was
afraid to step on a bra or something in front of Trixie.  He looked over at the
answering machine on my desk.  There were two messages.  “Have you played these
yet?” he asked. 

“No,”
I said.  I crossed the room to play them, hoping one was about Vinnie.

“Mina,
you’re not gonna believe this.”  It was Bauser.  “It’s me, Bauser.  The
Buy-A-Lots on Fruitville Pike got torched again.  And would you believe, our
servers are down!   Howard’s gonna throw a fit.  I’m gonna go in and try to
take care of it now.  Anyway, hope you’re out someplace having fun.  Gimme a call
if you want.  Otherwise I’ll see ya at the salt mines tomorrow.”

Second
message.  “MINA, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”  It was How-weird in full 20-pt. bold
shouting mode.  I winced.  “Our servers are down!  You realize, as office
manager, you’re supposed to accompany after hours staff, right?” He hung up.

“Your
job description requires you to accompany after hours personnel?”  Auntie
asked.

I
sighed.  “It changes daily.”

“That
was a very hostile message,” Appletree observed.

“Yeah,
that’s her boss,” Trixie said.

“Oh,
well,” he said, and closed his pad.  “If you want, we can give him a call, to
vouch for what happened here,” he said.

“Thanks,”
I agreed, and gave him Howard’s contact information.

“But
you might want to give the Animal Shelter a call,” he offered.  “Give them a
heads up, and a description, in case your cat gets turned in.”  I nodded.

We
trudged back downstairs and went room by room through the rest of the house. 
Which didn’t take long.  The main upset was in my bathroom.  Every medicine and
pill bottle I owned was thrown about the place.  What kind of medicine were
they looking for?

I
thanked Appletree and said goodbye and watched Trixie exiting a little too
closely behind him, which I ignored.  Vito patted me on the shoulder and
shuffled back over to his place.  Aunt Muriel stood glued to the hallway
floor.  “I’m staying with you,” she announced.

“What?”
I asked, rubbing my forehead.  I wished the lump would hatch soon.

“My
dear, you can’t take care of this mess by yourself.  Especially with your head
injury!”

I
looked at her, about to argue, but realized once she left I was a hostage in my
own home, since the Doo-doo was still at her place.

So
she had a point there.  Right at the top of my head.

I
looked longingly out back at the deck. Still no sign of Vinnie.

When
I turned back, Aunt Muriel was leafing through the phone book.  “PizzaNow! Yes,
we’d like a pizza delivered please,” she began.

I
shrugged.  I guess having pizza for dinner, breakfast and then dinner again
wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to me so far.  I looked up at the
kitchen light and the swarm of bugs.  I didn’t think housing the insect kingdom
would bring Vinnie back any sooner. I steeled myself to call the animal shelter
first thing in the morning, as I shuffled to close the door.

Vinnie
slid himself in-between my knees.  I responded by tripping over him.  “Vinnie!”
I screamed, hugging all his girth.

“Well,
at least that mystery is solved!” Aunt Muriel said.  I hugged Vinnie and
nodded.  Aunt Muriel pulled the screen door all the way closed.  “Your door
doesn’t close all the way,” she noted.  I nodded.  I’d have to have it fixed. 
Was that how someone got into my house?  Or did Vito visit and forget to lock
up?  I hadn’t mentioned the spare key thing to Appletree. He might get the
wrong neighborly ideas about me and Vito.  Ick!

Auntie
and I gave Vinnie the once over. Aside from some leaves and twigs plastered to
the last remaining bits of marshmallow fluff, there was nothing wrong with
him.  I gave Vinnie his all-time favorite – above and beyond Chicken Toeses and
Piggy Noses: genuine tuna fish.  I started to open the can while Vinnie stood
up on his hind legs and pummeled his front paws on the counter.  Sometimes I
wonder when he’ll be able to use the can opener to help himself. “A-ch-aat!
Mow! Mow! Mow!” he said in his kitty falsetto. I figure this translates loosely
to, “Okay!  Now! Now! Now!”  I put the tuna in his bowl and watched contentedly
as Vinnie guzzled.

The
pizza arrived, and we let out a few swarms of bugs at the delivery guy.  After
Auntie and I ate, she went upstairs to rummage for a nightie.  I lay on the
sofa and channel surfed, with Vinnie stretched out alongside me, and rested my
eyes for a bit.  I guess that was why Aunt Muriel shrieked, “Mina, get up!”

“Huh?
What?!”  I screamed back.

 “Do
NOT sleep!”  Aunt Muriel commanded.  But judging by my headache and my foot
ache, I was gonna need all the beauty rest I could get.  The other fly in the
ointment was the fact I’d been munching on Extra Strength Tylenol all day.  And
some Southern Comfort.

I
explained the dilemma to Auntie.  “Well, alright,” she mulled, “but I’m going
to check on you hourly.”  Oh, goodie.

Aunt
Muriel came back down, moved Vinnie and sat down next to me on the sofa, to
keep me from lying down.  “Oh, guess you found some jammies,” I said.  She was
wearing my Hi!Hi! Kitty PJs.  She looked cute in pink.

“Yes,
thank you, dear,” Aunt Muriel said, taking the remote from me and turning past
the Menus for Many show I was watching and over to the local news.   “I found
you some jammies and left them on your pillow,” she added.

Hint
taken: I shuffled upstairs to change.  Good old Aunt Muriel had cleaned the
debris off the top of bed, and made neat little paths from the bathroom to the
closet, edged with stacked, folded clothes.  That was so sweet of her.

I
washed up, fed Marie, and came back down.  Plopping down beside Auntie on the
sofa, we watched the end of the news together.  That was when we saw the story
about this afternoon’s burning Buy-A-Lots on Fruitville Pike.  We swatted at
the moths.  I looked at Vinnie to see if he could be useful at catching bugs,
but he just lay prone on the floor with his left paw nuzzled over his nose,
snoring peacefully.  Aunt Muriel got up and went into the kitchen.  Vinnie woke
up and trotted behind her.  This was weird.  Vinnie doesn’t usually follow
her.  So I followed Vinnie.

Aunt
Muriel doled out a couple of mugs O’Merlot and we sipped.  Vinnie stood up on
his back legs and hugged Auntie’s waist.  Aunt Muriel pulled out a piece of
pepperoni that was tucked into the jammie pocket and gave it to Vinnie.  I
stared at her accusingly.  “The poor boy was famished from his ordeal!” she
furrowed at me.

“Good,”
I said.  “Maybe he’ll develop a taste for bugs.” I swatted at the cloud of
gnats hovering over our heads.