Notoriously Neat (15 page)

I inhaled, exhaled. “I can’t explain.”

“Oh . . .”

“It isn’t easy to explain, that is,” I said, wanting to change the subject. “Anyway, what’s up with you?”

“The usual, I guess. Police business. Mainly I’ve been busy with the Pilsner case. Preparing evidence reports for the district attorney.” Chief Alex paused. “Sky, I really didn’t call to talk about work. I was thinking . . .”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” he said. “Those Essex County prosecutors are coming up to meet me for dinner . . . but I wonder if you’d like to get together earlier. Say for breakfast or lunch?”

I frowned at the crummy timing.

“Wish I could,” I said. “But I was just thinking I’d better get Skiball examined. I have to find out what’s wrong with her.
If
anything’s wrong.”

“Is your veterinarian here in the Cove?”

“With Gail gone, no,” I said sadly. “She’d been taking care of Ski from the day I adopted her.”

“I probably should have realized,” Vega said. “I’m sorry . . . Sometimes as a cop, you’re so homed in on solving a crime, you lose sight of how broadly a loss affects people. It seems everyone in town preferred Gail Pilsner to—”

“Dr. Ruth Lester,” I said. “Also known as Dr. Ruthless.”

“She’s that bad?”

“Indescribably worse.”

“Uh-oh.” He paused. “So where are you bringing Skiball?”

“Good question,” I said. “My idea was to drive to a clinic in Gloucester. They open at eight in the morning, so I figured I’d leave around seven.”

“You don’t have an appointment?”

“Nope. And they supposedly require it. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed they’ll squeeze her in.”

“Well, then, how about I ride shotgun?”

I hesitated a few seconds, caught off guard.

“Sky?” Vega said. “You don’t mind my inviting myself, do you?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not. You’re just so sweet to offer . . .”

“It isn’t a big deal.”

“It is to me,” I said. “You
sure
you want to ride down there?”

“Absolutely. I want to see you, Sky.”

Gulp. “Well, then . . .”

“Tomorrow morning, then? Around a quarter to seven?”

“That sounds perfect,” I said. “You’re on Deacon Street, right?”

“Right. Can’t miss my house. The yard sort of wraps around the side of the place. It’s a miniature pine forest.”

“I’ll look for your door through the trees,” I said.

I didn’t have to. He was already out front on the sidewalk when I got there, holding a Dunkin’ Donuts bag in his hands and wearing a brown leather car coat, a gray V-necked sweater, and tan chinos. I realized it was only the second time I’d seen him out of uniform, and the first time in casual clothes. If push had come to shove, I would’ve cast my raw-animalistic-hunkiness vote for this latest look, though Smartly Suited Alejandro was a close runner-up.

I unlocked the passenger door and he opened it, holding the paper bag out for me. “I got us some doughnuts and coffee,” he said. “Figured we wouldn’t have a chance to sit down for breakfast.”

“Thanks!” I smiled and set the bag between the Versa’s bucket seats. “You can put Ski in back,” I said, nodding at the bouncing cat carrier beside me.

“She seems pretty agitated. Why don’t I ride with the carrier on my lap?”

“Probably because you’d rather not have your trip be sheer hell . . .”

“That would be impossible.” Vega’s long look into my eyes destabilized my internal molecules. While I willed them into a semblance of cohesion, he got into the car, set the carrier across his knees, and strapped in.

“Take your pick,” he said, reaching into the doughnut bag. “We’ve got vanilla cream filled, chocolate frosted, and powdered cake.”

“Powdered cake,” I said. “It’s unlawful to drive with gooey fingers.”

Vega looked amused. “You get a summons, I can take care of it.”

“I’ll bet.”

He unfolded a paper napkin, spread it out across my lap, and half wrapped my doughnut in a second napkin before handing it to me. Then he set my coffee in the cup holder.

“Are you always this thoughtful or just trying to impress me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. That smile again.

I got us rolling.

“You know the name of the animal clinic in Gloucester?” Vega asked.

“The Gloucester Animal Clinic.”

“Clever.”

“You think?” I said with a dry smile. “It’s on Yarrow Street. Not far from the harbor. Hopefully I won’t have trouble finding it.”

“I know a great shortcut,” Vega said. “In fact, I’ll give it to you once we get a little closer.”

I nodded. Cops always knew all the shortcuts.

We turned onto Route 127’s southbound lane, enjoying our doughnuts and coffee. Skiball seemed to have settled down—her carrier wasn’t even bouncing around on Vega’s lap. Maybe his even-keeled personality was imparting a contact calm.

“So how’re you feeling today?” he asked after a bit. “You
sound
a whole lot better.”

“Definitely,” I said. “I soaked in a steaming tub for half an hour before bed last night. Can’t beat it for shaking off a cold.”

“And the other thing?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

“Your people problems.”

It was a while before I answered. I wasn’t yet convinced that I had any right sticking my nose into whatever might be going on between Chloe and Mr. Black Lexus. If I decided to talk about it, it was Chloe who’d be the first, and maybe the last, to hear what I had to say. But I’d been thinking there was something I did have to discuss with Vega. Something I’d left hanging between us for too long. How could I frown on my friend’s stealth behavior if couldn’t be aboveboard in my own relationships? What sort of hypocrite would that make me?

“Alex,” I said. “I . . .”

He noticed my hesitation. “Is anything wrong?”

“No, no . . .”

“You sure?” He kept looking at me. “I thought maybe I’d been hogging the doughnuts.”

I sighed. “I need to talk to you about Mike Ennis. About Mike and me.”

Vega sat quietly a few seconds, then gave a small nod. “I’d appreciate it,” he said. “I was waiting till you were ready.”

“I don’t know that I am,” I said. “Maybe there are some conversations you can’t be ready for.”

Vega waited, his eyes aimed straight ahead at the road now.

“I’m not some teenager out for kicks,” I said. “I’m a woman in my thirties who was very happily married for a long time. I loved my husband. We’d planned to have kids, grow old together, the whole shebang. And then life kicked those plans into the dirt. The way it does, you know?”

He nodded.

“Mike and I started seeing each other a few months after I moved to Pigeon Cove,” I said. “Talk about not being ready . . . I think it was too soon after I’d lost my husband. He wanted an exclusive commitment and I couldn’t give it. From that point on, things changed. We went on as if they hadn’t for a little while, but nothing felt the same. And finally we couldn’t pretend anymore.”

“Does that have anything to do with why he took that assignment in Paris?”

I shrugged, my hands on the steering wheel.

“You know the story he’s covering, right?”

“Be difficult not to,” Vega said. “It was on everyone’s lips around here for a while. A beautiful Danvers woman marries some French millionaire, moves to Europe with him, and becomes a murder suspect when her husband disappears six months later. Her name’s Damiana Somethingorother. ”

“Wilkes,” I said. “At least that’s her maiden name. Mike’s been good friends with her since they were kids.”

“No kidding.”

“They even dated in high school,” I said with a nod. “Anyway, Mike was a crime reporter for a newspaper in Washington DC before he came to the
Anchor
. The same publisher owns a big, prestigious magazine that offered him a bundle of money for an investigative piece on the case. Mike’s friendship with Damiana obviously had a lot to do with it.”

“How’d his publisher know?”

“About the personal connection?”

Vega nodded.

“Mike wasn’t clear about that,” I said.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“It isn’t so odd. Not for Mike. He’s always been cagey about his work. And we weren’t sharing a whole lot of things at the time.”

“Sounds to me like you have an idea, though.”

“My guess is he pitched the idea to the magazine,” I said. “He would probably claim taking the assignment had everything to do with a career opportunity and nothing to do with our relationship.”

“And you believe he needed some distance.”

I shrugged again. “It isn’t his fault. If anything, the blame’s on my shoulders . . .”

Vega turned to me.

“Were you up-front with him all along?”

“Yes . . .”

“Then you shouldn’t feel that way,” he said. “I don’t think anyone’s to blame. None of us knows how we’ll handle certain situations till we face them.”

I drove on past the Cape Pond reservoir in thoughtful silence. In full foliage the roadside trees largely screened the pond from view, but with the season still young you could see its reflective blue surface through their budding branches.

Vega didn’t seem to notice. He’d turned to look straight out his windshield.

“One thing you haven’t told me,” he said, “is that it’s over between you and Mike.”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”

“Because you don’t know?”

“Because I don’t.” I swallowed. “What I do know is how I feel when I’m with you. When you kiss me.”

“But not where I fit in?”

“That has to be your choice. I can’t make it about what I want.” I glanced over at him. He was still staring out at the road. “Yesterday someone told me he’d spent most of his life being, quote unquote, contentedly independent. That isn’t me. I’m not trying to keep my heart locked up in a strongbox. But I do need time.”

He turned to face me. “If it was your choice, Sky. About us. What would it be?”

“Truthfully?”

He nodded.

I hesitated again. My cheeks suddenly felt warm. “I would tell you to kiss me the way you did the other night. Only when we’re alone somewhere and don’t have to be anywhere else for a long time. When you don’t have to stop.”

I felt his liquid dark eyes hold on me for a while before they turned back toward the road ahead. Good thing they did, too. It might have been dangerous if I’d gone and sunk into them while driving.

It must have been between ten minutes and ten centuries later when I realized we were coming up on Rogers Street parallel to Gloucester’s Inner Harbor. At around the same moment, Vega shifted around in his seat to look at me.

“I have to tell you something,” he said finally, breaking his silence. “It may not be what you want to hear, but it’s important that you know.”

I looked over at him, nodding, my heart stroking in my ears.
His choice.

“I got distracted and missed our shortcut,” he said with a smile.

And then I was smiling too.

“I would suggest leaving the cat with us for observation,” said the veterinary intern. A young, olive-complected man named Joralemon, he spoke with a faint Indo-European accent.

I steadied Skiball on the examining table, holding her with both hands so she wouldn’t go wildly diving off. Although none of the Gloucester clinic’s full-fledged vets would see us without the requisite appointment, I supposed I should have been appreciative we’d been assigned the intern. But Joralemon had barely given her a look in the minute or so since he’d blown into the room, and it seemed to me he should have done that before anything else.

“When you say leave her, how long do you mean?”

“Three nights.” Joralemon said. “Three nights minimum, yes?”

I exchanged glances with Vega, who was standing right beside me. Then I looked back across the table at the intern. “Don’t you think she ought to have a thorough exam first? I mean, she isn’t acting that sick.”

“I have recommended a course of action. The cat should be monitored,” the intern said. “Our receptionist will give you a list of our rates. But an average stay is fifteen hundred dollars.”

“Did you say
one thousand five hundred
dollars?”

“Average, yes?” Joralemon nodded. “Basic charges include boarding, food, and water. Further expenses may arise if medication is administered. I would also order daily subcutaneous hydration.”

I was beginning to wonder if he’d studied under Dr. Ruthless. Or if maybe she’d authored some unholy veterinary textbook. “Is she
de
hydrated?”

“No. But a fluid drip is a standard precaution.”

“Against what?”

Joralemon gave a frown. “Against many adverse health conditions, yes?” he said.

I stared at him. It hadn’t taken long for those questioning yeses to become an incredibly bothersome verbal tic. “Is there any alternative to leaving her for that long? I’m just not sure about it . . .”

“We can discuss a payment plan if cost is an issue, yes?”

More shades of Dr. Ruthless. “That isn’t the main reason that I’m reluctant about this . . .”

“I understand.”

“No, I don’t really think you do,” I said. “I’m prepared to leave Skiball if I have to. But before I put her through that sort of trauma, I want to be sure it’s needed. She hasn’t been away from familiar surroundings since I’ve owned her.”

Joralemon looked irritated. “The cat should be observed. You may wish to discuss expenses with your husband, yes? Then we can proceed with—”

“Sky’s a friend, not my wife,” Vega said. “And I think she just told you that expenses aren’t her foremost concern.”

“I hear quite well, yes?” A sigh. “But she must be honest.”