Chapter 50

 

 

After filling up his tank with gas and paying an obscene amount for the privilege, Derrick picks up Champ and then heads for the local supermarket a few blocks from his home to replenish his pantry and fridge with some of the bachelor essentials; pot pies and TV dinners and some pistachio ice cream for the upcoming evening meals, chips, peanuts, pretzels and some beer to wash them down with for snacks, milk, juice, cereal, coffee, bread, fruit, peanut butter and grape jam along with some bread to smear it on and bread and butter pickles to add a little zest to the P & J sandwiches to take care of breakfasts and lunches for a while when he’s home.

 

Derrick is skillful in a lot of things, but nutrition and cooking aren’t among them and he readily admits it. He’s one of those people who can burn water while he’s watching it. When folks start kidding him about his cooking prowess he’ll usually find a way to make reference to what he subscribes to when it comes to the culinary arena which are the tenets supposedly uttered by such folks as Barbara Johnson – “A balanced diet is a glass of wine in each hand.” and Jim Davis – “Vegetables are a must on a diet. Carrot cake, zucchini bread and pumpkin pie are ideal ways to avail yourself of some of them.” and they usually get the sought after laughs.

 

Now that Champ is pulling guard duty at his house in the evenings he also has to make sure there’s enough food for the big guy, so he’ll also saunter down the pet food aisle looking for some goodies for him.

 

It doesn’t take Derrick long to do his grocery shopping and he’s pulling into his driveway at five minutes to six, so he’ll be able to catch Holly Caldwell’s newscast. After filling Champs water bowl with fresh water and dishing out some dog food for him to wolf down, he turns on the TV to watch the fireworks begin.

 

Holly devotes the first fifteen minutes of the newscast to his statement and Derrick’s thinking, “This lady sure knows how to get the viewers’ attention. I hope this will get someone like CNN’s attention. That’s got to happen if we’re to have a chance of reaching the players in Milan. The Paganellis boat has to be really rocking if they’re seeing this. Julie and I probably won’t have to personally confront them to goad them into making a move on us. This should do the trick all by itself.”

 

The newscast is barely over when Derrick’s phone starts ringing. It’s Julie. “Did you see Holly’s newscast?”

 

“I did and I think we just turned the key that will open the door to bringing these scumbags out into the open where we can get our hands on them and shut the doors on their exploits and cells for good.”

 

“As grandma used to say, ‘From your lips to God’s ears.’ Uh oh, I‘ve got to go or my supper will wind up in the trash. Bye.”

 

Chuckling to himself he’s thinking, “I wonder if bachelorettes stock up on pot pies and TV dinners too. Every woman I know can cook, but there’s got to be some females out there that have to deal with ineptness in the kitchen. It’s got to be a cross gender malady or guys’ couldn’t live with themselves. They’d start tuning to Giada, Ina Garten and Martha Stewart en masse to learn how to cook under cover. Their egos wouldn’t let them publically admit there was something they as a gender couldn’t do.

 

“Man, the stress of this winery mess must be messing with my brain. It’s probably got me thinking of nonsense like this just to keep my sanity.”

 

Laughing at himself, he gets with the program and lets his mind wander to see what else it will come up with, but his musings are interrupted by Champ letting out a warning growl and then cautiously approaching the front door.

 

When he goes to the door to see who’s there, he’s relieved to see it’s the kid across the street holding a kitten. He signals to Champ to return to the den and when he opens the door little freckled face Sally says, “Hi Mr. Chandler. Our tabby Abby had kittens and I’m trying to find homes for her litter. This is the cutest one and I’ve named him Snowflake because of the splotches of white on his fur. I was hoping my dad would let me keep him, but he nixed the idea. He said we already had a menagerie with two dogs, a cat, two hamsters, a parakeet, a turtle and an ant farm and we’re running out of room for ourselves so he’s got to go. I’m giving you first dibs on him.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sally, but I keep weird hours and can’t take proper care of a pet. But thanks for giving me first dibs. How many kittens are in the litter?”

 

“Five. The mail man said he’d take one if his wife gave him the okay. My mom promised two of them to her friends, but they are always changing their minds so I don’t know what will happen with them. The lady at the cleaners says she’d like one to help her keep the gophers in her backyard from digging up her lawn, but she’s allergic to cats so that rules her out. We’re keeping all the kittens until they’re weaned. That means Abby will stop feeding them with her milk and they’ll start eating solid food.”

 

“Well, I wish you luck, Sally, with finding homes for the kittens. Good night now.”

 

Closing the door he murmurs, “That’s what life should be all about, not worrying about some fruitcakes throwing their weight around and making other folks’ lives miserable.”

 

The rest of his evening is spent watching reruns of NCIS and Matlock and has him hoping the outcome of his skullduggery is the same as what always happens on these shows, the good guys collar the bad guys without any of the good guys getting hurt. Around eleven he hits the hay with Champ lying at the foot of his bed and the two are soon a softly snoring duet.