They drew up before an immaculate rancher in the suburbs. The perfectly manicured green lawn stretched from property line to property line, skipping across a paved driveway and a curved walk to the front door.
“I was surprised that it wasn’t her mother who brought Meggie to us,” Beckley commented as he joined her on the walkway.
“I’m not. Little boys who lose their pets come with their mothers and little girls who lose their pets come with their fathers—if there’s one in the picture, that is. Fathers think their little boys should get over it and act like a man and mothers are pushed aside in favor of the daddy who can be twisted around the daughter’s little finger.”
“That seems a little cynical, doesn’t it?” Beckley asked, chuckling in spite of the sentiment.
“Do you think so?” Vie asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m merely stating a professional observation.” She lifted her hand to knock on the door but it opened before she could finish her action.
A woman in a tight business suit stood in the doorway. Her blonde hair had been swept up onto the top of her head and formed into a tight bun. Her makeup was flawless. She looked like a woman who had paused in her career for a few months to have a baby and then never let the child be a nuisance to her again.
“Good. You’re here,” she said in clipped tones, opening the door wider. “Please, come in. The sooner you get started the sooner this mess will be over. I never wanted the blessed thing to begin with and she’s been nothing but trouble since my husband bought her.”
More than one kitty case had gone south because one of the parents had either killed the cat or taken it out into the country to be rid of it. This better not be one of those cases, Vie thought as she entered the wide entrance directly into the sumptuous living room. She checked around to make certain Meggie wasn’t in the room and then leaned forward and said in a harsh, venomous whisper, “Mrs. Jones, if you’ve done something to your daughter’s pet you may be certain that I will discover it. I may not tell your daughter but I will tell your husband.”
“Excuse me?” the woman asked. She took a step backward and narrowed her eyes at Vie. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” Vie said and turned to look at the little girl who had just entered the living room from the dining room, her father right behind her. “Hello, Meggie. Can you show me the last place you saw your kitty?”
“Okay. Come on,” she said, taking Vie’s offered hand. “I saw her in the kitchen right before me and Mommy went to Sunday school.”
Beckley followed them, passing the mother and giving her a bland smile. Her face was white with outrage but she didn’t say a word. He hoped that reticence didn’t presage an unhappy outcome to this case. The kitchen proved to be one of those ultra-modern affairs with black granite countertops, stainless-steel appliances and hardwood cabinetry. He arrived just in time to see Meggie pointing at the cat bed in the corner.
“I want you to stay here with your father while Mr. Hume and I look for Marmalade,” Vie said, smiling at the girl. Meggie nodded and went to stand beside her father. He still looked thunderous but he had his suspicions under tight control. Vie turned to Beckley and said very softly, “This won’t be the same as Mrs. Opic. As soon as that cat gets out of the door it may shoot off in any direction. We’ll pursue it but we’re going to have to go through people’s yards and it’s possible that they won’t appreciate our trespassing. You excuse us as best you can. If we get into real trouble with them, call me back to the present and we can get out of there and try to pick up the cat’s trail again once we are on public property.”
Beckley nodded. “I understand.”
Vie composed herself and “looked” into the past to Sunday morning. “I see the cat. She’s lying in her bed just like Meggie said. Her tail is twitching and she’s watching Mrs. Jones and Meggie and the door, the little scamp. She’s planning on making a run for it.”
“What the hell?” Mr. Jones demanded. “What is she playing at? No one told me she thinks she’s psychic!”
“Watch your language in front of your daughter, Mr. Jones,” Beckley said automatically in his best librarian, you-better-behave-or-else voice. “Be assured, Ms. Tine will discover what happened to Marmalade. Does the technique she uses matter?”
“Oh, and she’s off.”
Vie reached out and Beckley put his arm under her hand. She clasped it tightly and dragged him to the back door. He had to dive to get it open before she slammed into it. I should have opened the door before we started, he thought. I’ll get it right next time.
“She’s heading toward the shed at the end of the yard,” Vie said, hurrying across the wide expanse of lawn. They skirted a small adventure playground and paused at the side of the shed. “She’s on the roof now. She’s stopped to lick her paws and survey her domain. She thinks she’s a clever girl.” Vie looked both ways down the fence. “There’s no back gate. If she goes over the wall I’ll want you to give me a knee up so I can see where she goes. If I think I can go over, I will. You’ll have to climb after me. I’ll wait for you. Just take my arm again and we’ll keep going.”
Beckley nodded his understanding and then smiled at his behavior since she couldn’t see his movements. As an experiment, he lifted her hand and put it to his cheek as if she really was blind. Then he nodded emphatically.
Vie laughed softly. “Yes. That works. Good for you. I’ve never thought of trying that before.” She pulled her hand away and grabbed his arm again. “She’s on the move. She’s seen something over the wall that she wants to investigate. And over she goes. Give me a knee up.”
Beckley cupped his hands around her bent knee and lifted her up.
“There’s an alley back here, not someone else’s yard. I’m going over. Watch yourself,” she warned.
You knows you hate her.
Beckley clenched his teeth. The bastard is back, he thought.
He jumped aside to avoid being struck by her shoe as she swung her leg over the wooden fence and hoisted her body out of the yard and into the alley. Beckley took a running jump at the fence. He leaped, grabbed the top rail and pulled himself up so he could flip over the fence and land on his feet. Immediately he put her hand on his arm and they began to lightly jog down the alley together. Vie skidded to a stop.
“Dang, she’s gone over another fence. Wait a minute…she’s back up onto the fence.” Vie tilted her head to one side and then another. “I can just see a big dog between the boards.” She laughed softly and let go of his arm to scratch her cheek. “That must have scared one of her lives away. Bold as you please is this little one. She’s walking slowly along the stringer, watching the dog. Dang, she’s jumped into the street. Holy crap, she just about got flattened. We’ve got to go after her. Beckley, you lead the way.”
She’s so pushy. How can you stand her?
Beckley shook his head violently and felt a scowl twist his face. A car was coming. He grabbed her arm again and held her back until they could cross the street safely.
“Let my arm go for a second,” Vie asked. “I put the wrong socks on this morning. They’ve slipped down into my shoes.”
Beckley released her and waited while she crouched down and tugged on her socks. He heard a sigh in his mind.
You missed your chance to be rid of her. SHE’S SUCH A NAGGING BITCH!
Beckley winced at the shout but ignored Watcher-man’s insults. Vie stood back up and he guided her around multiple garbage cans littering the lane and the sidewalks. It must be collection day in this neighborhood, he thought, almost stumbling over a blue recycling bin that had fallen into their path.
“Uh-hah,” Vie said triumphantly, releasing Beckley’s forearm to place her hands on her hips. “She’s gone in here.”
They stood before a small white clapboard-sided house sitting up from the road on a corner of a busy street. There was no grass verge between the sidewalk and the road. A bus lumbered up the street. The stop was just before this property. No one waited there and by the speed of the vehicle, no one was disembarking either.
A bus! Perfect. If only she’d step in front of the bus you’d be rid of her. She’s been a nauseating smartass since you met her. I’ll give her a little nudge, shall I?
Desperate to be certain she was safe, Beckley twirled Vie around so she slammed into his chest. His arms encircled her and held her tight against him while his mouth descended and captured her surprised gasp in a furious kiss that permitted no interference. The pressure in his mind immediately ceased with a final livid pop and his mouth softened. He felt Vie’s lips open and her tongue touch his. He accepted her invitation and deepened the kiss into something heartfelt and real. She tasted marvelous and he could feel the tingle of her aura wash over him like a cascading waterfall of brilliant colors. Though he wanted the kiss to go on forever, he could not forget that they were standing on the street presenting a display for any passerby.
Vie looked up into Beckley’s disturbed expression. He smiled apologetically and then looked around, releasing her, as a city bus passed them. The driver was watching them, not the road! They both started forward in alarm. His head turned back in their direction and he spun the steering wheel to the left as he leaned on it to keep his attention on them. The bus jumped the curb, rattling the driver so he regained awareness. He slammed on the brakes but still the bus rode up the raised front lawn of the corner house until it stopped short of hitting the building. It balanced for one agonizing moment before tipping to the right and coming to rest at an angle against a telephone pole.
“Dang,” Vie whispered.
She quickly pulled out her phone and called 9-1-1 while Beckley rushed over to the listing bus. As soon as she gave the particulars to the dispatcher, she hurried over to assist him.
“Hey! Hey!” Beckley shouted as he pounded on the doors with the side of his fist. “Open the doors! Are you all right? Open up!” The dazed driver managed to operate the mechanism and the folding doors slid open. They climbed up inside, bracing their legs against the tilted floor by holding onto the ceiling grab bar.
“Hello? Is everyone okay?” Beckley called out, continuing down the aisle and looking beneath the seats for anyone who may have fallen to the floor. Vie attended to the driver, who had struck his head against the side door. Blood dribbled from a cut on his temple. Otherwise, he seemed unharmed.
“What happened?” the man asked, staring bleary-eyed at Vie. He was fifty-something with a full head of white hair, dyed pink where the blood had smudged. “How? I—uh, I don’t remember anything.”
“Maybe you should get an MRI when they take you to the hospital,” Vie suggested, unwilling to concoct a story that would surely rebound on them. “We were watching you when you went past and it seemed as though you were stunned or something. You better get it checked out.”
“Thank the good Lord that I was running empty and coming up to a red light,” he said, passing a hand over his eyes. He looked at Vie again. “Did I hit anyone?”
“Nope. Not even a parked car. It’s hard to say for certain but I don’t think there’s much damage to the bus, either.”
“Praise the tender mercies of the Lord,” he said, pressing his hand against his forehead and then bringing the hand away to look at the blood on it.
“Amen to that, brother,” Vie said, patting him on the back. Beckley returned and he shook his head, his expression grimly relieved. “We could probably manage to get our friend here out of the bus.”
“Sure. I’ll go down onto the ground. You help brace him while he’s getting out and I’ll ease him through the door and out onto the grass where he can lie down.”
“Got it.”
The ambulance, police and fire trucks arrived not long after they got the driver to lie on the ground and covered him with his own jacket. The police took their statements, the firemen assessed the risk of a fire and then left when the ambulance took the driver away. Members of the transit authority came and also took their statements and then attended to the removal of the bus.
Meanwhile, a slip of a younger woman with long flowing tie-dyed garments stood on the front steps of her white house clutching an orange tabby under her left arm while her right stroked the cat. Vie and Beckley walked to the bottom step and looked up at her. The woman had Easter-egg-pink, green and purple hair. Her bangs had been cut at an angle so that one side hung past her eyes and the other end stuck straight out from her head because it was only a half-inch long. She wore green lipstick the same shade as Easter basket grass and sparkling eye shadow in rainbow hues.
“Hello,” she said, coming down the steps to greet them. Her eyes were such an impossible shade of green that they had to be contacts. She kissed the cat and held her out to them. “I knew you’d be by today to get Marmalade. Here you are. I like her very much but she misses her little girl.”
“Umm, thanks,” Vie said, accepting the cat and holding it firmly against her chest.
“Yes, thank you,” Beckley said, holding out his hand to shake hers. She put her hands behind her back and shook her head violently at him. He blinked in surprise and dropped his hand back to his side. The young woman’s face brightened again and she looked at Vie.
“Cats in the neighborhood always come to me when they get lost,” she said, her laughter trilling out. “It’s almost as though they can’t find their own way home if they get too close to my house. Tell Marmalade’s little girl that I’m sorry. Bye” she said, waving a delicate white hand at them. Each fingernail was painted a different color and had a rhinestone attached to it. She twirled and ran up the stairs on light feet. Just as they were about to turn away, she glanced back at them. “My name is Anne.” She covered her mouth and giggled, staring down at Vie. “Oh. Just like you.” Then she half turned away before stopping. She looked at them through the curtain of her multicolored hair. “Don’t let the boogeyman get you,” she warned softly and was gone into her house, the door shutting softly behind her.
“What was that?” Beckley whispered. “And why did she say her name was like yours?”
“My middle name is Anne,” Vie said, stroking the cat and looking thoughtfully at the closed door. “I think she must be feyborn. She certainly acts like she is.”
“Feyborn? But being feyborn is a part of mythology, not real life,” Beckley challenged, falling in to step beside her as they headed back to Meggie’s house.
“Sure, but it is a mythology that probably arose from an attempt to explain someone with unusual talents or gifts.” Beckley grunted. Vie snuggled Marmalade against her cheek. “Cats are drawn to her, she said. You must have noticed that there are some people pets like and others that they go out of their way to avoid. Anne knew we were coming, she knew Marmalade’s name and she knew my middle name. I think she must have a touch of clairvoyance. Maybe more than a touch because if I didn’t misunderstand her, she gave us a warning about Watcher-man.”
“Yeesss,” Beckley drawled out. “Watcher-man. He caused that accident—as a show of power, I think. He offered to nudge you under the bus.”
“That son of a bitch,” Vie cursed softly. Her stomach muscles clenched as if preparing to be punched. “What have I ever done to him? Huh?”
They paused at a crosswalk and waited for the traffic to clear.
“He’s been verbally abusive of you since I assisted you over the fence.”
“What did he say, exactly?” Vie demanded as they crossed the road.
Beckley recounted his experiences during the rest of the short walk back to Meggie’s house.
“I don’t get it. He really seems to have a hate-on for me but I’ve been racking my brain to try and remember anyone who would hate me that much. I know I rub people the wrong way at times but I’ve never encountered this level of animosity.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Beckley’s confident tone of voice soothed her tension.
“Absolutely,” she affirmed, grinning at him in gratitude. “So, that’s what the kiss was all about? You were saving me from being ‘nudged’ under the bus?”
“Yes.”
“Well…thank you.” He nodded. Vie raised her eyebrow and challenged him. “Is that all it was about?”
“Oh, no,” he said, smiling softly while meeting her eyes. “Not all.”
Vie suddenly couldn’t breathe and she definitely couldn’t think of a quip to come back with. Fortunately, Meggie’s shrill cry of pleasure broke the spell before she suffocated.
“Kitty!”
Vie turned from Beckley’s disturbing gaze and crouched down low on the walkway. Meggie came tearing down the path, her arms outstretched.
“You found her. You found her!”
“Wait, Meggie,” Vie said, holding out one arm to stop the child from careening into her. “Look carefully. Is this Marmalade?”
“Oh, yes. See, she has blue eyes and freckles on her nose,” Meggie said, brushing her curls back from her face and fairly hopping in excitement. “She didn’t go to heaven after all.”
“No, she didn’t. A nice lady a few blocks away was looking after her. It seems Marmalade got lost. Can you hold onto her well enough so she doesn’t jump down on the way into the house?”
“Yes. Yes. I can. I can,” Meggie cried and accepted the pliant cat into her small arms. “Thank you. Oh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, little one,” Vie said, smiling and waving her toward the house.
“Look, Daddy, she found Marmalade.”
“That’s wonderful,” the man rumbled, stroking his daughter’s hair when she came up to him. “You take her into the house now and make certain the door is shut tight behind you. I’ll be right in.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Mr. Jones watched his daughter follow his directions before he came farther along the walkway. He held out his hand to Vie and then to Beckley who ignored it and just nodded genially. He must be more affected by Anne’s refusal to shake his hand than he’s shown, Vie thought. He’s always so polite.
“I don’t know how you found Marmalade and I don’t really care. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Jones.”
“If there is ever anything I can do for either of you, just let me know,” he said, beaming and looking so relieved that Vie thought he appeared almost lightheaded. “Are you sure five dollars is enough for your services?”
“Quite sure.”
* * * * *
Beckley dropped Vie off at the office where she collected her Harley, and so it wasn’t until they were sitting down to a meal of baked frozen enchiladas, tortilla chips and a guacamole salad that Vie had the chance to bring up the handshake. They sat at the kitchen table, eating in silence and watching the evening shadows play across the backyard. As soon as the darkness deepened, the landscape lighting came on, creating all new shapes and shadows on the lighted lawn.
“I saw the fixtures in the trees earlier,” Beckley commented, his fork held halfway to his mouth. “The effect is very dramatic.”
“Thank you. They have an added purpose,” Vie revealed. “No one can sneak up on my home without my being able to see them—either in real time or by ‘looking’ backward. It’s the same in the house. I have low levels of ambient lighting spread throughout. ‘Looking’ backward in the dark is no more effective than trying to see in the dark in the present.”
“Yes, of course,” he said while stabbing at his salad. “That makes sense.”
Vie continued to hesitate and then finally plunged ahead, annoyed that she felt any reticence at all about discussing the handshake. “I noticed that Anne refused to shake your hand. She never touched me either. It could just be that she doesn’t touch people.”
Beckley finished his mouthful, frowning out at the night. “It’s a possibility that I’ve considered.”
“I think I hear a but in that statement,” Vie said, pushing aside her empty plates. She steadily regarded his attractive profile while he shrugged. He lay down his fork and pushed the remainder of his meal away. “Beckley? What is it? What are you worried about?”
He turned and regarded her with thoughtful eyes. When Mr. Jones had held out his hand to him earlier, an idea had struck him with the force of a hammer on an anvil and he knew that he should not shake his hand. He wanted to explain his thinking as succinctly as possible and in a manner that would illicit Vie’s maximum reaction to the implication of his words. Recalling how well Vie knew the Star Trek world, he felt confident that she would understand his next reference.
“Mr. Spock is a touch telepath.”
His confidence in her knowledge of popular culture did not go unrewarded. Her eyes first narrowed into slits and then they widened with alarm.
“Bloody. Hell.”
Vie shoved back her chair, glared at him and picked up their dirty dishes. She took them over to the sink, set them down and then turned back toward him, resting her hands on the island.
“Bloody. Hell.”
“Hmm. You said that already.”
Vie snorted. “It bore repeating.”
“Indeed.” Beckley could almost see her mind working furiously. When she didn’t say anything immediately, he explained further about the handshake. “I did not want to wake up tomorrow morning to discover that Mr. Jones had killed his wife and child and then committed suicide.”
“Just because you touched him?”
“Yes.”
“The mitigating factor that we were talking about earlier.”
Beckley sighed. “Yes.”
“So, Watcher-man skips hitchhiking in your mind because you were touched by someone and… What? Caught a virus of some kind?” Vie demanded.
“Or perhaps marked would be a better way of putting it?” Beckley suggested.
She pushed away from the counter and came back to the table. She sat down and faced Beckley. Without thinking, she reached out and took one of his hands and held it between hers. “Now, if this is true…if this is how he is able to gain a—foothold?—in someone’s mind, then all we have to do is recall everyone you’ve touched or who has touched you since you’ve come to work with me.”
“Very well,” Beckley said, extremely conscious of Vie’s warm grasp on his hand. “First, Arlee, but I viewed her aura and there was no interference there.”
“You said the wedge shape can come and go.”
Beckley pressed his lips together. “True. It isn’t the best indicator.”
“Go on. Who’s next?”
“You. You were the next. I didn’t touch Mr. Reza or anyone else in the hotel and none of them touched me. Then Special Agent Lavelle.”
“She was definitely under the influence of something or someone. Did you touch Charlie? Or did he touch you?”
“Not on the way to Vancouver,” Beckley recalled. “He touched me on the shoulder when he brought me my tea on our way back.”
“Okay. And you didn’t touch Clive, so he can’t be a carrier. Besides, I’ve known him for years and he acted just the way he always does.”
Beckley squirmed in his seat.
“What? You didn’t touch him. I stopped you.”
“He touched me…before he went into the house after we realized the little boy must be adopted. Do you remember? He congratulated me for guessing the answer and then patted me on the shoulder.”
“Yes. I remember now. Did you touch Detective Gatto?”
“No. I didn’t touch the counter girl at the coffee place either. I touched your sister and Mrs. Opic. Then just Meggie.”
“There’s not that many people,” Vie mused.
“I know. The only person we know who was directly affected was Gloria. She acted strange.”
Vie sat back in her chair, releasing his hand. “I’ve known her for years too, but like you say, she was clearly affected. Yes. And she couldn’t remember what she’d said or done while under the influence. And there was the bleeding nose too.”
“Gloria then?” Beckley asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Gloria must be the key. She must be the one who marked you.”
“But who marked her? And why?”
“Those, Beckley, are excellent questions.”