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Michaela and Angel stood on Dottie's circular front porch and waited for someone to answer the door. Mic looked down at Angel and said, "Hey, buddy, I know you're tired and I know you want to go home, but I just gotta see what Dottie is up to. You know how she is," she said as she looked into the dog's eyes and scratched his ears.
Angel looked up at Michaela and smiled. He loved to come to Dottie's house because that meant he’d get great treats. Angel loved Cookie, Dottie's housekeeper, who always managed to find him a meaty bone or two while he was there.
"Michaela, Angel, what a wonderful, unexpected surprise. I'm delighted to see you both,” Cookie said happily, a wide smile on her face. “Can you stay for dinner? We're cooking a lovely London broil on the grill, or at least Henry is," she said. "As you know, I don’t cook on the grill."
The thought of London broil made Mic’s stomach growl. She hadn't eaten since the chicken salad biscuits she had shared with Peggy Grey seven hours earlier. Plus, she hadn't taken anything out of the freezer or planned anything for her own dinner. "I'd love to stay, Cookie, if it's not too much trouble. I love London broil on the grill and I love every single thing you cook. I wish I'd known and bought something to share."
"No, not a problem. We have everything and it'll be wonderful to have you. The countess will be pleased." A scowl crossed Cookie's face. "She's in one of her 'moods' so maybe you can cheer her up."
Mic rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'll do my best, but you never know with Dottie. Where is she?"
Cookie gestured with her head. "She's back in the library having her before dinner sherry. Feel free to go back. Can I offer you a glass of white wine? We’ve some excellent sauvignon blanc that I just opened for myself."
Mic smiled and said, "That’d be great. I'd love some. It's been a long day."
Cookie leaned down and ruffled Angel's ears and said, "Come on, you old mongrel. I have just what you need in the kitchen. Thank goodness I kept one here just in case." She looked back at Michaela and said, "Henry dropped two bones off at your house today and put them in the freezer."
"Thanks, Cookie, and Angel thanks you too," she said as she looked down at her dog. Angel looked up and gave both Cookie and Michaela adoring looks and then dutifully followed Cookie to the kitchen his tail moving non-stop. He held his head and his tail high and had a spring in his step. He knew good stuff was in store for him. Mic glanced after him. She loved it when he looked so happy.
She watched the two walk down the hall and then covered the short distance to Dottie's enormously grand library where the countess sat in her recliner sipping her sherry and watching the seven o'clock news. She looked up and gave Mic a tight smile. "Michaela, I didn't know you were coming by this evening," she said as she gazed at her friend with hooded eyes.
Mic placed her hand on her hip and glared at her. "Now, Dottie. Do you honestly think I don't know that you hung up on me this afternoon?"
Dottie smiled at her and said, "I told you, and I'm gonna tell you again. I lost reception. I was out in the country and there wasn’t a cell tower around."
Michaela shook her head. "I'll never believe that. You blew me off and we both know it."
Dottie did nothing but continued to sip her sherry. Damn, she knows me like a book.
Mic sat opposite Dottie and asked, "Where were you this afternoon, Dorothy? Where were you in your ginormous Cadillac where there were no cell towers?" Mic glared at her.
Dottie said nothing and continued to stare at the evening news. Mic reached for the remote and clicked off the TV.
Dottie glared at her and said, "That's my damned remote and it's my TV. Give it back. Give it back right now," she demanded.
Michaela held up the remote and taunted her with it. "I'll give it back as soon as you tell me where you were. I know you were south of the river because you told me that much."
Dottie continued to glare at her and said with defiance in her voice, "I went to visit Madame Toulescent. So there. Period. Now you know." She gave Mic her frostiest aristocratic stare. “I dare you to say anything.”
Mic shook her head. "Honestly. Why do you run to the psychic every time there’s something you can't figure out? You have to use your head and wits. But you, every time you have a question, you drive halfway to hell to try to find the answer from some sort of psychic medium or whatever she is."
Dottie was pissed. She stood up, knocking her sherry glass off the table. "You know Madame Toulescent has helped us before. She has an impeccable reputation and has helped us in the past. She narrowed the location before we apprehended that killer a couple of years ago and she helped us find the pervert that kidnapped that eleven-year-old boy."
Michaela was silent as she thought back to those cases. It was true they'd taken leads from psychics, particularly Madame Toulescent, and had hit pay dirt several times. But Mic was a believer in evidence, clues and science. Not seers or psychics. But she was also smart enough to know she wasn't going to win this argument with Dottie.
Dottie continued to stare at her as she eased back down in her chair.
"Okay, okay,” she said wearily. “I give up. What did Madame Toulescent say?"
“It wasn’t good,” Dottie admitted. “Let me tell you,” she said quietly as a knock sounded on the door and Cookie entered with Michaela’s glass of wine on a silver tray.