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Michaela's heart was heavy as she opened her car door in front of her home. Her home loomed dark and lonely. There were no lights and nothing welcoming about the tall stately home with the large evergreen tree in the front yard. She checked her watch. It was after eleven. She missed Angel. They always came home together and the pair had a bedtime ritual. She planned to pick him up first thing in the morning.
She trudged up the dark steps to her home missing the flashlight in her cell phone. She’d left her cell at Biddy’s. Her only way to communicate was on the phone in her car. She usually had her porch light on, but she’d been gone since early morning. Boy what a day this has been. I can't wait to get inside and get in bed.
Mic struggled with the front door lock until she successfully maneuvered the key into the lock and opened the door. She quickly reached for the switch plate next to the door and flooded the entry with light. Next, she entered the five-digit code to her security system to prevent it from going off. She kicked off her high heels in the foyer and walked in stocking feet to the kitchen where she reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Bushmill’s Irish whiskey. She poured three fingers in a glass, added one ice cube and sat down at her large round oak table.
Mic looked around her kitchen as she felt the glass cool in her hand. She took a long drink of whiskey and grimaced as the cool fluid slid down her esophagus into her stomach and warmed her. She gazed sadly at Angel’s empty food bowl and admitted to herself just how much she missed him. She looked around her kitchen and smiled. She’d designed the kitchen herself and loved it. Her kitchen had walnut base cabinets, a restaurant stainless steel cooking stove, stainless steel appliances and black granite counters. Mic had painted the ceramic tiles that adorned the back-splash behind her countertop. She picked up her glass of whiskey, walked to the back door and peered out. The night was dark and dense clouds filled the sky. She thought she saw the beam of a flashlight in the alley so she stood and watched a few moments more. There was a beam of light, but she figured it was her neighbor across the alley in his backyard with his flashlight emptying the trash. “The Old Geezer,” as Mic and Dottie named him, was a strange man. He often walked at night with only his flashlight. Mic shook her head and made a mental note to talk to him again about safety. Her neighborhood was as safe as any inner-city neighborhood, but still, she wouldn't take walks alone at midnight. It just didn't make good sense. She almost jumped out of her skin when her house phone rang.
She walked to the wall phone near the kitchen cabinets and answered it. "Hey, Sean, what's up? Are you still at the bar?"
"Michaela, glad you got home. I'm sure you're tired," her restaurant manager said, a note of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, I'm blasted,” she admitted. “The hit at the bar and all this death has wiped me out," she admitted in a quiet voice. "How are you, Sean? It was as hard on you as it was on me."
“I’m okay,” the young man answered, but Mic could hear a note of fatigue in his voice. Sean was such a peaceful soul who lived to manage her restaurant and play Celtic music. She knew the poisonings had torn him to pieces.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said quickly, much too quickly for Michaela to believe him.
"Are you at home? How do you think the waitstaff is handling things?"
"Yeah, I got home a little bit ago and I think the staff is as good as they can be. I called because one of them told me she’d seen a couple of guys a block or so away from the restaurant standing around watching all the commotion... the police cars, the emergency vehicles and so on. She said they looked like they were laughing and having fun."
"Two men?" Mic’s heartbeat accelerated. "Did she say what they looked like? Did she recognize them?”
Sean thought for a moment and said, "It was Melinda. She’d left the bar to go outside and smoke. She thought a smoke break might relax her."
"Okay, Sean. That's fine,” Mic urged him along. “Did she say what the men looked like?"
Sean paused for a moment as he remembered his conversation with Melinda. “One was tall and had a bald head and she said the other guy was shorter with dark hair and a blue shirt."
Michaela's heart leaped. The description matched the perp at Busy Burger and man who was loitering near Dottie’s house had on a blue shirt. She kept her voice steady as she responded to Sean, "That's good. Thanks for letting me to know. Did she tell the police at the restaurant?"
"I don't think she did," Sean reported. "I asked her about that and she said as soon as she returned to Biddy's, her fear came back and she forgot. She just told me a little while ago. I thought you'd like to know."
"Yes, Sean. This is so important. That matches the description of the guy at Busy Burger, at least the tall, bald man. And, there was a guy in a blue shirt hanging around Dottie's house this afternoon the police chased, but never caught. I'm going to call Slade and tell him."
"Okay, Michaela, I’d appreciate that," Sean said. Mic detected a note of relief in his voice. He probably doesn't want to talk to the police anymore she decided. Who could blame him?
"Is there anything else?" Mic asked. "Anything at all, Sean? You never know what the police can discover with just a little info that seems trivial."
Sean reviewed his conversation with Melinda and said, "Yeah, but this may be nothing. Melinda said she saw a dog watching the two men. A dog that looked a lot like Angel. As a matter of fact, she thought it was Angel, but then she heard you tell someone that you left Angel somewhere."
Mic was stunned. She was quiet for a moment. "Angel? I don't think it was Angel. I left Angel at Dottie's house and as far as I know, he's still over there. Or, I hope he's over there," she repeated, a note of concern in her voice.
"I'm sure Angel is at Dottie's house," Sean reassured her. "After all, it was getting dark when Melinda saw these guys and Angel looks like a lot of German Shepherds so I'm sure everything is okay."
"I'm sure it is too," Mic agreed, her voice sounding normal although she was still apprehensive. "If you think of anything else, call me, no matter how trivial or unimportant it may seem," she repeated.
“Will do," Sean promised. "Get some sleep, now."
"You too," Mic encouraged. "Good night. See you tomorrow," she said as she clicked off the phone.
Mic picked up her drink and paced around her kitchen. She was overcome with apprehension. Surely, Angel's at Dottie's house. Dottie would've called me if something was wrong. Maybe I should call Slade and tell him. She walked over to the counter, poured herself one more finger of whiskey and added two more ice cubes. I'm not going to call anybody. I'm overreacting and I need to finish my drink and go to bed, otherwise I'll never get through the next few days.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mic's saw a beam of light flash across her kitchen. She shook her head. Damn that old geezer. I'm gonna have to talk to him. She smiled to herself and walked down the hall. She checked to make sure her security system was activated and walked up the wide stairway towards her bedroom in the front of the house.