“All I feel is Rollo counting down the minutes on my wrist.” She scanned the area. “What do you sense?”
Allowing the hum to guide me, I walked until the cold turned to ice and pierced me. “Bones.”
About to kneel and investigate for signs of the bones, I bent my legs…and tumbled forward into nothing.
“Damn it,”I muttered, jerking upright in bed to find my arm stuck in one of Matty’s long socks that had been tugged up past my elbow. Flexing my fingers, I discovered it was filled with…dirt?
How long had I been out? Had I missed my window to meet with Tameka?
There was only one way to find out, and it involved dragging my sorry carcass out from under the covers.
I tensed as movement fluttered near the window, jerking as Badb lit on the tall headboard behind me.
“Hey.” After freeing myself, I scratched under her chin. “Where did Kierce get off to?”
Nibbling on my finger with her beak, she chased me out of bed and into the kitchen where a brown bag I recognized as coming from a local diner leaked congealed grease on the table. The crow ripped a tear in the side of the paper, revealing two clamshell containers that smelled like heaven had been scooped into them. I breathed in deep, filling my lungs, and noticed a small detail she was usually too clever to forget.
The receipt.
Ripping it off the bag, I read the name of the intended recipient and gasped, “How could you?”
Badb decided to clean her feathers rather than answer, which was about what I expected from her.
“You hate Mr. Mittens. I respect that. I do. But this is going too far.”
Mr. Mittens, the cat, lived one street over. His owners lavished him with gifts. Or they would have, if she hadn’t stolen a solid half of them for herself. She kept her thefts confined topunishing Mr. Mittens, but I could tell something had changed that put his owners on her naughty list right alongside him.
“I will eat this.” I was magnanimous about it. “Because I don’t want it to go to waste.” And also because it smelled delicious. “Then we’re going to talk to Kierce about boundaries.”
I gobbled down her gift then showered and dressed before searching out other signs of life.
A commotion in the parking lot drew me down to check on Kierce, who stood beside the golf cart.
The hyena cackling beside him was definitely Matty, which meant Kierce had performed the switcheroo.
Uncertain how I felt about that becoming a habit, I moseyed on down to find out what set Matty off.
“You boys having car trouble?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Anything I can do to help?”
“You could maybe not tell Josie that Kierce committed vehicular shrubslaughter?” Matty wiped tears from his eyes. “That shrub came out of nowhere.” He tried and failed to pull himself together. “It wasn’t Kierce’s fault.”
“A possum crossed in front of me,” Kierce mumbled, looking anywhere other than at me.
“And Kierce proved the brakes do, in fact, work.” Matty slapped him on the back. “He saved us from a dangerous collision.”
The top speed of a golf cart might be thirty miles per hour. Cut that in half for the one he was driving. An accident at fifteen miles per hour was more jarring than most people realized, especially without a seat belt to protect them.
Forearms braced on the roof, sweat on his brow, Kierce slanted Matty a glance. “You’re mocking me.”
“In this family…” he backed away grinning, “…that’s how we show love.”
“I would ask if you’re okay,” I said as Matty passed me, “but you must be if you’re tormenting Kierce.”
“There are things for which I will always have energy, and that is one of them.”
“You sound fancy.” I squinted at him. “Who are you seeing tonight?”
Much like the Buckley Boys, whose accents thickened when excitement made them forget to enunciate, Matty often embraced his chameleonic nature to set his dates at ease. Since he avoided relationships, he never had to come clean about, well, much of anything, really.