Page 32 of Your Every Wish
“I am. Emma Keil.” She sticks out her hand to shake his, which he does.
“We’ve received a complaint from a”—the deputy reaches into his shirt pocket for a tiny notebook and flips through the pages—“Trapper Bing.”
“Ah, Jesus,” Harry blurts out and both Emma and I turn to look at him. “He’s nuts. The man is certifiably crazy.”
The deputy ignores the interruption and continues, “He’s feuding with a neighbor, a woman named”—he checks his notebook again—“Rondi Brown over a cat that’s gotten into his yard and is scaring the birds away. He wants an arrest made.” The deputy is doing his best to say this with a straight face. “As far as I can tell no crime has been committed. But Mr. Bing is pretty upset about it. I did my best to quell the situation. The woman with the cat said I should contact you.” He looks at me again.
I don’t hear the rest of what he says because I’m too busy sagging with relief. At one point, I feel the palm of Emma’s hand pressing against my leg. A silent warning.
“We’ll take care of it,” I hear her tell the deputy.
The deputy takes off and the crowd slowly dissipates. Harry and Misty drive away and Liam resumes the short trek to his trailer, leaving me alone with Emma.
“Oh my God.” I collapse into her, and she holds me up.
“I know,” she says. “We need to talk. But first, I think you should go handle Rondi before the police get called all over again. ”
“Okay. Do you know which trailer she lives in?”
Emma gives me a number and I run inside to get my car keys. I’m too tired, and frankly too shaky, to walk.
Rondi’s trailer is like a throwback to the ’60s and smells a lot like cat box. Snow White’s cat house takes up a quarter of the living room and the rest is covered in tie-dye. Tie-dye sheets draped over the windows, tie-dye posters all over the walls, even a tie-dye throw blanket.
She makes room for me on the sofa by pushing a knitting bag to the side. “So you heard what happened?”
“I did. Was it Snow White?” As far as I know she only has the one cat.
Rondi nods. “What is she supposed to do, Kennedy? She’s a cat, for goodness’ sake. She roams free. That asshole is threatening to feed her rat poison. ”
Cats, crazy bird people, rat poison—all out of my wheelhouse. “Is that where he lives?” I glance out the window at the six-foot privacy fence that separates Rondi from her neighbor.
She nods again.
“Is there a way you can keep Snow White from going over there?”
“How?” She shakes her head. “I won’t make her an indoor cat. It would kill her spirit.”
“Let me go over and talk with him.” Rondi tries to trail after me but I tell her, “Under the circumstances it would probably be better if you wait here. I’ll come back to report.”
She waits as I go around to the front and cross over to Trapper Bing’s driveway.
“I’m in the yard,” he calls after my third attempt at knocking on his door.
I undo the latch to his gate and let myself inside what appears to be a bird sanctuary. Bird feeders hang from every branch of every tree and a freakishly large birdbath made from an old mosaic-tiled fountain sits in the middle of the yard covered in white bird shit. Trapper (what the hell kind of name is that?) is planting something in a garden bed on the other side of the lawn and barely looks up as I enter.
“Mr. Bing, can we please talk for a second?”
“Give me a minute to finish what I’m doing here.”
I don’t argue and pass the time wandering around, checking out all his bird innovations, including a birdhouse made out of an old cuckoo clock. Clearly, the man is as obsessed with birds as Rondi is with tie-dye.
“What can I do for you? If you’ve come to advocate for that lunatic woman next door, don’t bother.”
“I came to work this out, so the police don’t have to be called again,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. I’m a casino host, not a mediator.
“Tell her to keep that beast out of my yard and we’ll be fine.”
“Mr. Bing, it’s a little unrealistic to think she can control a cat’s comings and goings, don’t you think?”
