Free 1 Death Pays the Rose Rent by Valerie Malmont Page A

you hadn’t invited yourself and your pesty friend to the meeting, you wouldn’t have been there to be humiliated.”
    Alice-Ann picked up a canning jar full of dried
beans that served as a lamp base and heaved it at him. It was pure dumb, drunken luck that saved him from having his skull smashed. He staggered and almost fell just as the jar flew past him. Beans exploded into every corner of the room when the jar hit the stone fireplace.
I backed tactfully out of the room, leaving them to fight in privacy. The baby-sitter passed me in the hall, smiled, and put her finger to her lips. Apparently she was no stranger to these scenes. By the time I reached the kitchen I heard her car kicking up gravel as it headed down the driveway.
I tucked a cat under each arm and carried them outside. I left the door between the kitchen and porch open on purpose, so I could hear what was going on, just in case the fight got too violent and Alice-Ann needed my help in subduing the beast. It wasn’t hard to hear them, since both participants had moved into the kitchen and were screaming at each other at top volume. Something crashed against the wall; it sounded like a dish breaking. Then another and another. Alice-Ann would have to shop for a new set tomorrow if this kept up. Finally, the front door slammed, and there was a blessed silence in the house.
I moved quickly around to the side of the house to see who had come out. It was Richard, furiously lashing a black suitcase onto the back of his motorcycle. When it seemed secure enough to suit him, he jammed his helmet on his head, climbed on the monster-machine, stomped down on the pedal, and took off with a roar down the hill. I wondered …did this happen so often he kept a prepacked suitcase ready for a quick departure?
    When I saw a light come on upstairs, I picked up the cats and climbed the back steps into the house. The kitchen was a mess—a real shambles. Jagged shards of Blue Willow china littered the floor, and all the chairs were overturned. The round oak pedestal table had been shoved against the china cupboard, and both had fresh battle scars to serve as permanent reminders of the evening.
    Since Richard was gone, I figured it was safe to bring the cats up to my room. I turned off the downstairs lights and climbed up through the painted clouds to the second floor.
    Loud sobbing came from the master bedroom. At least I knew she was alive. I tapped on the door. After a few seconds, I heard her blow her nose. I opened the door and stuck my head in. “You all right?”
    A nod. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose looked like one of those pale, misshapen strawberries you see in the supermarket in the early spring.
    Fred immediately saw he was needed and jumped out of my arms onto her lap, where he curled up and allowed her to pat him. I could see her beginning to calm down as she stroked his soft orange and white fur. I’ve read that they use cats in nursing homes and mental institutions to reduce stress and lower blood pressure (wonder if my mother ever had a cat to pet?). Noel, more reserved, jumped up on the dresser and began to wash her face.
    “I’m all right. Guess you can probably tell this wasn’t the first fight.”
She rubbed Fred’s chin. He closed his eyes and smiled. “But I’ve got things worked out in my head now. Remember what we used to say in school when we were dumped on by somebody? Don’t get mad … Go on to bed, Tori. Everything’s okay.” She sensed my reluctance to leave. “Really, it is. You’ll see. And take this silly beast out of here.” Fred was now on his back, with his front paws curled up under his chin, while Alice-Ann rubbed his belly. He looked as if he’d fallen in love.
“You’ll call if you need anything?” I scooped up Fred and draped Noel over one shoulder. She nodded, so I left, closing the door behind me.
The cats were delighted with the new bedroom. Noel selected a perch on the window ledge while Fred claimed his