Free Lilac Avenue by Pamela Grandstaff Page B

no.”
    “You would think Maggie would be the perfect candidate to elope,” Hannah said. “But she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s ashamed to marry Scott in a church in front of God and everyone. Because she isn’t, Scott. That’s the truth.”
    “Thanks, Hannah,” Scott said. “I feel a little bit better.”
    Hannah’s phone played Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.”
    “Hello,” she said as she answered the call. “You have reached Hannah Campbell, Animal Control Professional, at your service. You gotta pup, I’ll be right up; you gotta cat, I’m where it’s at; you gotta raccoon, I’ll be there soon.”
    Claire rolled her eyes at Scott and stroked the kitten, which had rolled up into a ball on her lap.
    After a series of “uh huhs,” Hannah said, “Be right there,” and ended the call.
    “I gotta run,” Hannah said. “There’s a cow loose, apparently, and it’s got traffic stopped just above town.”
    “Do I need to go?” Scott asked.
    “Frank’s the one who called,” Hannah said, referring to one of Scott’s deputies. “He’s already up there.”
    “What about the kitten?” Claire asked.
    “I guess I could put him in one of the holding pens in the back of the truck,” Hannah said. “I don’t have a crate with me.”
    “No, don’t do that,” Claire said. “You’ll scare the poor thing to death. I can keep him here a little while; how long do you think you’ll be?”
    “Thirty minutes, an hour tops,” Hannah said. “It’s Dink Bartlett’s cow, Evangeline. She knows me. There’s a piece of fence down near the creek, and when the water’s low she likes to go on a bit of a walkabout.”
    “Just don’t forget to come back,” Scott said. “We know how you are.”
    “Don’t you get too attached to that cat,” Hannah said to Claire. “He’s a birthday present for a little girl.”
    “Don’t worry,” Claire said. “The last thing I need is a cat.”
    Hannah sailed out, calling, “Toodeloo.”
    “You just got yourself a cat,” Scott said.
    “You heard her,” Claire said. “This cat is a present for a little girl.”
    “When have you ever known Hannah not to have a cat crate?” Scott asked. “She has a truck compartment full of them.”
    Claire started to protest but stopped.
    “I’ve been played, haven’t I?” she said.
    “By the master,” Scott said.
     
     
    Hannah, of course, did not come back later, and would not answer Claire’s phone calls. Claire fed the kitten some chicken left over from her lunch, and gave it som e water to drink out of a sawed-off paper cup. She went to the supply room to look for something out of which to make a litter box, but when she returned she found the kitten had made use of the sand in her counter-top Zen garden, which had been a welcome home present from Maggie.
    “Nice,” Claire said, as she poured the contents into the trash. “You obviously have no regard for my spiritual development.”
    The kitten stuck its back foot straight up in the air and commenced to wash its bottom.
    “Lovely,” Claire said. “No modesty either. You’ll do well in porn.”
    The kitten squeezed its eyes shut at Claire and then resumed its bath.
    After the kitten was finished bathing, Claire put some clean hair towels down in her voluminous handbag and settled the purring kitten in there, where it curled right back up and went to sleep. Claire performed her end of the day clean-up, and that’s when she noticed the tote bag sitting next to the garbage can by the front door. There was no doubt to whom it belonged, but Mamie didn’t answer Claire’s call and no answering machine picked up; her phone just rang and rang.
    “Crap,” Claire said. “Now I have to go up there.”
    Claire hung her handbag over her shoulder, thereby waking up the kitten, which peeked out to see what was going on.
    “Stay right there, Junior,” Claire said. “We have errands to run.”
    The kitten backed down into the handbag, kneaded the