Free An Arm and a Leg by Olive Balla Page B

chatter. Food coming up.”
    While Frankie scooped food into the cat’s dish, her mind went over her strange conversations with deputies Pritney and Rollins. Where Pritney had brushed her off, Rollins had sounded concerned—like he was taking her seriously. That was at least worth something.
    Even though she’d gone through her can counting ritual for the day, she felt compelled to repeat it. With guilt and self-censoring thoughts leapfrogging through her mind, she touched each can, package and box three times. She added a few more times for good measure, until the tightness in her neck loosened and the agitation singing along her nerves calmed a bit.
    She put the kettle on, pulled a tin of tea from her pantry, and got a mug from the cupboard. The answering machine’s blinking light caught her attention. One blink.
    She pressed the playback button and listened to the recorded voice of her boss Pastor Dan reiterating kind words of sympathy and suggesting she take more time off if needed.
    She called the church office and expressed her gratitude for her boss’s offer, then called various choir members and instrumentalists to ensure the music would be covered for the next two Sunday services. Having one less thing to worry about, she heaved a sigh of relief.
    Frankie walked to the mailbox beside her driveway and pulled out today’s offerings. She sauntered back to the house, rifling through flyers and sales junk to find one piece of actual mail—a letter from Collette’s owner. She tore open the envelope.
    Short and direct, the letter said her friend had met and married his soul mate while passing through Jackson Hole. He was in love; life was short; blah, blah, blah. The words at the bottom of the page, however, got Frankie’s undivided attention: The cat is my gift to you. Enjoy.
    “Oh no you don’t.” Frankie punched a number into her phone. But after one ring, a recorded voice announced she had reached a non-working number.
    “Great.” She glared up at Collette, who was perched in her favorite spot on top of the new six-foot high bookcase in the den. “We need to come to an understanding, at least until I can find you a new home.”
    The cat returned Frankie’s gaze. Their eyes locked, and a struggle of wills ensued. Frankie was first to blink. “Don’t let that go to your head.” The memory of Mom Blatney’s scolding words hung in the air. “I make the rules. My house, my rules.”
    Collette licked her lipless chops, stretched, yawned and closed her eyes. The gentle rumble of kitty snoring filled the room.
    ****
    The next morning Frankie made a list of things she had to do to finalize her brother’s affairs. A self-professed minimalist, Tim had lived alone. And unlike so many people Frankie knew, Tim had shown no interest in acquiring what he called stuff . He didn’t own any of the latest electronic toys, even if he could have afforded them—which he couldn’t. At least not yet. Instead, he’d purchased a used laptop out of sheer necessity while in medical school, and only recently broken down and bought a prepaid cell phone. As a result, the to-do list was heartrendingly short.
    In the absence of a credit history at the time her brother moved into his apartment, Frankie had cosigned his lease agreement. She retrieved her copy of the document from her files and jotted down the number for his landlord.
    “I’m glad to hear from you,” the landlord said. “I was going to call you this afternoon. Sorry about Tim. He was a good tenant, always paid his rent on time.” The man cleared his throat. “When do you think you could come get his things?”
    “I guess I didn’t realize there was a rush.”
    “Technically, there’s not. Tim’s paid up through the end of this month. I told the police as much when they came and searched the place a few days ago. But I have a potential renter who wants to look it over this weekend.”
    “Of course you do.” Frankie struggled to keep her voice steady.