style="font-size:15px;"> “He was my great-uncle.”
“My condolences, Deputy. Your uncle was a good man.” Katz tucked his phone into the pocket of a plaid shirt that looked a lot like one Uncle Em used to wear. “And now I know where to find you if you don’t take care of my Mona.”
Vaughn scratched his jaw. Did the old man realize his words constituted a threat? When Katz’s mouth adopted a Clint Eastwood curl, Vaughn had his answer. But at least they’d gotten around to discussing Mona. Who was she? Katz’s wife? His daughter?
Hazel swatted Katz on the arm. “Lighten up, Larry. Mona’s a slut and you know it.”
“Enough,” Vaughn barked. “I need to see Mona. Now.”
Silence, until a hot breeze pushed past, and rattled Audrey Tweedy’s T-bone earrings. Wide-eyed, the five people facing him pointed.
Downward.
At the brown-and-black dog cozying up to the schnauzer.
Vaughn drew in a breath, held it until it burned then let it go. “Tell me what happened, Mr. Katz.”
“What always happens when Mona and Baby Blue get together. They try to—” Audrey Tweedy flushed a raw steak–red “—get together. You know.”
Yeah. He knew. Vaughn snapped his notepad closed and jammed it into his shirt pocket. Mona was in distress like Vaughn was in high heels.
“Mr. Katz,” he said evenly. “Would you like to arrange for a vet to examine Mona?”
“You mean Wilmer Fish? Who’s going to pay for that?”
“That would be your responsibility, sir. You can pursue compensation in court, but your failure to remove your dog from this situation won’t help your case.”
“Vaughn Fulton.” Hazel glared. “Are you trying to talk him into suing us?”
Katz held up a palm before anyone else could interrupt. “You mean they can’t be together? But they’re friends.”
“Friends with benefits.” June nodded earnestly.
Ivy Walker stumbled away from the group and slapped at her knees as if brushing off dirt. Vaughn saw her shoulders shake and knew exactly how she felt.
“You can’t have it both ways, Mr. Katz,” he said grimly. “You need to either keep Mona confined, or accept that if she comes across one of her...friends, they may...”
“Get busy,” Audrey Tweedy suggested.
Vaughn bared his teeth in thanks and turned back to Katz. “Has Mona been spayed?” When the old man nodded, he spread his hands. “Then maybe you should consider letting Mona be Mona.”
He spent another fifteen minutes admiring the photos June Catlett had taken for the Pets Are People, Too calendar they were putting together to raise money for the citizens’ center. Even Priscilla Mae, a former Lilac Queen, apparently—all righty, then—had a place in the lineup.
“How about your cat?” Hazel poked at his biceps. “Play your cards right and we’ll find a place for her, too.” She beamed at Ivy, who’d recovered from her coughing fit. “She just had kittens.”
“How sweet.” Ivy studied Vaughn with new respect. “How many did she have?”
“Three,” he said. “Two black, one gray. Want ’em?”
Ivy grinned. Vaughn sighed.
“Great idea, sis.” June patted her camera. “Not Franklin would make an adorable addition to the calendar. Let’s set up the shoot.”
Audrey fingered a T-bone. “Not Franklin?”
“We thought she was Franklin but she wasn’t,” Hazel explained.
Katz curled his lip. “For God’s sake, man. Name your cat.”
“She’s not my cat. And she can’t be in the calendar. She’s wearing a cast.”
“What happened? You kick her?”
Hazel glared at Katz. “He would never do a thing like that.”
“Know him that well, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, we do. When he was a child, he spent most of his summers right next door to us. So watch it, old man, or we’ll put you in a cast.”
Vaughn raised both hands, and his voice. “Nobody’s putting anybody in a cast.”
Katz grunted. “Wilmer Fish put your cat in a cast.”
“She’s not my—” Vaughn stopped and inhaled.
Ivy’s gaze gleamed with compassion. And mirth. “What’d Wilmer say?”
“Her leg’s broken. He figures she got hit by a car. She’ll heal, but she has to stay off the leg for two weeks.”
Ivy grimaced in sympathy. “You have her in a carrier?”
Vaughn nodded. He’d had to get one big enough for her and the kittens. Damn thing had cost him seventy bucks.
“We can still take a picture,” June said. “Casts can be sexy.”
“She’s right,” Hazel said.
Katz tugged at his sleeve and angled his wrist, showing Hazel a bandage on the meaty part of his palm.
“Put that thing away,” she told him. “I have a boyfriend.”
Audrey clamped her arms across her chest. “Please tell me you’re not sticking with a name like Not Franklin. What about the kittens? Will they be Not Tom, Not Dick and Not Harry?”
Vaughn fought to keep his lips in line. “I’m not planning on naming them. I’m not planning on keeping them.” When the crowd around him sucked in a collective breath, he took a step toward his cruiser. “I don’t do cats,” he muttered.
June blinked. “But you have four.”
Hazel tapped a finger against her grape jelly lips. “Don’t worry. We’ll name them for you.”
“I’m not worried,” he said.
But he was thinking he should be.
* * *
CHIN IN HAND, Lily glared at the spreadsheet the mayor had ordered her to update. Office supplies, gas, auto repair, training—he wanted current figures for every expense the sheriff’s department incurred. No doubt because he intended to find somewhere else to cut.
Only, there was nowhere else. They didn’t even have petty cash anymore.
The mayor was probably spending it on candy.
The
