Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons (7 page)

By the 1950s, land was selling again, but not to speculators. In a period of sane and responsible growth, shopping centers, housing developments, schools, churches, and condos went up, all intended for families and retirees seeking a pleasant life. Sarasota would not see another overwrought speculator-fueled boom until Myra Kreigle and her cohorts saw the opportunity to cheat people through fraudulent real estate deals. When I thought of what my grandfather would have had to say about Myra Kreigle, I had to grin. He was a man who could be persuaded to suffer fools, but not thieves. More than likely, he and Mr. Stern would have enjoyed each other’s company.

I pulled into Mr. Stern’s driveway that afternoon around the time retirees in Florida start crowding into restaurants for the Early Bird Specials. As I started up the walk, a three-woman cleaning crew came out the front door lugging a vacuum cleaner and a plastic basket holding supplies. The woman carrying the vacuum was young and obese and weeping. The other two were thin and older, and were murmuring comforting words to her. They passed by me with barely a look. I suspected that Mr. Stern had said something that had hurt the crying woman’s feelings.

Ruby opened the door with Opal balanced on her forearm. Mr. Stern stood behind her with Cheddar cradled in his good arm. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

Mr. Stern said, “If American GIs had stopped work every time they got upset, we’d all be speaking German.”

Ruby said, “She lost a baby last month. She got upset when she saw Opal.”

As if she understood what her mother had said, Opal’s bottom lip trembled and she wept for a minute. Ruby jiggled her and Opal hushed and closed her eyes. She probably thought it was the only way to stop being jiggled. I forced my arms to stay at my sides and not reach for her.

Mr. Stern said, “How do you know she lost a baby? Did she waste more time telling you about it?”

“I’ll finish the vacuuming, Granddad.”

Mr. Stern snorted and stalked off toward the kitchen. Exasperated, Ruby rolled her eyes and walked toward her bedroom, while Opal’s round eyes stared at me over Ruby’s shoulder.

I followed Mr. Stern to the kitchen where he took a seat at the bar and watched me shake dry food into Cheddar’s bowl.

He said, “Cheddar takes a chicken liver in his dinner. There’s a tub of them in the refrigerator. Don’t heat it. Just put it on top of the food.”

The contrast between the consideration Mr. Stern showed Cheddar and the lack of consideration he showed human beings was striking, but not shocking. Pets bring out the hidden goodness in the most hardened hearts, even if it’s only in tiny amounts.

I dropped a chicken liver in Cheddar’s dish, and Mr. Stern gave a nod of approval. Cheddar jumped on the food and gobbled it up while I washed his water bowl and filled it with fresh water. Mr. Stern’s gaze drifted toward a wine rack at the end of the kitchen counter.

I said, “Hard to use a corkscrew with one hand. Shall I open a bottle of wine for you?”

“A Shiraz would be nice.”

I opened a bottle of wine while Mr. Stern got himself a wineglass. I poured wine in his glass and left the bottle open in case he wanted more. Cheddar had finished his supper and was licking his paws, so I washed Cheddar’s food bowl and dried it while Mr. Stern sipped wine. Of the three occupants of the kitchen, Cheddar was the only one studiously not mentioning Ruby or Opal.

I got my grooming supplies and opened the french doors in the dining room. Cheddar came and stood on the threshold, half in and half out, peering into the garden as if he’d never seen it before.

I scooped him up, closed the door, and sat down in one of the deck chairs by the koi pond. Shorthairs don’t need daily combing, but they enjoy it and it helps keep loose hair from shedding on the furniture. I took out my slicker brush and combed his throat with the short strokes cats love, careful not to let the bristles dig into his skin, then quickly moved over his entire body. Cheddar gave an annoyed swish of his tail, so I went back to his throat to soothe him.

Mr. Stern came out holding a plastic cup filled with koi food. Stone-faced, he leaned over the pond and sprinkled food on the water’s surface as koi came swarming to the spot. He watched them gulp the floating food for a moment before he sat down in a deck chair.

He said, “Koi don’t have stomachs so they can’t eat much at one time. If they do, they’ll die.”

Cheddar and I watched a yellow butterfly sail over Mr. Stern’s head, then flit to a mound of lobelia.

He said, “Filtration is even more important than food. Koi can live for weeks without eating, but they’ll die in an hour in bad water.”

Cheddar jumped from my lap to the brick floor, then into Mr. Stern’s lap. Mr. Stern’s hand rose in automatic response and stroked Cheddar’s back. Cheddar reared on his back legs and put his front paws on Mr. Stern’s shoulders, nosing his chin and purring loudly. Mr. Stern’s lips threatened to smile.

Looking into Cheddar’s eyes, he said, “My daughter died when Ruby was in high school. Ovarian cancer. She was only forty. Beryl was her name. After that, Ruby lived with my wife and me, but I couldn’t control her. Drugs, bad crowd, all that. My wife died a year after Beryl. Broken heart, I think.”

Cheddar stretched his neck and ran the tip of his tongue across Mr. Stern’s chin. Mr. Stern smiled and bent to rub his nose against Cheddar’s forehead. Speaking directly to Cheddar, he said, “Ruby started hanging out with the witch next door. The two of them got thick as thieves. Ruby moved out, didn’t go to college, I didn’t see much of her. I don’t know how she came to be mixed up with that race car fellow, but she married him. At least she said she did, I never was sure if she was telling the truth.”

Cheddar tipped his head and rubbed the top of it against the underside of Mr. Stern’s chin. Mr. Stern’s lips pinched into a straight line as if he regretted letting Cheddar know how painful his thoughts were. “She came home when the baby was just a few weeks old. I don’t know if she left him or he left her. That’s when she brought Cheddar.”

I told myself to get up and walk away. I told myself I shouldn’t be listening to a man’s personal anguish, but my feet were rooted to the courtyard floor.

Still looking at Cheddar, he said, “She didn’t stay long. One day she just took Opal and went away. I don’t know where she’s been. I called that Zack fellow but he claimed he didn’t know where she was either.”

I said, “What about Ruby’s father?”

My voice seemed to startle him. “He was killed in Iraq.”

His voice quivered, and he turned his head away. Apparently, Mr. Stern felt he had lost a son as well as a wife and daughter.

I gathered my grooming supplies and stood up. It was time for me to go. The situation in this house was laced with legal, emotional, and familial complications that were way over my head. Ruby and Mr. Stern needed a good lawyer and a good family therapist, not the unavailing sympathy of a pet sitter.

I said, “Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

He shook his head, and I left quickly. We both pretended he didn’t have tears in his eyes.

9

In the kitchen, Ruby stood holding Opal and turning side to side. New parents always seem to think babies want to be jiggled or rocked or swayed. I’ll bet if they asked the babies, most of them would vote to stay still.

She said, “Opal’s teething, I think. She was awake most of the night.”

I went to the refrigerator and pushed the lever to release an ice cube into my hand, then folded the ice into a corner of a clean dish towel and smashed it with a cutting board.

I held out my arms and Ruby handed Opal to me as if she’d been waiting for me to work some kind of magic. With Opal cuddled close against my chest, I offered her the cold towel and her swollen gums seized on it like a baby bird grabbing a fat worm from its mother’s beak.

I brushed the downy blond sprouts on Opal’s head and breathed in the irresistible scent of clean baby skin. “When my little girl was teething, she liked to chew on cold things like this. A damp washcloth left in the freezer will work too.”

Ruby grinned at the way Opal was gnawing on the towel. “How old is your little girl?”

I felt the familiar reluctance to answer, coupled with an unwillingness to deny my child’s truth. “She was killed when she was three.”

“Oh, God. How did you stand it?”

“For a long time, I didn’t. I went crazy for a while. My husband was killed at the same time. It was almost four years ago. An old man hit the accelerator instead of the brake and crashed into them. It happened in a Publix parking lot, and for two years I couldn’t buy groceries at that store.”

Ruby’s eyes glistened. “I don’t think I could go on living if anything happened to Opal. I never knew how much you can
love
until I had her. It’s not like any other kind of love, not like loving a man or loving your parents or your friends. It’s like this little demanding person is your
breath,
and you’d die without it.”

Every time I talked to Ruby, I liked her more.

As if she understood that her mother was talking about her, Opal gave me a shy, gummy smile. There’s nothing in the world like a baby’s smile to make you feel better about the human race. Babies don’t smile to manipulate or ingratiate, they just smile because they come with a reservoir of smiles inside them and they pass them out with bounteous generosity. Opal’s smile made my heart expand. She truly was an adorable baby, and I wanted to hold her in my arms forever.

I said, “She has beautiful eyes.”

“She has Zack’s eyes. That dark blue that’s almost purple, and those long thick eyelashes.”

She reached for Opal, and Opal’s arms immediately turned toward the person she trusted most in all the world. I felt a momentary pain that I would never again see that look of absolute trust in my own child’s eyes.

Ruby said, “Granddad thinks Zack is low-life, but he doesn’t understand drag racing. Of course, Granddad thinks I’m low-life, too.”

“Actions speak louder than words. Your granddad left Opal’s crib set up in your old bedroom. That cancels out a lot of what he says.”

She half smiled. “I guess it does. I can’t remember Granddad ever telling me he loved me. I doubt he ever told my mother or grandmother he loved them, either, but I know he did. I think he just never learned how to show love, you know? That’s why I got Cheddar for him.”

“I thought Cheddar was your cat.”

She shook her head. “I told Granddad he was, but I got Cheddar at the Cat Depot so he could love something he couldn’t boss around.”

I grinned. “From what I’ve seen, Cheddar has trained him very well.”

“I lived with him and Granna after my mom died, and it was awful. If I was ten minutes late coming home, he acted like I’d been out whoring or shooting up heroin. If I didn’t get all As on my report card, he carried on like I was destined to live in a Dumpster. After Granna died, it got worse. If it hadn’t been for the woman next door, I would have gone crazy. Myra was the only person who believed in me, the only one who offered me a hand. Granddad never has forgiven her for it.”

Carefully, I said, “I saw a woman looking out the window next door when I was here this morning. Mr. Stern and I were in the courtyard and she was watching us.”

Ruby’s face tightened. “That’s Myra Kreigle. I’m sure you know who she is. I worked for Myra, and I’m a witness in her trial. I don’t want her to know I’m here.”

“But she’s the woman who was good to you?”

“She was good to me
then.
People can be good and bad, you know? Nobody’s all bad.”

I remembered the venomous hatred on Myra’s face as she looked down at me, and wasn’t sure I could believe Myra had a good side.

I said, “There were two women, actually. A young one and an older one. Does Myra have a daughter?”

She shook her head. “I was the closest thing she’s ever had to a daughter, and I didn’t last.”

Opal whimpered, and I handed over the towel with the cold, wet corner. But it had lost its appeal, so Ruby put her bent forefinger in Opal’s mouth to gum.

Ruby said, “When I was a senior in high school, Myra started paying me to solicit rich men. Not solicit like a hooker, but circulate at her investment parties, talk to them, make them feel like they were big important hotshots, like I was really blown away by a man with so much money. I would put my hand on their arm, you know, lean in to show some cleavage, tell them how Myra was making a lot of money for other men, make it sound like I was more impressed with those other men because they were making so much more money. And then I’d ask them why they weren’t letting Myra make them richer too, and offer to get them into her hottest investments. Most of them fell all over themselves getting in. It was funny, really, to see them scramble to impress me. Like they thought they were buying me when they gave Myra money.”

“Did you know how she made her money?”

She looked away. “Not at first. I still don’t know exactly how she did it, but over time she got careless about talking in front of me and I picked up little clues that her investment deal wasn’t what she claimed.”

She took a deep breath. “A lot of investors got money back, more than they’d put in. Every time a new person put money in, there was more money to pay out to the ones who wanted to collect their profits.”

“And the more you hustled them, the more new people invested.”

“Something like that.”

Opal whimpered and moved from Ruby’s finger to gnaw on her collarbone.

She said, “Until a few months ago, I’d never even heard the term
Ponzi scheme.
All I knew was that Myra paid me good money to go to her seminars and flirt with old rich men. I never slept with any of them, I never went out with any of them. Well, I did go out with some of them, but not anybody serious except Zack. I would have gone out with him even if he hadn’t put money in Myra’s investment trust.”

Okay, now I was beginning to get the picture. Zack was one of the pigeons Ruby had enticed into Myra’s trap.

“Did you ever tell Zack that Myra’s investment was a scam?”