Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (51 page)

C
HAPTER 17

(Saturday night into Sunday)

“Hi,
I hope
I didn’t
scare you,” Annie started, getting out of her chair and accidentally kicking a
Buddy Burger bag full of empty wrappers across the floor.  Marie screamed.  I
looked over and saw a piece of Buddy Burger bun shoved next to her seed cup. 
Well, that was nice.  At least Annie broke bread after breaking and entering.

“How’d
you get in here?” I asked incredulously.

Annie
shrugged.  “Skills of the trade,” she said ambiguously.  “I mean ex-trade.  I
quit.” She sniffed, and blew her nose into a Buddy Burger napkin.

“Oh
jeez, in this economy? Are you nuts?”

Vinnie
trilled next to me, and concurred by shaking his head up and down inside of the
Buddy Burger bag.  Marie shrieked and threw fluff up in the air.  It looked
like New Year’s Eve in Times Square but with cockatiel dandruff instead of
ticker tape confetti.  Yick.

I
picked Vinnie up and scooted him out of Marie’s room, his head still inside the
bag.

“Hey,
c’mon downstairs.  I really can’t let Vinnie hang out in Marie’s room,” I said,
blowing a path through the fluffed air in front of me.

“Agreed,”
Annie said, swatting the fluff in front of her face.

We
left Marie’s room, and trotted downstairs, Vinnie leading the way.  We walked
into the kitchen.

“You
want something? Soft drink? Coffee? Wine? Juice? Seltzer? Water?” I asked.  I
wasn’t sure of the appropriate protocol of offering hospitality to someone who
had just entered your home without permission, except for maybe Vito.

Annie
held out her half-full gallon cup of Buddy Burger Birch Beer.  “Thanks; I’m just
about floating away already,” she said.

I
picked up my Mug o’Merlot from the counter, and gestured for Annie to sit
down.  She sat at the dining room table.

“I
was thinking of quitting, anyway,” she began.  “The field work just makes me
feel dishonest and sneaky.  And the desk work leaves me completely bored.”

I
nodded with complete understanding.  “Sometimes jobs can be just like jobs,” I
said.

“I’ve
actually been thinking about this for a long time, and I’m going back to
school,” she said.

“Really?
But I thought you had a college degree?” I asked.  I didn’t know a lot about U.S. Marshals, but it would seem kind of odd if having some kind of degree in criminology
wouldn’t be a prerequisite.

“I
do,” Annie nodded.  “I was also the top of my class when I was in Basic
Training as a GS-0082 Deputy.  That’s seventeen and a half weeks of basic
training – otherwise known as Dante’s Other Ring.”

“Wow,
that’s impressive,” I said.  “So are you going to go into some kind of social
work?”

“In
a way. I’m going to become a veterinarian.  I got an offer to start as an
assistant vet tech from a great shelter in Utah.” I looked at her.  “You have
no idea how distressed I was about letting your Vinnie out accidentally,” she
said. “Which wouldn’t have happened at all, if I hadn’t been spying on Vito,”
she added.

I
shrugged.  “Yeah, but if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. 
And the someone else probably wouldn’t have gone to the extra lengths you did
to make sure Vinnie got home safe,” I said.

Annie
sighed.  “That’s what Mike said.  He doesn’t like my emotional involvement with
my cases. Anyway, I sent a resignation email to him while he was doing field
work today.  It’s timed to be delivered tomorrow morning – this morning – about
7 a.m..”

“Isn’t
that kind of sneaky?”

She
shrugged. “Comes with the territory, I guess. I’m supposed to be on assignment
until midnight tonight watching you and Vito, anyway.  Besides, if I gave it to
Mike in person, he would just talk me out of it again.  It’s a pretty big
decision.  Once you’re out, you’re out.  And it’s a big training loss for
them.”

“Again?”

Annie
sighed.  “I really haven’t been very happy in my work,” she replied.

 “So,
umm…. thanks for visiting.  But don’t you think you could have called?” I
asked.  Annie shook her head.

“Your
phone’s tapped,” she answered simply.

“MY
PHONE IS WHAAAT?”

Annie
shrugged.  “It’s done all the time really; no biggie,” she said.

I
hung my head.  I wondered how many CIA or FBI or whatever technicians were
chuckling at the mini-melodramas of my life.  Yikes.

“It’s
not like they listen to every word,” Annie assured me.  “There’s software that
monitors for buzz words, and if any of them are picked up, then a real human
person listens to the entire conversation,” she answered, as if reading my
mind.

I
sighed.

“So,
how come the visit then? Just to let us know you’ve quit?” I asked.  Annie
nodded.

“I
felt it was important to let you know I’m not ‘official’ anymore,” she said. 
“At least, in the next month or so I won’t be.  I probably will have to go
through some kind of debriefing period,” she mused.  “But before I’m officially
re-sworn to secrecy, I wanted to advise you – and Vito – to quit the
prescription sample gig. You really are nice people, even if you are a bunch of
screwballs.”

I
smiled. “Thanks.” Wow.  I guess I was fitting into Lancaster, after all.

“Besides,
I don’t think I could handle putting a gang of senior citizens in the pokey,”
she said.

I
nodded.  “As far as I know, Vito’s on it,” I assured her.

“Good,”
she said, “because there will be some new attendees at St. Bart’s services
tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

I
gulped.  “Yikes! What do we do?”

“Nothing. 
Except make sure everyone’s there and no one’s out on deliveries.  Especially
at Madam Phang’s,” Annie said.

“Madam
Phang’s gonna get busted?” I yelped.

Annie
shook her head.  “Nope.  Just sort of visited while nobody else is there,” she
said, sipping through her Buddy Burger Birch Beer straw.  Annie looked at her
watch.  “Okay, this is way past my bedtime.  And you have to pick up the brunch
platters and be at St. Bart’s by 9:00 a.m..”

She
got up, walked toward the door, and opened it.  Then she turned back.

“Remember,
your phone conversations are, umm… not exactly your own. So I wouldn’t make
any phone calls tonight, if I were you,” she said.

I
smacked myself on my virtual forehead, erased all thoughts of calling Auntie
and getting her moving on her church’s phone chain, and waved goodbye to Annie
from the front porch.

Annie
drove off at about 1 a.m.  I plodded over the driveway and rang Vito’s
doorbell.  There came the sound of Stanley yapping, then Vito’s footsteps
shuffling down the stairs.  The porch light came on.

Vito
stood, rubbing his eyes, with Stanly snarling and hanging on his PJ cuffs. 
“Whatsa matter, Toots?” he yawned.  “You need an emergency Swiffering?” he
asked matter-of-factly.

“In
a way,” I said, swatting at the moths collecting around Vito’s porch light. 
“Can I come in?”

“Sure,
sure, sure, Toots,” he said, dragging Stanley inside and opening the door for
me.

I
looked around.  This was the first time I had been in Vito’s house.  It was
pretty much nondescript, and pretty much what I expected.  Contractor painted
antique white walls and ceilings, with wall to wall beige carpeting. A decent
quality but oversized brown leather lounger in the living room.  There was also
a glass coffee table that was supported by a statue of a large resin polar bear
posed coyly on his back.  And the kitchen floor really was an orange and olive
green plaid.  Yikes.

We
chose not to talk in Vito’s kitchen.

I
sat down on the edge of the leather chair, careful not to stare directly into
the baby polar bear’s eyes.

“Cute,
huh?” Vito grinned.  “It was one of the few things the Feds let me bring with
me from my old life,” he said.  “Marie loved that table,” he added mistily.

I
lied and made a happy face and nodded.  Vito looked down at my feet.

“Hey,
what did you do? Walk home from New York?”

I
shook my head and handed Vito back his car keys, promising to give him the
details during a normal wakey time.  Then I filled Vito in about Annie and the
upcoming Sunday surveillance scenario.  That woke him up, and quickly.

He
nodded. “This is serious.”

Stanley
snarled from Vito’s tattered PJ
cuff. “Dość!” Vito commanded.  Stanley let go immediately, and hopped
onto the arm of my chair, next to me, nose height.  I got up.

“I’ll
take care of this, Toots; don’t you worry,” Vito assured me.  “You just act like
business as usual.”

I
agreed, left Vito’s and walked back across to my side of our homes.  I had my
hand on the front door knob to my house when I heard Vito’s garage door open,
and saw his car backing out quickly and quietly before heading down the street. 
I locked my front door and thunked my head against it.

I
was about to head upstairs when the phone rang.  My eyes rolled ceilingward of
their own volition while I answered.

“Sorry,
dear,” said Auntie.  “I thought you might still be awake.  I just wanted to
make sure you wore something appropriate for coffee hour tomorrow.”

“Appropriate
for delivering leftovers?” I asked.

“And
for serving, of course, dear,” Auntie answered.

 Oh. 
I hadn’t figured Auntie had volunteered me as a coffee hour server too, but I
should have.

“Okey
dokey,” I said.  I did a mental shrug.  I was going to be there anyway, right?

I
hung up, refilled my mug and went upstairs.  I made sure Marie got tucked in
properly.  Vinnie chattered away at me about how happy he was I was keeping his
hours now that I was unemployed, and how much better the daytime really is for
sleeping.   I washed my face, and filled the tub with cool water.  I sat on the
edge of the tub, soaked my mutilated tootsies and sipped my wine, convincing
myself that tomorrow was a new day.  Then I fell into bed.

Sunday
morning I woke up to the alarm radio blaring ‘Manic Monday’ and sat bolt
upright, petrified I’d slept through the church brunch thingy.  I bolted
upright smack into Vito, a mug of coffee and Vinnie all at the same time. 
Luckily the floor caught the brunt of the coffee.

Vinnie
and Vito shook themselves off.  I stared at them.

“Jeez,
Toots, it’s like you have post dramatic tress disorder,” Vito said, wiping at
the graffiti-like splotches of coffee across his once white shirt.

I
thought about my bad perms of days gone past.  Vito could be right.

Vinnie
trilled in agreement and wiped his paw on his forehead to clean off the
splatters of coffee he received.  His eyes brightened and got bigger.  Mental
note to self:  cats get decaf.

I
looked at the clock: it was six-thirty.  I drummed my fists and feet on the
bed.  I glared at Vito.

“I
had my alarm set for SEVEN-THIRTY!”

“That’s
what I figured,” Vito said, holding up an apologetic hand, “that’s why I’m
here.  I kinda overheard you.” I looked at Vito.  He handed me what was left of
my coffee.  “Here, drink this.  Squirrel Run Acres is out in the country like.”
I gulped at the coffee, and frowned at Vito.   “You don’t think you can just
goes in there and pick up brunch platters and all, without a little chit-chat,
right?” he asked.  I looked at him.  “Look, if it was a normal pickup, that was
paid for, you probably could. But this here’s a donation,” he explained.  “You
can’t just kinda eat and run, if you know what I mean.  You gotta be
complimentary about it.

I
hung my head.  “Got it. Right.  Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Hey,
why don’t you get yourself moving, and I’ll take care of Vinnie and Marie?” he
asked.  I looked at him.  “Feed and clean them. Sheesh.  You been watching too
much TV.” And he sauntered out.

Vinnie
shook a back leg at me in agreement while hopping off the bed to follow Vito.

“Traitor,”
I muttered.

Vinnie
called something back to me about slaggards and absentee breakfasts when he was
absolutely famished.  Well.

I
got up and found my feet were not very happy about starting the day either.  I
looked at them and surveyed the damage.  Ugh.  I heard Vito rummaging around in
the kitchen and promised myself again to change the locks on my doors.

I
showered and dressed quickly, opting for my white shirt from last night, black
pants and a pair of extremely worn but comfortable black Crocs.  I had to; they
were the only shoes that wouldn’t re-gnaw my feet.  Not exactly a fashion
statement, but I was only serving at church, not going out on a date, right?