Marked Fur Murder (39 page)
Authors: Dixie Lyle
Ben extended both his wings and gave them an experimental flap. “I can, too! Thisâthis feels perfectly natural. In factâ”
And then he launched himself into the air.
“Waaaaahoooo!” he yelled. He soared up to around thirty feet, then went into a long, lazy circle around us and the serpent, which was watching this whole spectacle with a smug grin on its face. Okay, maybe that was projection on my part.
I looked over at Teresa. “Well? Why aren't you up there with him? I thought you were his instructor.”
She looked at me for a moment with those large, yellow eyes, and then she transformed back into her human shape. Naked, of course. “Then I have your blessing?”
I shrugged. “I have no problem with letting professionals do what they do best. He may have learned the shape-shifting trick, but I'm sure there's still a few things you could teach him. Just try to keep the naked thing to a minimum, all right?”
She nodded. “Thank you, Foxtrot. I promise you, I will impart to him as much wisdom as I can.” She paused. “With my clothes on.”
And then she shifted back to avian form and took off after him. They soared into the sky, got smaller and smaller, and then disappeared entirely. Off to Thunderspace, I guess.
I turned to the giant snake. “He's going to be able to change back, right?”
{Yessss.}
“Okay, just checking. I mean, I like birds and all, but that's not what I want to snuggle up to while watching a romcom and snarfing back popcorn. Plus, he's going to have a heck of a time making waffles like that.”
That was the total extent of the words I exchanged with the Rainbowed One. Twelve in all. Despite how they're often portrayed in popular media, snakes aren't all that talkative. Maybe things would have been different if I'd been hanging around an apple tree.
He didn't even say good-bye, just slithered off into the sunset. And by sunset I mean sort of northeast, toward the statue of the horse, but more to the left, kinda.
Eli flapped up and landed on a headstone. I wondered if I should knit him some sort of grave-cozy, so his little white crow-claws wouldn't be cold on the stone. Too bad I didn't knit.
“Well,” said Eli.
“Sideways it's a tunnel,” I replied absently. I was still staring after the disappearing giant snake.
“What?”
“Is that supposed to be relevant?” Eli sounded a little peeved.
“Just an observation,” I said. “Like,
Hey, you didn't get eaten by a huge snake
.”
“So you're just stating the obvious?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Obviously.”
There was no reply to that, so I didn't make one. After a moment, Eli cleared his throat and said, “So.”
“A needle pulling thread.”
“What'sâwill you please stop doing that?”
“Eventually. When I get tired of tormenting you.”
He flapped his way from one headstone to another. “Why would you want to torment me? And no, that isn't a rhetorical question.”
“Ask Whiskey.”
Whiskey and Tango had been observing this exchange mostly in silence.
“Well, Whiskey?” asked Eli. “And try not to reference tunnels or embroidery in your reply.”
[She was worried about you. Her initial thought when the serpent appeared and you were absent was that it had devoured you. Now that she knows it did not, she assumes that not only were you never in any danger, but you deliberately stayed away in order to let events progress to their inevitable conclusion.]
[I thought we were done with stating the obvious.]
“I'm sorry,” said Eli, “but I couldn't interfere. These things have certain protocols.”
“A simple heads-up would have been nice.”
“You might have warned him. And if we're going to have a Thunderbird on our side, I prefer one at the height of his abilities. So to speak.”
I sighed. “Yeah, fine. I get it, I do. So where's the Big S off to? Are we adding him to the roster of entities that like to hang around the Great Crossroads?”
“No, she's strictly a tourist. On her way back to Australia via the Dreamtime, I expect. Or maybe she'll take the scenic route and swim the Atlantic. I doubt she's in any hurry.”
I stretched and yawned. Only halfway through the day, and already I was exhausted. Time for more Irish breakfast tea, and possibly an intravenous drip to deliver it. “Okay, I guess that about wraps things up. Shame about Anna, but things more or less turned out all right. The Big Bad even turned out to be a good guyâer, galâinstead of a shape-shifting mind-controlling monster.”
Tango gave her furry head a shake.
“They are,” said Eli. “Why do you think I wanted Ben in full control of his powers?”
Whiskey, Tango, and I stared at him. He didn't say anything else, just took to the air and flew off.
a rhetorical question?>
asked Tango.
[I don't think so,] said Whiskey. [Remember that heads-up Foxtrot said would be nice? I think we just got oneâ¦]
I shrugged. “Or maybe it's just payback for me tormenting him. Either way, it doesn't matter. We're here, we're together, Ben is fine, the killer's in jail and it's a sunny, sunny day. Let's try to enjoy it, all right?”
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
But there was one last thing to take care of. Well, two, actually, but in a way they were kind of the same thing. It happened a few days later, after Ben had survived his first few lessons with Teresa and the guests had finally said their good-byes and the estate was back to what passes for normal around here.
Ben still hadn't spoken to ZZ.
He'd made her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and she'd eaten it. It had all been up to his usual standards, and she seemed perfectly satisfied.
But.
The atmosphere was different. There were things that needed to be said, on both sides, and neither one seemed to know how to say them. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Ben said as he took another slow, careful step forwardâslow and careful because he was blindfolded and I was leading him. “I know I did this to you on our first date, butâ”
“No buts, mister. All right, you can take the blindfold off.”
He did so, saying, “What's the big surprise? I really hope you're nakedâ”
“Hello, Ben,” ZZ said.
Ben stared at his boss. She looked back with eyes full of regret.
“Hello,” Ben said. “Um.” He looked around and saw where he was for the first time: in the graveyard, beside a brand-new headstone and the freshly turned earth of a new plot. “Well, this isn't what I expected. Why are weâoh.” He'd finally noticed the name on the headstone:
MARBLES.
“It's never too late to do the right thing,” ZZ said. “That's what I believe, anyway. It was Cooper's idea to put this headstone up, even though the grave is empty. Foxtrot got in touch with Marbles's former owner and told her we'd finally located the grave she'd been looking for. Do you know what she said?”
“I have no idea,” Ben said.
“She told me,” I said, “that she already knew that. She had a dream with a white crow in it, and he told her she was finally going to be able to say good-bye. In fact, I think I see them now.” I pointed. Two women came slowly over the hill, one dressed all in black. Mary and her caretaker.
Mary walked right up to the grave, more or less ignoring us. She reached into the black purse she carried and pulled out a small, very worn bag made of scraps of cloth sewn together.
A large white crow flapped its way over to a nearby gravestone. ZZ didn't see it, of course, and the rest of us pretended not to.
Mary carefully opened the drawstring of the bag. Then she upended it on the grave, spilling out dozens of brightly colored, highly polished marbles. They glinted in the bright sunshine like precious jewels.
“There,” Mary said. “Now you can play with these in heaven. I miss you, but the crow said you are happy. I'm not so sad now. Good-bye.”
Then she looked up, her face composed and serene, and looked directly at Eli. “Thank you,” she said.
“You're welcome,” Eli said.
At my feet, Whiskey whined, very softly. Tango, a few feet away and sitting on another grave, meowed once. They didn't say anything else, and they didn't have to.
Mary turned and walked away, her head held high. Her caretaker, after giving us a smile and a nod, walked after her.
“I'm sorry I hurt you,” ZZ said to Ben. “But I'm not sorry I hired you. You're the best damn chef I've ever encountered, and if and when you decide to move on, I will trumpet that fact to anyone who asks and many who don't.”
“Apology accepted,” Ben said. “Sometimes life just pushes us into corners and we have to do our best. Can't fault you for that.”
[Yes, you would.]
[Must you remind me? I'd almost convinced myself you were some kind of horrible hallucination on my part.]
I looked around at them my crazy, extended, dysfunctional family: ZZ, Ben, Tango, Whiskey, even Eli. I'd love them till the end.
And even after that.
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Don't miss these other novels in
Dixie Lyle
's Whiskey, Tango & Foxtrot series!
“Blends pet cemeteries, animal spirits, and a cast of zany human characters ⦠those who read paranormal mysteries will enjoy.”
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RT Book Reviews
A TASTE FUR MURDER
TO DIE FUR
Available from St. Martin's Paperbacks
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Dixie Lyle
loves animals, mysteries, books, reading, words, bad puns (are there any other kind?), and once had a torrid summer romance with an entire library. Did I mention the books? Oh, and definitely doesn't believe in the supernatural. Nope, not me. Hey, what was that sound? Where's that spooky green glow coming from? Oh, hello, didn't see you standing there in the corner, what with you being all see-through and everything. Want a cup of tea? Moan once for yes, twice for no.
Allegations that
Dixie Lyle
has a goofy sense of humor are entirely unfounded, and should be forwarded to the unfounded and unlost department. You can sign up for email updates
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IXIE
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YLE
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
MARKED FUR MURDER
Copyright © 2015 by Dixie Lyle.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
