Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction! (39 page)

“Yeah,
probably.  It’s probably in the papers this morning,” Bauser answered.

“Why?”
I asked.

“If
the fires were at various Lancaster County locations, it would be very unusual
if my senior burn victims lived near all the locations, right?” she frowned.

“Unusual,
but circumstantial,” Norman said thoughtfully.

“Besides,
it was probably just a fluke thing; probably some kids doing dare-you
mischief,” Bauser added.

Trixie
shook her head.  “You better hope so.  And you better hope your newly appointed
Detective Appletree doesn’t come to the same conclusion I do.”

“But
why would a bunch of old folks want to burn bags of doggie doo-doo inside
barbeques at a bunch of Buy-A-Lots?” I asked.

“Are
you kidding?  You should hear the way they go on.  Last night their major
complaint was that their four hour wait in the E.R. took less time than
checking out of a Buy-A-Lots.”

Ah.
Well, that was a good point.

The
doorbell rang. I thought about issuing a secret password, but I answered it
anyway.  It was Ethel and Ike, with Hansel and Gretel sporting another new
his-and-her matching bowtie and hair-bow accessories, this time in coordinating
fushcia and orange polka dots.

“We
thought we’d stop by and take you out to breakfast.  Ma and Aunt Muriel are on
their way over, too,” Ethel said.

I
hugged Ethel, above Gretel’s growls, and let them both inside.  They put the
Ratties down and Jim hopped over to greet them.

Ethel
sniffed.  “You’ve been cooking!”

“Just
breakfast kind of thingies,” I replied defensively.

She
went over and sniffed at Trixie’s plate.  And sighed.  “The good old faux Greek
omletey thing.” She sighed again.

Ike
rolled his eyes.  “You just had some bagels.  And a yogurt.  And a banana.  And
cereal.  And a not so mid-morning breakfast pastry snack,” he said.  Ethel
focused her newly acquired maternal death beam directly onto his forehead.  Ike
winced.  “Maybe we should feed her now.  After all, she’s eating for two.  Or a
litter.  Or something.”

We
went back into the living room, where Bauser and Norman and Jim tried to talk
me into cooking the steaks while Trixie tried to talk them into going to a beer
distributor and buying a case of anything but Krumpthf’s.

The
doorbell rang.  I went to answer it.  Forget the password idea. At this point I
needed a toll booth.

There
stood Vito with a bandaged nose, holding a small, snarling terrier in front of
him.  “Thmanks, Twoots,” he said nasally.  “I whud of yuthed my key, but got my
awms full here.”

I
looked at Vito, who was smiling ear to ear.  I looked at Stanley, who was
baring fangs from ear to ear.  I kept the storm door closed.

“Uh,
sure. Uh, just a minute, huh, Vito?”  I said, making sure Vinnie was still in
the basement.  I gave Bauser and Ethel the high sign.  “Uh, you might want to
hold onto the pooches for a few minutes,” I said.  While I appreciated Vito’s
Swiffering, I really didn’t want too much blood on my kitchen floor.

I
went back down the hall and let Vito and the rabid looking terrier inside.  
Vito put the dog down, who immediately seized Vito’s trouser leg between his
jaws and began snarling and pulling.

Vito
shrugged.  “I thwink he’th a widdle upset about gedding put in duh pound,” he
said.

 “Are
you sure this is the same dog?” I asked.

Vito
nodded.  “Him wath vewy, vewy good to Tatchi, whathn’t him?” he asked Stanley’s third person.  Stanley growled back at him from his trouser cuff and shook it
vigorously up and down.  Vito shrugged.  “We wuth fine until we got inside the
cawh.  Then he godda widdle exciteable,” he explained.  “I think he thwinks car
wides are bad things now, poor bubby.”

He
stooped down to pet the terrier.   Stanley snarled back.   Vito snatched his
hand away and put it in his pocket.

“Did
he do that to you nose?”

“Yeah,”
Vito sighed.  “I thwink he did not wike his wabbies shot,” Vito said.  “Good
thwing I had sample gauz pads and tape wid me.”

I
shook my head.  Stanley growled some more.

“Can
you whatch him sos I can ged set up at home for him?” Vito asked.

“I
could, if you could detach him from you. And if he doesn’t bite.”

Stanley
wagged his tail at me.  Then he
looked up at Vito and growled and chewed on his pant leg some more.

“Thur,
thur, thur, Twoots,” Vito said.  “Him will be a good ogey-wogey.” He bent down,
patted Stanley’s head and put the leash to his collar.  “Just take the weash
and walk him inthide,” he directed.

I
took the lead and really wished I was wearing something more than slippers and
my bath robe.  I pulled gently and started to walk toward the kitchen.  Stanley looked up, stopped snarling and trotted over and sat pretty for me.

“Thee?”
Vito said.  “He just hath a widdle grudge.  He’ll ged over it.”

And
he went back out the door to get Stanley’s supplies from his car, gingerly
fingering his nose.

I
looked at Stanley and shrugged.  “Maybe you’re just hungry?” I asked the
terrible terrier.  He yipped a yes, and we went into the kitchen to join the
rest of the crowd and scrounge up some goodies for him, too.

After
a bowl of instant oatmeal and some deli roast beef, Stanley was a far less
terrifying terrier.  Vito came back over and sat on the sofa, with Stanley panting happily by his side, and nuzzling, not nipping, at his hand.  I’d finally
made it back upstairs, while everyone else kibitzed, to put some clothes on and
brush my now strangely dried hair.

The
doorbell rang, and I heard Vito and Stanley answer it.  “Well, hi there,
Muwiel!” Vito shouted above Stanley’s yaps and Jim’s baying.   Hansel and
Gretel yipped the chorus.

“Nice
to see you, too, Vito,” Aunt Muriel shouted back.

“How’s
it going Lou-weese?”

“GREAT,
THANKS,” Ma hollered back.

I
sighed and joined the din.

“Well,
dear, we didn’t think we were interrupting anything,” Aunt Muriel said.  “We
thought we’d all go to breakfast, before Ethel and Ike go back home today.”

“We’re
going to the Canine Cafe,” Ethel said, smiling.  She looked around at my pals. 
“Your friends can bring Jim and Stanley, too.”

“Ah’d
wuv too, Twoots,” Vito said.  “Bud I dunno about Thanley gedding bag inthide a
cawh any time thoon,” he added.  I nodded.  Bauser and Norman grimaced.

Trixie
yawned.  “I’ve had enough breakfasts for one day, thanks,” she said.  “And
actually it’s time for me to get some shut eye.  Especially working these
vampire hours they got me on.”

Vito
waved bye-bye to the rest of us and took Stanley back to his new forever home. 
Trixie beeped her Jeep goodbye at us as she sped down the street.  I let Vinnie
back up to tell him the coast was clear.

I
stood in the driveway, contemplating the consequences of sitting the backseat
with the Ratties, versus sitting in the backseat of Auntie’s Lexus and getting
lectured about paint swatches.  So I wound up in the backseat of Bauser’s car
with Jim on my lap.

The
last breakfast was nice, too.  We all had our assorted pancakes, breads,
omelets, layered bagels and fruit salads arranged in front of us.  Hansel and
Gretel and Jim dove into their Doggie Ice – a sort of ice cream for doggies
that I’m pretty sure is mostly frozen lard.

Afterward,  
Ike and Bauser gave Hansel and Gretel and Jim their walks before their
respective car rides to their respective homes.  And Ethel took her fourth
potty break.  Then, we all made sure Hansel and Gretel were strapped into their
puppy protective car straps correctly, and waved bye-bye.  Ethel and Ike pulled
out of the Canine Cafe parking lot and out of my current tense.  I sniffed.  I
always miss my sister before she’s gone.  Jim pawed my butt in sympathy, then
fell over.

I
tumbled back into the back seat of Bauser’s car with Jim, where my eyes watered
a little.

“You
and your sister are really, tight, huh?” Norman asked.

“Yeah,”
I answered.  “And Jim should never, ever have Doggie Ice again.  Phew!”

It
took a few minutes with the windows rolled the entire way down – and my hair
looking slightly more Bellevue than I’d wished – for Jim’s aromas to dissipate.

Heading
back down Orange Street, I asked Bauser, “Hey, you think you could drop me off
at the parking garage? I still need to get my car.”

“Sure,
I can drive you up, if you want,” he said.

“It’s
okay, you really don’t need to,” I replied.

“Yes
he does,” Norman chimed.

“Why?”

“Your
car’s been parked for a few days now, and you don’t own an active EEJIT card
pass anymore.  But you do have an affluent friend to ransom your car back for
you,” he said.

I
then realized I probably owed close to a hundred bucks for several days of
parking, which I probably couldn’t blame on snow emergencies.  Yeesh. 
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it.

We
drove up to the top level, where I’d left my car parked near Bauser’s usual
rooftop spot.  But as we got within sight we noticed some security guards and
police cars huddled around my van.  Along with the ‘new’ Detective Appletree. 
I groaned and slid back down in the backseat next to Jim, poots or no poots.

Appletree
walked over and leaned in the window. Then he backed away, waving at Jim’s
fumes with his hand.   “Hi, Mina,” he said, about two feet from the Aspire,
with a handkerchief over his nose. “Was wondering when you’d show up.  Not like
you to leave your van like this, right?”

I
sighed.  “Nope; didn’t have my keys after my purse, uh, didn’t get stolen,” I
said, and rubbed at the twinge that was tapping inside my shoulder.

Appletree
sighed.  “C’mon out. I think you’d better take a look at this.”

Bauser
cut the engine and we all climbed out.  Appletree led me over to the Doo-doo. 
He pointed to a broken window at the backseat.

“Oh,
great,” I muttered.  Why is it when the Unemployment Fairy visits, she dumps
expensive accidents on you, too?

Appletree
shook his head.  “Not just the broken window.  Look inside.”

I
peered in and saw what looked like hundreds of neatly folded, filled brown
lunch bags, wrapped up and piled high on the seats and even in the way back,
along with a small container of gasoline.  And rags. And fireplace matches. 
And a plastic recycle carton full of glass coke bottles.

With
the broken window open, the stench of cooking doggie poop was unmistakable. 
Norman and Bauser looked in and held their noses.

“Look,
I was nowhere near this van until just now,” I started.   Appletree waved me
off.

“Relax;
you’re not a suspect.  Knowing you, if you tried to be an arsonist, you’d set
yourself on fire.” He pulled a smile.  I looked back at him flatly.  “And
besides, whoever put this stuff in here broke your window to get into your
car.  It’s not exactly like anybody would break into an old van to steal doggie
poop out of it. And it also looks like somebody was getting ready to barbeque
your van.”

Appletree
pointed beneath the van.  I knelt down and peered. Several waiting Coke
bottles, filled with gasoline and stuffed with rags stared back at me.  This I
did not like.  I don’t like the Doo-doo, but she’s mine.  It wasn’t fair that
someone would break in and put doo-doo in the Doo-doo.   The thought of someone
torching it – for whatever reason – was akin to pet abuse.

“We’d
like to tow your van back to the station, and get it dusted for fingerprints. 
It’s going to take some time.  Your car insurance should pay for a rental.”

Car
insurance.  Great.  When you’re driving a 1996 Dodge Caravan, you pretty much
don’t have a two-hundred and fifty dollar deductible.  Try, like, twenty-five
hundred.  So now I’d get to treat myself an early Christmas present of a new
window and a rental car.

My
butt twinged and I rubbed at it absentmindedly.  Appletree blushed.  “Hey,
maybe you wanna sit down or something?  Or have some, uh, time to yourself?”

I
nodded and sat down on the hot floor of the parking garage roof.  Jim sat next
to me.

“Here’s
my card with my new contact information,” he said, handing me a rather official
police detective business card.  “You call me Friday afternoon and I’ll be able
to let you know when you can pick up your car.  You’ll need your I.D. with
you.”

I
nodded, took his card, and itched my butt with it before throwing it in my
purse.  Appletree shook his head. Bauser and Norman shrugged.  They picked me
up off the ground and packed me back inside the backseat with Jim and we headed
back toward my house.

The
drive back was quiet.  I was deeply immersed in not irritating the little black
cloud that kept floating serenely over my life.