The Telltale Turtle (The Pet Psychic Mysteries)

The
Telltale
Turtle

OTHER BOOKS BY JOYCE & JIM LAVENE

Swapping Paint

Hooked Up

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"THIS IS MARY CATHERINE Roberts, the pet psychic. You're live on Lite 102.5 WRSC in Wilmington, North Carolina. Tell me about your pet."

"Hi. My name is Albert. I listen to your show every day, Mary Catherine. I'm calling about my dog, Ginger. She's getting older and has started chewing on things. Her teeth are falling outthat's how bad it is! I'm desperate."

"Well, we know she has a problem, don't we? She wouldn't just pick up that habit. We have to figure out why she's chewing. She's trying to tell you something. Dogs want to do what we ask, ordinarily. What does she choose to chew?"

"Mostly my shoes. She won't leave them alone. If I hide them in the closet, she scratches on the door to get at them. If I accidentally leave a pair out, she chews them to shreds." "

I see. Do you walk her often? Besides the obligatory trip to the potty."

"I used to walk her several times a day when I worked for myself. But my new job keeps me busy for longer hours. I had to cut back. Now I only walk her once in the morning and once when I come home. Just until she goes; you know?"

"Dogs don't like change, Albert. None of us do. If you don't have time to walk her more often, hire someone to do it for you. Your dog needs some exercise. She's chewing your shoes because she knows you have to put them on to take her out. She wants your attention."

"Wow! That makes sense. I'll try it." Albert sounded relieved. "Thanks, Mary Catherine. You're a genius, like always."

"You're welcome. Good luck. Give my best to Ginger."

Mary Catherine looked at WRSC station manager, Colin Jamison, who stood outside the glass sound booth. He looked unusually stressed. That was saying a lot for a man who looked unusual when he wasn't stressed.

"Good job," he remarked absently when she stepped out of the glass box. "Your ratings are looking great this month, by the way."

"Thanks" Sometimes she wished she understood humans as well as she understood animals. She wouldn't have to ask ridiculous questions. "Is something wrong, Colin? You look a little under the weather."

He shrugged slender shoulders and adjusted his black wirerimmed glasses, which seemed to weigh heavily on his thin, sallow face. His curly brown hair was baby-fine above a high forehead and studious brown eyes. "I'm okay. I have a few family problems. But everything will work out. How's the clinic?"

"It's good. Too busy sometimes. But good. You should come down and volunteer for a few hours. You might like it."

He laughed uncomfortably, white teeth as even and straight as his childhood dentist could make them. "Wish I had time! You know my schedule."

"You're digging yourself an early grave." She flung her marmaladecolored Batik shawl flamboyantly across one shoulder. "You should take some time to relax."

"I would. But someone has to keep the sponsors happy." He glanced at the man in the sound booth who'd taken Mary Catherine's place at the microphone. "Jimmy won't do restaurant openings, even though he's a food critic. Stacey won't endorse her sponsor's hair-care products on the air even though she gives beauty tips"

"And I won't pitch Meaty Boy dog food. I know." She smiled at him. "I guess we're lucky to have you to keep it all together for us. You're a very talented man."

He tried to return her smile, but his pursed lips wouldn't turn up at the ends and he finally gave up. It made him look like he had a nervous tick. "You could do one small endorsement."

The enormous, orange-colored tabby cat who sat on the green vinyl chair meowed loudly and shook his head.

"Quiet, Baylor," she admonished. "Stay out of this. You aren't a dog."

"Wow!" Mindy Evans, Colin's fiancee, looked at the cat as she joined them. "How do you get him to do that anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a cat that's trained like him. I didn't even know you could train a cat. Every time I see it, I'm amazed."

"You mean sit in one place for an hour?" Mary Catherine smoothed Baylor's plush fur with an absent hand. "That's what cats do best. And he wants to be here with me."

"You tell him where to sit every day and he sits there." Mindy took Colin's arm and smiled at him. She was a perfect foil for him; pretty, blond, and mostly unconcerned about things. She was good at what she did and kept everyone on an even keel. She'd been at the station since Mary Catherine got there two years ago. "How do you do that?"

Before Mary Catherine could answer, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a gray Western-style suit and a matching Stetson pushed his way into the room. "There's my psychic angel! Mary Catherine, you're looking mighty fine today!"

She rolled her expressive, dark-blue eyes. She wasn't sure if it was the terrible cologne he splashed on with a heavy hand, his obnoxiously friendly attitude, or the fact that he'd made his money being the Marlboro man on TV for years. Whatever it was, Clinton "Buck" Maybelle irritated her. Just being in the room with him made her want to hit him with something.

Not a good sign, since most of her intimate relationships with men started out that way. She'd lost her fourth husband, George Roberts, only two years ago, just before she moved to Wilmington, North Carolina. She wasn't ready to go through all that again.