Authors: Janet Evanovich
We were all jumping around, trying to catch the cat, trying to avoid the flaming tail. The Lab slid into a table leg and yelped, Diesel grabbed the cat and dumped a quart of orange juice on him, and I slapped out a burning placemat.
"Hard to believe someone would think you were boring," Diesel said to Charlene.
"Somethings wrong with Blackie," the red-haired kid said, looking under the table at the Lab. "He's making whiny sounds and holding his leg funny."
We all looked at Blackie. He was for sure holding his leg funny.
"How bad is the cat?" I asked Diesel.
"Could be worse," Diesel said. "He barbecued the tip of his tail, but the rest of him looks okay. Hard to tell, being that he's soaked in orange juice."
Charlene wrapped a towel around the cat. "Poor kitty."
The twelve-year-old and ten-year-old ran into the kitchen.
"What's happening?" the twelve-year-old asked.
"Kitty set hisself on fire, and Blackie broke his leg," the red-haired kid said.
"Bummer," the twelve-year-old said. And he and his brother turned and went back upstairs. As if this happened every day.
"Where am I going to find a vet at this hour on a Saturday?" Charlene said. "I'm going to have to go to the emergency clinic. It's going to cost me a fortune."
"I know someone who'll help us," I told her. "I have his number in my car."
Charlene cradled the cat close to her and grabbed her purse off the counter. "Get your coat and hat," she said to the red-haired kid. "And round up your brothers. Everyone out to the van."
Diesel scooped the Lab off the floor and carried him to the door. "Think Blackie could stand to lay off the chow," Diesel said. "This dog weighs a ton."
"He could use a bigger yard," Charlene said. "He never gets to run. He appeared on our front porch in the middle of a snowstorm two years ago and just never left."
The four kids trooped out and got into the van, and I ran to my car for Gary Martin's folder. Diesel locked the house and eased himself into the van with Blackie on his lap, front leg dangling loose. Charlene was in the passenger seat with Kitty still wrapped in the towel. I slid behind the wheel and called Gary Martin on my cell.
"I have an emergency," I told him. "A cat with a barbecued tail and a dog with a broken leg. And I talked to Loretta, but that's a whole other story."
"Is it a sad story?"
"Yeah. The story isn't good."
"My office doesn't open until ten today," Martin said, "but I can come in early. I'll be there in a half hour."
I transferred Bob from the Escape to the rear seat in the soccer-mom van, introduced him to everyone, and took my place behind the wheel.
"Who's the big guy holding Blackie?" the youngest kid asked at the first light.
"His name is Diesel," Charlene said. "Be polite."
"Diesel," the kid repeated. "I never heard of anyone named Diesel."
"Diesel's a train," one of the other kids said.
I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could check Diesel out. Our eyes met and caught for a moment. I couldn't see his mouth, but the little crinkle lines around his eyes told me he was smiling. The Klingers were amusing him.
Lights were on in the clinic when I pulled into the lot. Sary Martin had arrived just in front of us. He still had his coat and hat on when we all swooped in.
"This is Charlene Klinger," I said to Martin. "She's mom to Kitty and Blackie and the four kids."
Charlene introduced the kids. "Junior, Ralph, Ernie, Russell."
Martin looked at Diesel.
"He's with me," I said. "He's the dog-toter."
"I should probably run some film of Blackie's leg, but I don't have an assistant until ten," Martin said.
"I can help," Charlene said. "I've got four kids, three cats, two dogs, a rabbit, and twelve hamsters. I've taped up split lips, delivered kittens, breast-fed four boys, and once we raised chickens from eggs for Ernie's science project."
"The chickens pooped all over the house," Ralph said.
Martin unwrapped the cat enough to look at its tail. "The tail doesn't look too bad," he said. "Mostly he's lost hair, and he's singed the tip. Why is he so sticky?"
"Diesel put the fire out with orange juice," Ralph told him. "It was awesome."
"I need someone to take the cat to the big sink in the hack room and very gently wash the orange juice off him," Martin said. "And I need someone to hold Blackie while I run film."
"I can hold Blackie," Russell said. "This is pretty cool. I might want to be a vet someday. I bet you meet a lot of girls."
"I suppose," Martin said. "I'm not exactly the girl expert. I'm better with animals. Animals think I'm cute. Girls just think I'm bald."
"I think you're cute," Charlene said. "You're cuddly… like Fluffy."
"Who's Fluffy?" Martin asked.
"Our rabbit," Ralph said. "He weighs a thousand pounds."
"Everything in our house is overweight," Charlene said. "Except the kids."
Martin exchanged his jacket for a blue lab coat. "Maybe I could take a look at Fluffy someday and suggest a better diet."
"It's not just Fluffy," Ralph said. "We practically have a zoo. Mom takes all the rejects."
Gary Martin and Charlene Klinger were perfect for each other. He wanted kids, and she had a pack of them. They were the same age. They were both animal lovers. And he could doctor up Charlene's menagerie when they set them-selves on fire. Plus, Charlene Klinger and Gary Martin looked like they belonged together. They were a matched set. Far better than Gary Martin and Loretta What's-Her-Face.
"Do you make house calls?" I asked Martin. "I was thinking it might be better for you to go to Charlene's house to see her animals since she has so many. And since you'd be doing her a favor she could make dinner for you. I bet you hate to eat alone all the time… now that you're alone."
"Are you sure I'm alone?" Martin asked.
"Trust me, you're alone."
"I'd love to have you look at my animals," Charlene said, "but I don't know if you want to eat at my house. It gets real hectic at dinnertime."
"I had three sisters and two brothers," Martin said. "I'm good with hectic."
"Can you fix a toilet?" I asked him. "Can you cook?"
"Sure. You don't grow up in a house with three sisters and two brothers and one bathroom and not know something about toilets." Martin took Blackie from Diesel and headed for x-ray. "And I make a killer pork tenderloin. And I can make brownies."
I took Charlene aside. "Did you hear that? He makes brownies."
"What the hell, I shave my legs anyway," Charlene said. "And he reminds me of Fluffy. I guess I could give it a shot. Do you think he's interested?"
"Of course he's interested," I said. "You're a domestic goddess. Just what he wants."
An hour later, Kitty had the end of his tail wrapped in white gauze, and Blackie had a cast on his front leg.
"It was really nice of you to come in early like this," Charlene said to Martin.
"Happy to be able to help," Martin said. "You have great kids. Russell was a terrific assistant."
"Maybe you could come over and check on Blackie and Kitty and Fluffy sometime," Charlene said.
"Sure," Martin said.
We all stood around, waiting. Gary Martin was slow picking up social cues.
After a long moment, Diesel slung an arm around Martin's shoulders. "Maybe you want to check out Charlene's rabbit tonight."
The lightbulb went on in Martin's head. "Tonight would be wonderful! I see my last patient at five o'clock, so I could come over around six."
"We're having pot roast tonight if you'd like to take a chance on dinner with us," Charlene said.
"Boy that would be fantastic. I'll bring dessert. I won't have time to make my brownies, but I'll stop at the bakery."
We got Charlene and her kids and animals back to their house, waved good-bye, and angled ourselves into my car.
Diesel gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. "Are we good, or what?" he said. "Cross two names off our list."
I answered my cell phone.
"Your sister is coming over for dinner tonight," my mother said. "I'm making lasagna, and I've got an ice-cream cake for dessert. I thought you would want to come."
"I think I might be working tonight."
"What, you can't take time out to eat? Everybody has to eat."
"Yes, but I have a partner—"
"There's always extra. Bring your partner. Is it Lula?"
"No."
"Is it Ranger?"
"No."
"Who is it?"
"Diesel."
Silence.
"From that Christmas where our tree burned up?" my mother finally asked.
"Yeah."
I imagined her making the sign of the cross.
"What are you doing with Diesel?" she asked. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
It was midmorning and clouds were creeping in above us. We were in front of Jeanine Chans house, and we were reading her file,
"Not much here," Diesel said. "She's thirty-five. Single. Never been married. No kids. She works at the button factory. File says she has a problem."
Jeanine lived in a single-story, low-rent row house about a quarter mile from my parents' house in the Burg. There were twenty-one units to a block. They were all redbrick. Front doors opened to small stoops that were directly on the sidewalk. Back doors opened to tiny yards that bordered an alley. Two bedrooms, one bath, small eat-in kitchen. No garages. All the units were identical.
I rang the bell twice, the door opened a crack, and Jeanine looked out. "Yes?" she asked.
"We're looking for Jeanine Chan," I said.
"I'm Jeanine."
She was maybe an inch shorter than me. She had brown almond-shaped eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair.
She was slim and dressed in a gray shapeless sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.
I introduced myself, and then I introduced Diesel.
Jeanine's eyes sort of glazed over when she saw Diesel.
"Annie suggested you might have a problem," I said to Jeanine.
"Who, me?" Jeanine said. "Nope. Not me. Everything's just fine. Hope this wasn't too inconvenient. I have to go now." And she slammed and locked the door.
"That was easy," Diesel said.
"We didn't solve her problem."
"So?"
"So you're paying me to close the deal, and that wasn't closing the deal. Besides, I'm starting to like this matchmaker thing. It's a challenge."