|
 Vendetta's
Victim
Chapter One: Anonymous Call
Cassidy
McCabe glared at the man in the terry cloth robe sitting
next to her in the new waterbed. "Zach, please, this is my
mother's engagement party. If you don't go, everyone'll
think you're an imaginary companion, like Harvey the
rabbit."
"Who
knows, maybe I am?" Zach searched through the Sunday Post
spread across the bed and pulled out the Chicago news
section. A calico kitten about the size of a large potato
attacked his hand. "Any luck finding homes for these
bite-sized monsters?" He plunked the calico into Cassidy's
lap on top of a sleeping black kitten, then raised the
newspaper. In profile his features were smooth and regular,
not particularly distinctive, although the fine dark hair,
olive skin, and recent scar across his left cheek added an
exotic touch.
Damn! I
really want him at the party.
Don't
nag. You've been living together almost two months and he
hasn't cheated on you, lost his job, or broken the law. The
man's got a right to say no. This from her proper behavior
voice, the one always on her case to do the right thing.
Usually, all it did was provoke her rebellious side, in this
instance an urge to rag at him some more, retaliate with an
onslaught of peevishness.
Cassidy
tore the paper out of his hands. "I hate it when you don't
listen. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or
anything. All I want is for you to go with me to a big deal
family event so that A) Mom and Gran will see that I really
do have a boyfriend, B) they won't think you're a major
jerk, and C) I don't have to face one more party on my own."
His smoky
eyes attentive, he replied, "A) I'm willing to meet your
family but not at a mob-scene party, B) sometimes I am a
major jerk but I've been trying to curb my innate male
tendencies, and C) what about homes for these three
house-wreckers?"
An orange
kitten crawled out from under the comics page, squawled
loudly, and pounced at the crumpled newspaper Cassidy had
grabbed away from Zach.
"Why are
you being so difficult?" Who's difficult? Up till now you've
manipulated your butt off to keep your mother and Zach
apart. Afraid one session with Mom'd send him running for
cover.
Yeah, but
going to Mom's engagement party with no boyfriend is too
humiliating.
He laid a
swarthy hand on top of hers. "I hate parties is all. There's
no way out of all the meetings and press conferences, but
I'm not about to spend my night off making small talk with
strangers."
Don't
like parties any better than he does. Maybe I could duck--
Right.
And feel guilty for the rest of your life.
The phone
on Zach's side of the bed rang. His mouth clamped into a
frown. "I was hoping for a quiet Sunday morning." A call on
his line usually meant going out to cover a story, then
writing it up for the Post.
"Moran
here." Brief pause. He handed the phone to her.
Cassidy
cocked her head in surprise. "Hello?"
The
silence went on so long she thought it was going to be a
hang-up, but finally a woman's voice responded. "Is this
Miss McCabe?"
"That's
right." Cassidy clicked into her therapist mode. "What can I
do for you?"
"You're a
psychologist or something?" The voice was tentative and
slightly nasal.
"A social
worker actually, but I am a therapist. Are you interested in
counseling?" Not a telemarketer, that's for sure.
"I got a
letter. From Cliff." The pause was loaded with question
marks. The caller seemed to expect some kind of explanation.
"Cliff? I
don't believe I know who you mean." She tiptoed with her
words, certain the line would go dead if she made one false
move.
"I
thought he was a client of yours. At least, that's what he
said in the letter." The woman sounded frightened. "I almost
got the idea you were involved in this."
The
muscles in back of Cassidy's neck tightened. In a gentle
voice, she asked, "Could you tell me something about this
letter?"
Another
pause. "Why would he say I should see you?"
This is
not your garden variety referral. "I wish I had an answer,
but I'm as puzzled as you are." The calico began climbing
the front of her ancient flannel robe, pulling threads at
every step. She had dug the faded plaid robe out of the back
of her closet to wear until the kittens were gone.
"I don't
understand." The caller sniffled softly.
"Maybe if
you explain a little more we can figure it out together."
"No, I
can't." Panic in her voice. "For all I know, you could be
working with him. Out to hurt people too." The quiet click
of the receiver going down.
Hurt
people? Oh shit, what is this?
Zach's
eyes narrowed. "Who was it? How'd she get my number?"
Cassidy
pulled in a deep breath. Should I tell him? A still-pending
complaint had been filed against her because she had once
spilled client information that ended up in a story he had
written for the Post. This woman's not a client. Besides, I
need help figuring it out.
She
recounted what the caller had said. "I didn't give out your
unlisted number, and I've never had a client named Cliff. I
don't believe I've ever even met anyone by that name."
"You
remember the names of all your clients?" His voice
skeptical.
"You know
I've only been in practice four years and I haven't had that
many males. I'm certain there weren't any Cliffs. And even
if there were, what's this business about hurting people?"
She pushed bushy auburn hair back from her face. "And how'd
she get your number?"
"I've
passed it along to a lot of people. But the rest of it ....
" He scratched his jaw. "I don't know."
Giving
her head a brisk shake, she tried to throw off the mood.
"Probably just a crank. Therapists get some weird calls."
She heard
paws plodding up the oak staircase outside the bedroom.
Starshine, a gaunt calico with swollen nipples dragging
nearly to the floor, trudged into the room. Since the cat
was licking her chops, Cassidy assumed she had just finished
stoking up in the kitchen below. Flopping down in the open
space between the waterbed and Cassidy's desk, the calico
cooed, calling her babes. All three kittens raced to the
side of the bed, poised like Olympic divers, then made a
giant leap to the floor. They swarmed over to Starshine,
wrestled and clawed for nipples, then settled down to lunch.
From the
bed Cassidy had a clear view through the north facing
window, one of two tall windows that bracketed her corner
desk. Bright light glinted off ice-covered branches. Glad
Zach didn't have to go running off to work. The waterbed
he'd bought because he hated her old mattress made a snug
cocoon. The kittens, who climbed on top of each other at nap
time, had the right idea. She'd slept alone for three years
between her divorce and Zach's move-in, and now it felt good
to rub up against a warm body at night, even if the body
belonged to a man who refused to accompany her to her
mother's party.
She
wiggled her toes against his leg beneath the new burgundy
comforter he'd bought to go with the bed. "I've finally
thought of names for the munchkins. 'Calvin' for the black
kitten, 'Hobbes' for the orange kitten, and the calico's
going to be 'Sylvia.' You know, after the cartoon
characters. You remember that 'Calvin and Hobbes' strip from
a couple of years ago?"
He
straightened the newspaper she'd crumpled when she grabbed
it away from him. "Why names? You said kittens leave home at
two months. It's already halfway through January, so where
are those surrogate mommies of good character and sound
family values you promised to find?"
"Don't
worry, I've got some people in mind."
The
contented buzz of several bodies vibrating in unison rose
from the catpile on the floor. |
