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 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.
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