“Maybe she’s still asleep,” I said. “The seasons are changing and that can affect cats’ appetites and their need for sleep. Don’t worry about it, she’ll eat when she’s ready.” He nodded and helped Miranda set the table. As Joe and I dished up breakfast, I asked them, “What are your plans for the day?”
Randa shrugged. “Library. I’ve got a lot of homework and I need to do some research.”
I nodded. “And you?” I asked Kip.
He sighed. “I thought I might go with Randa, if she doesn’t mind.”
I stared at him, as did Randa. The library? Kipling?
He must have noticed the startled looks because he added, “I need to check out a book on basic HTML for the computer club. We’re learnin’ how to write code and our advisor told us to get a book on it. They cost like forty dollars or more and I thought you wouldn’t want to buy it for me.”
Randa gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah, right. You’re probably trying to learn how to become a hacker, aren’t you? Well, if you want to go with me, you can help me do the dishes this morning. The library doesn’t open until eleven, so we’ve got a couple hours before we need to leave.”
When Kip had first signed up for the summer computer camp offered by the Chiqetaw Community Center, I’d been amazed by how willingly he learned the material. Now he was applying that knowledge in school, for which I was grateful. However, I’d had the same sneaking suspicion that Randa voiced, though I wasn’t about to say so aloud. Chances being what they were, if Kip could manage to get himself in trouble, he would. My son’s sense of judgment was notoriously poor and he wasn’t too swift in the think-first category. I comforted myself with the thought that at least he was taking an interest in school.
“Tell you what. See if you can find it at the library. If you can’t, check the used bookstores. Then, if you still can’t find a copy of it, I’ll order it from Barnes & Noble, on condition that you stay in the computer club until at least spring break. Okay?”
“Okey-dokey.” He gave me a happy nod and turned back to his breakfast.
“By the way, if either of you decides to run off after the library, be sure to call and leave me a message. Where, why, and when you’ll be home. And Kip, remember: No going over to Sly’s. You know the rules.”
Unless it was during schooltime, he’d been banned from hanging out with Sly, his best friend. I hated playing bad cop, but a couple of months ago the troubled youth had encouraged Kip to take part in what was essentially a scam. That had been the last straw. After giving Sly chance after chance, I finally had to face facts. The kid wasn’t going to change, his parents didn’t care, and I couldn’t count on my son’s common sense. So I’d limited the amount of time they were allowed to spend together.
Sly’s mother had been no help when I’d approached her about the attempted scam, telling me to “mind your own fucking business and take care of your own damned kid.”
As sorry as I felt for the youngster, I had to put my son first. Kip had finally resigned himself to my decision, but he was prone to forgetting whatever he didn’t want to remember, so I reinforced the reminder at least once a week.
He grimaced, but said nothing; both he and Miranda knew my stance on whining. “Can I—”
“May I.”
“May I have more eggs?”
Joe pushed himself back from the table and bowed. “Of course, Monsieur Kipling. Any other requests? Chef Joseph at your service.”
Randa and Kip giggled while I stared at my plate, deciding whether I had room left for any more. The caffeine was working through my system and I was starting to wake up. A little rumble told me that I could stand another serving of scrambled eggs. “I’m with Kip. Bring it on, babe.”
Joe snorted. “Your pleasure is my pleasure, Madame. Randa? You want anything else?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I’m going to go finish my chores before we head off to the library. Kip, don’t forget—you’re helping me with the dishes.”
He nodded, his mouth full of cinnamon roll.
By the time the dishes were done and the kids out the door, it was almost eleven. Murray and Jimbo pulled into the driveway. They’d brought both their trucks so we could haul away the debris faster.
Anna Murray, my oldest friend, had been my room-mate at the University of Washington before she moved to Chiqetaw to accept a position on the police force. I’d married Roy and stayed in Seattle, my one huge mistake in life. Although, without Roy, I wouldn’t have Randa and Kip, so life with him hadn’t been a total loss—it had netted me the two most important people in the world. After we broke up, Murray encouraged me to move to Chiqetaw and start my own business. I never looked back.
Mur had recently been promoted to the post of head of detectives. Tall, regal, Native American, she was buxom, with long, straight black hair that she wore caught back in a braid, and she possessed a grace I could never hope to match.
Jimbo, her boyfriend, was an old biker who built a life for himself out by Miner’s Lake, where he trapped small animals for fur, raised bees for honey, and picked up odd jobs here and there working on cars. They made an unlikely pair. He was a rebel, she was dedicated to keeping order, and yet somehow, they’d found love in the midst of their differences.
In fact, they’d started out on opposite sides of the law, when Jimbo threw a brick through my front room window early in the year. He’d later decided to play the good guy. I owed him big, even though he insisted the debt had been paid in full.
Mur gave me a hug and thumbed me toward her truck. “We brought some heavy tools to yank out the rest of those vines,” she said, hauling out what looked like a giant-sized set of pruning shears.
“Well, there’s been a development in our excavation. Did you know there used to be a house on that lot?”
“What? Really? Did you find something?”