Philosophical.
Cats fed, litter boxes cleaned, laser lights jiggled on the walls, I headed to Kumar’s to stock up on stuff for the condo and have a gossip. He wasn’t there but I had a chat with Mrs. Kumar who was behind the counter with Mrs. Salim motionless on a stool behind her. I thought, but did not say, that they might do better business if it didn’t look like a mummy was propped up behind the cash register. Then I worried if God would strike me with lightening for such a thought.
I got my bits and pieces from Mrs. Kumar and headed to Ally’s.
She made me coffee and gave me more ibuprofen.
“I know about the dead guy. Dad called Mom, Mom called me. You okay?” she asked.
“I’m getting tired of this.”
“I bet.”
“What are you doing today?” I asked.
“Laying low, I got a shift tonight.”
Ally now worked at My Brother’s Bar down by Platte River. They’d been around long enough for the wooden tables and walls to look weathered and worn, they had the best bar food in Denver, members of the symphony hung out there after performances and they pulled an excellent pint of Guinness.
“I was beginning to think you’d quit,” I told her.
“No, had a shift the night you got kidnapped but apparently it’s cool to call off when your best friend is being held hostage.”
“Good to know.”
She offered a manicure and pedicure and I took her up on it. I returned the favor by washing and styling her hair. I would have gone to beauty school if I hadn’t inherited Fortnum’s. Since I’d hit teenage status, I always gave good hair. With Ally, it wasn’t hard to give good hair, her hair was soft and thick with just enough wave, it never looked bad.
“How’re things with Lee?” she shouted over the hairdryer as I was roller brushing her hair.
“I’m totally freaking out,” I shouted back.
“I sensed that.” She was still shouting.
I turned off the hairdryer and looked at her. “He’s good at this stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Relationship stuff. He’s a natural. It’s weird, we’re new and we’re old. I can’t get my head around it.”
“He’s shit at relationship stuff. He’s only good at it because it’s you.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re shit at it too, but only because it was never him.”
Uh-oh, Ally was on her you-two-were-meant-for-each-other kick.
I turned the hairdryer back on, subject closed.
After visiting Ally, I went home, cleaned my house, went through my mail and watered my yard and flowers. Then I watered Tod and Stevie’s. Then I went to their front door and knocked.
Stevie answered then looked beyond me in case he could see a sniper.
“I watered your flowers,” I told him.
“That’s nice.”
“I’m sorry about last night.”