“No,” Dick said, “she became claustrophobic when she was in the casket with the body of an old woman.”

  Rex froze for a minute then shook his head. “What?”

  “Different story,” I said. “And probably one I don’t want to relive. Actually, can we change the subject? Rex, how’s renewable energy grid thingy coming?”

  “In a minute.” His brows had pulled in tight like he was doing an internal review of all my life events he’d been privy to.

  I thought he might just rename me Calamity Jane, and here I had kinda liked that he called me Slick.

  “I still want to know what happened in that car.”

  “So Bobbi Jax is belted in the car,” Kay picked up her story. “Sprat had gone off to check on the situation at the house. Inside the car, a computer dinged every time someone posted a message from the control center. Ding, ding, ding, ding.”

  “That there would be like Chinese water torture,” Delight said.

  “Exactly.” I slapped a couple of napkins on the bar in front of my newly arrived patrons. “What can I get you, folks?”

  “Beers,” the guy said.

  I started reciting our offerings as Kay continued.

  “Up at the house, the woman wasn’t opening her doors. The husband gave the first responders permission to break in over the phone. Sprat called in the ambulance and fire trucks that were staged just down the road. They came blazing up the road, lights flashing as they parked along the road. The police car was surrounded by flashing lights from the front and back on both sides of the road.

  “Lots of lights flashing,” Delight said, turning the alcohol wipe over and using the other side to pat, pat, pat her cheek.

  Kay was whirring her hands around to mimic the idea of the lights. “In the windows. In the mirrors.”

  “Unsynchronized lights flashing, the computer pinging while sitting at an odd angle and unable to get out?” Rex asked real concern in his voice. “How long were you like that, Slick?”

  “Three hours,” I said.

  “Slick?” Dick asked.

  Rex opened his mouth, and Dick held up a hand, he didn’t need to hear the backstory on that one.

  “What?” Delight asked. “He left you there like that for three hours? I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a seizure.”

  “I’m not saying I didn’t.” The two bar guys had finally made up their minds, and I was filling steins at the tap.

  “When Officer Sprat got back to the car, Bobbi Jax was squatting on the floor of the car under the console.” Kay curved her shoulders over and wrapped her hands around her head. “Her jacket pulled over her eyes, and he realized he had a problem.”

  “Huh,” Rex said.

  “Exactly,” Kay said.

  “He left you there for three hours?” Dick asked. I noticed Farrah moved her hand to his thigh, a calming gesture. Dick wrapped his hand around hers.

  Interesting.

  “That was not the problem.” I tried to retrieve some sense of decorum. “I was not a problem. The problem that needed attention was a woman in the house that wasn’t just putting herself but her kids in mortal danger. Sprat and the firefighters found her getting drunk in her car, engine on while parked in the garage, listening to music turned up loud while she tried to asphyxiate on carbon monoxide from the tailpipe. What she didn’t realize was the gas was rising, and it was going into the kids’ rooms that were above the garage on the second story of the house. The fire dept got the kids out and moved them, still sleeping, to the parents’ room where there was safe air quality. Then we had to wait for the ambulance to take the woman to the hospital. Then we had to wait for the brother and his wife to come watch the babies. It was understandable. The problem I experienced was the disorientation over that long a period, and as you were saying,” I raised an open palm to Rex, “no way to get out.”

  I put the beers in front of my patrons.

  “And I didn’t puke in his car,” I added.

  “You puked,” Kay insisted.

  “Not in the car.” I glowered at her so she’d be quiet. Puking stories had a way of seeding potential outcomes into my client’s psyches, and I really didn’t want to be cleaning it up in the bathrooms later.

  It didn’t work. Kay wrinkled her nose. “Where did you puke then?”

  “Sprat pulled the car up on the flat of the road. My stomach was obviously not okay. He ran around to my side of the car, popped the door open, and…”

  “And?” everyone chorused together.

  I threw my hands up in the air. “And I splat Sprat.”

  “No!” They all moaned followed by an elongated ewww.

  Bar guy shoved the snack basket down the counter away from him. He had the look of a man who had a squeamish stomach.

  “Sorry,” I said as I reached under the shelf for the bucket of last resorts.

  4

  Wee Hours of Wednesday Morning

  “I’m serious Kay,” Rex said. “It’s the perfect time to learn how to shift after BJ closes the bar. It’ll be two in the morning, and no one will be on the road. There will never be a better time.”

  “Maybe I could wait a couple more days. My brother can teach me when he gets back.”

  “Connor’s gone for two weeks of training,” I said. “He just left Saturday.”

  Kay glared at me.

  “Come on, at least let’s get you started.” Rex stood up and spun his chair around.

  Kay’s eyes grew wide.

  “Baby steps. We can start here in the bar.” Rex turned my way. “Do you have three oranges?”

  “Coming right up.” I bent to grab the fruit from the mini-fridge where I kept the garnishes and other perishables. When I stood with the fruit cradled in my arm, I caught sight of Dick outside, walking up the sidewalk, hand in hand with Farrah. He tucked her into his car, then bent to give her a prolonged kiss before he came up with a grin, and shut the door for her.

  My, my, my, wasn’t that interesting? It had been a while since a woman had caught Dick’s eye. This was a good thing, I thought half-heartedly. I turned to Kay.

  I wasn’t sure it was a good thing with Farrah, though.

  “It’s a good thing,” Kay said, turning from the window to me. But she had about as much conviction in her tone as I heard in my own head.

  “It’s not a good thing?” Rex asked, turning to the window then shooting a glance from me to Kay.

  “Well, Farrah runs a dating business that doesn’t put fidelity high on its list,” Kay explained. “Actually, fidelity is nowhere on her list.”

  Rex swiveled toward the window as Dick drove down the street. “It’s like one of those sites that helps unsatisfied husbands hook up with lonely wives?”

  “It seems that way from what she was telling us when you were off getting us the cardiac burgers. I have to get Justice to do a deep dive into it on the Internet. I would have asked her to do it tonight, but she has a hacking project due for one of her classes, and I let her go home early.” I wrinkled my brow. “Dick is such a loyal person. And if Farrah’s the kind that thinks it’s cool to run around, well that’s none of my business, to each their own, just not at Dick’s expense.”

  “Does Dick know what she does for a living?” Rex asked.

  “I didn’t tell him.” I looked over to Kay.

  She shook her head.

  “But he’s a detective,” Rex said reasonably.

  Dick also had the look of a man who was seeing life through hormone-colored glasses rather than being his normal clear-thinking self. I’d keep an eye out for him.

  Maybe he’d get it out of his system tonight.

  I came around the bar, my eye still on the back of Dick’s car. When they left together, it was so he could give Farrah a ride home. Luna had left in her own car, and Farrah said she’d catch a Lyft. Dick was being a good guy. But then there was that kiss. And what had they been doing for the last hour? I’d said good-bye to them at least that long ago, and nothing else was open around here in the wee hours of the morning.

  A mystery. Maybe a walk to the cemetery.

  I handed the oranges to Rex.

  “Okay, Kay, come sit in this chair,” Rex instructed.

  As Kay climbed slowly from the barstool, Rex arranged the oranges at her feet. “Gas on the right. Brake in the center. Clutch on the left. Yes?”

  “Yes.” Kay sat down, frowning at the fruit.

  “Your right foot works the gas and the brake like always.”

  She nodded.

  “But now we use your left foot, too. Your left foot works the clutch. Let’s start. Put your left foot on the clutch and the right foot on the brake. This is your starting position.”

  Kay was wearing stiletto heels, and the angle of foot placement was awkward at best.

  “I usually don’t have to think about things like this,” Rex said. “You’re going to want to have a pair of tennis shoes or flats with you in the car.”

  “Hey.” Kay leaned down. “Why did the blonde stare at the can of orange juice for an hour?” She slipped her feet from her shoes and set them under her chair. “Because the packaging said concentrate.”

  “Okay, more comfortable now?” Rex asked. “Left foot on the clutch—"

  “What do you call an orange who tells lies?” Kay asked, putting her left foot in place, her right foot hovering over the center orange.

  “That’s correct, put your right foot on the brake in the center,” Rex said.

  “An orange who tells a lie is pulp fiction.” Kay laughed nervously.

  “You’re going to be fine.” Rex used the soothing voice I’d heard him use when he was trying to get a cow to ease into a chute. “These are just oranges. Now turn on the engine holding both pedals down.”

  Kay reached out her hand. “Do you know how to tell if an orange is a male or a female?”

  “If it squirts you in the face it’s a male,” I said. “Why are you wigging out? We’re not in the car. You can’t wreck it.”

  Kay sent me a glower. “If it’s bitter for absolutely no reason it’s female.”

  “Kay,” Rex persisted. “I want you to take your right foot and move it to the gas pedal. Good. Now, as you push down on the gas, at the same time, lift your foot from the clutch.”

  The clutch went rolling across the floor.

  I went to retrieve it.

  “Kay, we’re going to do this. It’s just driving with an added couple of steps. Give me your hands.” He waited for her to lay her hands in his. “Tell me one more orange joke.”

  “One?” she asked. “Okay, I, uhm, what do you call teaching me to shift in Bobbi Jax’s bar?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “A fruitless endeavor.”

  “Got that out of your system now?” Rex raised a single brow.

  Kay pushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her face, dragging an elastic from her wrist and making a sloppy bun. “I’m a little better. Thank you.”

  While Rex worked with Kay pushing on his hands to give her the feel for releasing the clutch, I was getting things cleared up for the night. I took the last of the glass racks back to Joe.

  “Hey, Joe? Can you take Twinkles back to my apartment for me? The car is too small for him.” I pantomimed.

  Joe stopped to watch me.

  I pointed at Joe, to Twinkles, to the back door. I did the fake getting into a car, starting an engine, and turning the steering wheel. I ran up some imaginary steps, unlocked the door, waved good-bye, and turned to pretend a descent, which was a pretty good thigh work out. It was the complete story. Who would have guessed when I took theater class in high school, and we had done a month studying Marcel Marceau, that it would have a real-world application?

  Joe nodded. And motioned for my key. Normally, a key isn’t necessary.There’s a number pad on my door lock. But I kept those numbers to myself. I’d had just enough weirdness in my life to make me overly cautious. I pulled the key from my pocket, then Joe mimed he’d leave it on the counter when he let Twinkles in.

  After a thumbs-up, I watched them leave.

  I headed back into the bar area just in time to take an orange to the solar plexus.

  “Agh! I pressed the gas too hard. Sorry!” Kay called.

  I rolled the orange back as I crumpled onto the floor to catch my breath. At least we weren’t in the car yet.

  As soon as I thought that, Rex said, “Two o’clock. Is Joe taking care of Twinkles?” He reached a hand down to help me back up. “You okay?”

  “Fine. And yes. And how about I wait here while Kay gets a handle on the whole shifting thing?”

  Rex folded his hands under his arms and started flapping his wings and making chicken noises.

  “Fine,” I said, reaching for the light switch. With a click we were in the dark.

  Rex handed Kay the keys. “You’re in charge. This is your car. You’re the master.” He said it with conviction.

  I crawled into the back seat, wondering about the airbag situation.

  Kay took her position in the driver’s seat. Rex sat beside her. Because he had to power the seat back so far, I had my legs draped across the backseat to the other side of the car.

  "You know," Kay said. "I didn't even know four-door Ferraris existed."

  “Bobbi Jax,” Kay said as I pulled my seatbelt on and cinched it down tight. “You drive stick. Why don’t I just use your Mini Cooper, and you drive the Ferrari?”

  “With the console in the middle here, there’s no room for Twinkles.”

  “Twinkles can come live with me,” she offered.

  “Kay, since when are you such a scaredy-cat?” Rex asked. “Just put your feet on the clutch and brake the way we did with the oranges. We’ll take it smooth and slow.”

  Kay followed his instructions and the clutch made a terrible grating noise. She was finally able to get it into first. We took off, then the car just quit. Right there in the middle of the road.

  Three more tries and we were out on Main Street.

  Two more tries and we were pulled over by the cops.

  “Kay!” Officer Johnson said. “This isn’t your normal car. And you don’t normally drive under the influence.”

  Kay explained what was happening, and Johnson bent low to look in the back. I gave him a little finger wave. “She had soda at Hooch’s. She’s not drinking. She’s just being Kay.”

  He swung his gaze toward Rex. “This is your car?”

  “Yes, sir,” Rex said. “Kay’s actually. Kay’s going to be driving it.”

  “Wait. You’re letting these two get hold of it?” He positioned his hands on the rolled down window and leaned his hips back so he could see into the interior with ease. “Last time I pulled these two over, they had a mannequin tied to the roof of their car, spread eagle, mooning folks as they drove down the road.” He looked up and down the street. “I wish you had waited twenty more minutes,” he said.

  “So the bar crowd would be home?” I asked.

  “So I’d be clocked out and wouldn’t have to worry about you two posing a threat to Jamesburg at large.”

  “Funny,” Kay said.

  He patted the window. “I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see you.” And he walked away.

  “Mannequin?” Rex asked.

  “Another story for another day. Kay, remember what you said about the can of juice?” I asked. “Concentrate.”

  And Kay dragged the shift from neutral to first with a raking sound that told me we’d be lucky if the transmission survived the night.

  5

  Wednesday, Four A.M.

  By four a.m. Kay was able to pull smoothly into the gas station, where she turned off the engine with a heavy exhale.

  I was collapsed in the back seat, exhausted from my day and the last two hours of teeth clenching and muscle tightening. I figured I’d done enough isometrics to check at least two days of workouts off my to-do list.

  “Gas tank is on the other side of the car,” Rex said quietly. He pointed at the dash. “See there where the icon for gas is? There’s usually a little arrow that points toward the side where the tank is.”

  “Huh, you learn something new every day,” I mumbled from the back.

  “At this rate, I don’t think sleep is going to be part of the agenda.” I popped the back lock up. “We won’t have much time for sleep before I need to drive you to Richmond to catch your plane.” I crawled out of the car, wriggling my body to get the circulation going. I jumped up and down a couple of times. “I’m catching a second wind. I’m going to go in and get a coffee. Who else wants one?”

  Both Rex and Kay raised their hands.

  I took two steps, then my eyes pulled wide. I stuck my head in Rex’s open window and whispered, “Could that be the licker?”

  Rex and Kay turned their heads. There was a woman with chin-length sable brown hair with chunky highlights of gold and red. Her cheetah-spotted leggings and gold blouse were in similar hues.

  Kay’s mouth dropped open.

  Rex chuckled under his breath. “It’s never a dull moment around you two. Slick, how about you go inside and get your coffee, nonchalantly. Kay, you pull on around so we can get some gas, we’re on empty. I’ll keep an eye on her, and we’ll just see what she does next.”

  “Why would she be out here all alone? There’s no one out here. Who’s she going to lick?”

  “Maybe she’s on her way home from a busy night of licking. There’s a bus stop just up the street.”

  “Buses don’t run this late in Jamesburg. I guess I should say, buses don’t run this early. They’ll start up again in about an hour.”

  “Maybe she’s turning tricks and is looking for a john. Or it could be some completely benign reason like her shift is over, and she’s waiting for a ride. Maybe she’s hanging out in front of the gas station because it’s lit, and there are people inside. She’s safer.”

  Kay and I nodded. I backed away from the car and made my way in to get the coffee. And chocolate. This night deserved chocolate.

  When I headed back out with the tray, the cat woman was still there on the corner.