Cat In An Aqua Storm

“I’ll do what I can, Lieutenant,” Temple said from the doorway. And then she skedaddled.

Matt’s blond head hit her bleary eyes like a puddle of sunshine in the dreary waiting room. She headed straight for him and collapsed on the adjoining chair. It had been a long and traumatic evening.

“I’m free to go. No X rays, no casts, no permanent injuries. They tried to lay an abuse rap on me, can you imagine? And we need to stop for a prescription on the way home.”

Matt glanced at the white slip in her hand and nodded, then picked up Temple’s tote bag. He let it ease back to the floor again as Lieutenant Molina approached them.

She suddenly squatted on her heels in front of Temple, her piercing eyes and serious face impossible to avoid.

“I know you don’t listen to officials much, but no matter how your injuries happened, you’re a victim of a crime. You need to deal with that. Here’s the number of a self-help group. Give them a call. You’ll have a lot of rage. Your self-esteem has taken a body blow, too. Don’t be dumb. Talk to someone else who’s been through it.”

Temple sat in silence.

“She’s right,” Matt said.

Temple glanced at the number. Heck, maybe they needed a freebie PR person. “Okay.”

Molina patted Temple’s knee—Molina!—and rose. She flashed Matt a smile Temple had never seen, approving. “Thanks for the sensible support.”

“I have to give it. I’m a hotline counselor.”

Molina’s expressive eyebrows lifted before she nodded. “Then you’ll see that she does it.”

“I’ll see that she’s encouraged to do it. Temple will do what’s she thinks is best for her.”

“What’s best for her is what I suggested.”

“Grrrr,” Temple remarked softly as Molina walked away. “What an insufferable woman.”

Matt grinned as he watched Molina’s iron-straight navy-blue back disappear. “Insufferably right. Tacky of her. Reminds me of a mother superior. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Home. A nice word. And nice to have someone to go there with.

18

A Roommate to Die For

Temple feltabout two hundred years old when she and Matt once again stood before her condo door. He unlocked it smoothly this time. She entered first, startled to find lights blazing. Electra Lark sat at her kitchen cafe table painting her fingernails black.

The moment she saw Temple, Electra bounded upright and whirled over in a blaze of highly colored Hawaiian flora. Her welcoming embrace—arms wide and fingers splayed to protect her wet polish and Temple’s bruised frame—ended up as a gentle cheek-brush, during which Temple whiffed an unmistakable trace of Emeraude. Oh, no....

Matt beamed like a Boy Scout. “I called Electra when you were seeing the doctor.”

Electra’s ear cuffs rang. “I used the passkey to get your gel packs,” she told Matt. “They’re already on ice. I bet you two kids are starved! I could order a pizza.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Temple toddled gingerly toward the living room.

“Oh!” Her huge cocktail table stood by the French doors because her sleep-sofa had been opened and made up.

“We’re not going to let you stay alone after what happened.” Electra’s tone brooked no disobedience.

“We?” Temple asked.

“Well, I made up the bed,” Electra said modestly, implying that she didn’t often stoop to such domestic make-work. “Matt said he’d stay tonight.”

“Oh.” Temple turned to her new roommate. “What about your job?”

“I called the hotline from the hospital, too.”

“I’m all right. I don’t need baby-sitting.”

Electra bustled between them. “Maybe we need to do it. Now, are these your pills? Hmm. Tylenol Three. You’ll sleep tonight. I’ll get you to bed, and then I’ll get the ice packs. Then maybe we can tempt you with—I know, ice cream.”

“Why ice cream?” Temple asked in amazement. “That’s what I always let myself eat when I’m sick.”

“And it doesn’t require chewing,” Matt added. “I’ll be right back. I need some things from upstairs!”

“Fine,” Temple managed to say over her—ouch—shoulder. “The guest bath is to the left off the office.”

“Now, what can I help with?” Electra waved her morbid fingernails again as she followed Temple into the bedroom, her thong sandals vigorously slapping parquet.

Temple felt as if she were being trailed by an oversolicitous seal. “Forget the ice cream. What I really need is help getting out of these clothes.” Temple plucked at her knit top and turned her back to the landlady.

“You poor little thing,” Electra clucked warmly while she undid the zipper and bra. Temple gritted her teeth against pain both physical and psychic. Electra was only trying to help. “Where’s your nightdress?”

“That’s it.”

“The Garfield T-shirt on the hook? Oh, cute.”

Temple regarded the image of the self-satisfied tiger-striped cartoon feline regarding himself in a mirror under text that announced, “Gemini: Your double-edged nature means there’s more for everybody, but you can never get enough of yourself.” Cute didn’t seem to describe it.