Accidentally Catty Page 12

  Beck cocked an eyebrow at her, his expression arrogant. “What if I told you I can’t remember how to do laundry?”

  “I’d tell you to read the instructions on the back of the laundry soap.”

  “Dooooc Woooods!” Ingrid hollered, skidding around the kitchen doorway. “Hurry! We have a patient!”

  Katie crossed her arms over her chest, noting her ACE bandage was a little looser than it had been this morning. “I thought we agreed to close up shop for the day? Doesn’t Dr. Jules take emergencies?” She fought the sting of his name on her tongue, but she couldn’t hide the spiteful sarcasm saying his name out loud held.

  Ingrid grabbed her arm, tugging her to the reception area. “She said she had to see you! Hurry, and Beck, you come, too, please. We might need help.”

  Katie stopped short just beyond her reception desk and realized who her patient’s owner was.

  Well, if people weren’t talking before today’s events, Daniel Green’s coma, and her fancy New York friends who were arrested, they’d be wagging their tongues now at who sat on her waiting room couch.

  Esmeralda Hunt.

  The woman the warm, welcoming people of Piney Creek had labeled a modern-day witch.

  CHAPTER 8

  At this point in her week, after all the shifting, fanging, fireballing, and disappearing had come and gone, Katie began to wonder if the people of Piney Creek might not have some merit to their suspicions about Esmeralda Hunt.

  Far be it for her to ever again in her lifetime say, “Fill in the blank doesn’t exist.” Because it did.

  And it was in her kitchen.

  Drinking blood.

  Oh. God.

  Katie made her way toward Esmeralda, hunched on her waiting room sofa with her bulldog Delray on her lap. Esmeralda had lived in Piney Creek for ten years now since the death of her husband, Nigel. No one knew a lot about her, and she didn’t offer up much about herself—which was always an excuse for the Piney Creek residents to gossip.

  She sure didn’t look like a witch—not by one’s typical definition. There were no warts, long, straggly black hair, or a pointy hat. If she’d come by way of broom, from the looks of Delray’s stout body, it was probably in two pieces outside the clinic’s door.

  But then, aside from her hand and those crazy teeth that had sprung from her mouth last night, she didn’t suspect anyone would brand her a cougar, either. Maybe by society’s definition, but not by the animal kingdom’s.

  Esmeralda’s coal black eyes were lined with fear and worry, her lips, colored in a cherry red that flattered her pale skin, trembled. Her gamine face, surrounded by a short fall of neat dark hair with threads of silver in it, screamed concerned as Delray moaned in her arms. Her legs were crossed at her ankles, her pristine white sneakers, digging into the floor to keep a grip on her overweight dog.

  Delray, a red-brindle-and-white English bulldog lay flaccid in her lap, his tongue lolling from his mouth as he panted his pain, his black-and-white-checkered bow tie askew around his neck.

  Ingrid quivered at her side. “You’re not actually considering treating her dog, are you, Dr. Woods? I mean, they say she’s a witch,” Ingrid whispered with a hiss. “A witch who cast a spell on Doreen Panzowski. Everybody in town says Esmeralda made all of Doreen’s hair fall out just because she denied her access to the gardening club. And that’s not even the half of what they say she does up at that cottage of hers with all those plants and herbs she grows.”

  Katie’s temper spiked. “Uh, Ingrid? Hello in there. Have you considered we’re sort of in the same boat, Mrs. Hunt and I?” She held up her hand as a point of reference. “And no one in town likes me, either, but I’m certainly not going to turn away an animal in pain who clearly needs medical attention. For all we know, she really is a witch. It’s not like we’re making a huge leap into the fantastical after last night, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ingrid paled at her admonishment. “Okay, you’re right. It sucks to be labeled, but I’m telling you right now, if my hair falls out, you owe me the Hair Club for Men, at the very least. And I’m flying low on the radar with this one. If, in fact, we’re going with the theory that anything is possible, then it’s definitely possible Esmeralda put a hex on Doreen, and that’s why she lost her hair. I like my hair.”

  Katie rechecked her hand to be sure it was properly covered before she moved toward Esmeralda. “Mrs. Hunt? What’s the trouble with Delray?”

  Her eyes caught Katie’s, the eyes of a pet owner whose beloved companion was in distress. Delray moaned, low and mournful, his liquid brown eyes staring up at her. “I don’t know,” she whimpered. “He hasn’t eaten at all today, and if you take one good look at my Delray, he doesn’t miss many meals. I even tried tempting him with a can of soft food, but he just won’t eat. Then about an hour ago, I couldn’t even coax him into some of my chicken salad. Delray loves my chicken salad—especially when I make it with pickles. When he wouldn’t move an inch, I knew something was wrong. I hauled his big carcass over to Dr. Jules, but . . .” She bit back the rest of her words, but her eyes welled with the tears of what Katie deduced were from Dr. Jules refusal to treat Delray. “I hope you take emergencies. I’ll pay whatever the cost. Please, please help him. He’s all I have!” Her sob tore at Katie’s heart and ate a hole of resentment that Dr. Jules would turn any patient away for any reason.

  Beck was at her side immediately, kneeling before Esmeralda and running a large hand over Delray’s ears. “Why don’t you let me carry him to the examining room, Mrs. Hunt? He’s a rather portly boy, eh? Much too much of a load for a woman of your delicate frame to lug around. I promise to be very gentle with him,” he coaxed, crooning to her in those honeyed British tones. He held out his arms, and the tune of Ingrid’s sigh in her ears made Katie’s spine stiffen.

  “You know what he is, Doc?” Ingrid said on a sigh.

  “What?”

  “He’s a four-letter word for salacious.”

  “Sexy?” she replied almost automatically.

  Ingrid waved her hand while she stared at Beck’s retreating back. “I don’t know. He’s just so everything,” she drawled on another breath.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sexy, salacious Beck. It infuriated her. “Uh-huh, and he’s so who did this to me and so who had your bowels making bricks all colors of the rainbow last night. How quickly we forget,” Katie commented out of the side of her mouth, following Beck into the examining room.

  What it was that made her resent Ingrid’s sudden turnabout as far as Beck was concerned was something she’d examine more closely later. Maybe while she was brushing her paw and waxing her legs. “Bring Mrs. Hunt in so Delray doesn’t become agitated, would you please, Ingrid?”

  Beck settled the dog on a blanket he’d grabbed from the shelves and stroked his back. Katie washed her good hand and grabbed her stethoscope.

  Ingrid seated a shaky Esmeralda by Delray’s side so she could remain close.

  Katie lifted Delray’s back end to roll him so she could get a better feel of his abdomen.

  Easy on the ass there, lady. It’s killin’ me.

  Katie’s head popped up. She eyeballed all parties present in the examining room. No one made a suspicious glance at Delray. In fact, no one stirred. The examining room was deathly quiet.

  Except for the voices in her head.

  Katie shook off what must be her imagination. It had to be lack of sleep. She’d only had one cup of coffee this morning, thus leaving her delusional. “All right, big guy,” she crooned to him, feeling his sides for any swelling or irregularities. “I hate to tell you this, but I have to, you know, see what’s going on down there. First up, we need to take your temp.” Ingrid handed her the thermometer to insert, running her free hand over his wide head to comfort him.

  Delray squirmed. Tell your friend patting me on the head won’t make me feel any better about you sticking that thing up my shitter.

  She closed her eyes and sighed a long release of aggravation. No.
Seriously? Like really? No. It was her imagination. That’s what it had been this morning, and that’s what it was now.

  Please, please, please let it be her imagination. Katie stared down into the chocolate brown eyes of Delray and decided, against her better judgment, to test her sanity. “I promise to be gentle, Del. Just hold still, buddy.”

  Is there any gentle when you have something shoved up your ass? And save the crazy-ass baby talk for somebody who’s stupid enough to be cootchie-cootchie-cooed into some false sense of security by it. I been to this rodeo, lady. I know what the cutesy thing means in a setting like this. I’m gettin’ it up the pooper. Don’t let all those supposed dog gurus tell you any different, either. We might not be the smartest bunch in the chain, but we ain’t total fargin’ idiots, either.We know when we’re being conned because something bad’s about to go down. The bad being that thing shoved up my keister.

  Her mouth fell open.

  Oh, c’mon. Was there really any more crazy left to be had? Wasn’t it all used up with werewolves and vampires and demons?

  So are we doin’ this? Or are you just gonna keep wavin’ that thing at me like some kinda threat? Get it over with already. My ass is killin’ me, and make sure you tell Esmeralda there better be some of that canned food in this for me, or I’ll shit all over her bed first chance I get.When I can shit again, that is. I’m bound up like a goddamned chain caught in the spoke of a bicycle wheel.

  Katie cleared her throat, rolling her neck from side to side. Was no one aware the dog . . . The. Dog. Was talking to her? Was she the only one who’d flown over this cuckoo’s nest?

  Beck eyed her from his stance against the far wall with a look of question, but thankfully, Esmeralda was too wrapped up in her worry over Delray to notice the disbelief Katie was sure she was doing a bad job of disguising via her bulging eyes.

  Ingrid nudged her while shuffling her feet. “You got it?”

  “Yes! Sorry.” She aimed her apology at Esmeralda. “Long night last night. Okay, Del, here goes. Ingrid, if you’ll just hold him still.” She inserted the thermometer with care and frowned at the eventual reading. He had a temperature.

  Katie leaned down to capture Delray’s big head in her hands. If this was really happening, if Delray was really communicating with her, it could work to her advantage. She’d deal with the crazy of it later. In her best baby-talk voice, knowing it would incite him, Katie asked, “So what have you been eating lately, sunshine?”

  Nothing . . .

  “Aha! I see guilt in those eyes, pookie. C’mon, tell Dr. Woods what you’ve been eating.” Katie almost snickered, but then she caught a shared look of Delray’s shame on Esmeralda’s face, too.

  “Cheese! He loves cheese. I caught him stealing a whole hunk of it from my coffee table the other day. That binds, right? I can’t think of what else it could be.” Esmeralda’s admission wrought one from Delray.

  Oh, fine. She’s right. I love cheese. Gouda, Roquefort, blue, Brie, sharp cheddar, goat.You name it, I’m down with it. But I swear, Doc, I only ate a little Muenster the other day. Definitely not enough to bind me up like this, and she’s not tellin’ the whole truth. She gave me the hunk of cheese. All I gotta do is whimper and give her the pouty, sad eyes and she gives it up. She’s the easiest mark on planet human.

  Katie clucked her tongue, not entirely convinced. Her eyes held the dogs again. “How about foreign objects, Del? You know, like shoes, socks, tennis balls maybe?”

  Esmeralda gasped. “Oh, Delray! I know what it was. It was my shoe. I’d bet my subscription to Martha Stewart Living he’s been chewing on it under my bed.” She gave Delray a frown of disapproval. “He knows I can’t bend down to chase after him because my knees trouble me so, so he takes everything and hides it under the bed. I’ve been looking for days for that espadrille, Delray, and you know it. Shame on you!”

  Katie eyed the dog, now tucking his chin to his chest, his eyes unable to connect with hers. “Oh, Del. Is that true, sweetums? Did you eat a shoe, you silly-willy?”

  Whatev-er. I ate the shoe. Like that’s a crime. It’s not like I ate a cat, okay? She leaves them by the door all the time.What’s a dog to do when all that tempting hand-stitched, straight-from-Spain footwear’s sitting by the door, just asking to be consumed? I’m a dog, for pity’s sake. Some people paint.We eat shoes.

  Katie fought a chuckle. “As I suspected, and I have just the thing to take care of the blockage. It’s not as serious as it seems. I think Delray’s just very melodramatic because he enjoys the attention. However, aside from his discomfort, we really need to get his weight under control, Mrs. Hunt. Bulldogs are notorious for suffering from hip dysplasia. His hips will only pain him as he grows older, and you don’t want that, now do you?”

  Did you just say my ass looks fat in this?

  Katie gave Delray’s rotund belly a gentle squeeze in the hopes she could hush his interference in her head. She smiled at Esmeralda in understanding. “I know you love Delray, but I promise he’ll still love you back just as much whether you give him chicken salad with pickles or not—”

  Baloneyyyy, I call baloney! Scraps are what I love best about her! I’ll retaliate, lady. I’ll eat her stupid gardening gloves. No, wait! I’ll eat her favorite lily.That one she’s always coddling and giving special plant food to. I’ll eat the shit out of it! Oh, please, Doc, don’t take away my cheese!

  Katie forced herself to ignore Delray’s pleas. “So that means no more table scraps no matter how often he gives you his best sad face. No more cheese. No more hot dogs or chicken salad with pickles or not. I’m going to suggest a dietary dog food you can pick up locally and nothing else until his weight is under control. Also, walks. Two a day, thirty minutes each. Oh, and if you have a treadmill, it wouldn’t hurt to put him on that as well. As to his constipation, I have just the cure . . . Ingrid? Could you, please?” She pointed Ingrid in a direction her faithful receptionist knew well.

  Walk?You mean like outside on the pavement?With other animals? Oh, the hell! What kind of sadistic witch are you? Delray complained with a sharp yelp, his protest shooting around inside her head like Ping-Pong balls.

  Leaning into his warm side, Katie whispered in his ear as Ingrid gave Esmeralda the directions for his care. “You know what this means, don’t you, Del? It means suppositories. Big ones, shoe lover. Now, no more shoes. Ever. Or the next time you could end up with an intestinal blockage and that means enema, buddy, maybe even surgery, sometimes death. No joke. Now you be a good boy for Esmeralda and do as I prescribed. Your path to the patch of green regularity in Esmeralda’s backyard will soon be blockage free.” She dropped a kiss on his head and tweaked his ear.

  Esmeralda gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Dr. Woods. I can’t tell you how afraid I was. I know they talk about me in town—they say awful, awful things, but I’ll never forget how kind you were to my Delray. Never,” she repeated, her eyes glittering her newfound loyalty.

  Yeah, me, neither. Color me all shades of grateful you’ve just made my life a special kind of hell, Delray muttered.

  Katie gave Esmeralda a wink. “I won’t pay a lot of mind to what they say about you in town, Mrs. Hunt, if you won’t pay any mind to what they say about me. Deal?”

  Esmeralda chuckled, sweet and bubbly. Her knowing eyes gave Katie a look of understanding. “Deal.”

  “Beck? Would you gather Delray up for Mrs. Hunt and put him in her car?”

  Beck’s silence drew her attention to where he stood, staring up at the locked medicine cabinet. His eyes were far away, fixated on something inside the cabinet she couldn’t pinpoint.

  “Beck?” she called. “You okay?”

  He cleared his throat and turned, putting a vague smile on his face that didn’t quite mask his disorientation. “Sorry. Say again?”

  “Would you help Mrs. Hunt getting Delray to the car? Will you be okay getting him into the house alone, Mrs. Hunt?” Katie asked. “He’s a heavy load of bulldog.”

 
; I am not fat. Lay off the fat, labeler. I’m husky.

  Esmeralda assured her she’d be fine as Beck, strong, kind, and gentle, carried Delray out of Katie’s office, but not before Del gave one last parting shot.

  I got no love for ya right now, Doc, because you took away every guilty pleasure a pet owner can lavish on her most faithful companion, but you better be careful. I’ve been hearin’ all kinds of smack coming from that exotic animal park.They got lots to say—none of it good, and lots of it has to do with the big dude here.

  Smack? From the animals in the park? “Wait . . .” Katie stopped herself short. Damn. Somehow, having a full-blown conversation with her patient—a—dog—probably wasn’t beneficial to not only repeat visits from Esmeralda but one’s ability to suspend disbelief. But what could Delray possibly know?

  “So, Dr. Woods, you wanna tell me what that was all about?” Ingrid asked while they watched Beck open Esmeralda’s car door from the window in the reception area.

  “What was what about? Do you mean taking Delray as a patient because Dr. Jules wouldn’t?”

  “No. I mean all that sweet talk with Delray. Usually, you talk to the pet owner to get the information you need, but it was almost like you were having an actual conversation with the dog. I can’t remember the last time I heard you call any dog sweetums. Plus, it was the fastest diagnosis I’ve ever seen.”

  “I concur,” Beck said, striding in the front door of the office to shoot her a handsome smile, his cheeks reddened from the chilly afternoon.

  Katie shrugged, needing a moment to process what had just happened and Delray’s warning. “Then that makes both of you just this shy of crazy.” Deflect, deflect, deflect. At least until she had a chance to see if this was a one-time deal or a new, magical, mystical affliction due to her cougarlicious state.