Chapter 7

When I walked outside, the cold air gave me a jolt. Obviously, I had had a bit to drink... or two. As I walked to Cassie’s and Lainey’s house I was not sorry it was some eight blocks away. I could smell rain in the air, but at least the parade had managed to complete its course ahead of it. I hoped I could, too. One miserable soaking a day was more than enough.

I heard the party before I got to the house. It seemed in full swing as I walked around the side and onto the deck. There, Peter Pan sat on a railing singing “I Won’t Grow Up” in a rather appealing girlish soprano. I smiled and applauded. At least she looked genuine in her costume. As I slid back the screen door to the living room, Lainey came through it wearing a coat and carrying a large plastic bag.

“Dull party? ” I asked. “Going to try the one up the street? I hear it’s better.”

“Certainly not! ” she bristled. Then, tumbling to the unique Peres humor, she smiled. “Oh, no. We goofed. We’re already running out of ice. I’m going to rob the hospital. Be right back.”

I walked through the door into a wall of people, noise, music and smoke... at least some of the latter, illegal. Dan and Mike had beat me here, so I had a chance to thank them for their generosity at the A-House. I chatted for a moment with Katie and Marian, enjoyed a moment of triumph with Cherie, one of the other artists whose paintings had been selected by the bank, and carefully avoided eye contact with Mary Sloan. I made my way to the bar, where Cassie was keeping busy. Finally, it was my turn. She gave me a welcoming grin.

“Glad you made it, ol’ buddy. We were beginning to think you’d succumbed to the curse of the gypsies or whatever. Now, here”—she pointed—“we have a bowl of vodka punch. And here, a bowl of some nonalcoholic punch that no one seems to like. We have several bottles of fairly bad white wine. But for you, soldier, may I say...” She reached under the bar. “This Bud’s for you! ”

I took it with a smile for her thoughtfulness and a slight worry as to how it would mix with bourbon. I noticed Cassie was drinking O’Douls and raised an eyebrow. “Flying at noon tomorrow, ” she explained. “I switched to this a while ago. I like a good amount of time with no booze before takeoff.” Tomorrow I would probably wish I had done the same.

The CD player moved to something slow, and a tall blonde tapped me on the shoulder to ask if I would like to dance. I liked very much, and turned away from Cassie with a wink. The blonde and I moved easily across the floor, and she felt very good in my arms.

Her name, she said, was Kerry. Mine, she said she’d heard, was Alex. I agreed to that and asked if her last name were Blue. She said no, it was Morris. Obviously, she had not followed my clever Kerry Blue Terrier train of thought, so I concentrated on my dancing. As we turned, I noticed her nod and give a half-smile to a hefty woman standing with two men. Was she Kerry’s lover? I knew the woman worked in the office at the clinic where Lainey nursed, but I didn’t know her name. I decided to approach the subject obliquely.

“Kerry, you’re not from Ptown, are you? ”

“No, uh, I’m visiting friends of some guys who know the women giving the party.”

“Ah.” That sounded about right for Ptown. “Having a nice visit? ”

“Now I am.” She moved even closer against me, and I began to think the evening might end on a very up note. A moment later the music switched again, and we stood for a minute, looking hesitant.

Then Kerry said, “Look, there’s a chair near the fire. Grab it and I’ll get us a drink.”

I yelled, “Budweiser! There’s one on the bar that’s mine.” I turned to nab the chair.

Kerry returned swiftly and sank gracefully to the floor, leaning her head against my leg. I stroked her hair and thought we looked like one of those TV commercials with the handsome couple sitting before the fire drinking expensive wine, while outside a Jaguar with a big red ribbon is being silently delivered in the snowy driveway. I started to mention my thoughts, but Kerry didn’t seem attuned to some of my offbeat comments, so I let it go.

She had one arm around my lower leg—not the scraped one, fortunately—and was sort of caressing my ankle and the top of my foot. It was different and kind of exciting. My fingers moved from her hair to the back of her neck, ventured lightly over to her collarbone and finally down just to the beginning of her cleavage. She leaned closer as if inviting further explorations, and I was just about to suggest we have a private party at my house, when something out on the deck caught my eye.

Peter Pan was walking with precarious balance along the top railing of the deck, and I could hear the small voice faintly caroling “I’m flying! ” I knew it was quite a way to the ground, flying or not, and felt it would be a simple kindness to convince the elf to get the hell down.

“I’ll be right back.” I kissed the top of Kerry’s head and stood up. I took a step, crashed over the coffee table and re-skinned my shin, landed on my left wrist and felt something give, and finally rolled elegantly onto my back with a yelp. Kerry... Kerry Blue Bitch had tied my damned shoelaces together.

A cast of thousands arrived to offer assistance. I was mortified and kept saying I was fine, though my leg and arm were telling me I wasn’t. Through the crowd I saw Kerry and Hefty holding each other up through their fits of laughter. First that slimy Lewis and now this pair—I’d have liked to put the bunch of them on their asses. I wondered what on earth had prompted Kerry’s little trick, it had to have been a set-up. Somebody finally got my shoelaces untied and retied and attempted to give me a hand up. I yelped again and Lainey took over.

She got me into the bedroom, pronounced my leg a lovely mess and smeared something on it that felt wonderfully cool. She checked my swelling wrist and asked if I could make a fist. Yes, but it hurt. Could I wiggle my fingers? Yes, it hurt. She diagnosed probable sprain and gently taped a washcloth-wrapped baggie of ice around my wrist. “Sleep with that, ” she said, and tucked an Ace bandage into my pocket. “That’s for tomorrow. If the swelling and the pain haven’t decreased by then, check with the clinic.”

Cassie insisted on driving me home. As I limped across the deck, I heard a soft voice calling, “I can’t get up.”

“Cassie, I hate to mention this, but I think Peter Pan has flown into your roses.”

“Sweet Jesus in the foothills! ” Cassie snarled. “That witch of yours make house calls? What next? ” She turned to the house calling, “Lainey! You got another effing casualty here! ”

While various people assisted in Peter Pan’s rescue, I leaned against Cassie’s car, feeling slightly sick. Kerry came out, looking shamefaced. “I’m sorry, ” she said sweetly, “It never occurred to me you’d get hurt. Nell put me up to it. But I really apologize. I’m sorry, ” she said again.

“So am I, ” I said. “I’ve got a business appointment Monday that this will not make any easier. I guess I accept your apology. But, tell me, I don’t even know Nell. What the hell has she got against me? ”

Kerry looked as if she thought I should know. “Your brother. He’s a cop, right? Last week the cops gave her a parking ticket and a speeding ticket. She said she didn’t deserve either of them, and she’s mad as hell.”

I opened the car door and shook my head in disbelief. “Tell her she’ll really be thrilled at what he gives her when I tell him she tried to kill me.” While Kerry was digesting that thought, Cassie came out and we drove away.

I told Cassie the reason for my own crash landing over the coffee table and she shook her head. “Nell is probably just drunk. Lainey can’t stand her. I don’t really know her.”

“Then why did you invite her? ”

“I don’t think we did.”

I was awfully glad to get home, and Fargo was just as glad to see me. He looked concerned, whuffled all over me, checking out aromas of people, places and medications. I let him out, and he was back whining at the door in record time. As I let him in, I saw why: it had started to rain. Fargo is convinced he is made of spun sugar and will melt in rain.

We were about equally happy to climb into bed. Out of habit, I switched on CNN and got a couple of talking heads discussing whether or not the Fed would raise rates on Thursday. That and the booze and the sound of the rain drumming on the windows was all it took. We had survived Halloween, Fargo and I.

Hopefully the curse had expired at midnight.