The Spotted Tail

Her comment grabbed her grandma and mom‘s attention, but they turned to Garon not her.

“Hum,” Garon said, searching the crowd as if he was looking for someone.

“What do you mean?” her grandma said to Garon.

“Tache says there’s still a Screamer here. Isn’t Tinder complaining about it?” Paxine said.

Garon hummed, moving with the music.

“She’s distracted,” her grandma said with a sniff.

“Someone was directing Mr. Huntsboro,” Garon said through pursed lips.

A waitstaff slid in by her grandma’s shoulder, handing out glasses, seeming to know who should get what glass, since they all seemed different. Paxine sniffed, smiling. Soda. She figured the waitstaff was probably one of her grandma’s employees.

“How do you handle this when you are standing up and your Tail is off…guarding?” Paxine said, knowing from all her grandma’s and Garon’s training that she couldn’t drink from the glass.

“The duties can be shared,” her grandma said, kneeling with her glass.

Tinder stuck her head out from under her grandma’s dress, giving the glass a quick sniff and a mew of approval.

Paxine knelt, letting Tinder sniff her glass. Tinder mouthed her approval before ducking back under her grandma’s dress. Her grandma sniffed back a tear.

Paxine took a sip. Her favorite.

“Who was directing Mr. Huntsboro?” her grandma said, continuing the conversation as if checking drinks had never happened. “And where?”

“On stage,” Garon said, sipping his drink, staring at the Governor and his wife. They were stepping up onto the stage. “I thought we were bugging Huntsboro’s tuxedo, but it seems we caught someone else. No wonder we were caught off guard by him.”

Garon resumed humming and swaying to the music.

“Well, what are you going to do about it? What does this mean?” her grandma said.

“We don’t have enough information on the governor,” Garon said. “I do want to squash that Screamer before Shaloonya does. We can bug the governor another time.”

Her grandma seemed satisfied with this.

The governor, a heavy set man with thinning gray hair, took his wife’s hand to dance a waltz. No one else danced until the governor encouraged another couple with a wave of his hand. Both the governor and his wife had huge smiles on their faces as if they were having the time of their lives.

More and more couples joined the dance. The orchestra moved into its second waltz. The governor and his wife danced down the stairs of the stage to mingle with the other dancers.

“Come. Come. This is a Ball. I’m not leaving without a dance. Where is my beautiful date?” Garon said, putting out his hand for her.

Paxine was reluctant to put her glass down, realizing she couldn’t chug it, fearing she would never see the glass again. “I don’t know how to dance this type of dance.”

“Nonsense. Just watch my feet,” Garon said, speaking to the beat of the music and taking her glass, setting it on a table. “One, two, three. Move your feet. One, two three. Repeat, again, and one, two, three.”

Paxine found the dance step was simple. She laughed, finding after a few moments she could dance without watching his feet.

“One, two, three…spin….one, two, three,” Garon said, catching her off guard.

Paxine almost tripped, glad that Garon kept her at the edge of the other dancers so she didn’t stumble into anyone.

“One, two three…spin…one, two three,” Garon said.

Paxine giggled, thinking this was fun. And she always thought waltzing was an old people’s dance.

“One, two, three,” Garon said, spinning her into the crowd.

Paxine almost tripped, panicking as dancers surrounded her.

“One, two, three,” Garon said with a whisper. “You are doing great.”

Paxine focused on following his feet with the beat. Garon hummed, stepping perfectly with the music. She relaxed, feeling she was doing okay. And why not? The word was out on the Child Protection Act. The Huntsboros were heading to jail. She wasn’t missing anymore, so she could go home and…

Screaming.

Paxine felt jolted out of dream. There was still the annoying Screamer that was annoying Tache.

The governor and his wife danced in the middle of the dance floor. Everyone smiled at them. Garon stumbled.

“Oops,” Garon said.

“You okay?” Paxine said.

“Yep,” Garon said, but then he stumbled against another couple.

What was wrong with him? He was acting like he didn’t know how to…

“Oops, so sorry. Learning to dance,” Garon said to the couple with an apologetic smile.

The governor and his wife were not that far away.

“Now watch my feet. One, two, three,” Paxine said, understanding his intentions.

Garon laughed, tripping.

“Watch my feet. One, two, three,” Paxine said again, pretending to correct his movements.

The governor and his wife danced perfectly, still smiling as if they were having so much fun. They were a few dance steps away.

“One, two, three, spin,” Paxine said, feeling Garon trip against the governor.

Paxine felt instant relief from Tache.

“Oh, so sorry,” Garon said with a laugh, acting as if he had a few too many drinks. “She’s teaching me to dance and I’m all thumbs.”

Garon laughed again. “I mean left feet. I am all left feet.”

Paxine managed an apologetic smile, letting Garon waltz her away, exaggerating every step. He danced her out of the crowd, back to the edge of the dancers, where he was back to dancing perfectly.

Her grandma waved, smiling at them. A woman that Paxine didn’t know approached her grandma, whispering in her ear. Must be an employee, Paxine thought, seeing Tinder scooped up and taken away. Tache let her know that Tinder was heading to the vet.

Her grandma stood there alone, watching them dance. Garon kept dancing nearby. Then a woman approached her grandma. Then two more women approached. Garon danced Paxine further away. Before they were lost in the crowd, women surrounded her grandma, and more were coming. Paxine knew her grandma was regaining her control of the Foundation and the women it governed. She knew that one day, that was what she would do.

The waltz ended, but another began. Garon kept dancing. Paxine wondered if Garon planned his every step. It wasn’t coincidence that he took to the dance floor to squash the Screamer. The same for dancing near her grandma to make sure she was okay. She wondered what the next step was, but the waltz stopped.

Garon led her off the dance floor, almost colliding with....

“Oh Ambassador Marques. Senhora Marques,” Garon said in greeting. He bowed to the ambassador’s wife and she giggled. He offered his hand and swept her out onto the dance floor.

Paxine felt panic. What was she to do? Dance. “Danca?” she said to the ambassador.

The ambassador looked unsure, but then smiled.

Between the ambassador and Garon, Paxine danced all night. The crowd was thinning when she flopped onto a chair. “I’m tired and hungry.”

“Yas, may too,” a woman said, sitting beside her. She was one of the ambassador’s guests.

Garon flopped down on the other side of Paxine.

“So am I,” Garon said, patting his stomach. “Adalberto. We must dine together. A midnight snack is in order.”

“A snack? No. A meal. A feast. I so hungry,” Ambassador Marques said.

Garon slapped him on the back like an old friend. “Yes, good food. Good Portuguese food.”

The two men walked arm in arm toward the door.

Dawn was streaking the sky red when Paxine fell exhausted into bed at her grandma’s house. Somehow, Garon led them to a restaurant that was still open and served excellent Portuguese food. Her belly was full.

Yawn.

The house was secure and all was quiet. Tache curled up close to her.

“Thank you, Tache,” she said, scratching his chin. A rumble of a purr, the first she had ever heard, vibrated through his whole body.

“Paxine?”

Paxine felt like she’d just gone to sleep.

“Paxine,” her grandma said, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“What?” she said, checking the clock. “Nine o’clock. Can I sleep another hour?”

“Sorry to wake you, but we have some business to attend to,” her grandma said.

“But…but it’s Sunday,” Paxine said, having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Tache was a motionless slug beside her.

“Yes, but our business never stops. Throw on some jeans, nothing fancy. We have to be back at my office by 9:30,” her grandma said, pulling the covers off.

Her grandma already had a pair of jeans and a t-shirt waiting for her on the bed.

“Mom still sleeping?” Paxine said, dressing.

“Yes. Your dad stayed in town, dealing with all the security issues,” her grandma said.

Paxine picked up a yawning Tache, following her grandma to her cube.

“I’ll make tea at the office,” her grandma said.

“I’m still full from dinner. Garon’s dinner,” she said, thinking that a cup of tea was in order.

“Greta not here?” Paxine said when the cube door opened.

“No,” her grandma said, heading toward her office.

“Where’s Tinder?” Paxine said, noting that Tinder was nowhere in sight.

Her grandma pointed to one of the sofas, where Tinder slept. Her front leg bandaged, looked big and white.

“Vet said she’ll recover. Luckily she only got a small bit, but even so, it’s very painful,” her grandma said with a shiver.

Paxine put Tache by Tinder where he curled up next to her.

“I want you to sit in the corner. Listen, no talking,” her grandma said.

The door to the office opened.

“Greta. You startled me. I didn’t expect to see you today,” her grandma said.

“I receive notices when the alarms are turned off, and I expected you would be here for debriefings, with your assistant,” Greta said, giving Paxine a smile and a wink. “Besides, your phone is ringing off the hook, and I have a breeder on the phone. She has a litter. Would you like tea?”

“Send the trainer to check the litter, and yes, tea would be wonderful,” her grandma said looking grateful.

Paxine yawned as Greta left.

“Sit. Remember, listen. No talking. No matter what. You are to pretend you are invisible in that chair,” her grandma said to her.

Paxine didn’t see why, picking up a pen and paper, for something to do, otherwise, she felt she would fall asleep.

Her grandma sat at her desk, rummaging through papers.

Greta danced in, balancing a tea tray. There were four cups, and a dozen assorted cookies. She set the tea tray down on the coffee table, pausing a moment to look at the painting of the spotted cat.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” her grandma said.

“I’ve grown to appreciate it more and more,” Greta said, revealing a folder in her hand. She gave it to Paxine’s grandma when she passed to leave. “I think you’ll like this.”

“Thanks. Mr. Cushing should be here soon. I see you have anticipated guests. You have the correct number of cups,” her grandma said.

“Good guess.” Greta smiled, “But I’m missing one thing. I will be right back.”

Her grandma opened the folder. “Here Paxine. Take a look and let me know what you see.”

In the folder was a single newspaper clipping. A picture showed the governor’s wife at a regional cat show. His wife raised and showed Abyssinians, and last fall one of her cats had reached Supreme Grand Champion.

“Our connection to the governor,” Paxine said.

“Exactly,” her grandma said, looking pleased.

Greta danced in with another tray and set it in front of Paxine. There was a glass with ice, her favorite soda, and chocolate chip cookies.

“Thanks, Greta,” Paxine said.

“Just, don’t tell your mother,” Greta said with a wink.

Paxine laughed. “Never.”

Tinder stretched on the sofa, flopping onto her other side.

“Yes, Tinder,” her grandma said in a quiet voice. “Things do work themselves out.”

Her grandma took the folder and clipping from Paxine, putting it in a desk drawer, then sat on the sofa, pouring tea.

The office door opened.

“Your guests,” Greta said.

“Good morning,” Paxine’s dad said with a nod.

Kirt followed behind. Both of them stopped, staring at Paxine.

“Good morning,” her grandma said. “Tea?”

Her dad nodded at Paxine before sitting opposite of her grandma. He now has his back to Paxine. Kirt followed, sitting next to her dad. Her dad poured himself tea and bit into a cookie.

Her dad and her grandma sipped tea. Kirt sat there doing nothing. Paxine sipped her soda, wondering why she was there.

The office door opened again and Garon entered. “Good morning. Oh, good, tea.” He sat next to her grandma and poured tea. He sipped the whole cup before checking Tinder’s bandage. “I’ll have to train her on Poppers.”

“I think she’s already learned,” her grandma said. “Well, how are Mr. and Mrs. Huntsboro this morning?”

“Not well,” her dad said. “Mr. Huntsboro is still in the hospital, under guard, and Mrs. Huntsboro is finding that prison garb does not match her shoes.”

“Excellent. We have also learned last night who might have been guiding Mr. Huntsboro and perhaps providing some of his funding,” her grandma said.

Paxine could see her dad stiffen, disguising it by sipping his tea. Kirt seemed frozen, staring down.

Garon chuckled. “Oh, yes, he wasn’t there for that. Paxine’s a good dancer.” He pretended to waltz in his seat before continuing. “I bugged, excuse the term, well, actually Shaloonya did…” Garon chuckled again. ”I thought I bugged Mr. Huntsboro’s tuxedo, only to find out it wasn’t his. I didn’t realize it was the governor’s retreat from the governor’s mansion.”

“Governor Talassee?” Kirt said, sitting upright.

“Mr. Huntsboro went there so often, but I guess he went there so often because he was getting his orders and money from there. No electronic transfer of funds. He was getting paid in cash,” Garon said.

“Governor Talassee?” Kirt said again as if to make sure they were talking about the correct man.

“There is only one governor,” her dad said with annoyance in his voice. “I told you we were fighting ourselves.”

Kirt nodded. “I think we need to re-evaluate our entire staff.”

“An honest man’s reply,” Garon said, taking a sip of tea

“Y-you suspected me?” Kirt said.

“No, but while neither of you report directly to the governor, some of your budget and most of your staff come from him,” Garon said. “That means whatever you do and know is a security leak.”

“We already know we had a security leak,” her dad said.

“We did? We do?” Kirt said, staring at him.

“Remember when I said I was worried about Paxine but I didn’t know if it was because of you or me?” her grandma said.

Her dad nodded. “I remember.”

“Looks like it was both of us. Mrs. Huntsboro was delusional to think she could take over my position, and Mr. Huntsboro was making quite a profit on supporting the Child Protection Act. He wasn’t happy with anyone who opposed it,” her grandma said.

Her dad looked at Kirt, but Kirt seemed struck dumb. “What do you have on Governor Talassee?” her dad said.

Paxine thought her dad should give Kirk a poke to wake him up.

“Depends,” Garon said, looking like a kid holding a sack of candy who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to share or not.

“I invited Garon here today to see if Kirt would be interested in learning a few things in regards to protection and surveillance as long as you don’t have Garon arrested. I would like my granddaughter better guarded should there be any future idiots delusional enough to challenge us,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “Also, Garon works for me. Information must be paid for.”

“Just what is your position?” Kirt said.

“I am a…”

“I don’t think we need to know,” her dad said, turning to nod at Paxine. He paused to examine the spotted cat painting.

“What are the cats for?” Kirt said.

“You need ask after last night?” her grandma said.

“Don’t ask,” her dad said, cutting him off from asking another question.

Greta poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the trainer wants to talk to you. It’s about the litter.”

“What about the litter?” her grandma said, showing no indication of rising from the sofa.

“One keeps climbing up to sit on her shoulder.”

***

Thank you for reading. Please leave a review, a like, and a vote. I don’t get paid for this. My only gratification is finding out how people enjoyed the book. However, if you’d like to support my chocolate addiction that enables me to write such novels, click on the Support Me button on my profile and donate. Anything is appreciated.

Thank you.

SJ WILKE