Page 38 of Booked for Murder

“I warned you,” Ren said, gesturing for the pair of women to come into my apartment and closing the door behind them. “Although I hadn’t anticipated her to be after her Chinese food again quite so quickly. Janette, you can thank me later for notifying them of the situation in the car.”

“I’m just wondering how you retrieved them so quickly.”

“He texted me that my idiot son decided to try your preferred foods,” Bradley’s mother confessed. “I had our driver take us to the Met, and we walked to the cafe down the street to wait. Then we got a text about this investigator cell.”

I pointed at Bradley with my chopsticks. “He’s the culprit behind the private investigator cell. I’m just the hapless librarian who was minding her own business at home when an invasion force came in and dragged me into this.”

“Hapless librarian?” Jezabella asked, her eyes wide. “You? A librarian? You’re a librarian?”

Her incredulous tone amused me. She hadn’t changed all that much despite the years, only filling out a little. I supposed librarian was a fairly far leap from a personal bodyguard. “I’m a good librarian, too.”

“Are you capable of not being good at what you set yourself to do?” Bradley’s mother asked. “Especially disappearing?”

Once again, I gestured at Bradley with my chopsticks. “He’s the one who said not to come around until I was returned to my prime. I just did what he ordered. I just happened to do it well. It is my fault I did such a good job at it, and I absolutely refuse to be sorry for that.”

Freedom tasted a lot like orange chicken, and I had another bite to enjoy it while it lasted.

“You look fine. What’s wrong with you?”

As I had the end seat of the couch and it was my coffee table to do with as I pleased, I swallowed my hard-earned prize, set the takeout dish aside, twisted enough I could swing my leg up, and thumped my medical boot up onto the old, abused wood. Elevating the damned thing might help me some tomorrow, too. To make it clear what I dealt with, I picked up my cane and held it up. “Ask Beatrice what happens when I get stubborn and neglect to use this.”

Beatrice snorted, and she took my cane from me and used it to prod Bradley awake. “We have company, so wake up, you lazy bum.”

Without opening his eyes, Bradley grabbed one of my cushions and smacked Beatrice with it. “Go away, you literary menace.”

Entertainment deserved a good meal to go with it, so I grabbed my orange chicken and munched while observing their spat. As I expected from her, Beatrice grabbed my other cushion and went after Bradley like she meant it. Their antics disturbed my cat, and Ajani hissed before fleeing to my bedroom. “Your mother is here.”

“Yes, I heard her attempt to scold you. Why are you eating death in a takeout container again? I can smell it.”

“One day, I will have you trained so you, too, can enjoy death in a takeout container. I’ll start you with mild spice and work you up to the jewels of the culinary world. I’ll even try to ease you into it so you won’t attempt to run me out of milk. Did you run me out of milk?”

“I did. I’ll replace it.”

I sighed over the fate of my poor, abused milk. “I want whole milk, not that watered down nonsense that’s weird white garbage pretending to be milk.”

“I’ll make sure I get you whole milk.”

“You idiot,” Bradley’s mother scolded. “You had milk?”

“Mom, try one bite of her lunch. Just one. Hell, go sniff it. I thought I’d be manly and ate several whole pieces. If she can do it, I can do it, right? Wrong. I somehow survived. It took three glasses of milk and some sugar to make my mouth stop spontaneously combusting, but I survived. I’ve been told I’ll have restored taste buds in a few weeks.”

“I’m impressed you’re conscious. Once the milk has its way with you, you tend to pass right out for the day. I don’t miss the episodes, but I do miss the blessed silence,” she replied, and shaking her head, she inspected my apartment, exploring through the living room and poking her head into my bathroom and bedroom. “You have a lovely cat. Is she a girl? I hope she’s a girl. She’s far too pretty to be a boy. What is her name? She’s on your pillow. Is she supposed to be there?”

“She is a girl. She is my fluffy feline goddess, and I am her servant. She goes where she pleases.” I smiled that she was on my pillow, a good sign Ajani would cuddle up with me at bedtime despite the circumstances that’d driven her to take shelter in the bedroom. “She even comes to work with me, though she’ll spend some nights at the library. Usually, she decides if she comes home with me unless it’s Friday. She stays here over the weekends.”

“I see. But doesn’t her fur get onto your bed?”

“Her fur gets onto everything I own. It’s a small price to pay. I clean up after her once a week, although I do her litter box daily.” Mostly, I cleaned up her fur on bad days when I couldn’t move around much, using a brush to get the fur out of the carpet, cleaning my bedding, and using a lint roller on my clothes. With the painkillers, I’d likely have fewer days I’d have no choice to clean up her fur, and I’d be able to get the job done in a quarter of the time. “Her name is Ajani, and she’s a stray I picked up off the streets as a kitten.”

“I see. There was nobody around to tell you no.”

“I do enjoy that part of my retirement, yes. I’m not a fan of the reason for my retirement, but I’m already beyond how far I’d been told I’d recover, so that’s something.”

“Ren spent the time coming here filling us in on your foot.” Bradley’s mother eyed my medical boot. “What happens if you take that off?”

“It doesn’t end well. The boot is why I can walk reliably. My ankle generally collapses at its whim within a few steps. It also hurts like hell. The boot stabilizes it and keeps the weight off the more damaged parts of my foot. I can’t afford the next stage of surgery for it yet.”

“I can afford it,” Bradley’s mother replied in a tone allowing no argument.