I could have believed a lot of things about MacArthur: that he cheated on Avery, turned in Tim, and was inclined to bend the law. But I couldn’t believe he would walk out on Chester. Over coffee at the Goh Cup, MacArthur and I had often discussed Chester’s need for a father figure. Rupert the Sperm Donor, his frequently absent, usually stoned, sorry excuse for a dad, didn’t even try to be paternal. I had assumed MacArthur saw himself filling that role for Chester.
“And then he goes and abandons the kid!” I fumed.
“He didn’t abandon him,” Jenx said. “He left him a note and got him a sitter.”
“He took off! Adios. Sayonara. Have a nice life! How is Chester handling it?”
“I think he’s-“
My ringing cell phone interrupted Jenx’s reply. Caller ID said The Castle.
“That’s Chester now,” I said. “I hope I can come up with something comforting to say!”
“Just be yourself,” Jenx said.
“’Myself’ babbles nonstop when things go wrong.”
“Perfect,” she said. “That should distract him.”
“Hello?” I answered coolly. My strategy was to pretend there was no such thing as Caller ID. Or a gossipy police chief in my office.
“Hello, Whiskey. This is Chester. I’m calling with some potentially alarming news.”
“Chester, just remember, no matter how terrible things seem now, they will get better!”
“Thank you, Whiskey. This is a courtesy call… to let you know Avery was here. She’s on her way to find you.”
“Avery?” I had completely forgotten that my evil stepdaughter was due back in town today. “Does she know about…?”
I bit my tongue before I could mention the missing cleaner.
“MacArthur leaving? Yes. He wrote her a note, too.”
Uh-oh. Avery scorned was even scarier that standard Avery. According to her overblown sense of entitlement, people owed her whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. How dare MacArthur change his mind about being there for her and the twins?
Avery was no doubt looking for me because she expected me to solve her problems; in other words, provide free room, board, and baby-sitting. The concept of full employment didn’t figure into Avery’s universe. I assumed she’d go straight to Vestige since it was right next door to the Castle. Failing to find me at home would double her frenzy. By the time she arrived at my office, every vein in her neck would be pulsing, and her tongue-flicking tic would be in overdrive.
“How long ago did she leave the Castle, Chester?”
“I called you the minute she left.”
“Good man!”
“No problem, Whiskey. We’ll talk about MacArthur another time. When you feel up to it.”
I’d had the call on speaker phone, so Jenx heard every word.
“Stay calm,” she told me. “It’ll take Avery ten minutes to get here. By then we’ll have at least one good excuse why she can’t move in with you. How about… you have a fatal contagious disease?”
“I like that! Name one.”
“Malaria.”
”Name another one.”
“Bubonic plague?”
My front door clicked again, and my heart clenched. I wasn’t ready for Avery. No way she‘d buy malaria or the Bubonic plague.
But it wasn’t Avery. Standing in my lobby was none other than Kori Davies. With Abra on a leash.
“I didn’t have time to groom her for ya, but here she is.”
I’d never seen Abra more of a mess. Her usually glossy blonde coat was not only tangled and matted, it was also caked with mud. She looked like a street mutt. A brown one, at that. Idly I wondered how much a snood might have helped.
“I owe you some kind of reward,” I told Kori. What I didn’t add was “assuming you didn’t help steal her in the first place.”
“Forget about it,” Kori said, cracking her gum. “I was going this way, anyhow.”
As was always the case at our reunions, Abra showed no interest in my presence although she did wag her tail at Jenx. But that was probably because she associated Jenx with Brady and Brady with Roscoe. Abra was always hot for Roscoe.
Where were my manners?
“Uh, let me introduce you two. Chief Jenkins, meet-“
“Kori Davies.” Jenx finished the sentence herself and extended her hand.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“I know how she knew,” Kori said. “Ya looked me up on NCIC. Right?”
“Right,” Jenx said. “You have an impressive criminal record. For your age and parole status.”
“Thanks.”
I wondered if there was more to Kori than car theft and vehicular homicide. If there was, I decided I’d rather not know about it. Accepting Abra’s leash, I said, “Where did you find her?”
“Route 20. Not far from that shithole motel. I pulled over, and she jumped in. I took her back to your room, but you’d already checked out. I was just dicking around Amish Country, so she was my excuse to come see Big Mac.”
“’Big Mac’?”
“That’s what I call MacArthur.”
Kori tilted her pelvis provocatively. I gave thanks that Chester was nowhere nearby.
“I thought you’d gone back to Chicago…”
“I’m never going back there,” Kori said. “You think Abra’s a bitch? Try living with my aunt Susan. Uncle Liam’s going to help me make my dreams come true. He’s sending me to school in Vegas.”
“UNLV?” I asked.
“Bartending school. I’m a natural.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but aren’t you in a twelve-step program?”
“I am,” Kori said proudly. “Not AA, though. I’m addicted to sex. Speaking of which, where’s Big Mac? I can’t wait to surprise him!”
Jenx and I exchanged glances; I caught a twinkle in the chief’s eye. She was leaving this one for me.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news-”
“Don’t tell me!” she said. “He’s in jail.”
“No. Why would you guess that?”
“It happens. So what’s the bad news?”
“MacArthur’s gone,” I said. “He bugged out last night.”
She stopped chewing her gum and stared. “Are you shitting me?”
“No. Sorry. I am not shitting you. He packed up and left.”
Kori guffawed so hard that her gum flew across the room and stuck to the glass of my front door.
“You think that’s funny?” I said.
“Oh yeah. That’s what Big Mac said he was gonna do, and I didn’t believe him!”
She was still laughing.
“You’re not mad at him?” I said.
“Why the hell would I be mad at him? The guy did what he said he was gonna do. That, like, almost never happens!”
“Ya hear that, Whiskey?” Jenx said meaningfully. “’That, like, almost never happens.’”
“Let me get this straight,” I told Kori. “Where did Big Mac-I mean, MacArthur-say he was going?”
“Oh, he didn’t say where. He just said it was time to move on down the road. He’s a rolling stone, that one.”
Abra farted, and I laughed. I couldn’t imagine why; dog farts had never amused me before. Then Kori took a cell phone call from another boyfriend, somebody named Lance. She promised to “jump his bones” in two hours. They were synchronizing watches as she walked out the door with nary a backward glance.
I couldn’t help but admire Kori. She was an awesome Bad Example. If the economy were better, she’d make one hell of a Realtor.