Both eyes again.
“Yes, I need more! Got it. I need my trio. Blink once for three, Minerva.”
She turned to stare straight ahead. Was I wrong?
“Not wrong, just irksome.” The voice came not from Bixby, but the feline queen herself. “I cannot stand working with beginners. Hence, Norris.”
I glanced through the seats at Bixby. “Did you expect her to sound like that?”
“I expected her to sound like the five-hundred-year-old crone she is,” he said.
“And yet she sounds like a Broadway star.”
“The kind who gets an honorary award just for crossing the century mark.” He pretended to cough and muttered, “Pretentious hag.”
“Quiet.” I turned the key in the ignition. “She’s stunning, with a voice to match.”
“Sycophant.” Minerva had apparently attended the same school of snark as Bixby. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me.”
Bixby laughed so hard I knew without looking that he’d rolled onto his side. “Glad she’s not the teacher. Everyone would be too terrified to learn.”
The cat turned to stare through the seats. “Do you really think you can’t die again, minion? And would you care to test it?”
“No, we would not, Minerva.” I drove back toward Whimsy. “I understand why you’re testy, but we’re on the same side, remember?”
“We’ll see. Make no mistake that if it comes to choosing Ruthann or you, it’ll be the former. She’s only at risk because you put her there.”
“I know.” Shame washed over me and warmed my extremities. “I’m sorry.”
“Lay off, lady,” Bixby said. “Janelle beats herself up enough without you piling on.”
The cat stared at me, but as Elsa had surpassed the speed limit, I kept my eyes on the road. “What did Norris say?” Minerva asked. “That we all make mistakes. Even I made some. Or at least one. And then we learn to correct them.”
“Did you hear the whole conversation?” I asked.
“Enough. I have exquisite hearing. Now, turn here and go collect your friends.”
I hazarded a glance her way. “But I want to pick up my book.”
“You have what you need. Norris said so. Trust the teacher.” She sighed and it really was theatrical. If Bixby could clap, he would have.
“Imagine me applauding as she crawls up to get her life and death achievement award.”
She licked her other paw. “Minion, what makes you think I ever passed?”
“I can smell it. The loneliness. The desperation to contribute again. Your one mistake took you out, as it did me. And then Ruthann brought you back.”
There was a pause so long I crossed three small bridges, gripping the wheel tightly. It wasn’t the road that made me nervous but the possible answer. “Not Ruthann,” Minerva said at last. “Although I came back for her.”
“Who brought you over, if you don’t mind my asking? I thought I was—”
“Unique? Not entirely. It was Cora, your great-great-grandmother on the Brighton side.” She paused. “I think that’s enough greats for you to get the picture.”
“Really? That’s incredible.” I wanted to ask more about Cora but with all the distractions it seemed best to focus on getting Elsa through a particularly twisty section of our journey. Luckily, the car almost seemed to know her own way. “Wait a second. Are you saying Ruthann is that old? Like great-great old?”
“A lady never reveals her age. Or anyone else’s.”
Bixby was quiet for longer than he could usually manage. “Ruthann looks good. Gotta hand it to her.”
I laughed. “An understatement from the dog of grand statements. But if Ruthann is so long-lived, what happened to my missing ‘greats,’ Minerva?”
“Not my story to tell. But I do owe something to the Brightons for my current assignment.”
As I got closer to home, I pressed the pedal down. “And that’s why I can hear you?”
“I presume it’s a gift from Cora. To my knowledge, no one else can. Always wondered if the trait would surface again. It’s a worthy one, unlike the very persistent hiccups.”
“That’s hereditary, too?” My voice got a little shrill. “What else?”
“A few other small tics. Nothing you can’t manage with time and your notorious stubbornness.”
I started to ask another question and her paw rose to cut me off. “I’m not the Brighton family historian. My job is to protect Ruthann, whose job is to protect the town. And that’s what we’re doing tonight.”
My foot lifted off the gas and the car slowed. “Does the mayor know about my dog rescues?”
She washed her face for long enough that I actually hit the brakes. “Spill, or Elsa stops here.”
Another theatrical sigh. “She doesn’t. I’ve kept your secret out of courtesy to my Brighton patron. As the minion says, we can smell these things.”
