Read Online Claws for a Cause (A Klepto Cat Mystery Book 15) by Patricia Fry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Fry
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Michael asked Savannah as she scurried around the kitchen the following evening, setting out the cats’ and dog’s food for her aunt and Colbi, who would both be feeding the animals while they were gone. “Got cash for the trip, batteries for your camera, Lily’s favorite toys?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure I have everything. The list is there on the buffet; take a look and see if I’ve forgotten anything. I packed three pair of your board shorts, your extra pair of flip-flops, five tees, a couple of tank tops…”
“Khaki slacks and button-up shirt?” Michael read from the list. “Why do I need those? I thought we were going to be beach bums and bumettes.”
“Bumettes?” she repeated laughing.
“Yeah, that’s lady bums.”
“Well, Michael, we’re invited to a luau one evening. You might want to dress up a little. I’m taking dresses. I plan to buy you a Hawaiian shirt once we get there.”
“Okay. Whatever you say I need, I guess that’s what I need. Good job, hon.” Motioning with his head, he said, “There goes your phone. Are you expecting a call?”
“Maybe,” she said, reaching for her cell. “Oh, hi Colbi. How are you?” Lowering her voice she asked, “Is your brother back? What did you find out—I mean about the stuff the cats found?”
“He was mad as hell when he saw I had it. Didn’t believe the cats found it. He thought I’d been snooping. I told him that if he didn’t have anything to hide, he shouldn’t care if I snooped.”
“What did he say?”
“He couldn’t see the reasoning in that. Savannah, he’s from such a different world than I am; you wouldn’t even know we were siblings.”
“So did he explain the stuff? What did he tell you about it?”
“He said it’s medicinal—you know, medicinal marijuana—and he takes it for pain from an old injury.”
Savannah didn’t respond for a moment. She then asked, “Do you believe him?”
“Well, he told me a long story about how he’d been in a car accident and was in the hospital for a long time. That’s why he couldn’t work and ended up homeless. It wasn’t because of drugs. When he was suffering a lot of pain, someone introduced him to medicinal marijuana. He said that was the only thing that helped and he started using it daily.”
“So why didn’t he get a job, then—I mean, once he was feeling better?”
“Savannah, I got the distinct impression he was making up the story as he went along. At one point, he said he was looking for a job every day, but it’s hard when you live on the streets and don’t have an address or clothes or a way to clean up for the job search.”
“Sounds logical.”
“Yes, to a degree. But there were other excuses, too. Dig this Savannah—he said he couldn’t get a job because he didn’t have an alarm clock. He had a job once and he knew a guy in his encampment with a wind-up alarm clock. But when the guy moved and took the clock, Harrison started arriving late to work and got fired. It sounds to me like just a bunch of excuses.”
“So you don’t believe him?” Savannah asked.
“Well, I’ve been around enough homeless people in my job as a reporter and I must say, I’ve heard most of their excuses. So has Damon—well, he’s even lived the life—so he’s way more in tune with the mentality and way more skeptical about Harrison than I am.”
Savannah let out a deep sigh. “So what are you going to do, Colbi?”
“Damon wants me to kick Harrison out now—no apologies or explanations—just send him on his way until he’s clean and working steady. But that seems so heartless. I mean, how’s he going to change his life if someone doesn’t give him a break? I’m not sure what to do. Medicinal marijuana is certainly different from street marijuana—I mean, at least he has a reason to use it. And I guess if he’s getting it legally, he can’t be arrested for having it. Damon says he can’t have more than eight ounces to be legal and what Rags
“Yes, I’m pretty sure I have everything. The list is there on the buffet; take a look and see if I’ve forgotten anything. I packed three pair of your board shorts, your extra pair of flip-flops, five tees, a couple of tank tops…”
“Khaki slacks and button-up shirt?” Michael read from the list. “Why do I need those? I thought we were going to be beach bums and bumettes.”
“Bumettes?” she repeated laughing.
“Yeah, that’s lady bums.”
“Well, Michael, we’re invited to a luau one evening. You might want to dress up a little. I’m taking dresses. I plan to buy you a Hawaiian shirt once we get there.”
“Okay. Whatever you say I need, I guess that’s what I need. Good job, hon.” Motioning with his head, he said, “There goes your phone. Are you expecting a call?”
“Maybe,” she said, reaching for her cell. “Oh, hi Colbi. How are you?” Lowering her voice she asked, “Is your brother back? What did you find out—I mean about the stuff the cats found?”
“He was mad as hell when he saw I had it. Didn’t believe the cats found it. He thought I’d been snooping. I told him that if he didn’t have anything to hide, he shouldn’t care if I snooped.”
“What did he say?”
“He couldn’t see the reasoning in that. Savannah, he’s from such a different world than I am; you wouldn’t even know we were siblings.”
“So did he explain the stuff? What did he tell you about it?”
“He said it’s medicinal—you know, medicinal marijuana—and he takes it for pain from an old injury.”
Savannah didn’t respond for a moment. She then asked, “Do you believe him?”
“Well, he told me a long story about how he’d been in a car accident and was in the hospital for a long time. That’s why he couldn’t work and ended up homeless. It wasn’t because of drugs. When he was suffering a lot of pain, someone introduced him to medicinal marijuana. He said that was the only thing that helped and he started using it daily.”
“So why didn’t he get a job, then—I mean, once he was feeling better?”
“Savannah, I got the distinct impression he was making up the story as he went along. At one point, he said he was looking for a job every day, but it’s hard when you live on the streets and don’t have an address or clothes or a way to clean up for the job search.”
“Sounds logical.”
“Yes, to a degree. But there were other excuses, too. Dig this Savannah—he said he couldn’t get a job because he didn’t have an alarm clock. He had a job once and he knew a guy in his encampment with a wind-up alarm clock. But when the guy moved and took the clock, Harrison started arriving late to work and got fired. It sounds to me like just a bunch of excuses.”
“So you don’t believe him?” Savannah asked.
“Well, I’ve been around enough homeless people in my job as a reporter and I must say, I’ve heard most of their excuses. So has Damon—well, he’s even lived the life—so he’s way more in tune with the mentality and way more skeptical about Harrison than I am.”
Savannah let out a deep sigh. “So what are you going to do, Colbi?”
“Damon wants me to kick Harrison out now—no apologies or explanations—just send him on his way until he’s clean and working steady. But that seems so heartless. I mean, how’s he going to change his life if someone doesn’t give him a break? I’m not sure what to do. Medicinal marijuana is certainly different from street marijuana—I mean, at least he has a reason to use it. And I guess if he’s getting it legally, he can’t be arrested for having it. Damon says he can’t have more than eight ounces to be legal and what Rags
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