Hallway Antics And Hidden Scarves

“Now that your mom is occupied, let's have some fun.”   Where'd those kittens go?”  Tinkletoes asks Dobby taking a step away from the door.

There is a Whoosh and then another Whoosh is heard.  Tinkletoes suddenly feels more weight on top of his combat boots.  He looks down to see two pairs of eyes looking up at him expectantly.   The eyes are wide and radiate intense, unbridled energy.  “They have a quick response time.  That's good.   Now it's time to teach them how to follow orders.”  Tinkletoes says smiling.

“Good luck with that.”  Dobby says.

Spots watches Tinkletoes, then Dobby, then Tinkletoes throughout the exchange.  The kitten's pupils dilate and his body tenses.  Spots jumps, hugging Tinkletoes around his leg and climbs.  The kitten doesn't stop climbing until he is perched on Tinkletoes' shoulder and surveying all that he deems his.

  Tinkletoes turns and looking at Spots the self-proclaimed mercenary says, “Don't do that again.”  Taking Tinkletoes' words as an invitation Smudge does the exact same thing on the opposite side.  Conditions are right and a game of tag between the kittens ensues.  Spots slapping at Smudge only to miss and hit the top of Tinkletoes' head Smudge retaliating and smacking the human on the nose.

“How long are they gonna do this?”  Tinkletoes asks.

“They're kittens.  Short attention spans.”   Dobby says.  “Wait for it.  Three, two, one...”

  Smudge runs down Tinkletoes' left side taking off into the living room Spots following closely down the right.

  “Dudes, where did you go?   I've been looking all over for you two.”  Ray's voice can be heard from the room next door.  “Salt pumps you two up.  Now let's see what happens if I give you sugar.”* Something breaks.  “Dudes chill out.  There's plenty of Marshmallow Fruit Bits for all of us.   You guys like milk, don't you?”

  “Was that something breaking?  I thought I heard something breaking.”   Writer Lady's voice calls from the other side of High Command's door.

  “Everything is fine.”  Tinkletoes says.  “Go back to your writing.”

                                     The Teller Cont'd

   “No Armand there are not.  No crystal ball either.  I was trained that those are all embellishments.  Dressings, put out to fulfill an expectation that many have of tellers.  If a client's mind is full of expectations they cannot truly hear what they are being told.”

  “Really?”

  “It is the philosophy I was raised with.  If it is that way for all tellers that I cannot say but with my bloodline it is.”

  “This home doesn't look like the surroundings of such a young woman either.” Armand said.  “How old are you, twenty-two?”  He asked.

  “I am twenty-eight.  This is a family home.  I did not decorate it.”   She answered calmly studying Armand.  He had dark hair and eyes.   Although he was of average height and build many would have thought twice before walking down a dark alley with him.

  “Armand.  You called me Armand earlier.   How did you know my name?”  He asked.  She was a pretty woman of average height with coppery hair and amber eyes that competed for his attention.  Armand found himself having trouble finding his words.  Twenty- eight.   It was hard for Armand to see the young woman as twenty-eight.   There was something different about her.  Something more grounded than the other twenty-somethings he knew.  Was she one of those old souls?  Was that what they were called?

  “Once again...”   Cecily pointed out patiently.

  “I came to a teller and asked her how she knew things.”   Armand said finishing her thought.

  “Sit down.  I'll bring you some tea.”

  “That would be nice but unfortunately there's no time.”   Armand said.

  “There is always time sir.”

  “There isn't.  I came to see you tonight...this is about my wife, Olivia, she's laying in a hospital bed in a coma and no one knows how it happened.  My sister-in-law found her laying on the floor in our home nearly beaten to death.   We have no idea who would want to hurt her or why.  A lady who cleans at the hospital heard about Olivia, she saw my distress, and said you could help.”  Armand said as he worked his hand, a wrinkled piece of cloth clenched in it.

 Cecily could see the brightly colored fabric as it peeked out between his fingers.

“I brought this.  The cleaning lady said to bring something of Olivia's.  She was wearing this when my sister-in-law found her.”

  “What about the police?”  Cecily asked.

  “They are investigating.  They think I went out for something to eat.”

  “Instead you came here.” Cecily said. “What about the scarf?”

  “My sister-in-law picked it up and put it in her purse during all of the excitement and found it in her purse later.   She said that she forgot she had it.”

  “You didn't give it to the police?”  Cecily asked.

  “I needed something to bring to you.   I couldn't give it to them.  Not yet.”  Armand explained.

  Cecily looked at Armand closely and wondered if her previous assessment had not revealed enough about her visitor.  She turned and left the room, returning with a bag.  “Put the scarf in the bag.”  She said.  “When you return to the hospital give the scarf to the police.   Tell them the story of how you gained possession of it. Say that you put the scarf into your pocket and forgot about it, while you were at dinner you reached into your pocket to get your cell phone and found it there that was when you realized you had forgotten to give it to them.  The moment you found the scarf you asked your waitress for a bag and put it in there.  Make sure the police know the names of everyone you know of that has touched this scarf.”

  “You aren't going to touch it?”  He asked.

  “No, the scarf is evidence.”

  “But I need your help.”  Armand said.  “I have to know what happened to my wife.”

 “We will find the answer you seek in good time.  I have other ways of...getting to the truth.  Tell me Armand, how much time do the police expect you to be gone?”

  “An hour.”

  “The hospital is two blocks away.   You have been here about ten minutes.  We still have time.”  Cecily said as a smile crossed her lips.   “Tea?”  She asked.

*Never feed your cat sugar or salt.

Ten Hundred Hours

  “I look awful.”  Writer Lady says looking into the bathroom mirror.

  “No you don't Mom.”  Dobby says.  The ginger tabby is sitting in the doorway watching as she goes through her daily grooming routine.

  “Ray?  Hey man, I was wondering where you were today.”   Tinkletoes says making his way to the open doorway.   Realizing his mistake he pales at Writer Lady's saddened expression.

   “I didn't mean it.”  He says.

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.   “Yes you did.”  She looks at herself more closely in the mirror.  “You're right.  I have the same bags under my eyes, the same tired expression, the same dry, frizzy, blonde hair.   I'm turning into Ray.”  She turns back to the mirror, then looks back at Tinkletoes, tears welling in her eyes.  “I'm turning into Ray.”

  Dobby crosses the distance and rubs against her ankles.  “It's okay.  You're just tired Mom.”

  Writer Lady reaches down and scoops up the cat.

  “It's okay Mom.   It's okay.”   He purrs rubbing his head against her face.

  “Thank you kitty.”  She says scratching an ear.

  “Better?”  He asks.
 

  Writer Lady nods and puts Dobby down, quickly wiping away her tears.

  “You shouldn't feel bad Ray's a good guy.  He's always smiling, no matter how tired he is.   Laid back too.”  Tinkletoes says.

  “I know.”  She says.

  “Hey...where is everyone?”  Ray asks, entering the hallway and looking in through the bathroom entry.

  “Whoa...Dude.  It's just like I'm looking in the mirror.  Cool.”

  “I'll be okay.”  Writer Lady manages to squeak out.  She looks at Tinkletoes as she slowly closes the door.

  Tinkletoes knocks on the door.   Writer Lady opens it a crack.  “You haven't had much of a chance to write lately have you?”

  “No.”  She answers.

  “When you get done here, why don't you spend some time in High Command? You might, you know, feel better.”

  Writer Lady nods and closes the door.

  Tinkletoes turns around looks at Ray who is holding an unopened bag of cheese puffs in one hand.  Both kittens are sniffing at the bag with interest.  “There's a cheese puff ban in this house Ray.”   He says.

  “It's an experiment.”  Ray says, lifting the bag from the kittens' reach.

  “Let's wait until the lady of the house says it's all right.”  Tinkletoes says.

The odd sniffle can be heard coming from behind the bathroom door.   The kittens lose interest in the discussion and take off running through the house. First dashing through the living room then returning to the hallway and running over Tinkletoes' feet into High Command up the Big Writing Chair and back down, claws extended for better handling around curves.   The pair bolt out of High Command and make a b line for the bedroom climbing up Writer Lady's headboard pulling threads of the fabric covered board as they go.  Dobby, Tinkletoes, and Ray stand in the bedroom entry watching as the kittens take part in a final battle.   Hanging onto the edge of the headboard, tails flicking in the breeze, the fall to the mattress long and dangerous.  Hey, it seems huge to a kitten.  The fight ends when Spots launches himself skyward (well...the ceiling—skyward sounds cooler) towards the ceiling fan to escape his brother's onslaught.   The kitten flips head over tail finding himself hanging off of the foot of the bed where he lands, holding onto the bed's quilt with the tip of a single claw. 
 

  “So it's an experiment huh?”  Tinkletoes asks looking at Ray.

  “Dude...an experiment.”

  “I think a temporary lift of the cheese puff ban would be okay.  Keep those recruits busy Ray.”

  Ray smiles and nods.  He walks into the bedroom, picks up Spots, and carefully detaches him from the quilt.

 

  “Ray?”  Tinkletoes calls. “Don't tell the High Commander, the General, Her Ladyship.”    He shakes his head.  “Don't tell any females.  This is guy stuff.”

Not getting any response Tinkletoes looks in Ray's direction.  Ray is staring at him with a blank expression.

  “Ray?”   He asks.   Tinkletoes walks over to Ray and snaps his fingers in Ray's face.  Nothing.

  “If anyone asks, it's a training exercise.”  He announces.

  “Dude.  What time is it?”  Ray asks.

  “Ten hundred hours.  You'd better get going.”  He says.

   "Cool."  Ray says nodding and continues his work.

  When Tinkletoes checks on Writer Lady the door to High Command is closed.  He knocks. 

 

  “Yes?”  She calls.

  “May I come in?”

  “Yeah.”  She says, suspending typing long enough to answer.

  He enters, walking into her line of sight and she looks up. “Hi.  How's it going?”  Tinkletoes asks.

  “Pretty good I think.  When I sat down I didn't feel like I had anything to say but...”  She says gesturing to her full screen.

  “Wow.”   He says.  Tinkletoes begins reading over her shoulder his lips moving silently as he reads.

                                                  The Teller

The only way to discover what happened to your wife is to call your brother by his true name.

At precisely nine pm. there was a knock on the door.  She knew that it was precisely nine pm. because at nine pm. she always sat down with her last cup of tea for the evening.  An herbal blend that calmed her nerves and quieted her sensitivities so she could rest.

Not tonight.  On this rainy September evening her visitor, the one that had been lingering on the outskirts of her consciousness for many months made his unexpected entrance, exactly as she had foreseen it.  Cracking the door a bit, Cecily had a gift but not a precise one, and as Grandma had always said those who came looking for the wisdom of a teller were not always without malice in their hearts.

“Are you the teller?”  A voice asked from the other side of the door.

“I am.”   Cecily responded.

“I'm sorry to call so late but I need your help.  It is quite urgent.”

Cecily closed her eyes as he spoke, she listened for inflections in his voice, seeing the colors of his words and sensed his strain.  The fear in his heart.  She was in no danger.

“I was expecting you.”  She said and opened the door the rest of the way.

The fortune teller's words did not fully sink in until after Armand had come through the door.

“You were expecting me?”  He asked as he looked around the room.  “How could you be expecting me?”

Cecily's lips curved up into a brief smile.  “You arrive seeking the help of a teller and asks how she knows things?”

“That is silly isn't it?”  Armand asked.

Cecily smiled briefly.

Armand looked around and took in his surroundings, the modest furniture, the fireplace, the hand sewn throw pillows, the weather beaten looking cat with unusual eyes.

“You are surprised?”  Cecily asked.

“Yes. A bit.”  Armand admitted.  “There are no candles, no exotic looking scarves, no incense.”
 

“No Armand there are not.  No crystal ball either.   I was trained that those are all embellishments, dressings, put out to fulfill an expectation that many have of tellers.  If a client's mind is full of expectation they cannot truly hear what they are being told.”

“Really?”

“It is the philosophy I was raised with.  If it is that way for all tellers that I cannot say but with my bloodline it is.”

“The home doesn't look like the surroundings of such a young woman either.”  Armand said.   “How old are you, twenty-two?”   He asked.

“I am twenty-eight.  This is a family home.  I did not decorate it.”  She answered calmly looking closely at Armand.

She was a pretty woman of average height with coppery hair and amber eyes that competed for his attention.  Armand found himself having trouble finding his words.

  “That's interesting."  Tinkletoes says.  "A little bit redundant at the beginning but still good.” 

  “It's the first page of a first draft.”   Writer Lady points out.

  “How many drafts will you write?”

  “Thousands.”   She exaggerates a bit. 

 

  “Oh...in that case.   It's real good.”

  “Thank you.” 

 

  “I wanted to let you know that everything is moving along normal perimeters.  Everything is fine out there.”

  “The kittens are fine?”  She asks.

  “The new recruits have been contained, reassigned, and are participating in training exercises.”

  Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes and raises an eyebrow.

  “The kittens are fine.”  He says.

  “Okay.   I should stay in here?”  She asks.

  “Stay in here.”

  “Okay.”  She says and continues typing.

  Tinkletoes backs out of the room and quietly closes the door.

  “So did Mom buy it?”  Dobby asks.

  “She bought it.”  He answers.