I huffed in disgust, dropped to smooth ground, still warm from hot day. Jogged down street, keeping to shadows, checking for humans and yappy dogs. Sitting still when humans drew near. Moving on after.
Hotel in view. Marriott. Too much man-lights. Faint trace of Anna-human on air, fresh, moving, in car with human man. Not Rick. Liver-eater? I raced down street, cornered into another. Saw/smelled Anna in car window. Headed toward liver-eater territory, over river. I crouched in shadows, watched for truck. Two came by, too tall. Another with picture of fish and crabs on side. Smelled wonderful. I licked mouth and gathered feet in tight. Truck moving like lumbering cow, slow, closer. Jumped to car trunk, raced up car roof, leaped. Landed on lumbering-cow truck. Settled to ride, crouching low. Claws on metal strip with bumps. Smell of seafood. Stomach rumbled. I lifted nose into air, smelling fish, crab. River drew near, with Anna-human scent, ahead. Lumbering cow-fish truck followed Anna-human across bridge.
Look! Remember!
I saw sign, WESTBANK EXPRESSWAY. Dropped into scent-bliss again, mouth open, face lifted into wind, taking in wonderful smells of fish, dead things, alligator, birds. Much prey here. Good smells. But watched signs, remembering. GENERAL DEGAULLE DRIVE. Cow-fish truck turned off, away from Anna-scent.
Hunt, she commanded.
I huffed and jumped from wonderful cow-fish truck to roof of parked car. Trotted back to General DeGaulle Drive. Found Anna-human scent. Trotted after. Her scent turned on new street, sign in man-words, WOODLAND HWY. New part of town, south and west of French Quarter. Far from the liver-eater’s known hunting range.
Cut across overgrown, marshy land. To English Turn Parkway. Big human-dens everywhere. Stink of chemicals. Golf course, she whispered. I trotted over bridge, chemical-smelling water. Found house where Anna-human and male entered. Anna-human scent everywhere. In garden. Her den. Kit. Mate.
Daughter. Husband. The mayor, she whispered.
I paced perimeter in shadow of house. Lapped from fountain, water spouting from fish-mouth, but tasting of city water, not fish. House dark. Pool in back, man-lights blue in depth. I was hot, so waded in, cool water rising. I sighed, heat from run easing away. Paddled to far side and back, her pack floating. Refreshed, I stepped from pool, shook stink away. Tired, I stepped onto long chair, sank onto padding. Lounge chair, she said. I rested, tongue grooming smelly pool water from face, paws.
Inside, phone rang. Human-man answered, deep voice close, near door. “I know it’s late,” tinny voice said through phone, far away. Rick? Jane asked.
“I’m still up, Ricky-bo. What I can do you for?” Both humans laughed.
I coughed softly. No humor in words. Fake Cajun accent, she thought. Still no humor. No prey to play with.
“I need some info,” Rick said.
“Of course, I’ll do what I can. How can I help?”
“I ran into Anna at an event and she said you were helping a vampire clan buy up land along Privateer Boulevard in Barataria. I got me some friends who might like to sell, housing prices being so low and all.”
“And you want the vamps to pay you bigger money than current market prices.”
“And I’d like my name kept out of it, if possible. Put it all in Anna’s name for now, like you’re doing with your other land deal.”
Silence for a moment. “She tell you ’bout my other land deal, my Anna did?”
“Yeah, right,” Rick said. “Over pillow talk. I was down at the Notarial Archive Office on another case and came across her name on a dozen different land deals. I put it together. The Hornets need another stadium, a swamp land-use law is in committee, and you just happen to be buying up swamp property out southwest of the city, property that I figure will be drained by the Corps of Engineers in a year or two. Meantime, you’re getting it cheap. No skin off my nose. I just want a cut of my friends’ deal if the vamps will pay up. And you are the man when it comes to dealing with vamps.”
Hornets? I saw hornet, stinger sharp, vicious. Hornet nest, round, vibrating, high in tree.
She chuckled in the dark of deep mind. Basketball team, she thought. If I’d known about the Hornets, the land in the wife’s name might have made sense. This is why I don’t like to do business in a strange town. Not enough background info to put the pieces together.
Inside, more speaking. “I can mebbe do you some good there, bro,” the mayor said. “You come by the office, yes?” The deep voice moved away.
Night sounds grew loud. I wanted to listen, but voices were gone. I rolled over, rubbing wet off, on chair. Paws in air, squirming, scratching itchy back. Felt good.
Footsteps paused inside house. Door opened, breaking silence. I rolled-leaped-landed in shrubbery, on front paws, back feet following, close together. Silent. Big leaf hid face. Something huffing, feet pattering. Running to far side of pool. I leaned out. Focused on little dog. Poodle. Male. Three-week-kit-sized. Curly, water-swimmer hair, puffy. Raised leg, let loose stream of aromatic urine. I pulled feet closer. Intent on dog. Food.