Rotten Eggs

By Carol Wakefield

Catt Russell, an ordinary suburban mom with uncontrollable and unreliable psychic powers, is egged on in this sixth edition of Catt Russell Mysteries, by the sudden appearance – and disappearance – of a body in a foggy supermarket parking lot and her discovery of a flash drive that sets her and her friends on a brand new adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Wakefield
• Release date: Jan 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311038159

Carol Wakefield

As far as biographies go, I am probably like you, the reader - a suburban housewife, who loves a good read to pass some spare time. If you want to know my whole story, go to www.carolwakefield.com but the short version is I live a pretty ordinary life in Richmond Hill, Ontario, with my husband and son and a whole lot of cats and I love to write about adventures that I hope I never experience for real (except for the fact that I really wish I could do the things Catt does).

Book preview

Chapter One

By the time I get home, I’m beginning to feel just a tad less charitable about the whole Good Samaritan thing. This could be because the EMS people were not exactly thrilled to be called out for a false alarm. If I recall correctly, their precise words were, negligent waste of time and manpower and this was accompanied by some stern looks and barely veiled threats that began, Next time… and made it pretty clear there had better not be a next time.

But at least the eggs are safe.

Because I, for one, do not intend to go out searching for more. Not in this pea soup. Maybe never, if there’s going to be unknown gunmen taking pot shots in local parking lots. And that’s another thing. What happened to that guy?

How could he just disappear like that? Poof! Gone. Well, okay, it’s true I have been able to make people disappear, temporarily at any rate. And it was just the once. But it wasn’t my fault. Really.

If I remember correctly, I was having a bit of a tiff with my sister, Micky, and…it just happened. I blipped my sister-in-law, Emily, but she didn’t actually disappear. She just turned up somewhere else. Now that I think about it, lots of things just happen to me, so maybe I’m going to have to learn to be a bit more careful about what I say. Of course, Micky was partially to blame. And if she was here now, I’d probably find a way to point fingers.

And, frankly, if the guy was well enough to get up and walk away, maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he just tripped and was okay. Despite the bullet hole in his back. Right. That’s a little harder to explain.

So is, Is under X. What X? And more to the point, what is under the X? I’m pretty sure there weren’t any X’s painted on the pavement, though, now that I really think about it, there could have been. I was a little preoccupied, what with the guy making grocery chop suey out of all my purchases.

So I promise myself I’ll go back tomorrow and scour the parking lot for this mysterious X.

Right now, I have a family to feed. I’m carefully lifting out the unbroken carton of eggs from where it has been riding on the floor in the back, swaddled in an old sweatshirt, just in case, when I hear a voice coming through the fog. "Hello?"

I glance up, hoping it’s not another guy with a hole in his back and a penchant for smashing produce. Then I have another thought. Maybe he followed me home.

It’s not him. Whew.

Jilly is holding a bowl in one hand and a cookbook in the other. Oh, crap. I can’t believe this. She’s gone domestic on me. Jilly is my best, longest friend and recently got married to Morris Ali, a CSIS agent who lives across the road. As if that isn’t enough to deal with, she has also decided to become the next Betty Crocker, despite the fact that even toast is at risk in her hands.

Well, frankly, her latest revelation can wait. Mine is so much cooler.

Jilly, I say to her, "wait till I tell you what just happened. You are not going to believe it."

Jilly gives me an odd look. What’s with that? Do I have mayo on my chin? Broccoli in my hair? Cap’n Crunch in my shoe treads?

And is that more important than really great gossip?

What? I say.

She’s seen me in much worse situations, so I can’t for the life of me understand why she’s being so weird.

But before I can call her on this, the back door opens and Gramps hollers, Catt, where did you get to? Everyone’s hungry. You know what happens when I miss my meals.

Turn into a grumpy old fart? I think. Then I reconsider. He’s always been a grumpy old fart.

Gramps has been living with me, my husband, Jack, and our son, Josh, for almost a year now, and whenever I find myself getting a little cross with him, I just remember I owe him. He raised me and my sister, Micky, and brother, Art, after our free-spirited parents ditched us with him and took off into the wild blue yonder, following their muse, who, at that time, was a 300 pound flying yogic named Bruce.

Mind you, Gramps raised my mother too, and see how well that turned out. She’s the one who named us Catamaran, Cosmic and Farout. According to her, the name ‘Bruce’ was taken.

But it’s really my father who’s responsible for all of us kids having what he likes to call ‘the family gift’. Unfortunately, this is one gift you can’t return for a blender or a sweater. But as unreliable and mostly faulty as these paranormal abilities are, I think we got the better of the deal. And it sure makes life a whole lot more interesting.

Here, I say, shoving one of the bags at Jilly. Help me with this stuff. Then I’ll tell you all about it!

She looks inside the bag and wrinkles her nose. Did you get this from the food bank?

No, of course not! – That’s what I need to tell you! I was at the SuperMart, the one over by that industrial park? They’re having all kinds of really neat specials. Everything is really cheap!

I can see why, she says, gingerly inspecting the contents. "Everything is used."

Not used, I correct her. She is so going to love this, so I enhance the tale just a smidge. Flattened by a dead guy.

Ohh! She drops the bag and jerks back. Good thing everything in there is already pre-pulverized. Then she drops her bowl for good measure. It shatters into about a zillion pieces, some of which land in another bag. Oh! I didn’t mean to do that! I’m really, really sorry! That was my favorite bowl, too! I don’t know where I’ll ever get another just like it.

Don’t worry, I tell her, wondering when exactly Jilly became so totally freaked about making a mess. And, more to the point, about a mixing bowl. I’ll clean it up tomorrow when the fog is gone.

I guess, she agrees, shaking her head. If you’re sure.

I glance at her. I’ve never known Jilly to shy away from a little blood and gore. And she’s usually the first to see the humor in a situation. But right now she’s pretty close to being a basket case.

Jilly, I say, is something wrong?

She nods. That’s just it –

The phone rings. Wouldn’t you know? Just when I’m getting to the good stuff.

I sigh and yank my cell out of my purse. So, maybe I’m a little more brusque than need be. Maybe I’ve just had all the annoyance I can take for one night. "Hello?" I snap. This is when I remember that my cell phone conked out in the parking lot, and unless I’m expecting to commune with the dead, I’m not going to get any joy from it.

I grab the wall phone and yell at it instead. "What?"

Hi, Jilly says, sounding much more like herself. I need to talk to you, but I’m stuck in traffic – stupid fog.

But, you can’t be, I protest. I’m looking right at you!

There is a silence and then the Jilly on the phone says, Huh?

Then it’s my turn to be confused. Two Jillys? And here I thought I was the only one who could do weird shit like this.

That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, the Jilly at the table says, with a little wave. I’m Gabby.

Chapter Two

Well that takes the wind out of my sails.

"Just get here!" I say into the phone. Then I hang it up before it can unleash any more surprises.

Now I’m the one who seems a little freaked. I try to peel my eyes away from Gabby but, uh-uh, they’re having none of that. It’s like they’re afraid that, if they look away for even a fraction of a second, she might disappear. That would make two people disappearing before them in one night. So I can totally see their point.

Um…is there a problem? Gabby says, looking more nervous than a horse in a glue factory. Because I can go.

No! No, of course not, I tell her. Problem? Not exactly. Creepy, yeah. But creepy I’m used to. Sort of.

Whew, that’s good, Gabby says, settling back down in her chair. ’Coz I thought for a moment there that you’d maybe seen a ghost, but you probably don’t even believe in paranormal experiences like I do, so I if I’d said that, I would have just been making myself look silly, and this is our first meeting, so I’m so glad we’re not starting off on the wrong foot, aren’t you?

What? Sorry, I think my ears got bored and wandered off. Too bad the rest of me didn’t go with them. Excuse me? I manage. Then I add the piece de resistance. Huh?

What I mean is I should have said something sooner, because you obviously thought I was someone else, like a friend or something, but I’m not – this friend, that is, though I hope we will all be friends, if you know what I mean, like not just because we’re neighbors, but we’ll see how it goes, I’m keeping my fingers crossed – but then you started asking me to help you and promising to tell me a really great story, so I thought maybe this is how you treat everyone, like you’re super friendly, which seems to be totally true, by the way, so I thought to myself, sure, why not? I’ve got nothing better to do, because I was just going to ask you if I could borrow some things, like for dinner, and maybe even breakfast too, but lunch should be okay because I can go shopping tomorrow, if you let me know the really good places to go, that is, since I’m kind of new to Stockton, but now that my bowl is broken, I don’t really have anything to carry stuff in and from the looks of your grocery bags, you don’t either, and you don’t actually have a lot of stuff in them I’d want anyway. Food, that is. Whew!

She seems to run out of steam. This is a good thing. If I thought it was creepy before, I think I just nailed the gold trophy for understatement.

"Er…what? Then I realize that if I leave a space there between comments, she’s going to feel compelled to fill it. So I quickly add, I mean, sure, no problem. You can borrow some food. Whatever you need—"

Then it hits me that I’m not asking the right questions. Heck, I’m not asking any questions. What kind of snoop am I?

So, I say, trying to get a feel for this whole weird episode, "who are you?"

She looks at me in annoyance. "Why, I told you. I’m Gabby, she says emphatically, as if she’s speaking to an especially dull child. Weren’t you listening?"

Duh. All I did was listen.

Oh! She brightens. Obviously a eureka moment. "Now I get it! You want to know who I am. Well, that’s easy, I should have thought of that sooner, but I got a little distracted and all, what with the fog and the bowl breaking and everything. My name is Gabby Blatt, and I just moved in next door, the house with the big fence and the tree in the back, you know the one? Right next door, the one that’s been for sale for absolutely ever, or so our agent told us, which is why we got it for such a good price, though I probably shouldn’t mention that, because everyone else will feel bad that it might lower property values, not that we want it to, but sometimes that happens, though it’s not our fault, we just got lucky, and I just know that we’re going to be such good friends and neighbors, I can just feel it, can’t you?"

What I’m feeling most is panic. Followed by an overwhelming sense of doom.

It’s times like this I’m really glad I’m not normal. Wait. That didn’t come out right. What I actually mean is that this is one of those not so rare moments of late that makes me glad I’m a little different from most other people. And just to prove I’ve still got it, I silence Gabby with one stroke of my amazing psyche.

She stares vacantly at me, her mouth hanging unattractively open.

Whew, I haven’t lost my touch.

Then she does the freakiest thing. She takes a huge gulp of air and continues, So, where’s this Jilly, anyway? Was that her on the phone? I can’t wait to meet her. Do you think she’ll like me as much as you do, ‘coz I just know that if she’s such a good friend of yours, she’s so going to like me, too, don’t you think?

Crap. She was just reloading.

What happened? And, more to the point, where’s the heavy artillery when you need it?

Dang it, Catt! Gramps storms through the doorway, looking crankier than ever. Oh. There it is. "Quit your yappin’ and start dinner. We’re starving!"

Gabby stares at him, and then turns her eyes to me. Are you going to let him talk to you that way?

Well, yeah, I consider, anything to shut you up. As a matter of fact, I’m almost inclined to throw my arms around him, but Gramps doesn’t do huggy, kissy stuff. And besides, he lives here. Plus, he might have a point. It’s way past dinner time.

Oh, I’m sorry, Gabby says, coming to the realization that she’s down about a quart of civility, and sadly lacking in the respect your elders’ concept. I guess I shouldn’t have said that, but I was always brought up to speak my mind.

Wow, so that’s what unbridled stupidity sounds like. Before things can deteriorate from there, I quickly step into the breach.

This is our new neighbor, I tell Gramps. She’s Gabby.

Gramps shoots me a look. Of course I know she’s our neighbor, he says. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know she’s moved in with Morris, since they’re married and all. He gives her a hard look. "An’ you don’t have to tell me she’s gabby. She hasn’t shut up since she got here."

Well! Gabby humphs and promptly shuts up. She throws a few looks of her own our way.

Huh, if only I’d known it was going to be that easy.

No, I say. "What I mean is, her name is Gabby."

This shuts Gramps up too.

Unfortunately Gabby recovers first, apparently all revved up from the untimely interruption. Or maybe she’s just got her second wind.

I bet you thought I was Jilly, she says, "but I’m not, and I don’t know why everyone keeps thinking that, I mean, I know I’m not Jilly, and I keep telling everyone that I’m not Jilly, even though I’m not exactly sure who Jilly is, apart from that she’s some kind of really good friend, so you’d think you might know I. Am. Not. Jilly."

For the first time I am encouraged that logic and reason will prevail.

Did I hear my name? we hear from the hallway.

Then Jilly sweeps into the room. And stops.

This is where the whole logic and reason thing goes down the tube.

You! Jilly growls in a voice cold enough to freeze lava. "What are you doing here?"

Chapter Three

Oh, Gabby says. Then, for the second time tonight, she shuts up.

Oh? That’s it? Oh?

I glance at Jilly. She’s not doing much more in the language department. But then again, her eyes are speaking for her and they’re not being terribly polite.

Even Gramps is beginning to look anxious. He glances from Jilly to Gabby and back again. Then he decides to cut to the chase. "Dang it, Catt. What have you done this time?"

Me? I protest. I didn’t do anything.

True, I did bring Gabby in here. But I can hardly be faulted for that. I thought she was Jilly. And now that I think about it, what’s wrong with that? Freaky, sure. But how was I to know?

In fact, it suddenly occurs to me, someone here does know, and that someone is Jilly.

"Uh, so you two know each other?" And you never mentioned to me that you had an exact double roaming the neighborhood? Correction: living right next door to me? This I don’t say out loud, but I have other ways of making my feelings known, starting with narrowed eyes of my own, and some justifiable reproof in the form of mind flashes. This is like chipping away at an iceberg with a letter opener.

"What? Jilly sounds annoyed. Then she makes a face like she’s just bitten into raw sewage. No, of course not."

Then she shuts up too. For exactly two seconds. This is just long enough for Gabby to say, "It was all her fault!"

"Fault? Jilly shrieks, letting me know in one syllable that any hope I had of containing this little episode with mind flashes and manners is so off the table. What fault?"

Crap, doesn’t she know better than to set Gabby off? So maybe she doesn’t know her after all.

"Well, it was my spot, I got there first, and I was just about to back into it— she fixes Jilly with a flinty glare, like you’re supposed to, but ‘coz it was so foggy and everything I was trying to be extra careful, not that I’m not always careful, ‘coz I am, but it was getting dark and kind of hard to see – not that I couldn’t see exactly what I was doing, or anything, though I’m sure the same couldn’t be said for you, since you had to know what I was planning to do, so what did you expect when you just rammed your stupid big gas guzzler into my space? Did you really think I was going to just…take it? Well, if you did, you had another think coming, sister, that was my space, not yours, and you have just no manners!"

Wait a minute. This is about a parking space?

I glance at Jilly. Well, that does kind of sound like her. Still. You took her parking space?

Jilly shrugs. It was there. Then she reconsiders. And it’s not like it had her name on it or anything. It was fair game.

"Oh, right! Gabby snaps. And I suppose that made it okay to laugh at me when I knocked on your window to explain things, thinking that you might do the proper thing and move your car, because, well, you and I both know that spot was mine!"

"Oh, so that’s what you trying to do? Jilly explodes. Explain things? By pounding on the window? By screaming and jumping up and down and behaving like a complete lunatic? She breaks off and snorts. It was pretty funny."

"I was trying to get your attention, Gabby snarls. Though I’m sure that would have been easier with a cop car and flashing lights – something you’ve probably had experience with."

I sigh. So maybe Gabby does get Jilly. Unfortunately.

And if it hadn’t been for you I never would have hit the guy, though the fog didn’t help much, ‘coz it was really hard to see anyone, though I—

Wait a minute, I say, trying to sort out things. This is much akin to knitting with a shovel, but you gotta start somewhere. "You hit someone?"

"Well, it was his fault, Gabby says. Hmm. Where have I heard that before? It never would have happened if it wasn’t so foggy and all, and if Miss I-just-have-to-steal-your-space here hadn’t laughed at me, and made me so mad I just decided to leave, even though I never got a chance to shop, which is why I’m here in the first place, but mainly because there wasn’t another parking space, and then the guy just happened to run in front of my car – you’d think he’d know better, since it was so hard to see and everything, and it was a parking lot, I mean, who does that?"

Apparently someone stupid enough to get in her way. This I don’t say, but I can tell both Gramps and Jilly are also thinking it. Maybe that will make Jilly reconsider getting on the wrong side of Gabby.

"People, Jilly says pointedly. Or not. I sigh again. It was a parking lot. You don’t have carte blanche to pick off pedestrians just because there’s nowhere to park."

"And whose fault was that? Gabby says peevishly. I—"

Well, I’ve had enough. I zap the both of them with a healthy dose of manners and harmony. That’ll teach them not to tick me off. In my house. In front of my grandfather. When I’m tired and hungry and really not into this kind of nonsense. And besides, I’ve had my own weird parking lot encounter tonight. I have enough to worry about. So, maybe I overdo it a little.

"I just love your jacket, Gabby says. Where’d you get it?"

Huh?

Oh, Jilly responds, excited as a teenager at the mall, it’s from this little shop I found. I’ll take you there, if you like?

Oh, goody! Gabby squeals. "Now I have two new best friends. This is just the best neighborhood ever!"

I know, right? Jilly agrees.

Okay, so I’m a little creeped out by this exchange. Still – I glance at Gramps, who is looking relieved – it could be worse.

And then it is. Mostly because my snoopy nature has just kicked into high gear. Good thing for me, it’s been paying close attention and, I suspect, possibly even taking notes.

So,