W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone Mystery)

time. After that, I headed for home and let myself in the gate. Once in the backyard, I saw Henry’s back door was shut and his kitchen was dark. No telling what Anna had talked him into buying for her now.
    Ed had left two dead lizards on my welcome mat. I unlocked the door and as I opened it, he appeared out of nowhere and strolled in ahead of me. I was about to object, but the cat seemed so interested in the place, I didn’t have the heart to shoo him out.
    I’d no more than closed the door when I heard a knock. I looked out the porthole and opened the door.
    Anna was standing on my welcome mat, her arms crossed as though for warmth, her expression subdued; same boots and jeans, navy fleece top.
    She said, “I know I shouldn’t have showed up in Santa Teresa out of the blue. I would’ve called, but I was afraid you’d tell me not to come.”
    “It’s your business, Anna. Do anything you want.”
    “I know you’re mad.”
    “I’m not mad. I’m annoyed. I don’t want you taking advantage of Henry. He’s a sweetheart.”
    “I know that. He’s a nice man.”
    “And you’re a mooch. I know you can’t help yourself. I get that. Just do not mooch off him.”
    “I don’t intend to stay at Henry’s more than a couple of days. As soon as I get a job, I’ll find a place of my own.”
    “On your lavish minimum-wage income. Thank you for the reassurance. One reason I would have told you not to come is because you can’t afford it.”
    “I’m here because of my dad. I’m not saying that’s the only reason, but I’d like to know what happened to him. Henry told me you’d been trying to find out, so I thought maybe we could talk about it sometime. If you have a minute.”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    “Anyway, I apologize for not letting you know I was on my way.”
    “I appreciate the apology.”
    She sent me a tentative smile and I didn’t shut the door in her face. I said I’d see her later and waited until she was halfway back to Henry’s.
    The studio smelled of the coffeepot that had been sitting far too long and I realized I’d neglected to turn off the machine before I’d left. I leaned across and flipped the switch, then looked over at the answering machine. The red message light blinked merrily. I slung my shoulder bag onto the desk and pressed play. Sure enough, it was Drew again with apologies for not catching me, like it was his fault I was gone. The call had been recorded a mere ten minutes earlier, so I punched in his number and held my breath, waiting to see if I was in luck.
    Two rings and he picked up.
    “Is that you, Drew? This is Kinsey Millhone.”
    “Hey, great! I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.”
    We spent a few minutes congratulating ourselves on finally managing to connect and then we moved on to the subject at hand.
    “We’re talking about five grand, right? Because that’s what I have.”
    “Works for me,” I said. “It might take me a couple of days to find a replacement. What’s your time frame?”
    “The sooner the better. My brother’s in town. He’s the one who had the 429 in high school. I told him about yours and he’s hot to get his hands on it.”
    “How long will he be here?”
    “A week. It’s not like the deal hangs on him, but if there’s a way to make this happen, it’d be great.”
    “I’m right in the middle of something at the moment, but first chance I get, I’ll check a couple of car lots and see what’s out there. No promises, but I’ll do my best.”
    “Understood. And thanks.”
    The call completed, I did a quick survey to see what the cat was up to. I wasn’t used to having a small animal on the premises. Ed was wholly engaged in inspecting the underside of the sofa bed. A shred of upholstery lining was hanging down, so he had to lie on his back and play with it.
    I said, “What were you doing in the yard? Aren’t you supposed to be inside?”
    He turned his head in response to my query, looking at me briefly as though to determine if I was worthy of his attention. Apparently, I was. He came out from under the sofa, jumped up onto a kitchen stool, and then onto the counter, where he strolled to the end. He made a turn and came back, making a point of brushing up against me. In my presence, he’d never uttered a sound, but now he launched into a discourse. He pivoted and glided the other way, leaving white cat hair on the sleeve of my turtleneck.
    “Oh, now you want to be friends,” I said. “I