A woman with short pitch black hair, gelled back on both sides, wearing blood red lipstick and gigantic black rimmed glasses, that matched her black net skirt, tights, combat boots and the black lace top, she wore under her black faux leather biker jacket, walked into the yard. She nodded at Carla, who introduced her as Joyce Ricee, with two ee's, the first "e" being silent.
"She's an animal psychic. She speaks to animals and they tell her things," said Carla.
"Where's the cat?" asked Joyce, in a no-nonsense voice.
"Over there," said Mona, pointing.
"Who's the cop?"
"A friend. He's working the case."
"Carla filled me in on the dead guys," said Joyce.
"Good," said Mona.
"Now back up and be quiet, while I do my job. My rate is fifty dollars an hour. If I'm only here for twenty minutes it's still fifty dollars for the first hour."
"Excuse me?" said Mona.
Joyce looked at Carla.
"I forgot to tell them that you charge for your services," she said, softly. "I'll pay. No problem."
Joyce slid her black back pack off her shoulder and slowly walked toward the cat. Everyone else backed up to the porch and sat down on the stairs.
Joyce lowered herself to the grass, sitting directly across from the cat, and the show was on. She whispered to the cat, nodded, snickered, then apparently communicated telepathically for awhile.
"Her name is Sugar Puss, but she wants to be called Sugar. Use her full name and you'll be bleeding. She wants to negotiate price."
"Price?" said Mona. "Seriously?"
"What does she charge?" asked Carla.
Joyce turned to the cat and nodded.
"She wants a whole tuna. Fresh, no frozen or canned stuff, and she wants you to keep it here and give her a portion of her choice everyday when she comes by, until it's gone. She lives on Western and she's not supposed to be out, so she may skip a day, now and then. Is that acceptable?"
Mona nodded. "Sure."
Joyce turned back to the cat, while Dickie hit his head against the railing a few times.
Five minutes went by, then Joyce said, "She was in the tree with a bird she caught, when the first dead guy appeared. He was rolled over the fence, then someone came in and moved his body around. She said she doesn't see the same colors as humans, but the man had dark hair and was about the same size as the cop."
"She knows I'm a cop?"
"She's a cat," said Joyce. "She knows everything. She said a woman was arguing with the man who pushed the body over the fence. They were talking in low voices and it looked as if the body was really heavy. They kind of rolled the dead guy up the fence. The female helped, until she couldn't reach high enough anymore. Once the man got the body to the top, he pushed it until it fell. Then he came into the yard and dragged it to where it was found. They left after that. Sugar took a nap and when she woke up, there was a new dead guy coming into the yard. She was hungry. It was late, and her servants would have dinner ready, but she stayed in the tree and watched for awhile."
"I told you she was good," said Carla in a whisper.
"The new dead guy was carried in and put in the same place as the last dead guy. The second dead guy was the guy who pushed the first dead guy over the fence. The man who did it, laughed at the dead guy and kicked him in the side before he left. Then Sugar went home to eat. She said she'll be by for tuna tomorrow."
Everyone stood up and thanked the cat at the same time, making them sound like a bunch of confused bumble bees that had way too much honey.
Joyce, stood, gave the cat a few pets, and said, "You did great, Sugar." Then she picked up her backpack and walked over to Carla. "Fifty bucks," she said, holding out her hand.
"I'll get it," said Mona, hurrying into the office.
Once Joyce had been paid, she said, "Nice working with you. Call anytime. Sugar is a great cat, by the way. She knows a lot."
More thanks were given and Joyce Ricee, with two ee's, the first one being silent, left the yard.
"Two men and a woman. The picture in his wallet," said Carla, raising her eyebrows. "Both men dead. But what do I know, right, Dickie?"
"Charlie didn't charge anything," muttered Mona, frowning. "What's with the cat?"
"Cat's are into economics," said Dickie. "Dogs don't care that much."
Mona and Carla looked at him.
"What?" he said. "It's true."
Half an hour later all three were sitting at one of the tables in the tea room, sipping Earl Gray..
"Do you have any cookies?" asked Dickie.
Carla got up and went to get them. When she looked out the back door, she said, "Uh, Dickie. Someone's in the yard."
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