[Kätzchen]

C.C. was already there when she pulled up into the drive of the park, that late afternoon. The sun was gently shining through the pine trees, drenching the late shadows of darkness that waited to engulf the forest by the wandering creek. Waiting near the area of the picnic table, C.C. lit a smoke and waved for her to hurry up.

“What took you so long? I thought I would have to hunt for you all over the valley, but finally you are here! I took a look around the place to make sure it was safe. It looks like the investigation is over and the tape is removed from that area over there. Is that where you were thinking you saw something that caught your eye?” as C.C. drew upon hir light and fragrant cigar – seemingly an ordinary Al Capone, by all appearances.

“No, C.C., I want to take you over to the markings I found on the trail where the stiletto shoe was found. Here, come with me carefully so we don't disturb this area” she said, as she led C.C. down a long and winding path toward the creek that was gurgling in the distance. The air was sweetly laden with the earthly scent of the fresh rain fall from earlier that day. Deciduous trees were beginning to bud and little flowers in the meadow were beginning to bloom, showing signs of spring in the woods. Squirrels were scampering up the sides of the pine trees and making all sorts of chatter to each other. A lone Blue Jay lofted to another limb on a tree and let out a chirping shriek to whomever he was calling too.

Pine needles were crunching beneath their feet, as well as the sound of barren bushes with twigs that snapped off as they made their way to the area where she had found evidence the day before.

“We’re here, C.C. Look carefully and tell me what you see,” she said.

Moments later, C.C. looked at her with amazement. Then s/he put out her Capone on the back of hir shoe and stuffed it in hir pocket for the moment. Shaking hir head, C.C. exclaimed in a tone that was incredulously wrought with painful hesitation. “You have such an amazing ability to find things like this, and to notice the way the foilage on the trail had been disturbed. I don't know if the team that was here found what you just showed me; but we had better take a picture of this now and then stop off at the detective’s offices in town and show them what was found here. Here, let me have the camera. I will take the pictures, and if you don't mind, I will return your camera in the latter part of next week and keep you posted on what they say about this. I want you to promise me something, okay? Promise me, that if anyone at all comes to you with information that may be linked to what we found here today that you will call me at once and we will go to the police and inform them of what we learn. Okay?"

Looking at C.C. intently, mostly with fear of what they had discovered, she answered “Yes.”

“C.C., hurry up, it's getting dark and I want to get back home and make something to eat. I put a roast on this afternoon before I came out here to meet you. Would you like to come over and have supper tonight with me?" she inquired gently.

“Let me walk you up to the car and I will catch up to you in an hour or so. Is that okay?” C.C. asked. “I didn't realize that you had supper on in the oven already. I will go on ahead to the police station and you go ahead and head home. I will follow you as far as I can, then meet you at your home for supper.”

“Okay C.C., but be careful,” she said. Pulling out onto the highway, and watching in her rearview mirror to make sure C.C. was indeed tailing her, she lit a smoke, turned on the radio news station softly and made her way back to the main highway to head home. The road curved up and down and the sun was setting now over the tops of the mountains. It was getting dark, so she turned the headlights of the car on. The car she drove was an older model convertible: the hard body, a pale, sparkly blue with a retractable roof in white; a '57 T-Bird that she named Jezebel because Jezebel always teased her with mechanical problems. She always daydreamed about a wonderful butch to fix her car when she acted up!

Slowly emerging onto the ramp of the freeway, she took Jezebel up to full speed and turned on the radio and drove like the femme that she was: FAST! Losing C.C. at the freeway exit, she drove with delight to get home, knowing that business was just fine in C.C.’s hands. She would go home and pull the roast out of the oven and set the table, light a few candles, and make sure it was warm in the house! All of a sudden, cool air from the mountain tops were making things a little chilly. Maybe starting a fire would be appropriate tonight. With her son being gone for the weekend, and no one around but just the homework and reading for classes to do for the weekend, a nice comfortable supper with her best pal in town ( C.C.) was just what the Goddess ordered!

Pulling into the driveway, slowly like she always did, she hit the button for the garage door to open so Jezebel would rest in her bay for the night. Ahhhh, it was good to be home and to think about the events of the week: To entertain her friend tonight with supper and to talk about the events of the secret park and the clues that were discovered that day. Putting the cigarette out in the blue ash tray of the car and getting out of the car in the garage, she noticed something on floor by the entrance. It was a note: stay away from the park or you will be sorry.

Oh, no! Looking for her cell in her purse, she immediately called C.C., but her answering service came on. She hurriedly left her a message to hurry the hell up and get over to the house and told her about the note. She moved the note on the floor with the tip of her shoe and didn't touch it. Scanning the front yard and the driveway for other details that might have escaped her view when she pulled in, she lowered the garage door and locked it, and then bolted as fast as she could to the kitchen through the garage door entrance. Locking the house door behind her, she laid her purse down and breathed slowly, inhaling the aroma of the roast in the oven. She then went to the front door and checked for mail left in the postal box. It was about that time that she heard the screeching of tires in the driveway area and peering from the curtains in the front room, she saw that it was C.C.! Thank heavens s/he made it over so fast!

“Are you okay? Where is the note” C.C. asked, as s/he came in the front door and made a bee-line for the coffee pot in the kitchen. Hurrying behind hir, and rehashing about the note she had found on the floor of the garage, she unlocked the garage door and let C.C. go out and find it and read it and examine it for anything else that her pumping adrenaline had missed in the first moments of discovery.

Not long after reading the note and coming back into the kitchen and lighting up a Capone from the case s/he carried in hir pocket, C.C. sat down on the stool in the breakfast nook area and sipped on hir coffee and looked at her with eyes that smoldered.

“You just have the knack for being in trouble, don't you hon" she said, with a low edge to hir voice that was not so unusual for C.C. when s/he was about to go on a tirade about staying out of trouble!

*oooops*

She looked at C.C. and asked hir to go outside and get some firewood to make a roaring fire in the fireplace in the front room. She had to set the table and get the food ready and set a pie in the oven to warm so it would be ready for dessert after supper.

She put on a lacey apron and got busy about the kitchen and mused, as she watched C.C. out in the back yard making kindling and hauling up some huge pieces of wood to burn in the fireplace. Shaking her head and letting a smile curl on her lips while watching her friend through the kitchen window made her feel safe; as she knew she was in good hands and protected from whomever it was that was intimidating her with the note that was left at the entrance of her garage.



Dearest Diary,

I am so thankful for a good mind, good friends and a wonderful and beautiful world to live in. It is so nice to know that I can feel safe within the circle of friends that I have. It's nice to have the talent of being able to cook a scrumptious supper and to have the weekend all to myself. Even though I am not complaining or anything, and the fact that I do have spare time to indulge in writing for pleasure, you do know that I have to ask you this once again:

Dearest Diary, where is the butch of my dreams???