A Dose of Murder by Lori Avocato

jumped at Goldie with all of his five pounds. Goldie snatched him up, rubbed his tummy and set him down. I picked Spanky up so he wouldn’t jump at Goldie’s calves anymore. He could put a run in Goldie’s hose. They were silvery with sparkles in them and matched his skirt and jacket. On his right lapel was a porcelain woman’s face with purple feathery plumes sticking out of the top like a hat. Dangly purple orbs hung from Goldie’s ears. He’d pulled his hair back in a sophisticated bun.
    Damn it, but he looked good.
    â€œYou gonna offer Goldie a coffee or something?” He looked around.
    Miles. He must be looking for Miles.
    â€œSorry. Where are my manners?” I set Spanky down and motioned toward the kitchen. “Come in, please. My roomy is out.”
    Goldie followed me through the swinging doors and stopped. He’d been here before, I could tell. Slowly he walked to the bay window and paused, looked out at the English garden Miles prided himself on where it lay, snow covered, in the tiny patch of land we were alloted with our condo. After a moment he came to the counter, sat on one of the wicker stools and leaned an elbow on the white granite counter. “Miles does have a flair for decorating.”
    I wanted to laugh, thinking it was some gay joke, but then I looked at Goldie and didn’t, thank goodness. There was a sadness in his green eyes that made me want to walk over and hug him. Instead, I took a bag of coffee out of the fridge and scooped some grinds into the filter of the Mr. Coffee. “Miles is not seeing anyone regularly.” I filled the machine with water and turned around.
    Goldie tapped a nail, now shiny silver, on his tooth. “No shit?”
    â€œNo shit. He’s at a late lunch with a coworker but will be home later.”
    Goldie smiled.
    What teeth.
    â€œOkay,” I said, reaching for two mugs. Miles insisted we use the bone china for daily use. When he wasn’t home, I used paper and plastic, but Goldie was company, so I set out the good stuff. “Hungry?”
    â€œI could eat.”
    I opened the pantry and walked in. I’m a neat freak from the word go, but I have nothing over Miles. The spices sat in alphabetical order, the cereals were color coded and the canned goods were stacked alphabetically by content. I took a package of Oreos from the shelf under the heading “Snacks for Pauline.” Miles didn’t indulge in junk food but graciously catalogued mine. I was a health nut but lived under the assumption that one might need things like junk food, pantyhose or Maalox every so often.
    I came out and set a few cookies on a dish. The coffee had stopped perking so I poured us each a cup. “Ever drink it black?”
    â€œHell, no. I love sweet things.”
    â€œNick said to try it black sometimes to get the true flavor.”
    Goldie laughed. “I can only guess what else Nick said. He make you hot, suga?”
    Despite the heat searing up my cheeks, I said, “Not as sizzling as Jagger did.”
    Goldie howled and pounded on the counter. Spanky ran out of the room. “Okay, let me guess. You did see Jagger today. Spill, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
    Through three cups of coffee, six Oreos (Goldie had seven), and after splitting a ham and cheese on a croissant, I told him about my day.
    â€œLord, suga. You have been indoctrinated.”
    â€œIndoctrinated? You mean my days could go like that again? He locked me in an elevator for crying out loud!”
    â€œJagger’s a pip. One hell of a guy though. He’d never hurt you.”
    â€œNow that’s a relief.” I didn’t want Goldie to know I’d invite Jagger in, without fear, if he came a-knocking at my door, any old time.
    Goldie licked his finger. “No, it isn’t. You were so taken by the hot-damn Jagger, you weren’t even coherent enough to be scared.”
    â€œDamn you.” I