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Vesta was at the General Store doing some last-minute shopping when she saw Scarlett pass by the store, hand in hand with none other than… Johnny Carew. After she’d sufficiently recovered from the shock, she walked out, her bag of groceries in her hand, and accosted her friend. “Scarlett, why don’t you pick up your phone?”

“Oh, did you call me?” asked Scarlett, looking radiant and clearly enamored with this big lug.

“Several times.”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” said Scarlett with a cheeky grin.

“And I can see who you’ve been busy with,” said Vesta, directing a curious look at Johnny.

“Hi, Mrs. Muffin,” said the former criminal. “Scarlett and I are in love.”

“Of course you are,” said Vesta.

“Ever since we met I’ve had flies in the pit of my stomach,” said Johnny. “I even told Jerry. ‘Jer,’ I said, ‘I have flies in the pit of my stomach,’ I said. And you know what he said?”

“I have no idea.”

“He said I’m crazy, and he’s right, I am crazy—crazy about this lady!”

He placed a large arm around Scarlett’s shoulders, and the latter gave Vesta a wink, which Vesta returned.

“So we’re still on for the neighborhood watch?” asked Vesta.

“Absolutely.”

“What watch?” asked Johnny.

“Oh, just a little project Vesta and I got going,” said Scarlett, patting the big man’s chest. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

And as they walked off, Johnny said,“I wasn’t lying, Scarlett. I really do feel flies in the pit of my stomach.”

“Are you sure it’s not butterflies, Johnny?” asked Scarlett.

“Pretty sure it’s flies, Scarlett.”

“All right, honey. If you say it’s flies, it’s flies.”

Shaking her head, Vesta walked on, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. Scarlett and her men. She gave Johnny a week—two weeks, tops.

“Vesta, wait up!” suddenly a voice rang out behind her. She frowned and turned, and saw that Wilbur Vickery wanted a word.

“Wilbur?”

“I need your advice,” said the store owner as he licked his lips. Judging from the pink-colored crumbs, he’d been eating a glazed donut. “I met this woman, see?”

“You met a woman?”

“Uh-huh. Her name is Loretta Gray and she’s a famous writer or something. So we went out twice, but since our last date she won’t return my calls or my messages and she’s blocked me on Facebook. What do you think that means?”

Vesta rolled her eyes.“What do you think it means, Wilbur?”

“That there won’t be a third date?”

“Bingo! See? You didn’t need my advice after all.”

“But there was definitely chemistry between us. I could tell.”

“Don’t tell me. Flies in the pit of your stomach?”

“Well, no,” he said, looking confused. Wilbur’s face was not one of your handsome faces. He had skin like the surface of the moon, and his teeth had seen better days—a couple of decades ago. But what he lacked in outward appearance, he made up for in sheer tenacity when pursuing the object of his affection.

“How many messages did you send this lady?”

“Oh, hundreds, probably?”

“That’s your mistake right there, Wilbur. No woman likes to be harassed.”

“But I thought women liked to be pursued?”

“There’s a fine line between being pursued and being harassed, and from what you just told me you’re on the wrong side of it. So back off already, will you, before she calls the cops on you for stalking.”

“You think?”

“Of course.” He was staring at her like a lost puppy now, and she took pity on the guy. “Look, if you want I’ll talk to the woman. Is she local?”

“She’s staying at the Star hotel. Room two-fourteen. I’ve thought about serenading her but her window is at the back. And I’ve left messages at the desk but no dice.”

“Okay, I’ll go over there right now and see what’s going on. But don’t get your hopes up, buddy.”

“Oh, thank you, Vesta. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Casanova. She’ll probably tell me to take a hike, and if she does, I can’t say I blame her.”

31

The meeting had been arranged and took place in the suite of the Star hotel. Present were four cats, Marge, Odelia and Chase, and two people I’d never met before: the Sheikh was there, of course, and a guy named Sharif Maroun, whose job description wasn’t exactly clear to me but who I assumed was some kind of advisor. There were also plenty of security people hovering around, but upon a word from the Sheikh they’d left the suite and now it was just us and the ruler of Khemed. I had expected at least a couple of the man’s wives to be present, but apparently they had better things to do. The only woman present, apart from Marge and Odelia, was in fact Loretta Gray, though it was obvious from her expression that she wasn’t exactly happy to be there.

“So you have managed to retrieve the Pink Lady?” said Sheikh Bab El Ghat. “That is very good news indeed, Mrs. Poole.”

He glanced between Odelia and Marge, since they had both nodded in acknowledgment.

“I’m Mrs. Poole since my husband is Mr. Poole,” Marge explained. “And my daughter is Mrs. Poole since her dad is my husband.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” said Odelia. “Just call me Mrs. Kingsley, because my husband is Mr. Kingsley.”