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The invitation came late, apparently having first been misdirected due to a hastily-scribbled zip code.
"Looks like I'm going to have to head up to Indiana this weekend," I said to my sister the next morning, flipping the gilt-edged invitation across the dining-room table to her. "Duty calls. Katherine's having a function."
Bethany's early-morning breakfast ritual (eating dry cereal directly out of the box with one hand while pulling on long socks and riding boots) immediately halted as she inspected the cream and gold card.
"Ugh, this one's formal. Do we even own anything formal?"
"I don't know that you'll be going with me this time," I stirred creamer into my coffee slowly, watching the swirl of light and dark blend to that smooth, perfect shade of brown that indicated another perfectly-blended cup of caffeinated success. "This invitation only calls for one."
"WHAT?" Bethany expostulated, bits of corn flakes flying in all directions. "There must be some mistake! Everyone knows that we work as a team."
"Well, dear," I adopted the soothing tone which usually served only to annoy her, "It's only Katherine. This isn't the first time we've worked with her, after all. Remember last fall? That job in Shanghai? That was definitely a one-person job. And Kat knew it."
"Yes, but why you and not me?" Bethany's frowned as she munched on another handful of cornflakes.
"Well... perhaps because I look best in formalwear."
* * * * *
Quite a few miles and one wardrobe change later, I found myself putting the finishing touches on my evening ensemble: a subdued black satin sheath and slim, strappy heels. As the first dinner guests were arriving, I positioned myself in a quiet corner, poised to observe the interaction among them.
I, you see, am a Dolt Hunter.
* * * * *
Not until 8:00pm did a woman catch my eye.
She had all of the classic signs of Doltdom: twitchy eyes, abnormally pale skin, and slightly-frizzing hair. Taking one last sip from my martini, I slid out of my chair and glided across the floor towards her. Her twitchy eyes caught my approach only seconds before I reached her side. (Unfortunately, I lack my sister's ability to blend in to any situation. Despite my best efforts, I positively radiate Cool.)
"Don't move," I breathed, my lips curling up in a smile even as I reached out to snap an Immobilizing Band around her wrist. "You're fairly caught, Dolt."
"I'm no Dolt," her eyes nearly rolled back in their heads as I reached up to force down her head in order to check the back of her neck for the tell-tale Bar Code.
"Sure you're not," I snorted, pushing myself up on tip-toe in an attempt to peer behind the collar of her silk blouse.
But just then the heel of my black strappy sandals snapped, causing me to lose my grip on the Dolt's neck. Before I could so much as steady myself, she had twitched himself out of my hold and had begun to chew desperately at the cuff of the Immobilizing Band.
"AGENT BUCHANAN!"
The voice of my lady hostess ripped across the room, shot through with sharp flecks of fire.
"What is the meaning of this?" She bore down upon me, shoes clacking against the hardwood floor in the sudden subdued silence of the room.
"My lady Katherine," I addressed her formally, aware that the rest of the guests were now observing our little scene, "whatever problem you might have which requires my assistance can no doubt wait until I have subdued and properly catalogued this Dolt. That is, after all, why you hired me."
Katherine's brows drew together into a deep frown. Her voice could have melted polar ice caps as she hissed, "I hired you to watch and guard my dinner party against Registered Dolts. I most certainly did not hire you to come all of this way and sit around for two hours drinking my martinis before attempting to arrest my boss."
* * * * *
Five minutes later, I found myself out front in the snow, shivering in my black satin dress and strappy shoes. Moments after the front door slammed, my coat and suitcase were launched out of an upper story window.
As I picked my way across the sharply-crystaled snow in my sandals, I came to the conclusion that Indiana in the winter was probably never a good idea.
Next time, I would just send Bethany.
©2007 Rowland Books |