Boosted Pt. 02

She bobbed her head. "Makes sense."

"Yeah. I'm trusting her to not steer me wrong," he said as he pressed play to start the movie again, not wanting to think about Loch and Castle anymore that night.

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FIVE

"Come on," Sean grumbled after the oncoming car passed, feathering the throttle of the Jag as he tried to get the car moving so he could make the left into BIGS Automotive Repair.

The car wasn't fully warmed up, which only compounded the problems the car was having, but after a small backfire to clear its throat, the car squirted across the road into the parking lot. He didn't know where to park, so he pulled to a stop in front of the building. As Maggie's Civic pulled to a stop beside him he squeezed out of the car.

"I shouldn't be long," he said as Maggie rolled her window down.

He opened the front door just as the woman he spoke to last week appeared, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember her name. "I'm here," he said in greeting, trying to cover his forgetfulness. "I didn't know where to park."

"That's fine. You have the key?" He handed it to her. "Are you going to wait on it?"

"No. That's my ride out there."

The woman nodded. "I've still got your card. I'll call you when it's ready. It shouldn't take long. We work on a flat rate, and to adjust and sync the carbs is an hour job, so the price will be ninety dollars, plus tax. The total will be ninety-six thirty."

He nodded. Their labor rate was a little higher than average, but then not just anyone could tweak in the Jaguar's triple SUs. "That's fine."

She smiled. "We'll call you when it's done."

He nodded his head curtly. "Thanks. See you this afternoon."

He hurried out to Maggie. Today was a busy day. Not only did he have to drop off the Jag, but there was something wrong with Marmalade. He was very lethargic and refused to eat all weekend. As soon as Maggie dropped him off at his car, he was going to go home, grab his cat, and take him to the vet.

"Ready?" Maggie asked as he flopped into the passenger seat.

"Yeah."

"When will it be ready?"

"Sometime today. They said they'd call. I'm sure it can wait until after you get off."

She nodded. He worked until five, but her day ended at three-thirty. They rode in relative silence to the storage unit to get his Charger, left there when he swapped it for the Jag. It was only a short drive from there to LLC WWTP--the Lizard Lick Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant. As her Civic coasted to a stop, he leaned over and kissed her quickly.

"See you later."

"Call me when you need a ride."

"Why don't you plan on picking me up right after you get off. If I don't call you, the car will be ready."

"Okay."

He kissed her again and opened his door. As she drove away, he rolled up the storage unit's door and squeezed in to get his car out. After backing his Dodge out and locking the unit's door, he quickly drove home. Marmalade didn't greet him at the door, and that concerned him as much as anything. He found the cat lounging on the bed. He crouched down at the foot and rubbed the animal gently.

"Not feeling so good, huh?" he asked the cat. "We'll go see if we can find out what's wrong with you." He gently drew his hand down the cat's side as the animal purred. He wouldn't call the cat thin, but it was clear Marmalade had lost some weight.

He pulled the cat carrier from his closet. The cat wasn't so sick that when he saw the plastic box he couldn't jump from the bed and disappear underneath. Sean sighed and rolled his eyes. It was never easy getting Marmalade into the carrier and to the vet. He opened the door to the cage.

"Come here, cat," he said as he looked under his bed. Marmalade had gone to the exact center and was watching him with defiant eyes, a low growling rumbling inside him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he warned him.

He reached under the bed and Marmalade's growl became more pronounced before he hissed as he inched out of reach.

"Oh, come on," Sean rumbled in return. "I don't have time for this!" He pulled back and adjusted his position. He reached under the bed again. Marmalade slapped at his hand with a paw, but kept his claws retracted. "You scratch me and it's going to be on," he warned. Marmalade slunk back to the center and glared at Sean. They went through this every time. "The hard way it is, then."

Sean stood and lifted the mattress. As expected, the cat shot out from under the bed before Sean dropped the mattress back into position. Now that he'd flushed the cat from under the bed it was simply a matter of cornering him and picking him up. The cat would complain non-stop, but they both knew it was about over. He found Marmalade under the kitchen table, but there was no place to hide there. Marmalade tried to dash past him, but Sean caught him and draped him over his shoulder, the cat growling the entire way as he carried him back to the bedroom. He placed the cat on the bed directly in front of the cage, shoved him inside, and quickly closed the door. Marmalade hissed at him through the mesh.

"Yeah, well, same to ya," Sean muttered as he latched the door.

He carried the cage to his car and gently placed it on the back seat, Marmalade keeping up his steady rumble of annoyance as they drove to Brunswick Animal Hospital. The cat was still making his displeasure known as Sean carried him into the waiting area.

"May I help you?" the young woman behind the counter asked as Sean paused at the desk.

"Yes. My cat, Marmalade, isn't feeling well."

"Has he been here before?"

"A little over a year ago, when we moved here."

"Last name?"

"McGhee."

The woman typed a moment. "Here it is. What seems to be Marmalade's problem?"

"Not eating, no energy, and he acts like he doesn't feel well."

"How long has this been going on?"

"The not eating, for a few weeks off and on, but it's getting worse. I first thought he was just being picky. The not feeling well, a few days."

"We're kind of full today and won't be able to see him until this afternoon. Can you leave him?"

"Sure." Sean placed the carrier on the counter.

"Goodness!" the woman said with a grin as Marmalade's growl became more pronounced. "Aren't you the ferocious one?"

Sean grinned. "He's all growl and no bite."

The woman made a face. "Good thing." She picked the carrier up. "We'll look at him as soon as we can. The number on file still good?"

"Yes."

"Okay. We'll call you as soon as we check him out." She looked at the cage. "Let's see what kind of accommodations we can find for you," she said, talking to the cat as she disappeared behind a wall.

Sean sighed as he stepped out of the clinic. Maggie started an hour before he did, so he was only going to be a couple of minutes late arriving at the station.

He'd barely gotten settled into his routine when his cell phone rang. "Sean."

"Mr. McGhee. CJ Bowetan, BIGS Automotive. "You're all set."

"Already?" he asked, his surprise clear in his voice. It wasn't even eight-thirty yet.

"Yep. You were right, it was running too lean. The float that failed, it was the number one carb, right?"

"The front one?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Yeah, that was the one."

"Yeah, we thought so. That one was super lean. I suspect that float has been bad for a while and was making number one run fat. Whoever was maintaining your car kept leaning the carb out to compensate rather than finding the problem, but it runs good now. Did you know your differential output shaft seals are leaking?"

He sighed. "Again?"

CJ snickered. "Yeah. These old Jags, they're notorious for that. There is also some uneven wear on the rear brakes. Again, typical for these cars because oil gets on the inboard side of the disc. We can take care of that for you if you like."

"No, not today."

"If you change your mind, let me know, but other than that, you're good to go."

"Ninety-six, whatever you said, right?"

"Ninety-six, thirty. Right."

"Would it be okay to leave the car and pick it up this afternoon?"

"Sure. We'll pull it into the showroom and show it off a little until you're ready to come get it. We close at six."

"I should be there no later than four."

"See you then, Mr. McGhee."

He smiled as he ended the call and placed his phone back on his desk. BIGS seemed to know what they were doing. Maybe he'd found his new mechanic.

-oOo-

It was nearing the end of the day when movement at his door caught his attention. Paul Limbrose was standing in the opening with a sheet of paper in his hand. "Chief? Got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure. Come on in."

The officer stepped in and closed the door. Paul had just turned thirty and had been with the force for a bit over three years. Tall with sandy blond hair and big brown eyes, he was the department clown. Nobody was safe from his sharp wit, and he was always smiling, but today there was no smile, and his eyes were serious. He carefully laid the sheet of paper on Sean's desk. Sean picked it up and read. The document was short and to the point. Paul was resigning. When he finished reading, he looked up and then stood, offering his hand. Paul took it.

"Congratulations, Officer Limbrose. Where are you going?"

"Raleigh."

"I hate to lose you, but I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, chief."

"What will you be doing?"

"Patrol officer, but I hope to transfer into either the Special Operations Division, Special Projects Unit, or maybe the Detectives Division, but I've got to get my foot in the door first."

"I'm sure you'll do fine wherever you land. Our loss is Raleigh's gain."

"I've enjoyed working with you. It wasn't an easy decision."

"Anything worth doing rarely is. Anyone else know?"

Paul smiled, but there wasn't any humor in it. "No. I thought it best to tell you first. I really enjoyed it here, especially once you became chief, and I appreciate that Brunswick gave me a chance."

"You're a credit to the uniform, Officer Limbrose, and you've done Brunswick proud."

"Thank you."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and it appeared that Paul was waiting for him to say something. "Anything else?" Sean asked.

"No, sir," Paul said as he turned toward the door. "And... thank you."

"You're welcome. I won't say anything to anyone, but if you're going to tell anyone I suggest you do so soon. I'm going to have Amy post an opening so we can start collecting applications. You know how this town is. As soon as I tell her I have to replace someone, it won't take an hour before everyone in the station will know someone is leaving."

Paul grinned, a real smile this time. "Yeah, I know how that works. I'll start letting people know."

Sean nodded forcing a smile. As soon as Paul was out of his office, his smile disappeared. He sighed as he slid Paul's resignation letter off his desk and carried it to the department's big multifunction printer, copier, and scanner to make an electronic copy to add to Paul's file. That task finished he typed up a request for Amy Drote, Brunswick's Personnel Director, to post an opening for a patrol officer on the city's webpage. It didn't take long because he recycled an older email that already contained the listing he wanted posted.

He was reading Amy's response when his phone rang, 911 Dsptch displayed on the small screen. He picked up the handset. "Sean."

"Maggie's here," Claire said.

"Send her back."

Even though Maggie was his squeeze, he made it clear the first time they passed her through without calling him first that nobody, not even Maggie, was to be allowed out of the lobby without one of the officers giving permission.

"Car ready?" she asked as she stepped into his office.

"Yeah. I'd barely gotten to work before they called."

"How's Marmalade?"

He snapped his fingers as his lips thinned. "You know, I need to call them. The vet's office said they'd work him in this afternoon. I'll do it on the way." He rose and followed Maggie out of his office. "Be back in a few minutes," Sean said as they passed through the lobby.

The moment he snapped his seatbelt, he touched and swiped on his phone until he found the number he wanted. "Brunswick Animal Hospital," a woman's voice said after he dialed.

"I dropped my cat off there this morning. Marmalade McGhee."

"Yes, sir. Doctor Brewster only gave him a quick look. He wants to do a more thorough examination. We should know something in about an hour. The doctor will call you."

"Okay, thanks." He glanced at Maggie as he ended the call. "Nothing yet. I should have made an appointment."

"How could you? They're closed on the weekends."

"I could have called Saturday morning, or last week when I first noticed he wasn't feeling well."

"Maybe, but you don't go running to the doctor at the first sniffle, so why would you take your cat?" She paused a moment. "I'm sure he's going to be fine."

"Probably," he grunted as she turned into BIGS' parking lot. He smiled, his gleaming Jag sitting proudly in the showroom. "I shouldn't be long."

"I'll wait."

He kissed her quickly before opening his door and stepping out of the Honda and entered the showroom. The car looked good sitting there, it's deep green paint gleaming. It looked like someone had taken the time to wipe the car down, maybe to clean off dirt after it had been worked on. If he wasn't afraid someone would damage it, he'd offer to let BIGS keep the car on display and save himself the storage unit rental.

"Hello?" he called.

"Coming!" CJ answered from somewhere in the back. A moment later she appeared. "Sorry. Lots going on."

"Yeah. I saw you guys working late Friday."

"Friday?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I drove by to show Maggie where I was bringing the Jag, and the shop was busy."

She nodded. "Oh! That. Yeah. Finishing touches. We're about done though. Tomorrow we're going to truck in the cars we've got waiting on our lot, and we should be open Wednesday."

"Great! You said it runs good now?"

She grinned. "Oh, yeah," she drawled. "I'm the one that pulled it around and into the showroom. I really thought about taking it out for a test drive, purely to make sure the work was done correctly, of course."

He chuckled. "Of course. You take credit cards?"

"Yeah. The machine showed up last week. You'll be the first to try it out."

She led him to the service desk at the back of the large room. Behind the desk was a hall with a couple of rooms on either side, and another door at the end that probably led into the service department proper. She slid a ticket in front of him.

"You can see here we adjusted and balanced the three carburetors and checked the points, condenser, plugs, and the timing. When was the last time your valves were adjusted?"

"Uhhh..." he murmured. "It's been a couple of years, but I haven't driven the car that much,"

She nodded. "Then they're probably okay. We pulled the plugs and they actually looked pretty good. It doesn't look like you drove it much after you replaced the floats. If you'll bring it back to us for a tune-up, part of what we do is check and adjust the valves."

"I can do that."

"Today's total is ninety-six thirty. Debit or credit?" she asked as he presented her with the card.

"Credit."

She tapped the front of the card reader. "If you'll insert the card." He did and a moment later a line appeared. "Sign and click okay." He did as instructed. "Thank you very much, Mr. McGhee. If we can be of any further service, you know where we are."

"Thank you," he replied as he tucked his credit card back into his wallet.

"I'll open the doors for you."

The key was in the ignition and as CJ opened the two big glass doors on the side of the showroom, he settled into his car. He didn't start the engine until the doors were open to prevent filling the room with exhaust fumes. The moment CJ stepped aside he pressed the starter. The car whirred over and rumbled to life without hesitation. He eased out of the room, waving to CJ as he passed. Once outside he blipped the throttle, the inline six revving smoothly. He pulled out into the road and dipped deep into the throttle, the Jag roaring lustily as it pulled strongly away. He smiled as he worked the car up through the gears. He'd have to take the car on the highway and give it a good ringing out, but it seemed to run better now than it had in a long time.

Maggie followed him to the storage building, catching up with him as he rumbled through town. He was the police chief, and everyone knew his car, so he had to set a good example. Unless it was raining, the Jag was coming out this weekend. Once the car was secured in the storage unit, he slid into the Civic's passenger seat.

"Run okay?" Maggie asked as he shut the door.

"Seems to run great. I think we need to take a drive this weekend."

A smile teased her lips. "I think that's a good idea."

Brunswick was a small town. He could be anywhere in town from anywhere else in ten minutes or less, and soon Maggie was rolling to a stop in the station's parking lot.

"Leaving on time?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm going to run by the pub, but I shouldn't be late."

"We'll have time to run, then?"

He groaned in mock misery as she expected him to. "Yeah, I guess." She leaned across the center console and he kissed her quickly. "See you in a couple of hours."

"Don't be late."

"I won't."

He watched until Maggie backed away and turned for the entrance. He only had an hour or so before he left for the day. There wasn't a lot he could do in that length of time, but there were probably emails waiting for his attention.

It was a few minutes before five, and he was almost finished catching up on his emails, when his cell phone rang. He brought the device to his ear. "Sean."

"Mr. McGhee, Doctor Timothy Brewster, Brunswick Animal Hospital."

"How are you, doctor?"

"I'm fine. I've examined your cat. I'd like to run some additional tests."

"I don't like the way that sounds," Sean said softly.

"Marmalade has all the classic symptoms of dilated cardiomyopathy. How long has he been not eating?"

"A couple of weeks, off and on, but he's completely stopped for the last three or four days. What's dilated cardiomyopathy?"

"It's a type of congestive heart failure. The heart becomes enlarged and doesn't pump blood efficiently."

"That doesn't sound good. What causes that?"

"Nobody knows for sure."

"Is it serious?"

"It can be," the doctor said. "I need to run some tests to confirm the diagnosis. If it is DCM, we can give him blood thinners and diuretics to help the heart, change him to a low sodium diet, and maybe put him on Dobutamine to stimulate his heart. I'll know more after the tests."

"What tests?"

"I want to do some bloodwork, an EKG, and x-rays."

Sean paused as he thought it over, but only for a moment. "Sure. Do what you need to. He's going to be okay, though, right?"

This time it was Doctor Brewster that paused. "Too early to say. The tests will tell us more about what's going on."

"Okay. How long before you know?"

"We should know tomorrow."

Sean sighed. "If I'd brought him in sooner, would it have made any difference?"

"Probably not. DCM is a progressive disease that develops over years. He's twelve?"

"Yeah, about that," Sean replied.

"That's about the right age for this to start showing up. We'll take good care of him, and he can probably go home tomorrow."

"Thanks, doc."

Sean ended the call and slowly placed the cell back on his desk. Marmalade was just a cat, so why did he feel like he'd just received bad news about his daughter, McKenzie?