The Butterfly Lanai 7

Lorna headed straight for the kitchen. It was off the living room of the apartment, decorated with old-time utensils hanging from walls papered in cornflower blue. There was a framed verse of Bless This Home stitched beside dual chiripping songbirds. On a white shelf by the cabinets sat a stack of pot holders and a palm-size wicker basket of potpourri. The narrow window on the far wall was open. The kitchen felt airy. Lorna was rooting through the cabinets, which were full of things like bullion cubes, garlic salt, canned hash, a single bag of microwave popcorn, shrimp ramen, sugar-free drink powder, cannisters, water chestnuts, and aspirin.

"There's only one thing a talking tiger will eat," Lorna said. "Sugar cereal flakes. I'm out, and it looks like you are too."

"Then what did he feed it?" Mr. J asked, gesturing to the body of Hollybrick Vine.

"He was the owner?"

"As far as I know."

"Well hell," said Lorna. "The damn thing talks so let's just ask it where it lives. Maybe it ain't hungry at all."

Mr. J was deciding whether the easiest thing would be to shoot her. He reckoned it was.