A Tale Оf Two Kitties

chapter 3

After we finished eating Marcus stood up and made a shooing motion with one hand. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Go get ready for work.”

By the time I had done my hair and makeup and changed, Marcus had cleaned up the kitchen and started moving furniture from the spare room. Owen was supervising from the gray slipper chair that Marcus had already moved into the upstairs hallway.

I put a hand on Marcus’s chest as he passed me, stopping him long enough to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’ll call you later,” I said. I leaned over to stroke Owen’s fur. “Be good,” I whispered.

Owen made a face as though he were insulted by the mere idea that he’d be anything else.

When I got to the library Mary was at the circulation desk and Abigail was just coming down the stairs. “How’s Owen?” she asked, walking over to me.

“He’s all right,” I said. “He had to have stitches and he’s wearing a cone, which he’s not crazy about.” I smiled at her. “Thank you for opening.”

Abigail smiled. “Anytime. I’m glad Owen’s all right. Let me know if you need to go home and check on him later.”

I nodded. I was hoping that cat-sitting didn’t turn into cat-wrangling for Marcus. Or the feline version of Jules Verne’s The Secret of Wilhelm Storitz .

It was a busy morning. It seemed like half the population of Mayville Heights was looking for something to read. The dip in the temperatures after a day of unseasonably warm weather seemed to have nudged people into coming in for a few books so they could curl up by the fire and stay inside. I managed to find a few minutes at lunchtime to call Marcus.

“The collar is still in place, the ceiling is painted and we’re having a pulled-pork sandwich for lunch,” he said.

“We?” I asked. I already knew the answer to the question. The boys loved pulled pork as much as they loved sardines.

There was silence for a moment. I thought I heard a faint “mrr” in the background.

“I meant me,” he said then. “I’m having a pulled-pork sandwich for lunch.” I heard the sound again in the background. I was fairly certain it was Owen.

I laughed. “I’m sure you are.”

“I talked to Mike Justason,” Marcus continued. “His dog is fine but he mentioned seeing a stray in the area. I called Thorsten and he said he’ll do some extra circuits of the area.” Among his other jobs, Thorsten was also the town dogcatcher.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

• • •

When I got home at the end of the day I found Marcus and his two furry helpers in the kitchen. “Something smells wonderful,” I said.

“Chicken and rice,” he said.

“I could get used to coming home to this,” I said.

“I could be a kept man,” Marcus teased, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin.

I laughed. “No, you couldn’t. You’d miss being a police officer.”

After supper Marcus took me upstairs to see the spare bedroom. He’d painted the ceiling and the walls. And as usual he’d done a meticulous job. “I thought we could tackle the trim on the weekend,” he said.

“That works for me,” I said. I turned in a slow circle. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “It looks like a professional did the job.”

He smiled and a bit of color flushed the tops of his perfect cheekbones. He gave me a long look that did crazy things to my heartbeat. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said.

We returned downstairs and once again I was nudged out of the kitchen when I tried to do the dishes. I mock-glared at Marcus. “Okay, you win this one but don’t think I don’t know you’re buying your allies with sardine crackers.”

All that got me was three faux-innocent smiles.

“I’ll drive you to class,” Marcus said when I came back carrying my towel and shoes for tai chi a few minutes later. “I have to talk to Eddie.” He raked a hand back through his hair. “Did you hear about the business with the drone?”

I nodded.

“It could just be kids goofing off, or it could be someone with a weird sense of humor who gets off on scaring people, but either way it’s dangerous flying those things so close to traffic.”

“There’ve been a couple of accidents on that stretch of road as it is,” I said, pulling on my gray hoodie.

Marcus shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Eddie will remember some detail about the drone that will help. There’s a flying club in Red Wing that I’m going to check in with as well.”

I smiled at him. Like I’d said before, I couldn’t imagine him doing anything other than police work. It was in his blood.

• • •

Rebecca was waiting for me at the second-floor landing when I got to tai chi. She was holding a small brown paper bag from the Grainery that held a catnip Fred the Funky Chicken for Owen and some organic fish crackers for Hercules so he wouldn’t feel left out. Roma had told her what had happened to Owen.

“Is there any point in me telling you that you’re spoiling my cats?” I asked as I tucked the paper bag in my canvas tote.

“Not in the slightest, my dear,” Rebecca said, reaching over to pat my cheek.

I heard Maggie call, “Circle.” It was time for the class to start, which meant I had no time to argue with Rebecca. Not that I would have won anyway.

When I turned around after finishing the form at the end of class Marcus and Eddie were standing in the doorway. Marcus smiled at me but made his way toward Maggie. I knew that Brady was still out of town. Marcus had mentioned on the drive down that he wanted to talk to Maggie.

“Call me if you want to work on Push Hands on the weekend,” Ruby said on her way out the door.

I nodded, reaching for my towel. Roma came across the floor fastening the buttons of a cranberry cardigan that went well with her dark hair and eyes. “I’ll see you and Owen in the morning, about nine thirty,” she said.

“We’ll be there,” I said.

“Owen’s okay?”

I blotted the back of my neck with the towel. “If he was a person I’d say he’s milking this whole thing. He spent most of the day lounging on a chair watching Marcus paint the ceiling in my spare bedroom and I’m pretty sure someone”—I tipped my head in Marcus’s direction—“gave him more than cat food at lunchtime. Plus Rebecca got him another chicken because he had to have stitches.”

Roma smiled. “I think I’m going to be a cat in my next life.”

I grinned back at her. “Me too.”

• • •

The collar was still in place around Owen’s neck when I got up the next morning, much to my surprise, although I noticed some threads hanging along one edge probably because he’d been chewing or clawing at it. He sat at my feet while I started the coffee.

“You’re fine,” I said, reaching down to stroke his fur. He sighed and went over to his dish.

My cell rang then. I reached for it, noticing it was Roma.

“Kathleen, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel Owen’s appointment because I have an emergency with a horse.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I don’t see any sign of infection around the stitches and he’s kept the collar on.”

“That’s good,” Roma said, “but I’d still like to see him. I know Fridays are your late day, but is there any chance you could bring him over on your supper break?”

“I could do that.”

“Okay, I’ll see you around five thirty?”

I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “We’ll be there.”

Since I didn’t have to take Owen to see Roma until later, I spent the morning cleaning and doing laundry. I took the canvas drop sheet that Marcus had used while he was painting and hung it outside on my clothesline. Not a good idea. The wind caught it before I’d even gotten it clothespinned to the line and it sailed across the backyard and over the fence into Rebecca’s yard before I could manage to grab even an end of the tarp. All I could do was give chase.

I was wrestling with the drop cloth, trying to keep it from blowing away again, when Sandra Godfrey from the post office came around up Rebecca’s driveway.

“Hang on,” she called. “Grab that end and I’ll get this one.” She shifted the heavy mailbag on her shoulder to one side and hurried across the grass, putting her foot on the edge of the tarp before the wind lifted it again. Together, the two of us managed to get the big piece of canvas folded into something a lot more manageable.

“Thanks,” I said, hugging the bulky, folded drop cloth against my body. “If you hadn’t come along I could have ended up in Red Wing.”

Sandra grinned at me. “Well, for a moment I wasn’t sure if maybe that’s what you were trying to do.” She pulled a padded envelope out of her mailbag. “Is Rebecca around? She needs to sign for this.”

I shook my head. “She isn’t.” I looked at the package she was holding. The return address was Rebecca’s son, Matthew’s. “Could I sign for it?”

She shrugged. “Sure. It would save me having to take this back to the post office and it would save Rebecca a trip to pick it up.” I signed where she showed me and tucked the small parcel under my arm.

“Thanks for your help, Sandra,” I said.

“No problem, Kathleen,” she said with a smile, shifting the heavy mailbag back onto her hip. “Try to keep your feet on the ground.” With that she headed back down the driveway and I made my way back to the house.

Before I left for work at lunchtime I went looking for Owen. He wasn’t hard to find. He was in the living room, sprawled on his back on the footstool, lazily staring up at the ceiling. With the collar on he looked like he was having some kind of spa treatment.

“You don’t belong on that footstool,” I said.

He rolled over awkwardly onto his side.

“Nice try, but I think you’re fine,” I said.

“Mrr,” he objected.

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re going to see Roma at supper time.”

Owen narrowed his eyes at me and his tail thumped the top of the ottoman.

“Same deal as before,” I said, stroking his soft fur. “You go, you behave—more or less—and you get sardines when we get home.”

He made a sound that I thought of as muttering like an old man. “For the record, behaving means no biting and no clawing. You can hiss if you want to.”

He seemed to think about my words for a moment, then rolled onto his back again in the November sunshine streaming through the window. I took that as a yes.

• • •

Owen was waiting in the kitchen when I got there at supper time. He was in a bit of a cranky mood. When I tried to settle him in the carrier he yowled loudly and twisted in my arms and I could see that it wasn’t going to work anyway with the collar in the way.

“Fine, you win,” I told him. “This time!”

I grabbed Rebecca’s parcel and my keys and headed out to the truck. Owen didn’t even make an attempt to try not to look smug.

Roma was waiting for us at the clinic. She checked Owen’s ear as well as the scratches on his nose and paw. “He’s healing incredibly well,” she said to me. “Keep the collar on for the weekend, but it can come off on Monday.”

Owen looked up at her from the examining table, giving her his best I-am-so-pitiful look. Roma reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag about half full of star-shaped cat crackers. She set four of them in front of Owen. He meowed a thank-you before bending his head to carefully sniff the treat.

“Now who’s spoiling my cats?” I teased.

“He deserves something,” Roma said. “He behaved really well.”

I didn’t say a word. I just continued to look at her.

“He behaved well for him,” she amended. “Hey, he didn’t even try to bite me.”

That was true, although Owen had hissed several times and his claws had come out. However, considering how much he loathed a visit to Roma’s clinic, that was progress.

I gave her a hug. “Thanks for taking such good care of the little furball.”

“Anytime,” she said with a smile. “Owen and Hercules are kind of like family. Does that sound odd?”

“Not to me,” I said, smiling back at her.

I carried Owen out to the truck and set him on the seat. He looked expectantly at me.

“You just had a treat. You don’t need another,” I told him.

He made a sound a lot like a sigh and turned to look out the windshield.

We were only a couple of minutes from Roma’s clinic when I noticed that not only was there a lot more traffic on the road, it had slowed to almost a crawl. We inched forward a little more and then stopped. Owen craned his neck but couldn’t see over the dashboard or around the collar.

“Merow?” he said inquiringly to me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” After we’d stayed put for several minutes I realized that if we didn’t get moving soon I was going to be late getting back to work. I pulled my phone out of my purse and called the library. Susan answered.

“I’m stuck in traffic not far from Roma’s clinic,” I told her.

Owen was standing with his front legs on the passenger door, looking out the side window as though he were looking for a way to get us moving again.

“I’m not surprised,” Susan said. “A tractor-trailer hauling potatoes got off the road at the wrong exit and jackknifed taking a turn too fast. Apparently there are potatoes all over the road. No one’s hurt, though.”

I blew out a breath, making my bangs lift in the air. “Okay, thanks,” I said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I ended the call and discovered Owen looking at me. “Accident,” I said. “Looks like we’re stuck.”

I had no idea who was in the small silver truck in front of me, but the driver was clearly in a hurry. I saw him look out his side window and then check the rearview mirror. He sat for a moment and then from his body language seemed to decide something. He put the truck in reverse and, using his backup camera, came back as close to my front bumper as he could. It took a little back-and-forth maneuvering, but he managed to pull into the left lane, drive ahead a couple of car lengths and turn down a side road on the left that I knew would eventually take him downtown.

“What do you think?” I said to Owen. “We could probably get down to the library.”

He immediately sat up and tried to wash his face, which wasn’t easy with the cone in place. Owen loved going to the library.

Because the truck ahead of me had already pulled out it was easy for me to follow. I looked both ways, headed up the wrong side of the road and turned left without meeting any traffic.

“You have to stay out of trouble at the library,” I reminded him. “No going all Dr. Jack Griffin and roaming the building.”

Owen shared my interest in old movies, or maybe he just liked to lie in my lap while I watched them and scratched under his chin. Either way he was familiar with the H. G. Wells character from the 1933 movie The Invisible Man.

“Mrr,” he agreed.

I thought about how many times Owen had ended up at the building and not been on his best behavior. There was the first time, when he’d stowed away in my bag and then launched himself onto conductor Gregor Easton’s head. Of course, that had led, indirectly, to me meeting Marcus, so I couldn’t really be mad about that. And I knew that I was lucky to live in a place where people wouldn’t be that surprised by a cat at the library, where he really shouldn’t be.

Fifteen minutes later I was pulling into the library parking lot, just five minutes late in getting back.

“You have to get in the bag if you’re going inside,” I told Owen, reaching for the shopping bag I kept under the seat as much for wayward cats as for groceries.

I made my way across the lot and into the building, watching out for any patrons. It was one thing for the staff to know Owen was in the building, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to broadcast that information to everyone else.

There was no one near the circulation desk when I stepped inside. I waved to Mia, who was on the phone, and made it all the way to the top of the steps before I met Susan on her way down.

She grinned at me. “Hi, Kath, what’s in the bag? Did you bring something to share with the class?” she teased.

I knew she had to have guessed that I had a bag of cat, but all I said was, “Stuff.”

Susan slid her glasses down her nose and looked at me over the top of them. “What kind of stuff?”

I narrowed my gaze at her. “Librarian stuff.”

She glanced down at the bag and started to laugh. “Sorry, Kathleen,” she chortled, “but the cat’s out of the bag.”

It was.

Literally. Owen had managed to poke his head out, collar and all.

“Hey, Owen,” Susan said.

He meowed a hello back.

Susan headed down the steps laughing. Over her shoulder she said, “Cat’s out of the bag, Kathleen. I’ve been waiting months to use that one.”

She was having so much fun I couldn’t help laughing, and even Owen seemed to be amused.

• • •

Just before we closed the building I called Rebecca to ask if I could drop by with the parcel I’d signed for. I explained it was from Matthew.

“Of course you could,” she said. “Thank you for collecting it from Sandra. I wonder what he sent me.”

“I’ll see you soon, and you can find out,” I said.

“Kathleen, how’s Owen?” Rebecca asked.

“Roma just checked him out a little while ago,” I said. “He’s healing well. In fact right now he’s sitting in the middle of my desk pushing the pens on the floor.” I explained about the jackknifed truck holding up traffic.

“Don’t leave him in your truck. Bring him up to say hello.”

I hesitated. “You know what Owen is like,” I said. “He’ll nose around every inch of the apartment.”

“I don’t mind a bit,” she said. “And you know that cats are good for a person’s mental health. They lower stress levels and anxiety.”

Trying to win an argument with Rebecca was like trying to win one with Owen. It wasn’t going to happen. “All right,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to be stressed and anxious.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “You’re so thoughtful.”

“And Owen does want to thank you for the chicken. This way he won’t have to write a thank-you note.”

Rebecca laughed. I told her we’d be there within a half hour and we said good-bye.

About fifteen minutes later I was doing my last quick survey of the main floor of the building when I noticed Mia standing by the main entrance, making a face at her phone. I walked over to her. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Dad’s still at his office and he wants me to meet him there.”

“It’s raining. I’ll give you a ride,” I said.

She smiled. “Thank you, but I really wanted to go see Grandpa.” She sighed. “Dad says he’ll only be another twenty minutes but I know what that means. I’ll be stuck there for at least an hour.” She made a face. “You know how Einstein proposed in the theory of relativity that time is a relative concept?”

I nodded. I did know that—from a college physics class years ago, and I was impressed that Mia did as well.

She glanced at her phone before looking at me again. “Well, when I’m waiting for Dad I definitely experience time dilation, because it definitely slows down for me.”

I smiled at her. “I’m going to take a package to Rebecca Henderson. She told me your grandfather is staying in the other apartment there. Text your dad and see if it’s okay if you come with me and he can pick you up there.”

A smile started to spread across the teen’s face. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive.” There was a muffled meow from my canvas tote. “So is Owen.”

She laughed and bent her head over her phone to text Simon. Then she looked at me. “Five, four, three, two, one,” she counted down. Her phone rang. “Dad,” she said.

Mia answered the call, listened for a moment and then said, “Okay.” She held the phone out to me.

“Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t mind dropping off Mia at her grandfather’s?”

“I don’t,” I said. “I have to take a parcel to Rebecca. And she didn’t ask. I offered, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He laughed. “You’re getting to know me too well. I appreciate this, Kathleen.”

“It’s no problem,” I said, thinking that actually most of the time I felt as though I barely knew Simon Janes at all.

I handed the cell phone back to Mia, who told her father she’d see him later.

I finished my circuit of the main floor, shut off the lights, locked the doors and set the alarm. Then the three of us made a mad dash for the truck across the puddle-splattered parking lot. Once we were inside the truck I set the canvas tote on my lap and helped Owen out. “That collar makes a pretty good umbrella,” I said to him. He cocked his head as he seemed to consider the point.

I set the cat on the seat next to me and introduced him properly to Mia.

“Nice to meet you, Owen,” she said, as though she were meeting another person. Then again, both Owen and Hercules considered themselves to be people, so it wasn’t that odd, I told myself.

The rain pounded on the roof of the truck as we headed across town. Water was pooling in places on the road already.

“If Dad wasn’t so paranoid about me driving in the dark and the rain . . . and, well, ever . . . I just could have taken the car and gone back to get him later,” Mia said. “He’s so . . . old about some things.”

I laughed. “I think it’s a father/daughter thing. My dad was the same way when I was your age. The first time I drove from Boston to Cape Cod by myself—which is only about an hour-and-a-half drive—I found out later that he literally sat next to the phone until I got there and called to say I was fine, and when the phone rang he made Mom answer it so I wouldn’t know he’d been hovering there the whole time.”

“The first time I drove by myself at night—which was just down to the community center—I found out after that Dad borrowed someone’s car and followed me to make sure I made it safely.”

I glanced over at her. She rolled her eyes. “It’s a good thing he’s not a detective, because he sucked at it. I recognized the car right away. It belonged to his assistant. There’s a big Minnesota Wild bumper sticker on the front fender—‘Wild’ in big red letters.”

“He loves you,” I said.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her smile. “Yeah, I know that,” she said. “It’s just, you know, sometimes it would be better if he could just do it from a distance.”

A vehicle passed us then, headed in the opposite direction, driving a bit too fast for the weather. It sped through a large puddle in a low spot on the road, sending dirty water splashing on the windshield like it was thrown from a bucket. Just as the water hit, I realized it was Harry Taylor in the truck and wondered where he was going in such a rush. I didn’t think the storm was going to ease up like the forecast had predicted. My left wrist, which was a pretty good weather predictor since it had been broken, still ached, which told me that there was still more wet weather ahead.

I was about to turn the corner when a woman darted out in front of me. She was wearing a dark raincoat and holding a big black umbrella, head down, walking rapidly. I hit the brakes. Luckily I wasn’t going very fast thanks to the rain. The woman glanced in my direction but didn’t give any sign that she recognized how close she’d come to being hit. Beside me Mia put a hand on the dashboard and put her left arm out in front of Owen. He managed to right himself and stay on the seat despite the abrupt stop. But he was annoyed and made it very clear with a loud meow.

“What’s wrong with people?” Mia said. “She didn’t even look. You could have run her over.”

I nodded. “So remember to look both ways when you’re walking, especially when it’s raining.” I looked at her, realizing that I sounded like a preachy adult and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I think I was channeling my mother there.”

Mia smiled back at me. “It’s okay,” she said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. There was something familiar about the hooded woman under the big umbrella heading down the street, something about the way she moved that I couldn’t place.

Finally, I pulled in at the curb in front of Everett’s house. Owen went into the bag without argument, first looking out the windshield and making a sour face at the rain.

Mia grabbed Rebecca’s parcel from the floor mat on her side. “I’ll bring this,” she said.

We made a mad dash for the door, sprinting through the raindrops, sending water splashing onto our jackets. I caught sight of something on the sidewalk—a scarf maybe, probably Rebecca’s. I grabbed the wet fabric and stuffed it in my pocket. Inside the entry Mia pushed her grandfather’s bell. I could hear Owen making grumbling noises in the bag. I pulled the scarf that I’d used to keep him dry off the top. “I think you’re fine,” I said. The look he gave me made it clear he didn’t agree.

We waited but Leo didn’t come to let us in. Mia pulled out her phone and sent her grandfather a text. There was no response. “He’s probably listening to music with the headphones on,” she said. “I’ll just go outside and knock on his window. That’s what I did the last time. He gets so caught up in the music he forgets about everything else.”

I put a hand on her arm. “It’s raining too hard to do that. Hang on a minute.” I leaned over to push Rebecca’s doorbell and in a moment I could see her through the glass in the door, coming down the stairs to let us in.

She opened the door and smiled at us. “Hello, Mia,” she said. “Did you come to see your grandfather?”

Mia nodded. “I think he has his headphones on. He didn’t hear when I rang his bell.”

Rebecca nodded. “I came up behind him yesterday when he was headed up the walkway and I almost scared him out of his shoes.” She leaned down and smiled at Owen. “Hello, Owen,” she said. “Thank you for coming to see me. Even injured you look as dashing as ever.” She straightened and I was the focus of her smile. “Hello, Kathleen. Thank you for making the trip over here on such a wet night.”

“I don’t mind,” I said.

We stepped inside and Mia handed Rebecca the padded envelope from Matthew.

“I wonder what he sent me this time,” she said, turning the package over in her hands.

I glanced down the hall, wondering why Leo hadn’t heard us by now and come out of the apartment. At that moment I felt the tote bag wriggle beside me. Before I could react Owen had jumped out and was heading down the hall to our left.

“Owen!” I called sharply.

He ignored me.

“It’s all right, Kathleen,” Rebecca said. “He can’t get outside. He just wants to explore.”

“I know. That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.

We moved down the hall and found the cat sitting in front of the door to Leo Janes’s apartment in his green fabric collar. He turned to look up at me and made a low murp. I knew that sound. Something was wrong. I felt my chest get heavy, like a large rock had just settled on it.

“Kathleen, can I take Owen in so Grandpa can meet him?” Mia asked.

The apartment door was pulled to, but not actually closed, I realized.

The hairs rose on the back of my neck. I tried to keep my expression neutral as I put a hand on Mia’s arm. “Wait here with Rebecca for a minute,” I said.

She leaned around me. “Why?”

“Stay here. Just for a minute.”

I shifted my gaze to Rebecca, who put her hands on Mia’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?” the teen asked, fear making her voice sharp and loud. “Do you think something happened to Grandpa? Is he sick?” She tried to move forward but Rebecca slipped one arm around her shoulders and held her in place.

It seemed to me I could actually hear my own heart hammering in my chest. “Let me find out,” I said.

Mia pressed her lips together and I saw the tears standing in her eyes. She nodded.

I moved over to the door. “Stay with Rebecca,” I said to Owen, who had stayed in front of the door the whole time like he was guarding it. Now he moved over to stand next to Rebecca and Mia.

I knocked on the door. “Leo,” I called. “It’s Kathleen Paulson.”

There was no answer.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Please don’t let this be bad, I prayed silently. Please let me find Mia’s grandfather listening to John Coltrane with his headphones on.

But it was bad.

Leo was lying on the floor. I made my way carefully across the room to the man. I bent down and felt for a pulse and confirmed what I already knew.

Leo Janes was dead.