Cat Trick

3

Hercules looked over at me and meowed.

“Yes, I see him,” I said. I let the bag slip from my shoulder onto the grass and made my way carefully over to where the body was slumped in the white resin chair. A square metal table sat maybe four feet or so away, a tangle of dark fabric piled on top.

Mike’s eyes were closed, and his head sagged to one side. I knew he was gone even before I felt for his pulse, but I swallowed down the sour taste at the back of my throat and touched the side of his neck with two fingers just to be certain. His skin was cold and mottled and I couldn’t feel the thrum of a heartbeat.

I closed my eyes for a moment and mentally wished his spirit safe passage, and then I straightened up and looked down at Hercules, who was sitting patiently at my feet. “We have to call the police,” I told the little tuxedo cat.

Hercules picked his way carefully back across the grass to where I’d dropped the carrier and climbed inside. I followed him, trying to stay in my original footprints on the grass. I grabbed the shoulder strap of the bag and stepped back outside.

Ruby was across the street on the sidewalk, looking up and down, probably wondering where I was. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911, and when she looked in my direction, raised a hand in recognition. She started over to me.

“Admiring Burtis’s handiwork?” she asked with a smile as she reached the curb. Her red and blue hair was pulled back into a short braid, and she was wearing earrings only in the piercings in her left ear.

Something in my expression as I ended the call must have told her there was a problem. “Kathleen, is something wrong?” she asked, two frown lines appearing between her eyes.

I looked back over my shoulder at the tent. “Mike Glazer’s . . . dead.”

The color drained out of her face. “Good dog,” she said softly, closing her eyes for a moment. “Have you called the police?” she asked when she opened them again.

I held up my phone. “I just did.”

Ruby crossed one arm over her midsection. “Have you called Detective Gordon? I know the two of you are . . . friends.”

I exhaled slowly. I had been planning to call Marcus.

“I think you should.”

I punched in his number from memory, thinking I should program it into my phone.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hi, Kathleen,” he said. “I already know, and I’m on my way. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Stay where you are. There’s a cruiser on the way, and I’ll be there in about five minutes.” He ended the conversation, and I put my phone back in my pocket.

Ruby had been staring out at the water, but she looked back at me. “Ruby, could you take Hercules over to your studio?” I asked. I didn’t want him getting out of the bag again, or even worse, demonstrating his walking through walls—or canvas tents—skills to the Mayville Heights police department.

I put my hand on the bag, and Hercules meowed from inside. “As long as you don’t touch him, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” she said.

I handed over the carrier and cat. Ruby headed back to River Arts, holding the bag out in front of her body by the strap as though it might spontaneously combust.

A couple of minutes later, a police car came down the street, lights flashing but siren silent. It stopped nose-in at the curb. Officer Derek Craig got out of the driver’s side. According to gossip around town, the young policeman had applied to the University of Minnesota for winter admission. He’d been reading everything we had or had been able to request about the law and law school for months, so I suspected the rumors were true.

The other officer, Stephen Keller, was a little older than Derek. His serious expression and straight-backed posture made me think he’d been in the military before he’d become a police officer.

They both nodded at me.

“He’s in that tent, in . . . in a chair,” I said, gesturing behind me.

Officer Keller moved past me, to check on the body. Derek Craig took a couple of steps closer. “Good morning, Ms. Paulson,” he said. “What happened? How did you find the body?”

Before I could answer, I saw Marcus’s SUV at the corner. He pulled onto the street, swung around and slid in next to the cruiser. He got out from behind the wheel, and I was both relieved to see him and a little worried that he was going to give me a hard time. He came across the grass in a couple of long strides. He was wearing dark gray trousers and a black and gray tweedy sport coat over a white shirt and plum-colored tie. He looked good.

“Give me a second,” he said.

I nodded.

He took a couple of steps away from me with Derek. The other police officer came out of the tent then and joined them. Marcus spoke briefly to the younger man, clearly giving him some kind of instructions, and then he followed Officer Keller back into the tent, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as he went.

I stayed where I was, hands in my pockets, staring out over the water until Marcus came back out and walked over to me.

“What happened?” he asked, peeling off the thin purple gloves.

“I came down to meet Ruby.” I gestured across the street to the River Arts Center. “I was a bit early and she wasn’t there.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“I had Hercules with me and, as we started for the building, he jumped out of the carrier.”

“And?”

“And he ran down the hill and across both streets.” I put my hand back in my jacket pocket.

Marcus exhaled softly. “Kathleen, don’t tell me your cat discovered the body.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Cats have a highly evolved sense of smell—a lot more sensitive than ours.”

His gaze automatically went to the studio building, one street up, before he focused again on me. “You think that Hercules knew there was a dead body over here a block and a half away?” Marcus’s tone told me it wasn’t what he thought.

“I know he did,” I said. “He crossed two streets and came directly to the tent.”

“What did you do?”

“I followed him. When I saw . . . the body, I checked for a pulse; then I called nine-one-one. Ruby had arrived by then. I gave her Hercules and called you. Then I just waited.” The muscles in my shoulders were getting tighter, and I could hear an edge in my voice.

“Did Ruby go inside the tent?” Marcus asked. He wasn’t writing any of our conversation down, but I knew he’d remember every word. Because of his dyslexia, he made fewer notes than most police officers.

I shook my head. “No. She didn’t come any closer than the curb. She didn’t see anything. She didn’t touch anything.” I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I felt for a pulse at . . . Mike’s neck. I didn’t touch anything else.” I held out my hands, palms down, and then rolled them over so he could see them. “I don’t think Hercules touched anything, but I don’t know for sure.”

More vehicles were arriving. Marcus glanced past me, and then his gaze settled on my face again. “Where did Ruby go? Her studio?”

I nodded.

“Okay, wait for me there. I shouldn’t be very long.” His expression softened, just a little. “Please?” he added.

“All right,” I said. I crossed the street, glancing back when I reached the sidewalk on the other side in time to see Marcus go back inside the tent.

Ruby had left the back door open. I climbed the stairs to her top-floor studio, stopping in the doorway to watch her take shots of Hercules. He was sitting on a long worktable in the middle of the room while Ruby snapped photos, giving the cat directions, complete with hand signals—which for the most part he seemed to be following.

It didn’t really surprise me. Hercules couldn’t spontaneously disappear the way Owen did. His “talent” was walking through walls—and doors. It didn’t really seem that big of a stretch that he could strike a few poses for the camera. Or catch the scent of a dead body across the street.

I leaned against the doorframe and watched Ruby work until she straightened up and saw me. “Hey, Kathleen,” she said. “C’mon in.” She set the camera on the table and massaged the back of her neck with one hand. “I went ahead and took some pictures. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but the auction is just a few weeks away.” She glanced at the windows overlooking the street. “I can’t do anything for Mike Glazer,” she said quietly, “but maybe I can help save some cats.”

“It’s not insensitive,” I said. “It isn’t going to help anyone if you don’t do the painting for the auction.”

Ruby bent down and reached for the fabric tote bag on the floor by her feet. Hercules didn’t so much as flick an eyelash in my direction. All his attention was focused on Ruby.

She pulled a little brown and yellow box out of her bag, and he wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “They’re organic cat treats,” she said. “Roma said they’d be okay.”

“Go ahead,” I said.

Ruby poured a little pile of what looked like fish-shaped crackers on the table. Hercules meowed his thanks and dipped his head to eat. After the first cracker, he made a rumbly sigh of satisfaction deep in his throat.

I grinned at Ruby. “I think you’re his new best friend.”

She grinned back at me. “Fine with me.” Then her expression grew serious. “Did Detective Gordon show up?”

I nodded and looked around for the cat carrier. “He’s coming over in a few minutes. I’m going to take Hercules and go wait down by the door for him.”

Hercules put one paw on top of the dwindling pile of cat treats and shot me a warning glare.

Which Ruby saw. “He’s not going anywhere,” she said. “And you don’t have to either.”

“I know Marcus isn’t one of your favorite people . . ,” I began.

“No, he isn’t,” Ruby said, folding her arms over her chest. “But you are, and I like the furry guy, too.” She inclined her head in the cat’s direction.

Herc gave her an adoring look and dropped his head over his food again.

Ruby shrugged. “And I figure it’s not really good karma to keep on holding a grudge.” She smiled then. “So help me choose which photo of Hercules to use.”

We had the choice of photos narrowed down to three when Marcus knocked on the studio door.

Ruby got to her feet. “Come in, Detective,” she said. Her voice was formal, but not unwelcoming.

Marcus came into the room as far as the center worktable. Hercules gave him a curious look and went back to washing his tail.

“I have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind,” Marcus said.

I wondered what he’d do if Ruby said she did mind.

But she didn’t. “It’s all right,” she said, dropping back down onto the wooden stool where she’d been sitting before he knocked.

“Where was Kathleen when you got here?” he asked.

“Across the street, standing on the grass in front of the tents, talking on her cell phone.”

Marcus gave an almost imperceptible nod. “What did you do?”

Ruby twisted the half-dozen narrow cord bracelets on her right arm around her wrist. “I walked over to her. When I got close, I could tell by her expression that something was wrong. She told me she’d found Mike Glazer’s body in the tent and she’d already called nine-one-one.”

“Did you go see the body for yourself?”

She shook her head. “No. Kathleen’s not the kind of person who would make something like that up. I got the cat carrier from her and brought Hercules over here.”

At the sound of his name, Herc looked over at Marcus and meowed.

I thought I saw something close to a smile cross Marcus’s face. He looked at me. “Kathleen, I need to look at his paws,” he said.

“Sure,” I said, getting to my feet. “What are you looking for? He’s already washed the front two.”

“Does Hercules need a lawyer?” Ruby asked. Her expression was serious except for the gleam in her eyes.

Before Marcus could answer, the cat looked at him and meowed loudly again.

“I think he just waived his right to counsel, at least for now,” I said.

“I just want to make sure he didn’t pick up anything on a paw that might be evidence,” Marcus explained.

I held up Hercules’s paws one at a time, and Marcus looked each one over carefully while the cat, in turn, seemed to be intently studying the detective’s face.

“Thank you,” Marcus said when he was finished, and it almost seemed as though he were directing the words more to Hercules than to me.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked. I’d almost asked if he had any questions for the cat.

He shook his head. “That’s it for now.” He leaned sideways to look around me. “Thank you,” he said to Ruby.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Marcus said softly to me.

I nodded, and he left. I spent a few more minutes with Ruby, and then I nudged Hercules back into the bag. I had just enough time to get back up the hill and get dressed for work before it was time to open the library.

As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot, Herc poked his black-and-white head out of the bag, followed by one paw and then the other.

“How did you know Mike Glazer’s body was in the tent?” I asked when we got to the stop sign at the corner.

The cat wrinkled his nose and his whiskers twitched.

“That’s what I thought,” I said, flicking on my turn signal and heading up Mountain Road. “Did you see anything—or anyone?” I shot a quick glance to the right just in time to see him put a paw over his face and duck his head. I had no idea what he meant—or if he’d even understood the question. Between their unique, magical talents and their ability to listen intently, it was easy to forget that Hercules and Owen were still just cats.

On the other hand, every time I’d gotten mixed up in one of Marcus’s cases, they seemed to as well. Each time, the boys had found something that had helped me figure out the killer’s identity. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe.

There was no sign of Owen when we got home. I changed, grabbed the lunch I’d made earlier and drove down to the library. Susan was coming up the street as I pulled into the parking lot, and she waited for me at the bottom of the library steps. She was wearing her black cat’s-eye glasses, and her hair was in its usual Pebbles Flintstone updo, secured with a small cocktail fork. Sometimes I wondered if the twins did her hair every morning.

“Good morning,” she said, a huge smile lighting up her face.

I smiled back. “Good morning.” I went ahead of her up the stairs, opened the doors and disarmed the alarm system.

Susan moved past me to snap on the lights. “So how was your night?” Her knowing tone told me she already had the answer to the question.

I shook my head at her as I relocked the main door. “I know that you know I had dinner with Marcus Gordon last night.”

The smile turned into a grin. “Eric told me,” she said. She clasped her hands behind her back and pushed her glasses up her nose. “So, did he sweep you into those strong, manly arms for a good-night kiss? And when are you going to see him again?”

“Number one, none of your business. And number two, I’ve already seen Marcus this morning—and not because last night stretched into this morning.”

It took a moment, but then Susan’s face grew serious as she made the connection. She’d obviously already heard what had happened to Mike. “Don’t tell me you found Mike Glazer’s body.”

I shifted my leather briefcase from one hand to the other. “Technically, it was Hercules who found the body,” I said.

“Hercules?” Susan’s eyes darted from side to side in confusion. “What was your cat doing down on the Riverwalk?”

“We were at the studio building. Ruby wants to do another cat painting. Remember the one Maggie sold this summer?”

She nodded.

“We were a few minutes early. I didn’t have the zipper closed all the way on the carrier . . .” I gestured with my free hand.

“And the cat’s out of the bag.”

I nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Do you think Hercules sensed . . . something?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Cats have a much better sense of smell than we do.” I didn’t add that both Hercules and Owen had an uncanny ability for poking their furry noses into things they shouldn’t. Marcus would probably say the same thing about me.

“I guess this is the end of the pitch to Legacy Tours,” Susan said as we headed for the stairs to the second floor.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Well, not to speak ill of the dead, but from what I heard, Mike Glazer was pretty much impossible to please, so I don’t think the idea had much of a chance anyway. I’m sorry to hear he’s dead, though.”

Behind us, someone tapped on the front door. “That’ll be Mary,” I said.

“I’ll go,” Susan said. She hurried over to the entrance and let the older woman in.

“Hi, Kathleen,” Mary said, hustling into the library as though she were being pushed by a sudden gust of wind. “I’m sorry I’m running late.” She was a little out of breath, and I noticed that her jacket was buttoned wrong.

“How did swimming lessons go?” she asked Susan. The boys had gone for their first swim class in the pool at the St. James Hotel.

“Wet,” Susan said with a grimace. “Very, very wet. On the other hand, we haven’t been banned from the hotel property, so I take that as a positive sign.”

“I really didn’t mean to be late,” Mary said, turning to me.

“You’re not late,” I said. “We don’t open for another five minutes.”

“Oh, good.” She patted her gray curls, which looked as though they’d been lacquered into place with about half a can of extra-strength hair spray. “I swear this whole tour thing is turning out to be way more trouble than it’s worth. Heaven help me for saying it, but there are moments I think Burtis is right; someone ought to smack a little sense into that Glazer boy.”

Susan and I exchanged awkward glances.

Mary saw the look that passed between us. “What?” she asked, blue eyes narrowing. “Something’s up. What is it?”

I exhaled slowly. “Mary,” I began, “Mike is . . . dead.”

“Lord love a duck,” she said softly.