Fat Cat Spreads Out

FIVE

Tanner texted Chase on her way to the fair, saying the pictures were “dope” and he could totally use them. When she got there, lugging Quincy along in his crate, Anna was already at their booth and it looked about ready to go. A short woman with frizzy bleached hair was leaving as Chase was approaching.

“Who’s that?” Chase asked.

“You’ll never guess. It’s Jay Wright’s aunt! He told her where our booth would be and she stopped in to say hi.”

“Oh, right. He said she’s one of the organizers. I’ll have to meet her the next time she stops by.”

“Right now you can arrange the basket and these fliers.”

The ginger-striped cat fidgeted in the confines of his hard-sided crate. Usually, he settled in and stayed still for journeys that took place in the car, but this time the memory of all that butter taunted him. He could smell that he was in the same place as yesterday, the place with the butter. After his crate was shoved under the table, leaving him in dusky darkness, he started working at the latch. He hadn’t conquered this new one. Yet.

The kiddie rides were in full swing. Each one had its own music, creating a merry cacophony in the background for those on the midway.

The presence of armed police officers roaming the midway was a sober reminder that a serious crime had been committed. It took some of the shine off the fair, but seemingly hadn’t hurt attendance.

“Did you see the news this morning?” Chase asked.

“No,” Anna said slowly. “Is there something bad in it? About Mike?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Julie said he’s not being accused of the murder. But the paper called him a person of interest.”

“Oh dear. But Jay did get him out?”

“Jay stayed until they let Mike go. I don’t know if he’s here yet or not. What’s happening over there?” Chase noticed a commotion down the midway.

“It’s the parade. The official opening of the fair. We’d better stay put while it passes.”

The fair opened with a procession down the midway. A team of horses led the way, pulling Miss Bunyan County in an ornate carriage. The local Shriners drove their silly little bikes, and a Boy Scout troop marched past, somewhat in precision. Next came the Girl Scouts, tossing hard candies and waving. In the distance a high school band could be heard getting louder as it got closer.

“That’s going to scare Quincy,” Anna said. “All those trumpets and trombones.”

“And drums. Should I throw a blanket over his crate?” asked Chase.

“He’s not a bird. Maybe we should get him out and hold him.”

“Definitely not. He’ll bolt. It’ll be okay. He’ll live.”

Anna raised the skirt of the table to peek in on him. His amber eyes stared back, wide and frightened. Anna dropped the skirt, shaking her head.

“I’ll take his cage out in back of the booths,” Chase said, relenting. He had probably never been this close to so much noise. It was bound to have a bad effect on him. “It’ll be quieter there. Just until the parade passes.”

Chase pulled the crate out and hefted it up. This hard-sided cage was heavier than the soft cloth one she had used before. But Quincy had proven he was able to get out of that one without much trouble. It zipped shut, and the zipper was easy for him to open by hooking a claw in the pull if it was left even the teensiest bit agape. Or sometimes, Chase swore, even if it wasn’t.

She lugged the carrier between the Bar None booth and the next one, still empty this morning, and set Quincy down on the dirt. The organizers had left aisles between every other booth, using common walls for the booths that were joined together. The Bar None booth was connected to one rented by a travel agency.

A large maple with blazing red leaves shaded the area behind the booths. Chase leaned against the rough, solid trunk to wait for the boisterous parade to end.

Voices came from past the travel agents’ booth, which was operated by two women, a short redhead and a tall blonde. The next booth down the line was the fortune-teller’s.

A conversation from behind the fortune-telling booth floated to Chase, over the sounds of the parade and the band, which was still approaching.

“Yes, Grandpapa. I know I shouldn’t have taken it.” Chase heard a low-pitched woman’s voice. “But I wanted so much to try it on Princess Puffball before the Fancy Cat Contest. Just to see what it would look like if she wins.”

Chase’s ears perked at the words “cat contest.”

A man’s voice spoke too softly for Chase to hear.

“No, I told you. I don’t know where it is. I haven’t been able to find it yet. I’ll put it back in the exhibit as soon as I find it, I promise.”

The band drew nigh and drowned out the conversation. When it had passed, Chase leaned out and looked around to see who the speakers were. Only one remained: the fortune-teller herself. That is, the person Chase assumed was the fortune-teller. At any rate, she was the young woman who had been at that tent earlier with Mike and Mike’s aunt Betsy. She must have a cat. Princess Puffball? And she had taken something and lost it.

Chase wanted to know more about the Fancy Cat Contest. Mike had mentioned it, and this woman seemed to have an entrant. Should Chase enter Quincy?

After the parade passed, she returned Quincy, in his crate, to his place under the table of their booth. A colorful pamphlet with pictures of sleek cats on it lay on their exhibit table.

“What’s this?” Chase asked.

“Some woman in a business suit was tossing them out during the parade. She’s with a pet food company. I think they’re sponsoring something here.”

Quincy gave an irritated mrow from his crate. He clearly wanted out of it. Maybe the fortune-teller/cat owner would know where to exercise a cat here at the fair.

“Do you want anything from the food carts, Anna?”

“I’d like something cold to drink.”

The day was sunny and beautiful. Chase was warm in her sweater, and thirsty, too. “I’ll get us some lemonade. I want to stop and talk to the fortune-teller on the way.”

Anna raised her eyebrows.

“She’s entering a cat in a contest here. I want to know more about it.”

“You’re thinking of entering Quincy in a contest?”

“Fancy Cat Contest.”

“Quincy is lovely and adorable, but I’m not sure he’s fancy.”

“Anyway, I’ll ask her about it. If she has a cat here, maybe she knows where to exercise them, too. There must be several cats if a contest is being held.”

The entrance to the fortune-teller booth was hung in purple gauze that glittered with silver stars and half moons. One swath was pinned back, leaving a narrow entrance. Chase peeked inside, then stepped into the tent. The young woman sat behind her display table, which was draped in more of the same material. It was dark inside, lit only by several electric candles and a glowing globe that sat in front of her. Chase blinked to adjust her eyes to the dimness. She also sniffed. Something gave off a pleasant scent of lavender.

“Welcome. I am Madame Divine.” The woman spoke in a creepy low voice. “Step closer. Have a seat and give me your palm.” She stood to take Chase’s hands and drew her into a seat. She wore a caftan made from more of the purple gauze, and her shoulder-length black curls were tucked into a gold turban. Her deep purple nail polish shone in the soft light from the globe, which was her crystal ball, Chase surmised.

“Oh, hi. Chase Oliver. Our booth is right over there. The Bar None.” She pointed her head in that direction, since Madame Divine had both her hands. “I don’t really want my fortune told. I just heard you talking about a Fancy Cat Contest and wanted to ask you about that.”

Madame Divine frowned. “What did you hear? Where?” Her natural timbre was rather low, but the spooky voice was gone.

“I didn’t mean to overhear. I took my cat behind our booth to get him away from the noise of the parade. It was scaring him. Most of what you were saying was drowned out by the marching band, but I did hear you mention the contest.”

Her frown lessened. “Ah. Well, yes. I’m entering my cat, Puffy.” Princess Puffball, Chase remembered.

“How would I enter mine?” Chase put her hands on the round table between her and the fortune-teller.

“Have you read the brochure about the fair?”

“Not yet.” It was probably the pamphlet she had seen on their table.

“The entry form is in there.” Madame Divine reached for Chase’s hands again.

Chase looked around for a cat. A shelf to one side held fortune-telling books, tarot cards, and Ouija boards for sale. “Is your cat here?” She extracted her hands and folded them in her lap, where Madame Divine couldn’t reach them.

“Not today. The contest isn’t until the end of the fair, on next Sunday.”

“Oh. I have to bring Quincy here every day, and I was wondering if there was a pen or a big cage where he could get some exercise.”

“There might be. You should talk to the contact person. Daisy something-or-other.”

Chase rose. “Thanks, Ms. Divine. I’ll look her up.”

“Madame Divine is just my stage name. I’m really Patrice Youngren. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out for Chase to shake. Her hands were clad in lace fingerless gloves and she wore rings on almost every finger. Chase gripped the gloved hand and wondered if she wore gloves because she wanted to prevent others from reading her palms. Patrice shook with one hand and put the other on top of Chase’s. It was an oddly intimate gesture.

“I guess you know Mike Ramos?” Patrice asked. “I heard you talking to him yesterday.”

“Yes, he’s our vet.”

Patrice nodded and Chase got the feeling she was being dismissed.

“Do you know him?”

Patrice nodded again without offering anything further.

Chase persisted anyway, curious now about the conversation she’d overheard. “I heard you say you’ve lost something. Is it anything I can help look for?”

A fleeting look of panic widened Patrice’s brown eyes but was gone in a flash. “No, thank you.”

That cold tone was definitely a dismissal. Chase gave her a smile. “I’ll see you around.”

For a moment, as she walked through the sawdust, she wondered why “Seventy-six Trombones” from The Music Man was running through her head. Then she remembered that the marching band had played it when they’d gone past.

As Chase reached the lemonade stand, she spotted Mike leaving with an extra-large cup.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been so worried.”

“Chase, thanks for sending Jay Wright to help me out. I was trying to figure out who to call.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “I’ve turned my phone off because I’m getting so many calls from reporters. And some from crackpots.”

“Well, I’m relieved to see you here,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would make it or not.”

“Jay said there wasn’t enough evidence to keep me, even though I’m their best suspect. They asked me a few questions then they locked me in a cell with some scary types. Then they brought me out and questioned me for hours more. I’m glad to be out of there.”

“They really think you could have killed Mr. Oake?”

“I wasn’t charged with anything. That was a surprise to me after all the questioning. Detective Olson acted like he wanted me to confess, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.”

“Yes, I’ve had experience with that. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” He still held her hand and she squeezed his, then dropped it. “By the way, I just met Patrice Youngren. She knows you?”

“She sure does.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, Chase, I’ll talk later. I need to be at the vet station now. I was late getting here.”

Mike hurried away. He hadn’t really answered all of her questions. At least not the way Chase wanted them answered.

Julie showed up late in the morning. “Need some help?”

“Where’s Jay?” Chase asked.

“After being at the courthouse early this morning, he had to go into work today. He’s defending a state legislator, and his firm wants to do a good job with it. He’ll be by, maybe tomorrow. Definitely next Saturday.”

“That’s great they gave him a big case,” Anna said.

“It’s not his, by himself. He’s on a defense team.”

“Sounds like football.” Chase laughed.

“I’ll bet he wishes it were football. He’d rather be here on a Saturday, believe me. Anyway, I’m here to see if you need me today, since I’m not working this weekend.”

Anna put her to work. She had her granddaughter stand right outside their entrance with a small paper plate of samples to tempt passersby and lure them into the booth.

It must have worked because she and Anna did a booming business, especially during lunchtime. Fairgoers seemed to want dessert as much as they wanted meals. That was fine with Anna and Chase. The visitors to the booth slowed to a trickle in the early afternoon, and Chase told Anna and Julie she wanted to try to find Daisy and ask her about the cat contest.

Anna had saved the brochure, and handed it to Chase.

“Didn’t you have your turquoise ring on this morning?” Anna asked.

Chase was dismayed to find that her ring was missing. “It must have slipped off. I’ve been planning to get it resized forever.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for it,” Julie said, already bending down to check beneath the table covering.

The brochure on the fair contests was thick, and Chase leafed through it. Daisy was apparently in charge of all of them. A hamster run was about to begin, from what the schedule said. The pet competitions were held in the large permanent building, beyond the midway with its many booths.

Chase walked through the open double doors into a large entryway that led to a wide central aisle. A big room on the right held homemade quilts and jars of pickles, fruits, and vegetables. A table near the door held dozens of baked goods. Chase nearly detoured into the space, drawn by the aroma of apple and pecan pies, but held her course for the next one, the animal contest room.

A long table, surrounded by cheering people, dominated the right side of the room. Chase wormed her way close enough to see a plastic track with five lanes that ran the length of the table, about fifteen feet long. Each lane held a transparent plastic ball, and each ball held a hamster. Most of the balls were whizzing down the track, but one held a sleeping white hamster, curled up in the bottom. A red-faced man screamed at the stationary ball. “Snowball! Wake up! We’re losing!”

A woman with a stopwatch presided over the finish line made of yellow tape. She was rather short, with frizzy bleached hair and a large, bulbous nose. Her head swiveled from hamster to hamster, ignoring poor Snowball, and her huge silver hoop earrings swung back and forth. After a moment, Chase recognized her as the person who had been at the Bar None booth early in the morning, chatting with Anna.

Another hamster, a black-and-white one, decided to quit, and its owner started screeching at her pet.

The frizzy-haired woman clicked her watch and held up her arms as the winner crossed the line. “We have a new champion. Wiggle Piggle wins!”

After the owners had retrieved their furry contestants, the winner toting along a large bag of hamster pellets, Chase approached the timekeeper.

“Are you Daisy?”

She nodded, sending her hoop earrings swinging and her hair dancing on her head.

“So you’re Jay Wright’s aunt?”

“And you must be Chase Oliver, Julie’s friend. I’m pleased to meet you.”

After the greeting, Chase asked her for more information about the Fancy Cat Contest. “The brochure doesn’t say much beyond the time and place.”

“It’s a fancy-dress contest,” she said with a grin.

“People dress cats?”

“It’s not easy. Sometimes the winner is the one who keeps the costume on. We’re so fortunate this year. The Picky Puss Cat Food Company is sponsoring the contest. You’ll have to take a good look at the cat collar they’re using for the winner.”

Chase wasn’t sure she wanted to enter Quincy in that competition. It sounded like it might be torture.

“You’ve seen bags of Picky Puss cat food, haven’t you?”

Chase had seen them in the pet food store and even the grocery store and had often noticed the lovely felines pictured on them.

“The winner here will be photographed with the collar and will be featured on their bags, all over the nation. They’re even offering a television commercial appearance. We’re so lucky,” she gushed. “The owner of the company grew up in this county and decided to do this for the fair.”

That would be fun, Chase admitted to herself. If Quincy would cooperate with the photographers. “Can I ask you another question? My business partner and I have a booth out on the midway and I’m bringing my cat with me every day, in his crate. Is there a place I could let him out a bit? Keep him from being so cramped all day?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. No, I don’t know any place you could turn a cat loose. We’ll have a high wire pen for our contest next Sunday, but people just usually bring their pets that day. You might want to check with the veterinarian, though.”

Chase thanked the woman and left the room as a Frisbee-catching contest for dogs was being set up. She stepped aside to let a woman lead a handsome Weimaraner into the room. A sign at the far end of the hall caught her eye: “Veterinarian.” It had an arrow pointing left. That’s where Mike was!

She nipped around the corner and into the room. No one was in the small anteroom, but she could hear Mike’s deep voice behind the closed door before her. She sat in a plastic chair and waited for him to finish with his current patient. There was a neat stack of printed cards on the corner of the desk. She tilted her head to read what was on the top one. It was the recipe for Kitty Patties. How nice! Mike had asked for the recipe when she first concocted the treats. He had said he might hand those out, but she thought he meant only in his own clinic, not here at the fair. Mike had told her he had plenty of cat patients that were overweight and could use her recipe.

The red-faced man who had yelled at Snowball came out in a few minutes, carrying Snowball himself—or herself—in a small cage. Snowball lay curled up at the bottom, much as he—or she—had done during the race. The familiar disinfectant smell of a vet’s office wafted from the room.

“Chase, what are you doing here?” Mike asked after the man left. “Is Quincy all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. How’s Snowball?”

“You know Snowball?”

“I just watched him lose the hamster race.”

“Her. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s pregnant and doesn’t feel like racing today.”

“I thought I’d stop in and say hi. I came over to ask Daisy about the Fancy Cat Contest, and if she knew where I could let Quince get some exercise.”

“He’s in his crate, isn’t he?”

“Yes, his new plastic one. If he hasn’t figured out how to get out of it yet.”

“Come on back here.” He motioned her into the next room. Besides an examining table, a small metal desk, and two shelves full of equipment, eight large cages were stacked against the wall to the left. Several even larger ones sat against the back wall. They were all empty. “Do you want to keep him here for part of the day? It would give him more room.”

“What are the cages for?”

“I’m not sure.” Mike smiled, crinkling his brown eyes. “They came with the space. Maybe if an animal gets hurt, I could put it here until it’s transported somewhere.”

“This might be good. He could move around a lot more.”

“If I should get a noisy dog, it might not work, but I don’t anticipate that. I can give him a big cage and some cat toys.”

Chase left to get her cat. As she opened the door from the reception room to the hallway, she nearly collided with a woman coming in. Chase apologized for nearly knocking her over—the woman was quite short—then blinked, trying to remember where she had recently met her. The other woman responded first.

“Nice to see you again. Chase Oliver, right?” She alleviated Chase’s embarrassment at not remembering her right away. “I’m Mike’s aunt Betsy.” She set her purse on the desk and moved behind it.

Oh yes, she had been talking with Mike and Patrice. “So you’re working in Dr. Ramos’s office?”

Aunt Betsy smiled. “Dr. Ramos? I call him Mike, since I used to change his diapers, but yes, he asked me to help out this week.”

Mike came out of the examining room. “Glad you’re here, Aunt Betsy. People are already starting to bring pets in.”

“I’ll get to work, then.” She slipped her purse under the desk and seated herself, ready to assume her duties as the receptionist.

The striped cat stepped cautiously from the familiar crate, the place where he’d been for hours and hours, into the strange new cage. He tested the floor with one paw, then stepped inside. He raised his head and sniffed. Detecting no objectionable odors, he shifted his attention to the jingle bell, the ball, and the Kitty Patty that had been left inside the door just before it shut. As the latch was hooked, he paid close attention to how it worked.