Fat Cat Spreads Out

EIGHTEEN

It was nearly midnight, but Chase had ignored three more text messages from Tanner during the day. She had to give him something to work with. He wanted to do the project, needed the money, she was sure, and was doing a good job. She should hold up her end of the bargain.

She sat at the computer and typed until she was bleary-eyed, but got good descriptions written for fifteen of their best sellers.

Hula Bars: These coconut-pineapple-walnut bars will transport you to the South Pacific at the first taste.

Lemon Bars: Just the right amount of tang and sweet. You’ve never tasted better Lemon Bars.

Harvest Bars: Imagine a crisp fall day, just before the frost is on the pumpkin. That’s where you’ll be when you taste these pumpkin spice delectables.

She used words like goodies and descriptions like “heavenly creations” and even “masterpiece confection” in describing the Peanut Butter Fudge Bars.

Finally, just before two o’clock, she sent the file to Tanner and stumbled up the stairs to fall onto the couch with her clothes on.

* * *

The next morning, Inger’s good mood of the night before had vanished. The first thing she said was that she wished Chase would get some decent coffee. “I think the smell of this kind makes me sick.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink caffeine when you’re pregnant, are you?” Chase asked, continuing to make her usual coffee, French roast from the grocery store. She was too tired to rouse herself to get angry at Inger.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Around. I supposed it was common wisdom. What does your doctor say?” She poured water into the coffeemaker and switched it on.

Inger plopped into a kitchen chair as if she were eight months pregnant. “I didn’t really see a doctor. They just gave me a test and told me I’m pregnant.”

“Oh dear! You haven’t seen anyone?” Now that she was awake, she felt a headache coming on. What was Inger thinking?

“I didn’t need to go to the clinic anyway. I got a test from the drugstore. I did it three times. I know I’m pregnant.”

“That’s not the point.” Chase, reaching for two coffee mugs, hesitated, then realized what she was doing and put one on the table. Maybe Inger would have some tea again. “You’re supposed to take special vitamins. There are probably all sorts of things that should be looked into.”

“They gave me some vitamins at the clinic, but I don’t like to take pills.”

“You have to take them!”

“Why?”

“To help the baby grow strong, I think. Look, you need to see someone right away.”

“I don’t even know if I’m keeping it or giving it up for adoption.”

“Whether you keep it or not, it’s your job to make sure the baby is healthy. And, speaking of keeping him, or her, do you have anyone helping you with that decision?” Chase knew the answer, but wanted to make sure Inger understood she had a momentous choice to make.

Inger shrugged. “I’m not hungry. It’s cold in here.” She got up and went into the bathroom.

Morning sickness, Chase thought. The apartment was chilly. Fall had arrived in earnest, from the looks of the blowing tree leaves outside the window. Chase nudged her thermostat up a notch, even though she would be leaving soon and Inger would be downstairs.

The sounds of retching and of the toilet flushing, plus the smell of the bathroom freshener bolstered Chase’s assumption of morning sickness.

After Chase had eaten a piece of toast and a banana and had given Quincy his breakfast, Inger emerged. She looked wan and pale. Chase had no idea how to proceed. She must get Inger to a doctor for both the baby’s sake and hers. Before she could say anything, Inger spoke.

“Look, this isn’t working out too well. We’re getting on each other’s nerves. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I need to find someplace else. Maybe I could stay at Anna’s again, even if those women and the parrot are there. The parrot is something else.” Inger flashed a quick smile.

“I don’t think so. There are four people sleeping there now. It’s a small house.”

“Four?”

“Yes. Julie Larson is staying there.”

“Well, where does Julie live? Is her place empty?”

It was, and Chase and Julie had even talked, briefly, of Inger staying there. They had both decided that Quincy was good therapy for her. But maybe that wasn’t very important at this point. Chase agreed that she and Inger needed a break from each other.

“Let me call Julie. I’ll talk to her about you staying at her place. It’s Friday. The fair is over on Sunday. We might close up the shop that day.”

“Don’t we usually close Monday and Tuesday?”

“Yes, but you’ve been running the store all by yourself for long enough. Monday and Tuesday, we’ll be recovering from the fair, bringing everything back, moving back in. It might be best to close an extra day. I’ll see if I can get you an appointment with a doctor for next week. And you can take some extra time off.”

“How long?” Inger perked up and looked alarmed. “I need the money.”

“Just the three days. Would that be all right? You could stay at Julie’s and we wouldn’t have to worry about transportation over here for you to work. Maybe we can even find you another place to live. Do you want me to make you tea and toast before I go?”

“Not if it’s the same kind you had before.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe you’d better take the cat with you today.”

“You can’t look in on him?” The pounding in her head got stronger.

“It’s bothering me, climbing these stairs.”

Chase clenched her jaw and enticed Quincy into his carrier. He wasn’t thrilled about getting into it again.

“It’s only for a couple more days, little fella,” Chase crooned. “Then you can get back to normal.” She turned to Inger. “You’ll be okay running the shop today?”

Inger lifted one shoulder. Chase was getting tired of Inger shrugging her off. Her pity of last night seemed remote this morning. As Inger said, they definitely needed a break.

Chase left Inger to open up the Bar None and drove out of Dinkytown and to the vendors’ lot at the Bunyan County Fairgrounds. Before she got out of her Ford Fusion, Julie called.

“You got a minute?” she asked.

“I just got to the fair, still in my car. Sure. What’s on your mind? Have you decided anything about your job yet?”

“Not definitely. But I talked to a guy in real estate and he’s going to get together with me over dinner tonight.”

“Oh, oh. Does Jay know about this?” she teased. She got Quincy out and started walking toward the fair.

Julie tittered. “I invited Jay. He’s still too busy on his case. He wants to hear what Bud says, though, so I might even take notes.”

“I want to see your notes, too. Unless you write them in lawyerese.”

Julie laughed again. “How do you think Anna is doing with those two women and their parrot?”

“I’m not sure. I’m glad you’ll be there, but they’re not ideal houseguests. Anna doesn’t suspect her at all, but I wonder if Elsa killed her husband. I hope they leave very soon. Speaking of—”

“Gotta go. I’ll call you after the dinner tonight.”

The weather had made up its mind. It was blustery when she got out of her car in the parking lot. She held tight to Quincy’s cage so it wouldn’t blow away. Would this affect the fairgoers? At least it would keep her awake.

The door to Dr. Ramos’s clinic was standing open, so Chase walked in with Quincy in his carrier. “I hope it’s all right if I leave him here today.”

“What happened to your employee? Quincy too tough for her to handle during the day?”

“She’s not feeling well. In fact, if Julie okays it, I think she should move to her place tonight. If that doesn’t work out, I don’t know what to do next. You wouldn’t happen to know of a cheap place she could rent, do you?”

“No, but I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“That’s so nice of you, getting a therapist and a room. You barely know her.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“And I don’t know if she would take your suggestion either.”

“If I find a place.”

“She doesn’t even want to see an ob-gyn.”

At Mike’s questioning look, she explained that Inger had gotten her pregnancy confirmed and had received vitamins but wasn’t taking them.

“They probably booked her to see a doctor at the clinic, didn’t they?” Mike said.

“If they did, she didn’t tell me. I doubt she’ll follow up on anything without supervision.”

“She’s probably used to being looked after. She’s been living at home, right?”

It didn’t seem like the right time to dump on Mike about Inger being such a persnickety houseguest.

Dr. Ramos scooped Quincy out of the carrier and into one of the large cages, giving him a head rub on the way. Quincy didn’t seem to mind being back in the cage. He curled up in the corner and started to purr. He was probably glad to be out of the wind. The other cat who was usually there, the black short hair with a white star on his chest, hadn’t arrived yet.

Mike hit the latch on the cage. “I got a great idea last night.”

“You know who committed the murder?” asked Chase, hoping he had information that would free him from suspicion.

“No, not about that. About Quincy and the contest.”

Chase hadn’t done a bit of thinking on that subject. She had nearly decided she wouldn’t enter him, since she hadn’t had any costume inspirations. “What’s your idea?”

“Puss in Boots! You like it?”

Chase didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it didn’t sound too original. “Not sure. Let me see what Anna and Julie have come up with.” Probably nothing, since she hadn’t asked them to.

“A little hat with a feather,” he said, “and leather-looking wraps on his front paws. I think it would go over great.”

“It’s not very glitzy.”

A knock sounded on the door to the inner room. It wasn’t closed, so the knocker pushed it open.

“Elsa,” Chase said, looking somewhere between them, since she didn’t know who was who. “And Eleanor.”

“And Lady Jane Grey,” added one of them, holding up a large cage with a white cloth thrown over it.

Chase wondered what they thought she thought was in the cage. Of course it was Lady Jane Grey. Could those two be any more annoying?

“Is she doing all right today?” he asked, looking at the cage. “Are you leaving her again?”

Elsa reached over and whipped off the covering. “If that’s all right.”

“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle, que nul ne peut apprivoiser,” the bird warbled in a screechy falsetto.

Chase covered her ears and Mike looked horrified.

“What’s she doing?” Chase asked. She had been cute the night before, mimicking and doing parrot noises. This morning, the screech was sending her headache into her eyeballs.

“Oh, you naughty birdie,” crooned Elsa, down two or three octaves from Grey’s pitch. “She just adores Carmen, doesn’t she, Ellie?”

The bird answered by swinging into, “Toreador, en guard! Toreador, Toreador!”

Chase groaned inwardly at the thought of an opera-singing parrot. She wasn’t even crazy about opera when it was sung by humans with excellent voices.

“Could you please replace the cover?” Mike kept his tone even.

Elsa redraped the cage and set it on the examining table. “Can we leave her for the day?”

“She might get lonesome if we leave her by herself,” Eleanor added.

“She hasn’t sung opera in here before. I can’t have her disturbing the other animals,” Mike said.

Elsa looked around. “I don’t see many here.”

“They’re in and out all day,” Chase said, getting tired of their attitude. They took over every place they entered, like the world belonged to them. Besides, she had just about run out of patience. “He has to treat animals who have a problem while they’re here, being shown, or in competition.”

Mike surprised Chase by telling them that, starting today, he had to charge for boarding animals.

“Is she paying?” Eleanor pointed at Chase.

“Absolutely,” Mike said, lifting the cage to a shelf next to Quincy.

Chase managed to keep from laughing. Elsa handed Mike the money and they swept out.

The cacophony had ceased, but the cat eyed the cage warily nonetheless. He didn’t take his eyes off it. When the man set it next to his cage, he sniffed. He smelled bird. A claw snaked out under the cloth, between the bars. The parrot found the latch to the cat’s cage and jiggled it. The cat watched, purring.

When she got back to the booth, Anna had opened up and it was full of buyers. The wind had died down and it didn’t feel nearly so cold. The heater Anna had brought still felt wonderful.

She would talk to Anna about the cat costume during their first slow period.

Before that happened, the two Aronoffs walked by the booth, both in fur-collared coats and those Russian-looking fur hats. Chase wasn’t sure it was quite that cold. The nutty father, Ivan, was waving his arms at his son, Peter. “What do you know about it? Have you ever seen one?”

Peter’s voice sounded so reasonable after Ivan’s slightly hysterical words. “I haven’t, but I still think Puss in Boots isn’t the best idea.” Peter held a small pet carrier.

Chase called to them. “Are you putting a cat in the contest?”

Peter smiled and held up the carrier. A black cat was in it. It looked like the cat she’d seen being boarded in the vet clinic. “Yes, this is our cat. His name is Shadow. I want him to be Batcat. A Batman costume, but with his own ears and tail.”

“Puss in Boots.” Ivan sounded cranky. But it was hard to tell if he was or not. He always sounded that way.

Should Chase speak up and alienate the crabby man? “I think Batcat would be perfect for a black cat.”

Ivan stuck his face in hers. “What is wrong with Puss in Boots?”

Chase took a step back. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just not . . . original.”

“No one else will do it,” Ivan said.

“I heard someone else talking about Puss in Boots.” That wasn’t a lie. Mike Ramos had talked about it. But she wasn’t going to use his idea.

Peter grinned and Ivan scowled and they went on their way to drop the cat off at the vet’s. She wondered if Shadow liked opera.

The customers had thinned out at their booth, although the toy booth next to them was going full speed ahead. Chase cocked an ear in that direction. She was surprised that Harper had softened his voice today somewhat for the little ones. He was still gruff as could be when he gave the prices to the parents.

Sally, the tall blonde travel agent, came by and ordered four Almond Cherry Bars for herself and her partner. Chase waited on her while Anna helped a family group stocking up on Peanut Butter Fudge Bars.

“How’s your jailbird doing?” Sally asked.

Chase was confused. “I don’t have a bird.”

The blonde leaned over the table and lowered her voice, pointing to Harper’s booth. “That jailbird. The ex-convict toymaker.”

“How do you know he’s an ex—”

“Shh!”

Chase had inadvertently raised her voice.

“Don’t let him hear you,” she said.

“How do you know he’s been prison?” Chase continued softly.

“Those tattoos. That’s the kind you get there.”

“How do you know?”

She waved a bejeweled hand. “One of my cousins, the black sheep of the family, was locked up for drug charges a few years ago.”

“Say,” Chase said. “You’re not missing any jewelry, are you?”

She peered at her hands. “No, it doesn’t look like it. Is Harper a jewel thief? Is that why he was in prison?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I mean, I don’t know.”

“Well, why do you ask, then?”

She didn’t want to spread Patrice’s name and her weakness all over the fair. “I had a ring taken. It’s nothing to do with Harper. I’m not even sure it was here.” She cringed a little at the lie. She should never have brought it up.

“See you,” Sally said, leaving with her package.

Chase got Anna’s attention as she finished up a sale. “Can you think of a costume for Quincy for the Fancy Cat Contest?”

Anna held her chin in her fist, thinking. “I did think of Puss in Boots, but, as you say, that’s probably too easy. I also thought of Supercat, but if that one is going to be Batman—”

“Batcat.”

“—Batcat, then another caped crusader wouldn’t be good.”

“Patrice wanted to try that jeweled collar on her cat. I imagine there would be more to her getup than that. Maybe a frilly princess dress.”

“You’re right, Charity. After all, what was that cat’s name? Something frilly.”

“Princess Puffball.”

“Are you talking about my cat?” Patrice, decked out in her purple caftan and gold turban, came into the booth, trailing her gauzy robe behind her. She held up a tiny pink ballerina tutu. “I wanted to show you what Princess will be wearing. Isn’t it adorable?”

Anna nodded. “Very fitting for a princess.”

Chase thought it looked ridiculous, but she smiled and nodded.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if Quincy came as Puss in Boots?” Patrice said. “He’s the same color as the cat in the movie.”

Maybe, thought Chase, that’s what was giving everyone the idea. She would have to rack her brain to come up with something. Quick. The contest was the day after tomorrow.