Himalayan Hazard

Chapter Three

I took a giant step back, but the lady reached out and grabbed my wrist, chuckling softly as she did.

“I didn’t mean to insult you. After all, I talk to my Grizabella constantly. Few people understand the special bond between a woman and her cat. Wouldn’t you say?” She tilted her head to the side and widened her grin.

I nodded as relief washed over me. “My name’s Angie, and he’s Octo-Cat.”

“I’m Rhonda Lou Ella Smith.” She held out her hand, which hung limp from her wrist. Did she expect a shake or a kiss? Either way, I was afraid of hurting her with my strong grip, so I settled on a fist bump… which failed miserably.

Rhonda brushed her hands off, then folded them in front of her waist. “Yes, well. Care to join us at our table? Better you than someone else, after all.” She laughed again, and the sound reminded me of a bird singing at first morning light. Everything about her reminded me of a bird, actually—from the delicate bone structure to the expensive and perfectly tailored outfit and flashy jewelry all the way to her dazzling platinum hair.

“Sure, let me just order our snacks first.” I turned back toward the red-headed counter attendant and he dropped his hand from his mouth sheepishly. Gross. I bit my nails, too, but not while working food service.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I have more than enough to share,” Rhonda promised, then sashayed back toward her table, moving so gracefully I had to wonder if she’d escaped from a ballet or a circus trapeze act or something.

“Okay, then. Be right over.” I smiled again just in case she turned back at the sound of my voice and skulked back to my table, completely baffled by the elegant woman’s interest in me. Was it really so simple as her feeling a bond to me as a cat owner?

“Whatever you agreed to, I didn’t,” my cat told me, sitting up straight and wrapping his striped tail around himself. “I’m staying right here.”

“Then I guess you won’t be getting any Evian,” I whispered, turning my back to him and counting to five under my breath.

“One of these days I’m calling the animal cruelty association on you,” he said from behind me, then jumped from the table onto my shoulder.

“Ouch! Claws!” He’d never hitched a ride on me before, so I wasn’t sure why he wanted to do it now—other than perhaps thinking it could be a fun new way to humiliate, and thus punish, me for forcing him to make nice with the other passengers.

“What a cute trick,” Rhonda chirped, clapping her hands in delight as we approached.

“Tricks? Aren’t those for old dogs? I am a cat, madame,” Octo-Cat said to our new friend, although I’m sure she only heard his croaky, entitled meow.

“Don’t bother speaking to her,” a smooth, lyrical voice rose from the bench seat. “She never understands.”

My eyes darted to the gorgeous long-haired cat with dark face, tail, and paws and striking blue eyes. Must be the previously mentioned Grizabella. There were cats, and then there were cats. Grizabella belonged to the latter classification. She looked like she could have stepped out of a textbook, so perfect was her coat, her stance, basically everything about her.

Octo-Cat stiffened on my shoulder, brushing his whiskers against my cheek as he craned to see the Himalayan better. “Pray, Angela. Do you also see an angel before us?”

An angel? What?

I tried to turn to look at him, but only got a face-full of striped tabby fur. Irritated, I pried him from my shoulder and set him onto the empty bench seat across from Rhonda.

He didn’t even protest. He also didn’t stop staring at the other cat for even a second. As soon as I set him down, he hopped onto the table, his quest for Evian apparently a thing of the past.

“Dear beautiful feline, it is an honor and a privilege to look upon you,” he said, his amber eyes growing larger the longer they beheld her. Either he’d been spending too much time around Pringle, our resident raccoon and medieval knight enthusiast, or he’d discovered one of the fantasy channels on TV. Knowing him, either was equally likely.

“I think my cat likes yours,” I told Rhonda with a chuckle. I’d never seen Octo-Cat try to flirt before, and I kind of wish I hadn’t seen it now.

“Careful,” the woman warned. “Grizabella doesn’t much like other cats, or people, or anyone, really.” She reached out to stroke the Himalayan’s long fur, but a quick paw batted her away.

Talk about a cat after Octavius’s own heart.

“I do not appreciate your attempts to flatter me, house cat,” Grizabella hissed, then cuddled up to Rhonda’s side. Talk about hot and cold. Octo-Cat also had pretty intense mood swings, but normally in the space of an hour rather than mere seconds.

And, normally, such a slight would send my tabby into a mad spiral of hurling insults and lashing claws, but not this time. “You misunderstand. I am part Maine Coon, the most ancient of American-born breeds, and I am at your service, beautiful Grizabella.” He dipped his head closer to the table and folded his ears out to the side in a show of respect.

“I don’t need your service. My human meets my needs just fine.”

“Hard to get,” Octo-Cat remarked with a jaunty laugh.

“No. Impossible to get,” Grizabella corrected, her tail flicking on the bench seat beside her and beating against her owner.

“Nothing is impossible.” Octo-Cat winked, then licked his paw. “I will find a way. After all, solving mysteries is my job. I own half of a private investigation firm, mind you.”

Grizabella did appear mildly impressed by this but said nothing.

I figured it was time for me to chat with the other human, lest we raise suspicion about our special communication link. “What brings you on board the train today?” I asked Rhonda, doing my best to focus my full attention on her.

Rhonda fingered the gold pendant that hung down from the chain of pearls around her neck. The piece was enormous and quite stunning, given the intricacy of the design carved into it. A cluster of matching pearls sat proudly in the middle of the piece, creating a real treat for the eyes. The thing must have cost an absolute fortune. On the contrary, my nicest piece of jewelry was a delicate sterling silver chain with a paw print charm that Nan had given me on my last birthday.

Rhonda glanced out the window thoughtfully. “I prefer rail travel. It’s better for Grizabella.”

“We’re headed for Georgia,” I volunteered. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Not this time. We’ll probably get off before then.” Odd that she didn’t actually name her destination, but I decided not to press. Pressing was not the point of making small talk, after all.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a train before. Well, except maybe at the zoo.” I laughed at my own non-joke.

Rhonda did not. “You’ll like it. There’s nothing quite like it.”

“I can see that already.”

She smiled again, then returned her attention to the window. Strange she was so insistent on having us join her when she didn’t really seem to want to talk.

We fell silent. Both of us turned our attention toward the cats, who, much to Octo-Cat’s chagrin, had still not made friends.

“Oh, dear Grizabella. I will do anything for you, even lay down one of my nine lives.” He crept to the edge of the table and sat right in front of Rhonda, who cooed happily and stroked his fur.

“Not interested,” Grizabella said, lifting her nose into the air.

Octo-Cat ignored the human and continued to beg the Himalayan for her love. “I could catch a mouse. Would you like a nice dead mouse?”

Grizabella growled and ran under the table to avoid my poor lovestruck bumpkin.

When I glanced back toward Rhonda, she was chuckling into a cloth napkin. “That’s my Grizabella for you. She doesn’t much approve of other cats, and they don’t approve of her.”

I was just about to argue that Octo-Cat approved greatly of the Himalayan, but then Rhonda said, “It’s why we make such a perfect pair.”

What a strange thing to say. Was this the wealthy woman’s way of saying she didn’t approve of me—or that she thought I didn’t approve of her? Why would it even matter? And, again, why had she insisted on having us join her?

I smiled but said nothing in response. Eventually, she moved on to tell me stories of Grizabella’s many mundane adventures. Honestly, I kind of wished I’d stayed with the writer guy.