The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives

8

I was standing just inside the bookstore, next to the old burnished-wood counter with the antique cash register on top. It was eerily quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner built into the wall over the front door. The shop looked the same as it had the night before, except now all the lights in the back of the store were off. The light over the register was on, as were the two hanging glass lamps in the display window, but there was no sign of Cosmo anywhere.

I had the urge to call out for Mr. Hoskins to let him know we were here, but of course that would have been crazy. Somewhere in the back of my mind I must have known what was going on, but there seemed to be a part of me that just wouldn’t allow it. My eyes scanned the pen-and-ink drawings arranged on the wall behind the register, as if I might find some sort of answer in their innocent scenery. In one, a comely woman with long dark hair falling off her shoulders peered down at me with wise, comforting eyes.

I glanced into the back of the store, but since the only light was coming from the front, it was too dark to see anything clearly.

I turned to Detective McKenzie and said, “What’s happening?”

She cleared her throat, and I felt the inside of my palms start to sweat. “We got a call this morning from the man that delivers the newspapers every day. Normally when he gets here the shop’s not open for business yet, so he knocks on the door to let Mr. Hoskins know he’s here and then leaves his stack of papers on the sidewalk.”

She pointed outside, and there on the sidewalk next to the door was a stack of newspapers wrapped in white nylon twine.

“He said usually by the time he’s back in his delivery van, Mr. Hoskins has come to the door and they exchange a wave or a ‘good morning.’ But this time Mr. Hoskins didn’t come to the door. So he got out and went back to look through the door window. The lights were on inside, but the door was unlocked. That’s when he realized something was wrong.”

I looked around the shop. It didn’t seem like there’d been a burglary or a fight or anything like that, so I still couldn’t quite fathom what McKenzie was doing here. At that point, I’m not even sure I understood why the whole place was surrounded with police tape. To me, it was obvious what had happened. Last night, I’d shown up at closing time and interrupted Mr. Hoskins’s normal routine. He’d simply forgotten to lock up before he went home.

I said, “Mr. Hoskins seemed a little absentminded. Maybe…” but the expression on McKenzie’s face stopped me. She shook her head slowly and glanced over my shoulder at something on the countertop behind me.

I didn’t want to, but I turned and looked. Right away, I knew why she’d been talking about me when I arrived. The check I’d made out to Beezy’s Bookstore the night before was still lying next to the bowl of chocolates beyond the cash register. She’d seen my name on the check and was probably about to call me. My check wasn’t what McKenzie was looking at, though.

There, in a diagonal line across the countertop, was a row of red splotches, each about the size of a quarter and spaced a few inches apart. My stomach tightened into a fist as I realized—it was blood.

McKenzie said, “The cash register is empty, and just before you arrived, Mr. Hoskins’s daughter called the station. The doorman in his apartment building said he never came home last night.”

My legs were beginning to feel like jelly. I looked at her and said, “I was just here. I was here last night before he closed up.”

She nodded at the check. “Yes, I figured as much.”

I looked down at the book in my hand, and then my eyes followed the central corridor to the round claw-foot table in the center of the store, but it was too dark to see anything farther back.

I said, “Is he … is he back there?”

McKenzie shook her head slowly. “No. We don’t know where he is. I was hoping you might be able to help with that.”

I hugged myself and sighed with relief. Just then, one of the deputies waiting outside tapped on the door and pushed it open slightly.

“Ma’am,” he said, “there’s something out here you should see.”

She turned to me. “Dixie, would you mind waiting a bit?”

I nodded mutely and then just stood there in a daze. I think I was still trying to process exactly what was going on.

She smiled slightly and said, “Um, outside, if you don’t mind?”

I reached for the door, but she slid in front of me. “Let me get that for you.”

She nodded at the deputy, and he pushed the door open. I noticed he was wearing blue latex gloves. I looked down at McKenzie’s hands and realized she was, too. It was only then that it dawned on me that this wasn’t just Beezy’s Bookstore anymore. It wasn’t just a place to come and explore, to lie on the carpet with my head resting on a stack of books and forget about the world outside. It was a crime scene, and everything inside was potential evidence.

The deputy led McKenzie past the big display window to the edge of the building and lifted up the police tape for her. Before she went under, she turned back and said, “Dixie, I know you’re busy, so I won’t be long, but I do have a few more questions for you.”

I nodded. Even though she hadn’t asked me any questions yet, I knew I’d already answered some. Guidry had taught me that you can sometimes learn more from watching a person’s first reaction to a crime scene than you can from a hundred hours of interrogation. I was sure McKenzie had taken note of my every move, what my eyes had lingered on inside the store, how my breathing had changed, where I put my hands, what my first words had been.

I was standing with my back to the street, but I could see the reflection of two of the deputies in the display window as they inspected Mr. Hoskins’s van. Another one of the deputies was across the street with a woman in a white apron, probably someone from the market. I figured they were interviewing every shop owner on the street to find out if anyone had seen anything suspicious.

I looked at the stack of dictionaries in the far corner of the display, half hoping Cosmo would be there, snoozing away safe and sound in his favorite spot. If he was there, I’d know this whole thing was just one big misunderstanding, that there was an explanation for everything and that Mr. Hoskins was totally fine. If he was there, I’d know I hadn’t stepped right into another big pile of crazy.

Of course, he wasn’t there.