The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

Three

On my drive through town toward my house on Mercy Lake, I decided that Shawn wouldn’t be thrilled with what had happened inside the Longworth house, or what had happened outside on the way home. I’d failed to fool anyone, I’d snuck around and got caught and I’d discovered that Ritaestelle Longworth wasn’t well. Feeling a little down about all this, I decided I needed time with my three best friends before I talked to him.

As for the nature of Ritaestelle’s problems, well . . . that bothered me. She’d thought she recognized me, but I’d never laid eyes on the woman before. Was she confused? Did she have Alzheimer’s? Those possibilities combined with the way the assistant reacted to me might lead Shawn to conclude that Ritaestelle wasn’t equipped to care for her cat. But from what the assistant said, they clearly wanted Isis back.

And in my opinion, it wasn’t clear that she shouldn’t get her cat back. With plenty of hired help hanging around that mansion, how hard could it be to make sure one black cat got the attention she required? Added to that, Ritaestelle might be missing Isis this minute. A beloved pet can help the healing process.

The minute I disengaged the alarm at my back door and walked inside my house, I was reminded of this. Three gorgeous friends sat waiting, Syrah and Merlot on the floor, and Chablis stretched out on the granite countertop.

I knelt to give the two boys on the floor a scratch on the head, and Chablis jumped down for her share of affection a second later. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease almost immediately.

“What do I do, kids?” I said.

Merlot answered with a deep trill of a meow.

“Should I tell Shawn what happened or think of another way to see Miss Ritaestelle Longworth?”

Syrah cocked his head and twitched his ears, while Chablis lay at my feet and rolled onto her back for a tummy scratch. I obliged her.

The sight of them, plus the fact that Isis the cat had both a name tag and a microchip, convinced me that Ritaestelle cared about her cat and shouldn’t suffer from missing her. Maybe I should try to talk to her again before I reported back to Shawn. Isis’s safety had obviously been important at some point. But how could I get back inside that house? I’d burned several bridges today already. Perhaps I had no choice but to come clean to Shawn.

A familiar rappity-rap-rap on the back door that could belong only to my friend Deputy Candace Carson of the Mercy PD made me rise. Candace is in her twenties, while I am in my forties, but she’s still my best friend. Maybe she could help.

She opened the door before I could get there and when she came inside said, “What have I said about keeping your door locked?”

I sighed. “I know. I get so anxious to greet my fur friends that—”

“And see what they’ve been up to?” She glanced past my left shoulder.

I turned and now saw what I had missed earlier. On the floor next to the breakfast bar that separates my kitchen and living room were buttons. Buttons everywhere. Just beyond lay my overturned button box.

I whirled, ready to confront my cats, but they had disappeared. Who said cats don’t know when they’ve done something wrong?

“Darn,” I said. “I’ll be finding buttons for months. Under tables, stuffed in sofa cushions, behind the toilet. Sheesh.”

I went over and picked up the small wooden box and saw teeth marks that had to belong to Merlot. He weighed twenty pounds, so his bite was definitely recognizable. But I was sure the other two had a paw in this mess, too.

Candace knelt next to me and helped retrieve buttons, saying, “What’s with these, anyway?”

“I’m making an appliquéd Christmas quilt for Kara that incorporates all kinds of buttons in the design,” I said.

“Christmas in July?” Candace held a square turquoise button and stared at it with what could only be interpreted as confusion. “And what’s with this square one?”

“Cute, huh? You hardly ever see square buttons. Anyway, I always start early making gifts since orders for lots of cat quilts come in from now until a week before Christmas.”

“Oh, I forgot. You plan ahead.” She laughed. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, and her ash blond hair hung loose on her shoulders. When Candace was on the job, she never wore her hair down. She usually braided it and wrapped the braid tightly at the nape of her neck.

“Day off?” I asked.

“I started my vacation today. One week without listening to Morris complain is like a trip to Disney World for me,” she said.

Deputy Morris Ebeling, her sixtysomething partner, did need to put away his badge soon. He was a nice guy once you got beyond the grumpy facade.

After the last of the buttons we could find were back in the box, I stood, holding the box closer to again inspect the damage Merlot had done.

“You’re smiling,” Candace said. “Why?”

“This plain old box belonged to my grandmother, the woman who first taught me to quilt. But these teeth marks?” I looked at her. “I like them.”

Candace’s eyebrows came together in confusion. “Huh?”

“I have no idea where all the other dings and knicks on the box came from. Like this one.” I traced one long scratch along the side with my finger. “But now it has a flaw from my little family, too.”

“Okay, Miss Glass Half Full. And speaking of glasses, got any sweet tea?” She was already at the refrigerator and opened the door. “Ah, yes.” She removed the pitcher and took two glasses from the cupboard above the dishwasher.

“You staying in town on your vacation?” I set the button box on the counter.

“Yes. I’m painting my mom’s bedroom, among other things.” She handed me my tea.

We both went into the living room and sat on the sofa.

“What fun,” I said. “Or do you enjoy fumes and spills and drop cloths as much as you enjoy collecting evidence?”

Candace grinned. “I do. And she’s got a leaky faucet that could use some attention, too.”

“I know who to call next time I need help with home repairs. But now, maybe you can help me with something outside that realm. I’ve been volunteering more at the sanctuary and—”

“No. I cannot take a cat, or a litter of kittens or a rambunctious Lab that someone couldn’t convince to even walk on a leash or—”

“It’s not that. Shawn found this black cat named Isis.” I went on to explain about the cat, her owner and what had transpired today.

I could tell Candace was becoming more and more interested as the story went on. When I was finished she said, “You were inside the Longworth house? Oh my god. Tell me what it was like. A palace, right? Like that palace the Queen of England lives in?”

“You knew about this estate?” I said.

Her eyes sparkled with interest, and she was leaning toward me. “Everyone knows about it. But hardly anyone from Mercy has been inside. Except for Ed. And you know Ed. He’s not much for talking.”

Ed Duffy owns Ed’s Swap Shop—the business home of Mercy’s biggest and kindest hoarder. His little house-turned-into-a-store is filled with Mercy’s discards—afghans to xylophones. I filed Ed’s connection to Miss Longworth for future reference.

I said, “What’s Ed’s connection to that house?”

“I heard he knew the woman—Miss Longworth,” Candace said. “They were friends. But that’s about all I know.”

“Aside from this great tidbit about Ed—thanks for that—do you know anything else about Ritaestelle Longworth?”

“Just what goes around town, that’s all,” she said.

“That would be plenty, then. Tell me about her.”

But I was distracted by Syrah’s paw peeking out from behind the side of the sofa. Then his entire body swooped out, and he came around the couch, landing on his back. His paw was stabbing at something under the couch, and out popped a button. It slid across the hardwood, but before he could get to his prize, Chablis pounced from her hiding place behind my late husband’s leather recliner. She batted the button, and Merlot joined in the game. This would be going on for days. Nope, I wouldn’t get all my buttons back soon.

Meanwhile, Candace had been talking, and I hadn’t heard a word. “Sorry. I missed what you said.”

“I was saying that I thought the Longworth house would be like a palace inside because Miss Longworth is considered the queen of Woodcrest,” she said.

“Shawn told me that she was socially prominent, but he in no way prepared me for what I saw. That estate is magnificent. But back to my problem. If I return after the police chief has warned me to stay away, could I be arrested for trespassing?”

“You wouldn’t sneak in her window or break into her house if your cat’s life depended on it, much less your own. I say, get yourself an invitation, and Chief Shelton can’t do a thing about it. That police chief’s something else, by the way. Got a reputation as hard-core. She doesn’t put up with anything in her town. Bet she’d decide what time everyone could sneeze if the town council gave her the power.”

“Uh-oh. Maybe I should leave this for Shawn to figure out,” I said. “I don’t want to make people angry.”

“I’m not saying she’s a bad person,” Candace said. “From what I hear, she’s a good cop. Just don’t let her intimidate you. I know you want to reunite that lady with her cat.”

“No matter what I think, Shawn will have to approve Isis’s return to the Longworth Estate, and I haven’t even talked to the woman—something Shawn insisted I should do. So how do I get that invitation to return? Miss Longworth’s surrounded by all these staff people, and besides, I pretty much ran out the door with my tail between my legs.”

“I’m sure you can get back inside. Someone as sweet and nice as you just has to say the right words.” She smiled—a knowing smile that I couldn’t figure out.

“I give. What are those words?” I said.

“Ed Duffy sent me.”