The Cat, The Professor And The Poison

One

“The smallest feline is a masterpiece,’” I said, using a trembling finger to gently stroke the newborn kitten curled in the palm of my hand. “And that’s not me being brilliant. Those are Leonardo da Vinci’s words.”

“The Mona Lisa guy, right?” my friend Candace said.

“Yes, ma’am. An expert on masterpieces should know plenty about these wonderful babies,” I said.

“Look at you,” Candace said. “Your hand is shaking.”

“This is a big responsibility,” I said.

“You’re doing fine with these itty-bitty ones,” she said. “Better than I could do.”

Tonight, here in the Mercy Animal Sanctuary’s office, I definitely felt the full weight of the responsibility that shelter owner Shawn Cuddahee had bestowed on me. These four brown kittens entrusted to my care were preemies with a less-than-peppy mom. That meant tube feeding them every two hours, as well as caring for the weakened mama cat.

Though Shawn, who was spending all the daylight hours taking care of his shelter and these kittens, had taught me exactly what to do, I still feared I might make a mistake. That’s why I’d asked Candace to spend the night shift with me-for moral support. She’d heard all the same instructions from Shawn and had taken notes, so she could help me make sure I did everything right. But as for hands-on assistance? Deputy Candace Carson of the Mercy, South Carolina, PD performed better with an attitude and a gun than with a litter of kittens.

She said, “One more hour and we have to do another feeding. You did so good last time, Jillian.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to give it a try?” I said.

“They all had nice fat bellies and fell right to sleep after you did the midnight feeding. Why mess with success?” Her right eye twitched, and her voice was strained by what had to be her unease. The thought that she might have to do a feeding obviously made her more nervous than when she’d stormed into my house last fall and taken a murderer into custody.

That week in October, when my Abyssinian was catnapped and I came face-to-face with a murderer, had changed me forever-and in ways I never would’ve imagined. I’d moved to Mercy with my husband, John, who’d been fourteen years older than I was, when he wanted to retire. But he died of a heart attack not long after we arrived. Now I made my living sewing little quilts for cats, a mostly online business and a very quiet job. I’d thought my life was over when my husband died. But then I’d gotten involved in a mystery and a murder, and by the end of it I’d realized I had made new friends and was beginning a different life for myself.

Once the fireworks of the murder investigation ended, I began receiving e-mails from all over the country. Seems the story had reached the major news outlets. For some reason, folks have decided I can solve any mystery involving cats. So not true. I may be as curious as a cat, but I have no investigative training whatsoever. I responded to every e-mail to tell these desperate cat and dog lovers as much, but some remained persistent and have kept me updated about their lost animals. And of course they keep insisting that I can help them.

Putting those thoughts aside-the stories did tug at my heart-I said, “You’re nervous about the feedings; I get that. I promise you don’t have to do a thing except make sure we have enough coffee to keep us awake until six a.m. And I am running low.” I lifted my Belle’s Beans travel cup. The last time I’d stayed up all night on purpose was to cram for a college exam about twenty years ago.

Candace smiled with obvious relief. “I can do coffee. That antique Mr. Coffee machine Allison insists on keeping has met its match. I will serve you awesome java.”

Allison is Shawn’s wife and one of the sweetest people I have ever met. But Candace was right about the coffee-maker. I knew what to get them for their next anniversary.

Candace reached into her backpack and pulled out a small purple bag labeled STELLAR BREW. “This is from the Organic Coffee Company. Bought it online.” She stood and tiptoed over to the small table where the pot sat.

I set the sleeping kitten I’d been holding next to its mother’s tummy, and he never stirred. Though the office was small, the space heater did a less-than-adequate job of heating the place, and I didn’t want him to get chilled. Despite the gorgeous spring day, the night had turned cool, and I was glad I’d worn a sweatshirt. I’d also brought a couple of cat quilts along, hoping to finish hand binding them, but the lighting was too poor for sewing. So both Candace and I had added to our own warmth by sitting on the quilts instead.

The kittens, of course, with their heated pallet and their mother’s body, would be fine, temperature-wise. But the mama couldn’t lick her kittens enough-Shawn wasn’t sure why she was so weak-and every so often I stroked each one to keep its blood circulation adequate. I also had to rub their tummies with tissue after feeding to stimulate urination, another task the poor cat couldn’t do regularly enough. She didn’t seem to mind my help, but still, the babies looked so fragile, so breakable. I vowed not to make any errors tonight.

As Candace filled the Mr. Coffee with bottled water, Snug-that’s Shawn and Allison’s African Gray parrot-said, “Put on the pot, Allison. Put on the pot.”

Candace turned and stared up at his cage, which sat on a shelf close to the ceiling. “I’m not Allison, and I’m not sure I like being ordered around by a bird. Shawn needs to have a talk with you about the word please, Mr. Snug.”

“Shawn should have a talk with himself if that’s how he speaks to Allison,” I said with a laugh.

She pointed at me. “That’s a better idea.”

The mother cat mewed pathetically, and I reached into the box and stroked her head. “This sweetheart was fortunate to have been dropped at Shawn’s doorstep right before she delivered.”

“Lucky?” Candace sat back down to the grumbling tune of the old coffeepot as it worked its magic. “I’d say someone knew what they were doing-knew how amazing Shawn is with animals. Course, that might just be the cop in me, because I don’t believe in luck and I don’t believe in coincidences. No, ma’am, not me.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said. “But you’re probably right. Luck had nothing to do with it. Shawn has told me before how people are always dropping off dogs and cats in the dead of night. I could never do what he and Allison do. I’d be too furious with the people who’d abandoned the animals to think straight.”

“Not everyone believes that cats are the most wonderful creatures on earth,” Candace said.

“Wonderful? That reminds me.” I took my phone from my jeans pocket and pulled up the live feed on my personal “cat cam.” I laughed out loud at what I saw going on in my living room across town. My three cats, Chablis, Syrah and Merlot, were tearing apart a roll of toilet paper. Syrah was sitting like a king in his own special shredded pile. I handed the phone to Candace. “Check this out.”

Her blue eyes widened, and she grinned. “I think they want you to know exactly how mad they are that you left them alone all night.”

“This shredding thing is nothing new. I might have to put a child safety lock on the bathroom cabinet. Both Syrah and Merlot can open anything, though. They’d figure it out eventually.”

Candace handed the phone back. “Knowing your cats, I’d place bets on that. But exactly why did you volunteer for night duty here? I know you’re a sweetheart and when Shawn asked you couldn’t say no-just like I couldn’t say no to keeping you company-but you’ve never done this before, have you?” She stood as the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the office. The pot was sputtering and beckoning now.

“No, but with Allison driving to Clemson a couple days a week for classes, she needs her sleep. And leaving the kittens at the vet was too expensive. Contributions to the shelter are way down.”

“I forgot about her starting school,” Candace said. “What’s she studying, again?”

“Preveterinary medicine.” I took the cup of steaming brew that Candace offered. “In a few years they won’t need to pay the vet. She’ll be the vet.”

“Wow. She’ll make a great veterinarian,” Candace said, sounding wistful.

I’d met Candace last year during the murder investigation, and ever since, we’d become closer and closer friends. In some ways I felt motherly, but really more like her good friend. Despite our twenty-year age difference, we seemed alike in many ways. She was obsessed with becoming a better cop, and I was obsessed with my cats and my one-woman job. There’d been a time when my old job had consumed me, so I guess I understood Candace on that level. I’d traveled the world buying fabric for a large company, but that hectic life was over. I’d met John, the financial adviser for said company, and when he was ready to retire to go fishing and sit by the lake, I discovered I wanted to return to my first love-the simplicity and peace of handwork. If only we’d had more time sitting together looking out on Mercy Lake. If only.

Knowing that Candace wanted desperately to go back to school herself and become a crime-scene investigator or even an FBI forensics expert, I decided that talking about Allison’s new venture wouldn’t work. Since Candace helped her mother with her bills, money was tight and the topic of school made her depressed. Time to change the subject.

“Cards?” I said.

“Double solitaire?”

“Sure, just don’t injure my hands when you slap down those cards. I have kittens to feed,” I said.

“So you want an advantage? Guess I have to go along with that this one time,” she answered with a smile.

We sipped coffee, chatted and played cards for the next several hours, stopping for the scheduled tube feedings. Candace was too afraid to even pick up the kittens, saying she was scared she might injure one. Both of us handling them probably wasn’t a good idea, anyway.

Snug had finally tucked one leg close to his body and went blissfully to sleep while Candace and I kept each other awake. But at four a.m., both of us were having a hard time keeping our eyes open, much less shuffling the cards. The only thing that helped me stay halfway alert was the tarantula that Shawn kept in the glass case across the room. I don’t mind spiders, but a big hairy one that might climb out of that tank and wander my way gave me the creeps.

We both started when Candace’s phone jangled “Sweet Thing,” a Keith Urban song she adored.

“Must be the job calling at this hour,” she mumbled before she answered. But she didn’t even get to say hello before I heard a frantic female voice on the other end. Candace listened, rolled her eyes, listened some more. Finally she said, “Robin, calm yourself. I understand this is important to you, so I assume you’ve called the station?”

Robin’s voice bordered on shrieky when she started up again. I heard Candace inhale deeply and let the air out slowly. After she listened again for several seconds, she said, “What you were told is true. The night-duty crew has the whole town to cover, and if they say they can’t get there-”

More agitation spewed from Candace’s phone, and she held it away from her ear. After she let Robin go on for another fifteen seconds or so, Candace said, “How’s this? I’ll come by a little after six. That’s as soon as I can get there. We’ll have plenty of time to figure this out before little Jack leaves for school.”

When Robin spoke this time, she must have been relieved by this offer, because I couldn’t hear her response. Seconds later, Candace closed her phone.

“You could leave now if someone needs you,” I said. “I’ve got a handle on the kittens.”

She held up one finger, her jaw tight. “First off, the last thing I want to do is deal with this now.” Another finger went up. “Second problem. I don’t have a ride because a certain someone by the name of Jillian Hart wouldn’t let me do the driving tonight.”

“Oh. I forgot about that,” I said. Candace drove like she and Danica Patrick were sisters, so I do the driving when we go anywhere together. “Who’s Robin?”

“Robin is the most overprotective mother in Mercy. Don’t get me wrong; she’s got a great heart and loves her boy, but I guess since I’m the only female on the police force, they turned her over to me after all the 911 calls.”

“I’m not following,” I said.

“Robin was calling 911 for everything from Jack’s splinters to when he’d come down with the flu. So now, instead of calling 911, she calls me.”

“Everything is okay, then?” I said.

“It’s no emergency, but since you insisted on doing the driving, I’ll let you go with me to her place when we leave here. Then you can see for yourself.”

I could hardly refuse, considering that Candace had agreed to stay up all night before her day off to keep me company here. “Can I have a hint what this is about?”

“We’re gonna see a woman about a cow.”