by M K Scott
Stephanie opened a cabinet and withdrew the stoneware cup with an oversized S on it. “I’m going up front to get things ready.”
There was no need to mention her absence would give Della and Mabel a chance to talk privately. Della counted out the croissants for dipping and decided to approach her mother about a subject she’d kept mum on for years. Her mother donned oven mitts and carried over the double boiler that held the chocolate. After placing the pot on the counter, her mother cleared her throat.
“It might surprise you to know that Vanessa and I were friends once.”
The rich smell of chocolate wafted upward as Della picked up a pair of tongs. To grip the tip of the croissant involved a delicate operation to hold and not crush the flaky pastry as she gave it a quick dunk in the pot. “How long ago?”
“Ah, a lifetime. I think we were twelve years old.”
The finished croissant went onto the waxed paper to set, and Della picked up another. “Twelve, huh? Where you good friends?”
“Not super, good friends.” Mabel’s eyes rolled upward. “I remember my family had moved. New school and I didn’t know anyone. I was trying to make friends, and Vanessa was one of them.”
“What went wrong? She stole your boyfriend?”
Her mother gave a hearty laugh as she placed parchment paper on an empty cookie sheet. “Not hardly. No boyfriend. I hardly had any friends. Vanessa was in the same situation. The difference was she used to bring in a big bag of candy and pass it out to the kids in class. It made her very popular for a short time.”
So far, Della couldn’t think of anything that would have created the cold war which existed between the two. “You hated her for that?”
“Oh, no. She always gave me candy. The expensive kind, too. The incident that caused the breach was my fault.” Her mother sighed. “It wasn’t intentional. It just happened, but Vanessa would never believe me. She wouldn’t talk to me, and I never got to explain, until today. An incredible relief to do so.”
Somehow, Della missed out on what happened. “What exactly did you do?
“I was a fool.” Her mother crinkled her nose. “I wanted so bad to make friends. One day at lunch, I found myself surrounded by popular gals, which thrilled me. Didn’t know what I did to earn their attention. Suddenly, they were talking about Vanessa. Making fun of her and trying to get me to join in. They were going on about the candy. I can’t remember exactly what they said, but it was something about her buying friends with candy and no one could stand her. Knowing Vanessa was walking our way, but I didn’t, they all kept badgering me to agree that no one liked her. They pushed and pushed, and finally I agreed just as she walked by. Vanessa heard and ran out of the cafeteria crying, which made the popular girls laugh. I felt as low as a worm.”
“Wait a minute. Those were some mean girls, but you were tricked.” The story made Della think about Lacey. Who knew what vicious acts she pushed others into performing? “I’ve heard you talk to Vanessa.”
“True. Nothing cordial. She always treated me like fish that’s gone bad, and I’ve maybe acted out of resentment over never getting a chance to explain the situation. You know the old query, ‘how long has it been since you stopped beating your kids?’ No matter what you say it gives the appearance of abuse.” Mabel let out a long sigh, glanced down and spun the rings on her hand before continuing. “Sometimes, it was easier to not even try. With each decade, I may have tried a little less. Foolish of me when we could have been friends.”
“You’re friends now?”
Her mother cocked her head to one side. “I believe we are. That brings me to the subject of the broken collar. We’re going to have to go visit the cat woman. Surely she should have some idea who took her jewelry and trashed Vanessa’s home.”
It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out her mother’s motivation. A grand gesture might wipe out her twelve-year-old perfidy. “Mother, you don’t know that the same people that took the jewels also broke into Vanessa’s house.”
“You don’t know they didn’t.”
Great. If her mother dug in her heels, almost nothing could move her. There was no need to mention Della’s almost losing the jewels. She changed the subject. “What happened to taking the collar to the jeweler to inspect?”
“Yes, him. I found out he retired to American Samoa. The cat woman is our only lead.”
This was not the conversation she planned an hour or so earlier. Forget telling her about the chance meeting with Guy. “How are we going to meet her?”
“She’s offering a reward for her cat,” Mabel announced with a smirk.
Someone seemed to be missing out on the obvious. “You did notice we don’t have her cat. We can’t even find Prince Purrfection who only might have been her cat because of the collar.”
“That’s true, but we have the collar, which is more than most. That should get us in the door. Then we’ll have to improvise.”
Improvise. There’s a word Della never liked to hear.
Chapter Seventeen
THE MINGLED AROMAS of warm cheesecake and spicy taco meat vied for dominance as Della left the miniature cakes to cool and tended to the oversized skillet with spiced ground round. Showtunes drifted from the front, usually a sign that most of the customers had left and her mother had switched musical choices. Mabel’s hearty alto belted out a line about dancing all night. Everyone must be gone.
The swinging door that separated the two areas of the bakery squeaked as Stephanie pushed it open, carrying two empty stainless steel display pans. “The German potato salad was a hit, along with your Fruitopia offering—my granny used to make the same fruit salad, and she called it ambrosia.”
“Same thing. Different name. People like to think they’re getting something new or improved. Change the name and one ingredient.” She waved her hand as if performing a magic trick, “Voila! You have something new. Half of our customers probably never had a granny who fixed ambrosia. As for the others, it’s a walk down memory lane. I appreciate your staying so Mom and I can meet the cat woman.”
Stephanie carried the pans to the deep sink and turned to answer, leaning against the sink as she did so. “I’m fortunate I can get my other work done online anytime. Besides, where else would I get a request to take over while you encounter a cat woman? Makes me feel like I’m part of a superhero team.”
“You bet.” The sentiment made Della chuckle. “Superheroes would be better at tracking down the needed information, or some police commissioner would relate it to them at the start of the show. I have to rely on the internet and my mom’s gossip network. Anyhow, we left a message with the assistant that we had info on her beloved cat. This netted us a three o’clock appointment. I only hope we aren’t tossed out or have the dogs loosed on us.”
“It would probably be the cats.” She chuckled at her own joke and turned on the water, filling the sink and cutting short any conversation.
The door squeaked again as Mabel entered the kitchen, untying her apron as she spoke. “You ready?”
“If you give me a hand putting the cheesecakes into the plastic ware, then we can freeze them. I’ll take the taco meat off the heat. I’ll have to let it cool.” She turned to Stephanie, who lifted one suds-laden pan out of the first sink and dumped it into the rinse sink. “Could you label and store the taco meat for me?”
“You know it,” she agreed.
Della turned back to her mother. “Looks like we’re almost ready.” She held up an index finger. “I did bring the collar, before you ask.”
No expert on jewelry, Della assumed weight made the collar more likely real. Having a possible object of extreme worth made her paranoid enough to don a fanny pouch to store it on her person. Of course, the pouch made an extra bump in her appearance. In less than an hour, they’d hand it over and possibly get a reward. Her lips tipped up in a smile.
*
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they arrived at a gated estate and spoke their names into a box, which caused t
he gates to swung open in response. The iron wrought fence with pointed finials shouted keep your distance or better yet, stay out! A line of tall evergreens obscured the view of the house to the curious. The smooth, blacktopped road curved, revealing large oaks lining the drive.
Mabel commented first. “Well, she likes her trees and her privacy.”
“Maybe the cats like the trees.”
“Possible,” her mother agreed. “I have a feeling these pampered kitties aren’t allowed to leave the house.”
Another turn revealed a small Greek Revival mansion fronted by columns reminiscent of a temple. Impressive. A bright red glider with patchwork pillows served as an incongruous focal point, appearing a bit out of place behind the majestic pillars.
Not knowing where to park, Mabel stopped the car and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess here is as good as anywhere unless a valet is going to run out and park the car for us.” She winked as she continued. “We might want the car close if we get the bum’s rush.”
Being shown the door was almost inevitable, but Della knew her mother had to try, if only to demonstrate to Vanessa she wasn’t the mean girl from the past. As for Della, she’d like the unwelcome strangers to stop their nighttime visits. Tony certainly hadn’t scared the two away despite her mother’s assurances about his guard dog traits.
“Might as well park.” Della cut her eyes to her mother. On all the television shows, amateur sleuths and private eyes came in with an angle, pretending to be something other than what they were and chatting about everything except what they wanted to know. Then, boom! They somehow got the information. “How are we playing this?”
“Ah…” Her mother wrinkled her nose before continuing, “I thought we should try the truth. After all, I told her on the phone I might have information on the missing cat. It would be weird to come in talking about something else.”
The front door opened before they could agree on their technique. A middle-aged woman appeared, sporting a shaggy pixie and a sweatshirt with the outline of a big heart with a cat face inside. Bare feet stuck out of the bottom of her worn jeans. She gestured to them. “You the woman who called with news about my cat?”
Mabel swung the car door open. “I am.”
The questioner strolled onto the porch, balled her fists on her hips, and peered down into the car. “I hope you aren’t going to take advantage of me. I’m sick and tired of people dragging in some cat they located at a shelter, declaring it’s my Sebastian. They figure I’m a crazy cat lady who can’t tell the difference between my own cat and another.” She grimaced, and then snorted. “You don’t have some stray you’re going to try to convince me is my cat?”
Mabel slipped out of the car and marched up the steps. Once she reached the porch, she pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin, motioning for Della to join her. “My daughter and I are busy people. We don’t have time to run around and make up tales that include cats.” She cut her eyes to Della, who left the car and climbed the steps. “Give her the collar.”
Della jogged up the last two steps and inserted a hand into her bag. The collar rested in a plastic bag, which made it easy to find. “Here it is.” She pulled it out and handed it to the woman.
“Hmmm…” Cat lady pulled it out of the bag and held it up to her face, allowing the stones to glitter in the sunlight. A single tear slid down her face as she squeezed her eyes closed. For a few minutes, the three of them remained speechless. Finally, the closed eyes opened and regarded Mabel and Della with a type of resignation as her lips pulled down into a frown. “Silly bit of puffery. I had it made for Sebastian. Even joked it cost a king’s ransom. That was my mistake. I hired a professional photographer for a photoshoot with Sebastian, showing off his newest bling.”
She shook her head. “Big mistake. It gave someone the wrong idea. The burglary happened right after that.” After examining the collar in detail, she pinned Mabel with a direct gaze. “This is his collar. How did you get it? Better yet, where’s my cat?”
“I found him trying to wiggle under my back fence. His collar caught. I freed him, but his collar broke. At the time, I had no clue he was your cat. I thought he belonged to my neighbor. Since he broke his collar, my daughter bought him another glitzy collar. I had no clue real jewels were used until we heard about your robbery. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to bring it back.”
“Reward?” Sebastian’s owner questioned with raised brows. “I’m sure that had nothing to do with it.”
Della ground her back molars as she seethed. Maybe a few folks had tried to scam the woman, but neither she nor her mother had any nefarious plans. At best, they were trying to help. “Okay…” She held up her palm to halt any spurious conclusions. “We didn’t have to come here, but we did. We didn’t have to bring your broken collar back, but we did.”
The cat lady sniffed. “You tried to sell it and found out it was paste.”
“Paste?” Della repeated the word, shaking her head. “We’d heard that jewels were stolen.”
“I started that rumor. Most people who own expensive jewels usually have paste copies. Too many jewel thieves scouting for their next heist. In my case, the actual jewels disappeared decades ago. Daddy had a gambling problem. Now, almost no one knows that. People assume I’m dripping with money, as did the burglar. All they got was a handful of paste and my beloved cat. If they could have gotten the collar off, they wouldn’t have taken him. I wish I’d never put it on him. It looks like they tried to cut it off.”
Her voice broke, and she sniffed. “Obviously, Sebastian is the only thing that matters to me. Tell me more about my cat.” She gestured to the door. “It’s really too cold to continue this outside. I had to make sure you two were on the level before I let you in.”
They followed the barefoot heiress inside to a large living room where a fire crackled in an oversized fireplace. Sebastian in his pampered glory gazed down at them from a poster-sized portrait. Around the room, Himalayan cats relaxed against plush couches, cushions, and oriental rugs. Classical music played low, adding to the general air of indulgence.
“Try to find a seat. I’m sure my beauties will share.”
Her mother found an empty chair, while Della was forced to share a chair with a disgruntled kitty who kept giving her the eye, forcing her to perch on the edge.
Her mother spoke first, unwilling to be awed by the grandeur of the place or the attitude of the owner. “I think Sebastian is on the loose. My neighbor found him at a rest stop where he probably escaped from the catnappers. We’ve had a couple of strangers hanging around our neighborhood. Then the woman who was keeping Prince Purrfection had her house broken into the night before last.”
“Did they get Sebastian?” The woman put both hands to her cheeks in horror. “Oh, the humanity! My poor darling catnapped twice. Three times, counting your neighbor.”
Her mother shook her head. “Prince vanished the night of the break-in. I thought I saw him the next day, but it must have been a different cat due to it not snarling at Tony. Vanessa let the cat roam the neighborhood.”
A gasp indicated that perhaps Sebastian wasn’t usually allowed to run the neighborhood. “Did he come back before?”
“Mostly. Occasionally, he showed up in my yard. I think he wanted to taunt my dog, Tony.”
“That sounds like him. Why do you think they didn’t get him?” She leaned forward to hear more.
Her mother held up her finger and waited, stretching the interval. “The strangers were back, searching for something in our neighborhood. If they were our robbers, and I think they were, they had to be desperate to show up again so soon after the break-in.”
“Sounds about right.” She gave a sage nod of her head. “By the way, I’m Helen of Helen’s Heavenly Himalayans.”
“I’m Mabel, and this is my daughter, Della.”
The three women chatted for a while. After a brief discussion, they decided a different cat of similar aspect with a similar collar might lure out th
e thieves, but first, they must contact the police. Her father would insist on it as their first step, not as their third or fourth.
Chapter Eighteen
THE CRISP, CLEAN lines of the modern building, along with the large waterfall fountain outside gave a peaceful, welcoming feel. A sign barely six feet high announced Owens Police Department. In much smaller letters, it read and Jail. Della darted into a recently vacated spot in front of the building. After parking, she glanced over at her mother.
As far as she knew, her mother hadn’t visited the station since her husband’s funeral. Even after seven years, the pain still lingered. The sight of the building might cause the grief to resonate. Truthfully though, her mother must have driven by the place before.
“It’s not the same,” Mabel finally spoke. “Kenneth would have hated it.”
“Would have hated what?” Della, uncertain what her mother meant, felt the need to ask. She was certain her mother meant something other than death.
Her mother gestured to the building. “This. A waterfall, for Pete’s sake. It looks like a spa. Maybe they give the perps water with lemon wedges and cucumber slices now.”
Anger flavored her mother’s words, but not the righteous sort associated with the historical society that insisted buildings of a certain age must remain the same. The old station needed an update, and the jail needed extra space. Truthfully, the simple lines functioned better than the fussy Victorian details it had replaced. Della knew enough not to point that out. She’d be accused of not caring about tradition. In the end, she understood her mother’s attitude came from knowing her husband wouldn’t be waiting inside with a ready smile or a pithy observation.
Della swallowed. She felt it, too. Grief could be a lot like the chickenpox virus hiding in your body just waiting to reappear as shingles.
“Yeah,” she acknowledged her mother’s comment with a head shake. “Dad would have hated it. He would have said police work is a gritty business and the building should reflect it.”
