Heading to her office, she observed that one of the cats had walked across her keyboard and woke up the computer from sleep mode. The screen was the log-in page for an e-trading company.
“Which one of you did this?” she called to the cats in the kitchen. She sat down and researched the company. She decided it might be beneficial to set up an account. She entered a user name and password, then was distracted by a strong feeling that G. Robert — Robbie — Brentwood wasn’t on the up-and-up. She didn’t trust him.
She opened her desk drawer, retrieved Robbie’s business card, and then extracted her cell from her back pocket. With fingers flying, she sent Colleen a text: “Need favor. Please check out 531 Fifth Avenue during your lunch hour or after work. Take pic of office and text back.”
Katherine’s phone rang immediately; she swiped the answer button. “Wow, talk about a quick response. Hi, Colleen!”
Colleen laughed on the other end. “What’s this about?” she asked curiously.
“There’s a new financial advisor in town and he said he had an office in Manhattan. It’s not far from where I used to work. He has credentials that seem legit, but I have a gut feeling he’s a fraud and might be ripping people off.”
“I’m all over it like a cheap suit,” Colleen laughed. “I’ll go there at lunch. The walk will do me just fine,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Katherine didn’t mention that the cats also suspected something fishy regarding the loud, talkative man. Or was it just a coincidence they had destroyed the paperwork?
Later, Katherine called Mark Dunn. He didn’t pick up, so she left a voice mail. An hour earlier she had sent him the pic Colleen took of Robbie’s so-called Manhattan office. The photo showed an office door with a large, frosted-glass window insert. The mutual fund management firm’s name was on the bottom half of the glass. But the more prominent name near the top was a Hong Kong-based party favor company managed by a George Kaplan. Katherine wondered, Why are top money managers sharing office space? The photo of the door raised a red flag.
In a few minutes, Mark called. He spoke hurriedly. “I’ve got a conference call in a few minutes. Why did you send me that picture?”
Katherine answered. “That’s Robert Brentwood’s New York office.”
“And? What are you not telling me? I’m confused,” Mark said.
“Robbie came to my house today and returned several boxes of my great aunt’s belongings the museum isn’t using. He told me about an investment opportunity through his New York colleagues. I gave Colleen the address on his business card and she went over there. How could a prominent mutual fund manager operate out of a seedy-looking office run by an importer of party favors?” she asked suspiciously.
Mark said dismissively, “It would make sense that Robbie would close his office since he moved out here. Maybe his colleagues work in a different office.”
Katherine bit her tongue. She thought, he never takes me seriously! She said, annoyed, “It looks like a mail drop!”
“Look Katz, I’m having dinner with him tonight. I’ll ask him — ”
“Oh, Mark, don’t do that. This is confidential between lawyer and client. I was just curious and want to make sure he’s legit before I invest with him.”
“Okay. I’ve got an incoming call.” The phone clicked in her ear. He hung up the phone without saying good-bye.
Katherine said out loud, “Rude! Was that abrupt or what?”
Scout trotted in the room and cried, “Ma-waugh.”
She picked up the Siamese and hugged her. “I love you, magic cat,” she cooed. “Did you surf up the e-trading company? If so, can you figure out what stocks I need to buy?”
Scout struggled to be put down. Then she scratched her ears, crossed her eyes, and ran off to the next room.
Chapter Three
After Katherine picked up Colleen and her mum at the Indianapolis airport, she drove nine miles to a quaint restaurant in a small town the size of Erie. The restaurant was housed in a townhouse built in 1890; the couple who operated it lived upstairs. It was located across the street from a Beaux Arts-style courthouse, which filled the entire block. Parking spaces were few and far between. Katherine circled the square several times before she found one.
She apologized to her guests, “I’ve never seen it so busy. Last time Jake and I came here it was a virtual ghost town.”
Colleen complained, “I’m starving. Quick, fast, Katz, find us a place to eat — ”
Mrs. Murphy — Mum — interrupted, “And ‘twould be grand to have a cup of coffee.”
“Both of you are in for a treat. The restaurant I’m taking you to is fabulous. But promise me you’ll go native. No lamb chops for the two of you. Today I suggest you eat what the Hoosiers eat.”
“The who?” Mrs. Murphy asked, perplexed.
Colleen answered, “That’s what the natives here are called. Let me guess, breaded pork tenderloin sandwiches?”
“And not to forget, the tallest, deepest, creamiest coconut cream pie on this planet.”
“Okay, Mum, I get it. This is why Jake brought Katz here. They are both nuts about coconut cream pie,” Colleen said with a smirk.
Katherine found a spot and parked diagonally. The trio got out and crossed the street to the mom and pop restaurant/bed & breakfast. A sign overhead announced, “Sugar Pie Inn.” Colleen and Katherine took Mum’s arms and escorted her through the slushy snow until they got to the restaurant entrance.
A rosy-cheeked woman greeted them, then seated them by the door. She had snow-white hair, and wore a Santa Claus hat. “Our special today is country-fried steak with mashed potatoes and brown gravy. My husband is wearing the chef hat today, and he just made a fresh batch of buttermilk biscuits.” She placed menus all around. “I’ll send Candy over to take your orders.”
“Thanks,” Katherine said.
Colleen stifled a laugh. “Sugar Pie? Candy?”
Katherine laughed. “It’s a mom and sugar pop restaurant.”
“Stop! I can’t take it,” Colleen joked.
“Mom’s name is Honey,” Katherine snickered. “I’ve got a million of ‘em.”
Mrs. Murphy asked, “Katz, what’s sugar pie?”
“Jake said it has lots of sugar in it mixed with heavy cream.”
“I might try it later,” she answered.
Colleen looked around the room at the walls, which were completely covered with large photographs in faux gold plaster frames. “Did people back then ever smile?” she asked.
Mrs. Murphy piped in, “Maybe they didn’t have any teeth.” She then laughed at her own joke.
Katherine explained, “The owner told me her hobby is to go to antique stores to buy portraits of unusual-looking people.”
“She must do a lot of antique shopping, because the walls are covered,” Colleen said, then complained, “If Candy doesn’t get over here quick, I’m going to die in my seat.”
Candy sauntered over from a nearby customer’s table and sullenly took their orders. After she left, Katherine whispered to Colleen, “She heard you. Now she’s going to do something to our food.”
Colleen rolled her eyes.
“How was your flight, Mum?” Katherine asked.
“After waitin’ a lifetime to pass through security, our flight was late takin’ off,” Mrs. Murphy began. “Then the turbulence made me head spin. I’m happy to have me feet firmly planted on the ground.” Mrs. Murphy’s Irish brogue was much thicker than Colleen’s, whose speech barely had a hint.
When the drinks arrived — iced tea for Katherine, hot tea for Colleen, and a black coffee for Mum — Mrs. Murphy pulled a silver flask from her bag. She then took out an airline size liquor bottle, and with a small plastic funnel, poured it into the flask. Pouring the amber liquid into her coffee, she said, “Nothing like a bit of Irish whisky to calm one’s nerves.”
Colleen threw her mother a dirty look. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be drinkin’, Mum?”
&nb
sp; Katherine was momentarily caught off-guard. She had never seen Mrs. Murphy take a drop of alcohol, let alone a shot in her coffee.
Mrs. Murphy ignored the remark and drank her coffee with a smile.
The silence between mother and daughter was awkward. Katherine brought up the topic of the holiday fundraiser. “I’ve been enlisted to man a table at the annual Erie charity event. My friend Michelle Pike is in charge. I’ve volunteered to bake cat-shaped cookies. I was wondering if either one of you would like to contribute, as well? A percentage of the money we receive is donated to the food bank.”
Colleen pouted. Mrs. Murphy sipped more of her coffee.
Katherine continued, “Mum, I thought you could sew something. Colleen, you could help me ice the cookies.”
Finally, Colleen answered, “Katz, I can’t imagine you baking anything.”
Katherine put her hand on her hip. “Not fair. I realize I’ve had my share of baking disasters, but I found a wonderful recipe in one of my great aunt’s cookbooks and did a trial run. The cookies turned out perfectly.”
“Perrfectly,” Mrs. Murphy rolled her Rs.
Colleen said, “Okay, I can ice. But I get to pick the colors.”
Mrs. Murphy said, “I can sew cat cozy blankets. Katz, do you have a sewing machine?”
“There’s a brand new one still in the box. I think it’s got your name on it,” Katherine joked.
“Gr-r-rand, I’ll need several yards of fleece. Erie cats won’t know what hit them.” She hiccupped loudly. “Beg pardon,” she said quietly.
“Great! I think it will be fun,” Katherine said.
“When is it?” Colleen asked.
“Next Saturday. I forgot to ask Michelle where, but I’ll find out.”
“Probably at the fish fry place,” Colleen said, remembering last October. “Hope they move the trucks out so there’s room,” she laughed. “And that they have heat.”
“I was thinking of taking Abra and Scout. It could help drum up business — the iced cookies venture. Their presence could possibly increase our sales. We need to lure people over to our table. The more cookies we sell, the more money for the food bank. I could set their traveling carrier on the table.”
Colleen nearly choked on her tea. “How long will that last before they start killing each other?”
Katherine laughed, knowing Colleen was referring to the move from Manhattan and how three cats in a carrier didn’t work out.
“I amend that. Maybe two cat carriers.”
“Whatever,” Colleen said indifferently. “Katz, wouldn’t it be easier to just write this organization a check? You’re like a millionaire already.”
“How do you know I didn’t already do that?” Katherine countered, then changed the subject, “Oh, I forgot to mention, I’m having a tea later this afternoon.”
Colleen said, “This is getting even richer. Katz, seriously, you’re having a tea.”
“Yes, and I need your help with the presentation.”
“Who’s coming to the tea?” Colleen asked.
“A very nice lady, in her late eighties, and her son. She knew my great aunt. I invited her over so I could get to know her, and ask questions about my great aunt. Her son is coming, too, because he’s her chauffeur; she doesn’t drive anymore.”
Mrs. Murphy said, sneaking another shot of whiskey in her cup, “Katz, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Just a warning! The son has a very charismatic personality with a booming voice. Colleen, he’s the one whose office in Manhattan turned out to be shared with a party favor company.”
“The investment banker — ”
“Financial advisor,” Katherine corrected.
Colleen asked, “So, is the guy a crim or not? What did Mark say about the pic I took?”
“He gave me the brush-off, as usual. The new financial advisor grew up in Erie so he’s definitely part of the good ol’ boy network. He’s so loud and pushy, I’m surprised he’s able to drum up business in this laid-back town. But apparently he’s doing it because people are flocking in droves to his office.”
“Uh-huh! Interesting,” Colleen remarked, and then said, “If you’re having a tea, we better pick up some things. Is there a market around here?”
“Great plan,” Katherine agreed. “Actually there’s a shop here on the square that sells tea.”
Mrs. Murphy interjected, “We need to make scones to nibble on. Did you know Colleen makes the best scones?” She slurred the word, “scones.”
“Yes, Mum. I will bake something to nibble on, but hand me that flask. That’s your last nip of the day.”
Reluctantly, Mrs. Murphy handed the flask to her daughter. Server Candy brought the food and announced each dish as she set down the plate. Katherine thanked her. Mother and daughter pouted and picked at their food while Katherine dove in. Later she noted her food was delicious, without comment from Colleen or her mum.
* * *
Back in Erie and the pink mansion, Katherine showed Mrs. Murphy to her room. Mum complained of a headache and asked to lie down a while, but to wake her an hour before the tea. Katz put her in the front turret guest room. Colleen had already run down the hall and was unpacking her carry-on suitcase. Katherine unlocked her bedroom door and the cats flew out. Scout, Abra and Iris ran down the hall, but Lilac and Abby wanted to investigate what Colleen was doing in the next room.
Katherine made a habit of locking them up whenever she left the house. Inside the room was a newly installed window alarm with a Scout-proof lock. No Russian magician or Erie nutcase would ever be able to barge in and steal one of her cats. After Iris was stolen, Katherine convinced Mark Dunn to install a state-of-the-art security system throughout the house. He was reluctant, but finally agreed.
Abby jumped on Colleen’s bed and immediately dove for a sweater Colleen had just unpacked.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Colleen said, yanking the sweater away.
Katherine giggled, remembering how Abby had a wool fetish and loved to munch on sweaters, particularly Irish cable-knits. She became serious and asked, “Colleen, what’s going on with Mum? Why was she drinking?”
Colleen sat down on the bed and gave a look of pure dejection. “Mum just found out her building is going condo. She’s rented the place forever and a day. She’s fit to be tied, because she doesn’t want to tie up her savings in real estate.”
“But the drinking part? I’ve never seen Mum take a drink.”
“This just started. I’m at my wits end of what to do. She’s taking more and more nips from that flask day in and day out. I can’t believe she made it through airport security with that flask in her purse. I guess because it was empty, they allowed it. That bottle of booze she whipped out at the restaurant was from the plane. She ordered it for me while I went to the restroom. When I came back to my seat, she was putting it in her purse. She’d already had two drinks.”
They both were startled when they heard a scream coming from the front guest room. Katherine and Colleen rushed down the hall to find Mrs. Murphy pointing at something on the turret floor.
“A rat!” she screamed.
Katherine hurried over to investigate but found Lilac’s one-armed, one-legged toy bear. She turned to Mrs. Murphy. “Ah, don’t worry, that’s one of my cat’s toys,” she said holding it up.
Mrs. Murphy held her hand to her chest. “I thought I was dead in me bed.”
Colleen said tartly, “You’re probably hallucinating from the whiskey you’ve been drinking. Rats don’t look like toy bears!”
Mrs. Murphy turned a shade of red and said, “Katz, I really need to lie down. Can you make sure none of your cats are in here so I’m not disturbed?”
“Of course,” Katherine answered. She wondered where the cats were, which could be anywhere. A quick look under the bed didn’t reveal any four-legged creatures. Katz assumed they had wandered downstairs or were back in Colleen’s room getting into more catly mischief. “I think the coast is clear, Mum. G
et some rest. I’ll wake you in a bit.” Katherine shut the door and whispered to Colleen, “Are you sure she’s okay and it’s not something else — like a medical condition?”
Colleen walked back to her room and said, “She just got a checkup. Everything is fine, but the doctor put her on blood pressure medicine.”
“Maybe we should check to see if she can drink alcohol with that prescription.”
“Okay.”
* * *
Promptly at four o’clock, Robbie drove up with Lizard in the passenger seat. He parked his Lexus in front, then walked to the other side of the car to help his mother. She leaped out like a spring chicken. Robbie hardly had time to take her arm to escort her up the walk.
Mrs. Murphy was already seated in the living room, on Abby’s and Iris’s favorite wingback chair. She was nibbling on a scone and complaining that Colleen wasn’t fast enough with the tea. Katherine glanced out the sidelight and opened the door.
“Hello!” she said cheerily.
“Oh, how lovely,” Lizard said, coming in. She stopped and gave Katherine a soft look. “You look just like Orvenia when she was young. Same black hair and green eyes.”
“Please join me in the living room,” Katherine beamed. “Allow me to take your coat.” It was then she noticed the fur wrap around Lizard’s neck and shoulders. It was an old-style fur stole featuring two — very dead — fox heads. Their black glass eyes seemed to be staring at her. Momentarily taken aback, she turned to Robbie, who had already taken off his coat. He laid it over a chair.
“Katz,” he boomed. “I hope you won’t take offense by my being so informal. But the last time I used your hall tree, your cats attacked my coat. Ha, ha!”
Lizard broke out laughing. “Yes, he told me all about it. Here son, drape my wrap over your coat.”
Katherine observed Iris peeking around the corner with a predatory glint in her sapphire blue eyes. She had zeroed in on the fox wrap.
CATS THAT PLAYED THE MARKET, THE Page 4
