“Donald’s missing. I think he’s in trouble.” I stopped and took a deep whimpering breath.
Adam put one of his gigantic warm hands over mine and anchored me with his calming gray stare.
I had no idea what he thought, but I trusted him.
“Ivy. Donald told us that he would be coming and going while he courted more businesses.”
“This is different. His wife is running his office.”
Adam’s eyebrows went up with a comforting incredulity. He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
I twisted my mouth and jiggled my foot. “Um, well. If there’s an emergency, doesn’t the city council president take over? But Margaret didn’t say anything about an emergency. She said he was here—well, in town. And Donald hasn’t registered for CAT yet. He planned to go, so I tried his personal number. Three times. To remind him. He didn’t answer. Then, later, I received this strange, garbled call—I could only make out what sounded like ‘Don,’ and ‘get’ from some number in Chicago—it must have been Donald asking me to get help.”
Adam sat back, not saying anything. Finally, he got up and walked over to the sink.
I admired his height and flexed back muscles, the efficiency of movement, but also his deliberation of thought before speaking. He was older than me—I’m almost thirty-two and single, thanks to my ex-fiancé Stanley—but I wasn’t sure how much older he was. His wavy black hair was slightly salted at the temples, and his nose looked as if it had been broken at one time and fixed, but best of all, he wasn’t married.
The tone of his voice led me to believe he wanted to take me seriously but was finding it difficult. “Donald’s scheduled business trip yesterday wasn’t to Chicago. What do you think might be going on?”
“I don’t know. Donald is our friend. If he’s in trouble, I want to help.”
Adam’s mouth twitched. “What kind of help?”
I sighed, thinking how ludicrous my actions had been and not ready to admit the call to the police. “Yeah. So, I thought I’d just go over to city hall and visit Margaret. You know, just ask if she’d heard from Donald. So, I did. But Margaret wasn’t talking. Marion wasn’t even there.”
“She might not spend all day in the office if Donald is out,” Adam reminded me.
I took another deep breath. “She said he was all right. But there was someone else there. Someone I didn’t recognize, sitting at Marion’s desk.”
“Ivy, you wouldn’t know many people here, anyway, remember? We just moved.”
I liked the “we” part of his comment. “Right. But did you know that Margaret’s allergic to cats? I thought she just hated them.”
“That’s one of the reasons Donald was so interested in that new company he hopes to bring to Apple Grove. Happy Hearts Bioengineering. They’re working to produce a hypoallergenic breed of animal.”
“I thought he was…well, maybe I hadn’t been paying attention. I thought he was going after a pet food company. Fel-feli—”
“Feli-Mix. He told me they’d signed an ‘intent to build’ contract based on getting the zoning approval.”
“Oh. Good.” I scratched my ear. Isis wandered in from a dark hallway to curl around Adam’s ankles. Adam’s Mau smoke female was daintier in appearance than disposition. My Mem had been at the receiving end of her ferocity since they’d been introduced two years ago at a convention. Poor Mem had only tried to be polite.
Adam nudged me back to the present topic at hand. “What did Margaret say?”
“She wouldn’t talk to me.”
He wiped a hand over his face.
“I didn’t think I was nosy. She asked me to get Donald signed up for the convention and send her the bill.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”
“It’s unusual, but she could have just been trying to help Donald if he’s distracted with town business.” He smiled gently. “You’re still worried.”
“Yes, about him and Tut. I wish now I hadn’t called the police.”
He raised his brows and took a deep breath. “What exactly did you say to them?”
I grimaced. “That I wanted to report a…a kidnapping.” My voice dropped to a too-low whisper on the last word. I sounded perfectly ridiculous.
“Based on a phone call you couldn’t understand? And after the police officer stopped laughing?”
“He didn’t laugh at all! He sent a lady cop to check on me.”
“And?”
“She said she’d file a report.”
Adam uncrossed his arms and got up from the table. He gently removed the mug from my hands and raised me to my feet. I liked the feel of those hands. I liked the confidence he exuded even more. “Ivy, I can tell you’re concerned about this. Why don’t you let me go talk to Margaret tomorrow, see what I think. OK? I’m not dismissing you, but I have to think about this.”
I nodded. “It sounds wild. I need to do something, but I’m not sure what.”
Adam walked me to the door and down the steps. The moccasins he wore silenced his path across the floor of the shop. “You drove. You want me to take you home?”
I appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’m all right.” I caught my reflection in the window of the door. My corkscrew hair flew in all directions—I looked like a nutcase. No wonder he had been concerned I couldn’t drive. I stopped and turned. The top of my head came to his shoulder, giving me a good view of his throat. His turtleneck shirt hid most of the scar that snaked around his neck and across his right shoulder. I never asked about it and I was too shy around him yet to pry, but I hoped that would change in the near future. “Thank you for listening. I hope it’s just some kind of mental lapse on my part.”
“We both care about Donald. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He flashed a grin and closed the door behind me, staying at the window to watch until I sat safely in my car.
I did not expect to sleep much, so after checking my client list and the current work orders in my office, I settled on the couch with my pet, Memnet, nearby, and popped a movie into my player.
Mau owners often give their friends names popular in ancient Egypt for obvious reasons. Mem was a beautiful, black-spotted, registered silver male running past middle age. We garnered tons of compliments for his personality and outstanding looks, and he was as devoted to me as I was to him. He had been a staunch friend when Stanley decided he did not want to marry me—after we’d ordered the invitations and my dress, rented the hall, and the organist.
Memnet’s scratching woke me sometime later.
Cold and stiff, I came to my senses abruptly when I heard a loud crack and tinkling sound from the kitchen.
Mem was not as cautious and streaked toward the sound, a silver shadow in the blue glow of the television screen. His screech was primeval.
My hand shook as I dialed the number of the police department with a legitimate complaint this time. After being assured they would send someone immediately, I peered into the kitchen to see the broken window panel of the door and the swinging chain.
Mem sat guard, his tail twitching and ears forward, his paw resting on top of a stone with something tied to it.
“What have you got, Mem?” I crouched, wary of glass. With a low growl pulsing from his furry throat, he reluctantly let me examine the rock. I supposed it was evidence, but it was in my house. And Ripple had laughed at me earlier, after all. With one eye watching for the police car, I hurriedly untied the string and read the attached note.
“Busy-body’s don’t belong in our town.”
I hated misused apostrophes.
2
Donald should concede one point to his opponents of community growth: the crime rate was going up.
Mem never left off his fearsome stare—not even when the strobe lights of the police car pierced the house.
After the excitement of the photographs, finger-printing and sampling of the streak of blood left on the door frame, I was allowed to clean my
kitchen. Thanks to Memnet, the creep had not gotten in. At least, that was the reason according to the police.
“We’ll send someone around frequently, ma’am, to check on you. We’ve searched the premises. Is there someone I can call to stay with you? Or would you be more comfortable going away for the rest of the night?” Hopefully Officer Ripple didn’t recognize my name from my earlier call to report Donald’s kidnapping. “In case there are any lurking kidnappers.”
OK, so he did recognize my name. I gave him a tight little smile. But his comment made me wonder if this incident was somehow related to Donald’s disappearance. Absence. Whatever.
Memnet and I made our own search through the two bedrooms, the hall closet, and my second-story office.
I carried a bat as menacingly as I could. After the adrenaline rush leached from my veins, I realized I was too tired to think about it anymore and went to bed.
In the morning I called the insurance company and then my mother, assuring her that I was all right. She had been concerned about my move to Apple Grove, but since Stanley’s little maneuver of dumping me practically at the altar after five years of empty promises, she understood my need to start fresh. Her spring session wrapped up and she was planning to visit. Mom taught two classes of criminology at Maplewood, a little community college near the house where I grew up, on the outskirts of Chicago.
I stood at the kitchen sink after lunch. I didn’t change the décor when I moved in, and loved the sunny yellow the former owners had painted in this room, and the black and white checkered floor. My towels even matched. I dried a coffee mug while I watched Adam, who wore a serious expression, stride up the sidewalk. I heard his knock at the kitchen door and I went to invite him in.
Threads of silver at his temples emphasized the lines fanning out from his eyes. It occurred to me that nothing of Stanley’s features had anything remotely distinguishing about them. When Adam stopped to wipe his feet at the door, I restrained myself from throwing my arms around him in appreciation of his consideration.
“I just heard about what happened here last night,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call right away. Are you OK?” He set his hands on the back of a chair and hunched slightly.
I nodded. “Yes. Thanks to Mem, here. He scared away the intruder.”
“The police don’t have any theories about who would do this?”
“None they’re sharing with me.” I invited him to sit in the white wooden chairs at my tile-top kitchen table.
He drank from the cup of coffee I placed in front of him and tried to practice the same of kind of patience he showed me last night. “The note called you a busybody?”
“It was a general note about busybodies. I wouldn’t have thought it was personal, except that it had been thrown through my window.”
We both turned to look at the plastic and duct tape covering the broken pane of my kitchen door. I think they made yellow duct tape that would match my walls. I’d check it out.
Finally, he sighed and stared straight into my eyes. “Ivy, I’m sorry to be so blunt. I admit I was skeptical of your story. I went to meet with Margaret fully prepared to discount your concern.”
I could not turn away despite my disappointment.
“That dark-haired woman, Letty, was at Marion’s desk.”
I nodded.
“She said Margaret could spare me about five minutes if I could come back at eleven fifteen. I did. The conversation was strained. She asked about Mea Cuppa’s opening, how the store was doing, that kind of thing. I asked how the plans were coming for some of the other businesses. She seemed surprised that I knew anything about it, until I reminded her that was one of the reasons I chose to accept her husband’s invitation—because of the potential growth.” He took another drink.
I waited.
“I asked when I could meet with Donald, and she told me that the mayor would be out of town longer than he’d originally expected. Then I tested her, just as you did. I told her that Isis missed Tut, and we should get them together.” He swallowed and spoke into his coffee cup. “She gave one of those fake laughs and said she would have to check her appointment book about when I could bring my little girl over to play with Donald’s kitty.”
I sat on my hands. “She thought that Isis…” At the sorrow on his face I let my voice die out. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Adam.
Isis had been Grand Champion in her class last year at CAT. Even though she hated my Memnet with a ferocious feline passion, she tolerated Donald’s cat, Tut.
“So, you agree that something strange is going on?” I asked, growing a little faint.
“I don’t know what exactly to think. Unless Donald’s had some kind of accident or something,” Adam replied. “I don’t understand why Margaret thought I still—why I had a daughter.”
Ah, the reason for the sorrow. With amazing self-restraint, I reined in my nosiness. Curiosity. Abnormal need to know things that aren’t my business. Not yet, anyway. “Maybe we should follow up on her invitation,” I said.
“It would give us a reason to check on Tut at least.”
“Us?” I added mentally—and spend more time together. Heat crept up my neck.
His eyes twinkled.
Mem put a paw on his leg and leaped into his lap.
“Mem!”
“That’s all right. As long as he doesn’t think I brought Isis and start a fight.”
“Hey, Mem’s a perfect gentleman. Isis is the one who decided…” I let the argument die as I realized Adam was goading me.
His grin invited me to join him in a smile.
Mem circled and sat in a graceful pool of spotted sleekness.
Isis and Mem attacked each other if they got within sniffing distance. Isis would ignore me if she got a hint of Mem on my clothes. In Mem’s case, any aggression was usually self-defense. Neither animal had been declawed. Did I mention that Maus are outstanding animals? They look like leopards from the back and were worshiped by the ancient Egyptians. They’re referred to by their color—silver, bronze or smoke—but they come in varieties with bluish or black characteristics. Donald named his cat Tut. Nice guy, Donald, just not very original.
They say that pets and their owners begin to look alike after a while. I’m not necessarily saying this about myself, but I definitely think it’s so about Adam Thompson. Even his eyes were the smoky color of Isis’s pelt.
“Maybe this is none of our business,” he said, breaking into my reverie.
“Donald had big plans that involved us.” I’d grown impatient. “Maybe I was ready to make a change in my life and pick myself up and start all over in Apple Grove.” I snorted. “A place where I don’t know anyone and where I’m not even sure I can develop enough of a customer base to pay my bills. But how about you? Were you ready to take a chance like that? What about family? Friends? Donald made promises that involved tax breaks, don’t forget. I need that.”
“We don’t know that the mayor changed his position on that,” Adam said. But I could tell he was troubled. He stroked Mem, who rubbed the side of his head on Adam’s knee.
Although I’d known Donald for all the years, eleven, that Mem and I attended CAT, it was only last spring while we were waiting in line at the photo booth in Minneapolis, he started chatting about his town, Apple Grove. He was the mayor of a small city, but he rarely spoke about it. He always said he came to CAT to get away from things, and we never talked much about our work. Back then, I could tell he needed to talk. Apparently, Apple Grove was just shriveling up. Dying. Rotting, so to speak. He wanted to attract new businesses, more jobs, more people. He battled with his city council over this. I could see the whole thing weighed heavily, and I felt sorry for him and wanted to help.
“You have your records, don’t you?” Adam said. “About the promises Donald made?”
“I normally make sure I have important papers filed. Everything’s a mess right now with the move, though. I’ll have to sort it all out.” I relax
ed.
Adam continued to stroke Memnet, who showed his appreciation with his throaty imitation of a laughing purr.
I stirred my coffee, remembering when Donald introduced me to Adam last year at the convention. Adam’s molten eyes drew me in and made me hot and cold at the same time.
My mental image of Stanley faded. He only called once, three months after the wedding that wasn’t. Before I let my apartment and hired the moving van. He said he was sorry, but I could tell he didn’t really mean it. I wished him well and promptly threw out his new number and address.
Mem plopped to the floor as Adam stood. “Ivy, I’ve been thinking. I like the idea of going over to the Conklins’ house on the pretext of visiting Tut. Can you get away for a couple of hours? Bob was to help me with some shelves but canceled just before I came here.”
Bob Green was Donald’s secretary’s husband. He was Apple Grove’s barber, and his shop was next door to Adam. Mea Cuppa had been an antique store before Adam moved in and renovated the place. He’d given Bob an ancient barber pole he’d found in the basement.
Adam reached for his jacket. “As I was leaving, I overheard Letty talk about getting lunch at home before they catch a flight. I bet they’re there now.”
“Catch a flight? You want to go to the house right away? What if they’re busy? Who’ll run the city while they’re away?”
He laughed and shrugged as we left the house. “Got me. We’ll only need a couple of minutes.” He opened the front door of his later model, retro-blue pickup truck for me.
I adjusted my seatbelt and the visor. “Donald and Margaret have a farmstead, I believe. I’ve never been there, but he told me about their renovations.”
I gave in to a moment of vanity when I noted in the mirror that I’d smudged mascara under one of my muddy green eyes. Not exactly exotic. I sighed. I had my dad’s high cheekbones, but my mom’s pale coloring. With my wild, ash-brown hair that would never do what I wanted, I wondered, just for a moment, how Adam really saw me. Stanley told me I looked nice. A couple of times.
Meow Mayhem Page 2
