Meow Mayhem

by Lickel, Lisa;

  “Thank you, Jennifer. I’ll stop at the store on the way home and get some refrigerator magnets, so I can put your picture up in my kitchen. And yes, I do have a nice kitty named Memnet. I hope your grandma will bring you to meet him soon.”

  Jennifer nodded her curly head up and down with enthusiasm and sent a pleading look at Yolanda. I suspected Yolanda needed an excuse to visit me.

  I went out onto the sidewalk, the jingle of the door clashing with the striking chorus of my own cell phone. I was naturally a techno-geek. When people found out, they either start talking jargon a mile a minute as if they were afraid I’d vanish or gave me that look of feigned sympathy as if I’d sprouted gills or a third eye.

  My mother, Geneva McTeague Preston, taught me to appreciate electronics. She raised me on her own after Dad died when I was six—not much older than Jennifer back there. Whenever Mom visited she somehow got hold of my phone and programmed a new personal ring tone for when she called. I used separate tones for my customers—repeats, urgents, faxes coming in at home. She liked to know she was more important than business. The tinny rendition of the “Hallelujah Chorus” she’d somehow found was teeth-gritting. A couple of passers-by stared at me as I ducked into a shadowy entry to answer.

  “Mother. Hello. Honestly, I’ll have to change that chorus. People are staring.”

  “Sweetheart, I have been so worried. I nearly called that mayor’s office myself. You didn’t answer my e-mail yesterday or today.”

  “I saw it late last night and I’ve been a little busy this morning, Mom. How are you?”

  “Now, dear, it’s not me we should be worrying about. You’re sure you’re safe? People don’t realize that small towns can harbor such villains. Villains.” The last word was said with a sinister hiss.

  “You should know.” My mother, who appeared as fragile as a mayfly, could talk villains with the best of them in her criminology courses, so I wasn’t being facetious. But I did regret making my present situation sound so melodramatic.

  “I have all the details worked out on my end. Sophie’s taking care of things at the condo, and the class lists are in and the labs arranged, so I have a week free.”

  “That’s good. I have your bedroom all ready.”

  “I can’t wait to see your new place. And you’re sure you’re all right, now?”

  “Yes, Mom. Day after tomorrow. You have the directions? We’ll go to church on Sunday.”

  “Good, dear. Of course, I don’t want to interrupt any plans you may have already made.”

  I grinned. “I understand. You won’t. I’ll see you Saturday. Love you.”

  “I love you, too, darling.”

  Yes, I was eagerly anticipating my mother’s visit. She had a strange kind of trimester schedule that had a spring, summer, and fall sessions, with fieldwork requirements. The local police stations all shuddered when it came time for student field placement, for it meant an interruption in their routines so they could show students how to work crime scenes and put an investigation together. In return, though, it meant more college-trained police officers and detectives, if the students decided to go into that area of study. All the cop shows on TV kept her courses filled.

  Anyway, I wanted to put our heads together about this issue with the mayor and my break-in with the ungrammatical note. I almost convinced myself I was just making things up—until I saw that unpublished article from Margaret about MerriFoods on Yolanda’s desk. There must be some connection. I had only been half kidding when I’d told Adam I couldn’t run an investigation because I had nowhere to start.

  Adam was setting out his “Open” sandwich board sign across the street. He gave me the smile that meant he was in business mode.

  I waved and sauntered over. I waited in line for a mocha latte and was truly glad to see him attract so much business, even if it was curiosity-seekers checking out the new store. Framed stills of Isis decorated the brick wall by the couple of glass-topped tables set on the wood floor near the big front window. I listened idly while he explained about her to the two young women who were ahead of me.

  “Oh, I’ve had Isis about six years, now,” he said.

  That surprised me, since he had only been part of CAT for the last two.

  “A fire,” Adam said patiently, and then wished them a pleasant day. “Next.”

  That was me. They had asked him about his scars. I met his steady gaze with a sympathetic twist to my lips. “I suppose you get that a lot,” I murmured.

  He grinned back. “Yes, people ask about Isis all the time,” he said. “Cup of coffee?”

  I surely did not need the extra calories of the mocha latte and agreed to the plain coffee. “Thanks.” I took my wide blue pottery mug to one of the stuffed loungers he had placed around a low table and sipped cautiously. He added the creamer I liked, and I was grateful for small favors. Fire. I shivered. He’d had Isis for six years. He was not married or dating. He’d apparently had a daughter. Where was she now?

  I picked up the county shopping paper to distract myself. Adam Truegood Thompson’s personal life was not my concern, much as I wished that someday it would involve me. I saw my old ad for McTeague’s Technical Services in the shopper and realized I needed to change that, too. Mom and I could go for a drive to the small office of the County Shopping News in Colby next week. She would like that. After I finished my coffee the place was quiet again.

  Adam sat in his open-door office at his computer.

  I perused the old books section and found a classic I always meant to read but just never got around to. He met me at the register when I walked up. “And are you willing to put up advertisements?” I asked, showing him a copy of the poster I was having printed.

  “Sure.” He indicated a bulletin board by the door after he rang up my book, giving me a healthy discount. “You can also put your business card in the fishbowl here for a chance drawing on Mondays. Winner gets a free daily coffee for the week.”

  “Good deal.” I dropped in my card and leaned across the counter. “I need to tell you something else I saw at the newspaper office.”

  He cocked his head while waiting for me to explain.

  “Yolanda Toynsbee showed me an article that had been faxed to the office. The article is about Mrs. Conklin inviting a competitor to Feli-Mix to build in Apple Grove. Complete with picture.”

  “Do you think Donald knew about this?”

  “I asked. Yolanda didn’t know. I can’t imagine how he wouldn’t. Feli-Mix was already awarded a building permit and a tax grant.”

  The door chimed as an elderly couple came in.

  “Hello, there,” Adam called to them. “Let me know if you need anything.” They waved and headed for the travel section.

  “I have to get back to work,” I said. “My mother’s coming to visit.” I cleared my throat. “Would you like to have dinner with us one night?”

  It was a tough decision for him, I could tell by his hesitation.

  I decided to rescue him. “Of course, you’re busy. Things are different now that the store is open. That’s all right, I understand.”

  Lines crinkled around his eyes as he smiled. “Seeing as I’m hiring help, that won’t be a problem for me, Ivy. I’d love to have dinner with you and your mother. Just tell me when.”

  “OK.” I did not realize I was holding my breath until I was out on the sidewalk. Well, well, Ivy Amanda McTeague Preston. If you didn’t think you were nuts before, you certainly are now. Asking a man to dinner. With your mother. I walked the few blocks home thinking about Stanley and the distant memory he had become. I had never been so straightforward, asking a man to dinner. Then I groaned and smacked my forehead. With my mother! I let myself in the side door. “Hello, there, my Memnet. Did you miss me?”

  With a chortling Mem on my lap in my upstairs office, I got to work, sorting through the incoming, outgoing, and junk electronic and voicemail. One of the new orders for web redesign service was from city hall. Again. I called Marion to
confirm and got official voice mail. I debated three seconds whether to call her at home to find out what was going on. I dialed her number thinking I could always pretend this was just a friendly chat. “Hi, Marion. It’s Ivy—Ivy Preston.”

  “Hi. You got the work order, right? To redo the city website? You can work from home, can’t you? Margaret says she and the mayor will be out of town. And the council said I only needed to go in once a day to check on things, like the regular mail and any other business. My family will appreciate that. You can reroute the email, too? How does that work?”

  I thought a dam had burst as she pattered, asking questions and not waiting for me to answer. Or she was nervous about something. “So, Marion, how about Mrs. Conklin? Does she usually take over when the mayor’s away? The atmosphere was like a lull before the storm.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I chewed my lip. I couldn’t tell her how I found out, but I sure wanted to talk about Margaret and MerriFood. “With the new pet food business starting up, I just thought things would be busy.”

  “Oh, so you heard,” she said. “Cat’s out of the bag, then.”

  I groaned dutifully.

  She giggled. “Yes, Feli-Mix is moving in,” Marion confirmed. “They’ll be renovating part of the old feed mill and adding on. Those plans have been in the works for a while. But I thought you were aware of that.”

  “I am, Marion. But I thought there was another company coming, too, with a different name.”

  “If you mean Happy Hearts, you know that’s not pet food.”

  “Right.” I felt confused enough myself by that time and decided to drop the matter of Margaret and MerriFood. “Well, enough about business. My mom’s coming to visit. Do you have any thoughts about what to do with her for a week?”

  Marion named a few local events and places she knew about. I thanked her after a few minutes and hung up.

  MeriFood, Feli-Mix, Happy Hearts…happily-ever-after. Until the next edition of the Gazette came out and spoiled the Feli-Mix plan.

  ~*~

  Mom came in time for lunch on Saturday. The past couple of days had been rainy, so I was glad the afternoon was nice. School was winding down. I had enjoyed seeing the yellow school buses and the kids who walked. Several young families lived on my block, and we were slowly getting acquainted.

  After the grand tour of my cottage, which took about three minutes, she unpacked her cases in the guest room. I had the other downstairs bedroom, having decided to take over the upstairs room for the office. I figured going up and down the stairs would be good exercise.

  I started to fix lunch when Mom joined me. People probably wouldn’t guess my mom’s age from her appearance. She kept her short hair dyed pale gold. She’d had laser surgery on her eyes and only used glasses at night. I hoped I would be as trim when I got to be her age.

  She perched on a chair, watching me. “So, are you happy to be in Apple Grove?”

  Direct as usual. I did not have to think about it. “I am, Mom. There are nice people. Business is picking up. I think things will be all right.”

  “Did you tell Stanley you were moving?”

  “Why? He’s history.” I brought our sandwich plates to the table and opened the fridge for the pitcher of iced tea I had made earlier.

  Mem wandered in and sniffed at Mom’s leg. She put her hand down and he rubbed against it. Then he sat in a pool of light and began a bath.

  “And you? How do you feel about that?”

  I put her off with a little meal time prayer and took a bite. Washing down the turkey salad with tea, I took my time. “I’m surprised at how easily I’ve moved on. Everything in that other life feels as though it never happened. I hardly even think about him. Or us.”

  Mom put a hand over mine. “Enough of that. Do the police have any idea who tried to break into your house? What’s the latest?”

  I was glad she didn’t want to waste any more time on Stanley. “I haven’t heard any news about the case, Mom. It will be a while before they can analyze the blood, let alone find out if it matches any criminals in the police database.”

  She sighed. “Backup is such a problem everywhere. So many criminals, so few good folks to catch them. Do you feel safe?”

  “Everyone asks that. But yes, I think we’re OK. Once the neighbors heard about the break-in, they re-formed a neighborhood watch group they had started years ago and never needed. We’re all keeping an eye out for each other. I don’t think the guy would get away with something like this again. At least not around here.”

  I was wrong.

  While my mother and I visited Colby the next afternoon, someone who was apparently more careful than the first crook, who obviously knew my house better and who definitely had more thievery skills, managed to cut the glass to the downstairs window, sneak up the steps, smash my computers and take my router, along with my temporary lock box with the new hard drives. Those external hard drives had all the backups of work I had done and had in progress since moving to Apple Grove.

  Memnet was stuffed in a burlap sack, drugged, and tossed under the stairs.

  4

  “You’re sure he’ll be all right?” I asked the woman for the sixth time.

  She placed a gloved hand on my beloved Memnet, tiny stethoscope to his chest.

  Mom grabbed my elbow to steer me away from the exam table back into the waiting room, casting the too-young-looking veterinarian an apologetic glance.

  “She’s gotta be younger than I am, Mom,” I said. “I can’t trust Memnet to somebody who is that much younger than me. How can she possibly know what’s going on? I don’t know what’s going on.” I felt hysteria burbling up, and I could tell Mom thought so, too.

  “Now, Ivy.” Mom used the firm tone she once used on me in high school when I tried to find a reason for breaking curfew. “You’re not helping the situation with this kind of behavior. Doctor Bailey appears to know what she’s doing. She came in special for us. Come, sit.”

  I could not sit, so I paced. The long, narrow room smelled of dog and disinfectant with an underlying hint of peppermint, which I realized, after passing it on my eighth lap, came from an air freshener plugged into the outlet behind a hexagonal side table. The police allowed us to rush Memnet over to the vet’s office as soon as the preliminary check was done. We promised to give a full statement tomorrow.

  “Miss Preston?” The doctor stood in the connecting doorway, holding a limp Memnet in her arms.

  He tried to greet me and made a weak attempt to come to me. I took him with gratitude and hid my tears in his coat. Mem’s wheezy purr ratcheted up a notch.

  Dr. Bailey stroked his ears. “Generally speaking, Memnet’s in very good health,” she praised us. “He’s getting up there, of course. He’s eleven years old, you said? He’s doing pretty well, then.”

  “Do-do you know much about Maus?” I asked, while getting control of myself.

  Mom stood at my other side.

  The doctor smiled. “The mayor brings Tut in regularly.” She looked at us with narrow-eyed curiosity. “He told me he hoped to bring more Mauists into Apple Grove and I should be ready.” The woman swished her long ponytail over her right shoulder. “I didn’t think my first encounter would be with a beauty like Memnet. I wish I could be more specific about what he got into, but at this point, the substance seems to have cleared most of his system. I took a blood sample to send to the lab. Update me on how he’s getting on, say, in two days. Otherwise, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” In response to my apparent expression of panic, she pointed to the pocket of my shirt. “You put my card in your pocket.” She winked at us, then. “My daughter is in high school. She’s developed a keen interest in Egyptian Maus since getting acquainted with Tut.” Dr. Bailey walked to the door with us and let us out. Up close I could see that she was not that young. There were plenty of silver hairs streaking that blond ponytail.

  Ivy, get a grip.

  Mom drove so I could hold Memnet.
Usually a contented rider as long as he was in his carry box, today he was too exhausted to notice scenery whizzing by.

  “I think Memnet scared your intruder away the first time. The thief realized he had to knock out your attack cat if he wanted to steal anything on this attempt,” Mom said.

  “But who would do something like that?”

  Mom hmm’d. “You must have gotten some information someone needed to be kept quiet. Perhaps someone in the town just wants to frighten you away. You were the one who wanted to move away from the big, bad suburbs, remember? And I believe you said not everyone in Apple Grove is ready for an influx of newcomers.”

  I ignored her subtle hint. “Or Mem annoyed someone.”

  “What do you suppose the doctor meant when she said the mayor thought she should be ready?” Mom asked.

  “For more cats like Tut and Mem?”

  “Or their owners.”

  “Ha! We’re all just a bunch of trouble-makers, right?” Mom didn’t have any pets. She pulled into my narrow gravel drive up to the one-car garage painted a zesty yellow to match the trim of the cottage. “You should come home with me.” She put a hand up to halt my protest. “I said ‘should.’ I know you don’t want to, but won’t you please think about it, at least until you feel safe?”

  “I do feel safe, Mom. I’m not sure why, exactly, but the person could have easily killed Mem and he or she didn’t. The thief obviously got what he came for, although pawning my equipment won’t be easy since it’s all marked.”

  “The thief obviously wanted more than the equipment alone, then. What about information?”

  “Who would care about Netty Drumm’s flower blog she commissioned me to design? Or that Bernice’s Hobby Shop will be closed for three days next week due to having the place fumigated, which I’m not supposed to mention, and I’m to put announcements on their website? Or Gina Ebersole’s babysitting service that’s supposed to block assignments from the Wayland Murphys? What kind of high school kid orders a message relay for unwanted business?” I shook my head. “Mom—”