Meow Mayhem

by Lickel, Lisa;

  “How do you feel about Apple Grove, now that we’ve been here a while?”

  Hearing Adam say “we” made my heart twitter. But the tone of his question, the whole idea of it, had me worried. Mostly because I didn’t know how to answer.

  11

  How did I feel about Apple Grove?

  In bed that night I thumped my pillow into moguls and pulled the blankets right out of their tucks.

  The girls and Elvis murmured in the kitchen. He had declared my sofa perfectly comfortable and rolled out a sleeping bag.

  They were trying to be quiet, but I was used to being alone in my house, so any sounds stood out. I rolled again, dragging the sheet with me.

  Memnet leapt down. Apparently, he couldn’t tolerate my restlessness, either.

  I wanted to love Apple Grove, my new home. I had prayed about it and felt calm and comfortable after the torment of Stanley and our broken engagement.

  I flopped onto my back. I loved this house. My own little house. And I realized I was falling for Adam Thompson in a way that made me realize that Stanley had merely been a crutch—the right kind of guy at the preordained right time to be married in my life. “He respects me” had been my most common description of our relationship. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d said, “I love you” to each other during our years together. We never talked about matters of faith, and my mother had been disappointed to find I had stopped going to church. I’d missed it and enjoyed New Horizons and my new friends.

  I turned on my side and stared out the window at the moonlight. I could see the neighbor’s clothesline topping the back fence. Taylor Robbins had left her pink pedal power tricycle outside again. These were nice people. They weren’t the ones spreading rumors and lies about me. Just because someone robbed me, hurt my pet, threatened Yolanda by vandalizing her business, and maybe even caused the death of the mayor—

  I sat up. OK, so Apple Grove had its downside. Didn’t every town?

  I tossed Grandma Trudy’s rose garden quilt aside and got to my feet. “Not like this!” I reached for my robe and clopped down the hall to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry. Did we wake you?” Sonja whispered.

  “No, of course not.” I spoke in a normal voice.

  Sonja flushed.

  “I just have a lot to think about.” The kettle was already warm, and I set a bag of mint tea to steep in a plain mug.

  The light over the stove illuminated the room, setting an intimate atmosphere.

  With a foot still in a sock, Lucy pushed a chair out.

  They waited for me to speak.

  “What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you?” I asked.

  “Not getting into the university I’d wanted,” Lucy said promptly, naming a well-known private school.

  Sonja was slower to reply. “Seeing my cousin break her neck in a diving accident.”

  Elvis balanced his spoon on the rim of his mug. “Not getting an immediate invitation to join the FBI.”

  “How about you?” Lucy asked me. She took a swig of her drink.

  Sometimes the best conversations were held amongst virtual strangers at 1:00 AM.

  I studied the bag floating in steaming water in front of me as I cradled the cup with both hands. “Until lately, the worst thing that happened in my life, after the death of my father of course, was my boyfriend leaving me, right before the wedding. I went to the college I wanted, started the business that I wanted. Even my father died when I was just a little girl, so I don’t really remember him.” I took a sip of fragrant tea. “As we discussed this case, I realized that I didn’t know Donald as well as I thought, and I wondered why I shouldn’t just leave Apple Grove. The situation is potentially dangerous, and I worry about all of us.”

  The three students glanced at each other.

  Lucy spoke first. “There’s a lot to be said for friendship. The mayor, even if you didn’t know him very well, was obviously important to you.”

  I tried not to shudder.

  Sonja raised an eyebrow. “And then there’s Mr. Thompson.”

  Yeah, Adam. The one who had asked me how I felt about lovely little Apple Grove, now that we were both settled here. “He’s gone to a lot of effort and expense to establish his business,” I said, deliberately refusing to discuss any personal relationship. “He has more to lose than I do, especially financially, if we pull up and leave.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes and raised her chin. “Not according to Elvis.”

  “Oh?” I glanced at Elvis who pushed his mug around the table and drew his mouth tight.

  Lucy filled in the blanks for him, talking as if he weren’t in the same room. “He says Adam Thompson actually made big bucks by putting a coffee joint in Apple Grove. He has three partners behind the business and the building lease.” She held up three fingers, bending them as she spoke. “One is your former mayor; the others are Mr. Jeff Hanley and a Mr. Cal Stewart.”

  My heart stopped beating and the cup slipped from my nerveless hands.

  Lucy ran for a dish towel to mop hot tea.

  I sat like stone. I would definitely be tired tomorrow.

  ~*~

  Sonja plodded into the house the next afternoon and tossed her notebook onto the kitchen table. “We just had a discussion with Ms. Crosby about the engineering needs of a smaller city. She was polite enough.” Sonja’s voice trailed off. She flopped onto a seat.

  I pushed the plate of peanut butter cookies in front of her.

  “Thanks.”

  Memnet jumped onto her lap, circled and made himself at home, blinking and yawning.

  “Did you get around to what she knew about the money or what she might have had against Donald?”

  “I thought I was being subtle, but I think she caught on to me sooner than I wanted her to. She just out and out said that the mayor should have included everyone in the grant information. She’d applied for grants herself on behalf of the city in the past and this was the way it had always been done.” Sonja consulted the notebook. “Ms. Crosby has quite a way with words. Quote. ‘I can’t imagine why the mayor would shirk his responsibilities in such an ill-conceived and poorly-mastered plot to deny the city its needed new treatment plant. I have never been involved in such a reprehensible, deceitful act and you can be sure that I will report this activity to the proper state authorities. And obviously owning a cat was a big mistake.’ End quote.”

  I couldn’t stop a grin at her rendition of Crosby’s assumed huff.

  Sonja nibbled at her cookie. “I didn’t want her to be guilty. Just to shed some light on the situation.”

  I patted her hand. “That’s all right.”

  “Elvis got stuck with the mayor’s wife’s assistant. I can’t wait to hear how he did.”

  Elvis pulled open the kitchen screen door. “You don’t have to.” He scrubbed at his curls and heaved a sigh. “Ms. Grimm didn’t even open the door. Told me she’d been instructed to call the police should anyone attempt to trespass while Mrs. Conklin was away. I could hear sirens in the background, but I’m pretty sure they were a recording from the house. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

  Sonja bit her lip.

  Elvis set my keys in front of me. “Thanks for the use of your car, Ivy.”

  “You’re welcome. Help yourself to something to drink.”

  Elvis found his favorite computer geek mug in the cupboard and poured milk from the fridge. “How’d it go with you, Sonja?”

  “Better than yours, apparently.” She smiled. “Sorry you had such a rough time. Crosby was sincerely outraged by everything that’s been going on behind her back.”

  “Is Lucy at the mayor’s office now?” I asked them.

  “Yes,” they replied in unison.

  “I think she’ll be a while, then. Rupert Murphy likes to gripe in volumes. I can’t wait to hear what he had to say about ordering the fourth-floor restroom closed.” Although I’d offered to help with the interviews, the students had wanted to
handle all the people on the list themselves.

  Lucy was supposed to talk to Marion as well as the acting mayor, Rupert Murphy. Margaret Bader-Conklin was currently unavailable, so that left the banker and the vet.

  Sonja planned to take Mem in for a little checkup as an excuse to talk to Dr. Bailey, and also get the latest intel on the great stray feline hunt.

  I didn’t know how they planned to handle Hanley.

  ~*~

  Donald’s memorial service was held on Wednesday morning, just as Yolanda predicted. It was decorous, sober and completely unremarkable. The justice of the peace, Bill Compton, led the pledge of allegiance. Rupert read a ten-minute eulogy that sounded more like a high school biography, and Pastor Belman prayed right out of his little black book. That was it. The funeral home was decked out like Independence Day.

  People came in for the service and left. There had been no receiving line, as there was no one to comfort but ourselves. Margaret’s family did not attend. Very bizarre. Definitely no closure for me. I sat next to Adam the whole time, hugging my elbows and trying not to cry.

  Nobody lingered.

  He went back to work afterward.

  I couldn’t bring myself to mention that I was aware of his silent partners and wondered if I needed to add him to the suspect list. Mom would have been heart-broken to learn of his deception.

  In the late afternoon, I decided to see what was happening downtown. I parked in the municipal lot and hiked up the several blocks to the newspaper office. A little humid breeze from the river swirled through the alleys.

  Yolanda stood on the sidewalk in front of the open Gazette door, thin in dark shorts and a white tank top, brandishing a mop at someone inside. She pointed to her front window with her free hand. From my angle I could see just the middle of another person on a ladder inside, vigorously shaking his hips as a white cloth was applied to the glass.

  “There! Right top—center—you got it. Hi, Ivy,” she called to me. “This is it! The cleaning crew is nearly done, and we can get back to business. We only needed to borrow PrintCraft’s shop for one edition.” She named a private specialty printing chain, which had a branch in Colby.

  “Congratulations. I knew nothing much would keep the presses down. What can I do to help?”

  “Oh, if you want to stop in tomorrow, after lunch, you can work on some ads. Jenny will be coming and she’s quite the little interrupter.”

  “I’ll do that. About one?” Everything sparkled, and the smell of bleach overrode the faint underlying hints of sulfur. “I think the kids will be in soon then to sort through your back issues.”

  “Fine. You can all come together.”

  On to my next stop. I crossed the street to walk down the other side. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I sauntered along Main Street, casually glancing down the various narrow alleys between the soft red brick buildings. The smell of fried potatoes and onions wafted from Tiny’s across the width of the street.

  The drug store door opened for an elderly woman who was dressed in a rumpled raincoat and carried a cane. She wore a plastic rain hood tied under her chin.

  I waited until she hobbled out of my path.

  Visible through the big window of the barber shop, Bob had a customer in the chair. He waved his scissors.

  I waved back. I halted when I reached the junction of the next building. Adam’s sandwich board sign proclaimed that chocolate truffle was the flavor of the day and he had just gotten in the newest Café murder mystery. A popular line of mysteries out over the past eight years, I mentioned that I was eager to read the next installment myself. I hoped no one in town would take the subject matter as a suggested course of action or a sign of things to come.

  As I hesitated on the sidewalk, a solid presence thunked into me.

  “Sorry,” the man called over his shoulder. He never stopped, and I didn’t get a good look at him. Just an anonymous stranger with a black businessman’s satchel slung over his shoulder.

  A trio of ladies exited Tiny’s and stood under the green striped awning, fussing with their purses and scarves.

  I recognized them from church and raised my hand and smiled. I could only remember Mrs. Engelbrecht’s name. “Hello!” I called.

  Mrs. Engelbrecht looked across at me. She assumed an expression of having just tasted a spoonful of revolting medicine. She elbowed her partner.

  The other woman hollered in a loud voice. “You ought to be ashamed, young lady! Coming to our nice village and carrying on like you do!”

  Mrs. Engelbrecht pulled on a pale leather driving glove. “We don’t want your kind here.”

  The three of them took each other’s elbows, stuck their noses in the air and strode away.

  I lowered my hand and closed my mouth, swallowing against acid reflux. Not yet ready to confront Adam about his backers, I slumped against the bricks, thinking. What could those ladies have meant? They had been polite but distant in church last Sunday, and of course they’d been to the funeral that morning, although no one said much of anything to anyone else. It was almost as if Donald’s last public appearance had been a shameful one.

  I shook my head, gathered in a deep breath and straightened.

  Letty Grimm was staring at me from the window of Tiny’s. She immediately turned away and chatted with her companions, whom I could not see clearly.

  Marion Green had told me that Margaret’s assistant was up to no good. Letty had already passed around town that Adam’s family had been killed while he watched. Oh, and something or other about us trying to take over the city. According to her, that’s why we attended that council meeting: to test the strength of the board members and see who could potentially be turned to the dark side. He and I obviously were behind the plot to assassinate the mayor and that was why Margaret needed to hide out. She was next. I had thought Marion was joking when she’d hesitatingly brought the story to my attention yesterday on the phone.

  Now I was in a melancholy mood. If I were being accused of something wicked, the thought of actually doing it cheered me up. Yeah, right. I couldn’t think of anything remotely evil to do. Besides I was the one who always got caught. People could be speeding around me on the highway, but if I went five miles over, flashers appeared from nowhere in my rearview mirror. I stared after the church ladies, who disappeared around the corner.

  Once again, I breathed in and bowed my head. “Sorry, Lord.” I had once been active in the church my mother and I attended all the while I lived at home. Stanley held a profoundly indifferent faith, and I fell out of regular prayer and worship. Even if Apple Grove had not put out the proverbial welcome mat for me, I was determined to go back to a habitual church life. The thought of seeing those ladies at New Horizons next week made me squirm, but I liked the Gainses.

  I entered Adam’s empty shop, rejoicing in the air-conditioning. Stacks of new books sat in an enticing array on the coffee table between blue wing chairs. The smell of chocolate made my stomach rumble. I had not had much of an appetite since yesterday. Adam’s voice floated out from his office. As I passed the coffee counter I noticed a dish of complimentary cubes of chocolate candy. I snagged a piece, unwrapped it and put it in my mouth as I meandered toward the magazine racks.

  Adam came out. “Ivy. I’m glad you stopped in.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what Donald would have thought of that funeral.”

  I swallowed, unable to make words come out yet. I nodded, hoping he would accept that. His eyes were dark with a fatigue that matched mine, his features wary. I felt sorry for him, even in my present distress.

  “I wondered if I’d get many traveling sales reps in Apple Grove,” he said. “How do you like that candy? A salesman stopped in here earlier. Once I tasted it, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try. He said they just started a new coffee line, too. That’s what’s on special today.”

  It wasn’t like Adam to prattle. Maybe he’d had a caffeine overload.

  Chocolate worked better on me when I was
upset. “My former fiancé worked in sales for a chocolate company. Not this one, though. This is good—nice and fudgy.”

  He cleared his throat. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.” We moved over to the counter and he worked the machine.

  I reached for the coin purse I carried with me in my right pocket when I didn’t want to lug a purse around. My pocket was empty. Out of my left pocket I pulled a tissue and my cell phone and a piece of lint. No coin purse. I felt the prickle of sweat around my hairline.

  Adam set the paper cup in front of me. “What’s the matter, Ivy? It’s on the house.”

  “Thanks, but I think I—oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “I think I’ve been pick-pocketed.”

  “Are you sure? When?”

  “I’m sure I had my coin purse with me. I put the car key, my license and some change in it. It had to have been that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  I explained about the man who bumped into me on the sidewalk. “Right before Mrs. Engelbrecht and her friends shouted at me.”

  Adam came around the counter to put a soothing hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got me more than a little concerned here. What’s this about Mrs. Engelbrecht? But wait, we should call the police first.”

  “Not again!” I wilted into a deep cushioned chair with my chocolate coffee and another candy from the dish.

  He went to call the station. He also turned off the background recording of Carmen. “Officer Ripple’s on his way. I think I heard him call for Lucy as he hung up.”

  “Great. Thanks. This candy is pretty good,” I repeated.

  Adam sat on the arm of the oversize chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his lap. “You didn’t seem very happy when you came in. More than sad from the funeral. Is there something you want to talk about? What did the Engelbrecht woman say?”

  “I’m certainly not happy about that, and I can’t imagine what she meant when she accused me of ‘carrying on.’” I shook my head and took a sip of the coffee. “I saw Letty Grimm and company in the window of the buffet, so I can guess how the gossip is being churned. Marion told me yesterday about some fantastic tale going around how you and I are in cahoots to take over Apple Grove.” I bit the insides of my lips and risked a glance at his amused expression. “But, no, I wanted to ask you, ask you—”