Meow Mayhem

by Lickel, Lisa;

  Adam turned away from me to reach for his cooling cup of coffee I’d set on an end table.

  “My business is picking up,” I continued. “I can pay my bills on my own without getting into my trust fund. I miss Donald and Tut. The next meeting is soon, and I want us to go together.”

  “You may not get everything you want, Ivy.” Adam stared out the front window.

  “My mother said that every day for a year after my father died. I realize that. But the things I mentioned are in reach. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m happy.” I bounced a little in irritation, crossing my legs. “Or at least I was.” I heard Mem and Isis batting some object around the kitchen floor. “Even Mem and Isis decided to get along.”

  Adam turned to me. A frown line appeared between his brows. “Getting along isn’t the issue, Ivy! You see life through your little rosy glasses. You think it’s enough to be happy and not hurt anyone.”

  “So, what do you want, Adam? What makes you happy?”

  He glared at me, his mouth set in a straight line. “My stores, and my customers. And when someone threatens my business, I’m not happy.” He paced around my little living room, three steps one way, four another. “What if we’d been there when the fire started? If you’d been…” His voice choked.

  I waited, trembling and upset.

  Adam said in a stronger, decision-made voice. “I talked to my sister this morning. Marie oversees my other stores. I told her I was coming back for a couple of weeks. The condo complex I live in is undergoing some remodeling. She invited me—us—to stay with her. They have a big house, lots of guest rooms.” He continued his restless journey. “I want you to come. Meet her. Our folks are…well, Dad’s been gone for ten years. Mom’s not in too good of shape. She has Alzheimer’s, lives in a nursing home. I need to be there for her in case anything happens. Will you? Come?”

  “I can’t leave my work that long. Most of what I do is time sensitive. You know that.”

  He stopped before me and leaned close, hands resting on either side of me, not touching me. His whole expression pleaded. From his gentle, smoky gray eyes to the cleft of his chin, he begged me. “You can work from practically anywhere. Please. I don’t have anywhere else to go and I couldn’t stand it if you…” He couldn’t finish.

  I felt the single tear spill over and run down my cheek. “I can’t. I’m not ready to give up.”

  He bent his head, exposing the back of his neck to me with a vulnerability that nearly made me change my mind.

  A yowl from the kitchen broke the spell.

  He righted himself, stretching his back.

  I sidled away from him and went to turn off the stove.

  Mem stood at the back door, hair raised along his spine, tail twitching.

  “What’s wrong, my friend? If you want to go out, you know how to ask politely.” I opened the door for him. Glittery paper caught my eye. Another package. “Ah. You saw the delivery!” I said. “If only you could tell me who it was.” I opened the door and looked both ways along the street, seeing no one. I brought the box inside.

  “What’s that?” Adam stood in the opening between the kitchen and living room.

  I held the box from Featherlight up for him to see. “Remember when I thought you had dropped off some candy here? Someone’s been making regular deliveries. Would you like some?”

  “No.” He came into the room. “You’ve eaten some before? Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Yes. The police have been informed. In fact, the last package—no, the one before that—had my coin purse with it. The one that was stolen.”

  Adam watched me through narrowed eyes.

  Good. Let him think about this. Maybe even be jealous.

  “You have no idea who’s behind this?”

  “None. Now, do you want a burger with me, or not? I’m hungry.” I didn’t wait for him to answer, but bustled around, getting dishes and silverware out.

  Adam helped finish the place settings and, at my direction, rummaged in the fridge for salad fixings. After we ate, he sat at the table watching me, Isis on his lap. Our meal had been silent.

  Even though I was angry, I feared losing him. I didn’t know what to do.

  We cleared away the remnants of the meal with the minimum of talk.

  I was not ready to let him leave. “More coffee?” I asked.

  He inclined his head.

  A few more minutes of polite small talk had me ready to scream.

  “Ivy, I need to take a break from all of this—mayhem,” he said quietly, clinking his coffee cup back into its saucer. “I want you with me, but I accept that you aren’t ready to leave. I’m worried about you, but you have friends who will look out for you.”

  I stared at him, absorbing his features, trying not to cry.

  “My niece is allergic to cats. Can I ask you to keep Isis while I’m gone?”

  “Of course.”

  When he was set to go, we stood arm in arm at the door. His leaving was a physical rip in the fabric of my being that not even having Isis could bandage.

  “I’ll call you,” he whispered against my lips, the brevity of the kiss making me quake.

  I quickly closed and locked the door behind him, then leaned against it. Two weeks, two weeks, two weeks, he’d said, the words echoing in my mind. Two weeks to breathe and sleep and pretend to live with my heart in shreds.

  20

  Two weeks turned into three. Adam’s mother experienced a health crisis. Then a hiring issue at one of the stores took up his time. One excuse, then another. His calls got shorter and shorter.

  Stop day-dreaming, Ivy! Move on with your life. Think of finding Tut.

  Mayor Margaret canceled the Fourth of July parade, calling such a celebration unseemly with the recent demise of the former mayor.

  My Chicago trip had been sloughed off long enough. I set a date of August 1 for the trip. A real sleuth would most certainly have investigated this important angle long ago. I reminded myself that I was just a tech nerd, not a PI. The preparation for my journey would have made a veteran of safaris laugh. I packed a half dozen granola bars, bottles of water, recharged my dusty I-Pass I thought I’d never use again, and even took an extra gallon of gasoline. I studied the map as if I were attempting to locate a moving target instead of a large stationary building, and double checked all the surrounding exits of the target in case the never-ending construction blocked my chosen route.

  I headed toward a brilliant mauve sunrise, hoping to get into the downtown area before the lunch time rush caused me grief; not that there seemed to be any time less crowded than any other in that great city. I wound my way to Highway 30 and hit the west beltline a couple of hours later. Another hour of anxious sign-checking, exiting and merging, and I arrived at the intersection of my goal. Naturally there was no place to park within sight of the good-sized limestone building. As I cruised slowly past on the third circle, I noticed there were no windows on the ground floor, which leant an aura of mystery right from the start. I found a parking ramp three blocks away. Great. Only fourteen dollars to park. In advance. I handed my cash over to the bored, young, tattooed, and pierced man plugged into some music machine, and hoped to find my car intact when I returned.

  With the sound of squealing tires echoing off the dirty chipped cement columns and the smell of oil heavy in my nostrils, I prepared for my adventure. I carefully gathered my coin purse and key, stuffing them deep into my front pocket. I clamped my hat on my head, grabbed the cell phone, which I held like a security blanket and tried to orient myself with the map. Donald’s picture was inside a cardboard sleeve, so it wouldn’t get too rumpled. Trying to appear as if I knew exactly what I was doing and where I was going, I headed toward the Summersby building. As I tromped the sidewalk, I noticed the two stately towers that kept changing names framed the Summersby like nesting dolls. The Chicago skyline really was a fascinating sight. Maybe I’d get a puzzle for something to occupy my evenings since Adam didn’t seem inclined to retu
rn any time soon.

  The doors to the golden-hued business tower were nondescript. Only the address was decaled in anonymous numbers across the double glass entry. Fortunately, there was a receptionist at a round desk in the dingy tiled hall, which boasted two elevators.

  Cherry, her name tag said, was dressed in a pin-striped professional business outfit and wore an earpiece. She calmly asked for my credentials before agreeing to look at the picture of Donald.

  I wasn’t prepared for that. I certainly wouldn’t lie. “Um, my uncle was a bit confused. I think he just wandered away and I thought he might once have come in here by mistake.” My uncle did get confused and lost once downtown on a tour. Was it still a lie? I’m sorry, Lord.

  Cherry’s expression softened. “My grandfather has dementia.” She reached for the picture. “How long ago, do you think?”

  “The man in the picture may have wandered in and out of this building any time over the last few months. That’s why I’m asking all around.”

  The skeptical look returned, but her eyes flickered across the photograph. “He doesn’t look familiar. I’m sorry.” She handed the picture back to me, expression flinty.

  Score one. Now how did I get up to Merris Corp?

  “I have another reason for stopping in,” I told the woman. “I’d like to get a backyard security fence for my cat. Someone told me that Merris was the place to come.”

  Cherry frowned. I had never seen lipstick painted on so beautifully before and I stared at her lips, fascinated. A second later I realized I had not been paying attention. A little snort from her had me refocused. “Merris usually does custom jobs and sends representatives to your home. Can I take your name and address?”

  “So, they don’t usually see walk-ins?”

  “No. What is this about?”

  “I’m from out of town. I didn’t know how it worked. I’ll just call them to set up an appointment later.” I backed away, afraid she might call security any moment. “Thank you for your time, Cherry.” As I left, I noted the building directory posted on the wall. Oddly, “Summersby” was stenciled over a fresh coat of white paint that didn’t match the surrounding color. But there was my goal. “Merris Corp” occupied an eleventh-floor suite, just as the message said: “eleven-oh-four.” And Cherry told me walk-ins were not customary.

  Because I wasn’t a professional snoop and didn’t know what else to do, I decided I might as well get my fourteen dollars’ worth of parking lot time and walk around the block. Casual-like. I adopted what I hoped looked like a fascinated tourist stroll. As if there were any tourist attractions right here, far away from the lakeside square that was surrounded by the museums, aquarium, observatory, and shopping. I could always ask for directions. If anyone looked at me closely, they would have undoubtedly been able to see the thumping of my heart right through my blouse. The wind off Lake Michigan made my eyes smart and tear. I rubbed my arms and bent my head and clamped the hat around my ears as I rounded the corner to the rear of the building.

  Through a tightly woven security fence I could just make out a dark-colored van, backed up close to the building, paneled doors open wide. I stopped, checked around me to see if anyone was nearby, and peered in between the slats. Along one side of the van was lettered: “Merris Pet Security, Systems for your peace of mind.” Now where had I seen that before?

  A figure in dark overalls slammed the van doors closed. I shrank against the fence, then decided that was stupid. I resumed my stroll past the gate, which slid open to let the van through. I turned to watch, as if I had never seen such an invention before. I pulled my hat over my eyes, so I suppose that was why Letty Grimm, in the passenger seat, didn’t appear to notice me.

  Half a block later I realized my feet were still moving. Carefully, I let myself sag against a storefront. The door opened, releasing a pair of chatting customers and the enticing aroma of steamed milk and freshly ground coffee beans. I made a decision to dock at this port until the storm of my emotions coalesced to a comfortable level.

  Another great mistake, Ivy Amanda McTeague Preston.

  I did a double take at the chime of the door. The tone exactly matched Adam’s at Mea Cuppa. I closed my eyes and sniffed. It even smelled the same. My eyeballs were the only thing not paralyzed for this moment in time. It was Mea Cuppa; Adam’s downtown Chicago branch. Oh, Lord, was the only prayer my gelled brain waves could recycle.

  I remembered to breathe, and then turned to leave. And saw Adam’s unmistakable profile in a room along the side wall. He laughed at something apparently said by the person on the other side of his desk who crossed her endless legs and wiggled her shoulders. I didn’t even grab a cube of complimentary Featherlight chocolate from the dish next to the register on my way out.

  A half-formed scheme to pretend that I was not just a tech geek and somehow get into the offices of Merris Corp on the eleventh floor of a secured building to confront possible murderers or at least find evidence that Donald Conklin had, in fact, been there, died in a vapor of Lake Michigan fog.

  ~*~

  Over the next few days at home in Apple Grove I contemplated my misadventure to Chicago. I had a hard time establishing a connection between Summersby and Donald’s death. Letty Grimm could have been there for any number of reasons on behalf of her boss, the temporary mayor, which had to do with the company establishing a MerriFood presence in Apple Grove. There was nothing I could share with the police. I didn’t even bother to tell my mother, at least not yet.

  Adam…had probably been conducting an interview. But if he hired someone who looked like that, why would he settle for mousy me every night after work? Maybe it was her he referred to when he said he wanted to settle down with someone he loved. When I heard through the grapevine, Bob, that Adam’s mother had to go into assisted living, my heart sank and for the first time he called me. He said his mother’s affairs might take some time to wrap up, then he’d come see us. He was sorry he hadn’t called me first, but he’d been in regular touch with Bob about the reconstruction on his building, and just let it out.

  I’m sure.

  I struggled to keep up with my work projects. I even gave a talk to the Chamber of Commerce one evening. I pretended to be enthused and think I passed.

  ~*~

  August back-to-school sales were on before Marion finally broke her silence with a visit to my house. I met her in the driveway. “Please, Ivy. I have to tell you what we’re doing. Please!”

  I realize that I sounded like a nutcase during the meeting that day after the fire. “What do you mean, Marion?”

  “Listen to me. Jeff Hanley was one of Mayor Conklin’s biggest personal business partners. You knew that, right?”

  “Only recently.”

  “When he first lost touch with the mayor, he suspected a problem, even before you did, Ivy.”

  “Why couldn’t he just say so?” I was exasperated. “First nobody believes me about Donald, and then I find his body, and now everyone’s on my side? And why was it that Yolanda, Adam, and I were victimized, again?”

  “It’s not like that, Ivy. Can you blame Hanley for not trusting you? You and Adam show up at a council meeting, spout about all this money that Mayor Conklin and Jeff secured for Apple Grove businesses, and he had no idea that the mayor talked about their plans so freely. Jeff thinks that whoever stole your computers and hurt your cat was trying to scare you. Yolanda obviously got too close to the truth, and Adam, well, as a newcomer, I suppose he was next.”

  “What about Donald’s cousin? Ronald Grimm?”

  She put her chin in her hand and stared hard at a crack in the cement. “Grimm—you mean, like in Letty Grimm?”

  “The same. They’ve all been friends since high school. Did he mention that little tidbit of information? I hate to tell you this, but I don’t trust Jeff Hanley.”

  “What do the Grimms have to do with anything?” Marion asked.

  “Ronald Grimm happens to look enough like his cousin Donald that it might be
hard to tell them apart.”

  “You’re kidding. Jeff is older than Bob and me. We weren’t even in school together. How did you find out?”

  “Remember when those students were here? And the newspaper office attacked? Some back issues of the paper were stolen. Bob’s mother happened to have copies at the historical society. Sonja, Lucy, and Elvis found pictures of Donald and his cousin both in some club and later, saw Donald and Margaret’s wedding announcement. Hanley was best man and Ronald was in the wedding party. I think I suspect what Margaret was up to with her look-alike husband’s cousin.”

  “You do? You’re…kidding, right? Replace Donald? Tell me you don’t think that. Oh, my goodness. But there’s worse news. MerriFood is in deep trouble with the Federal Trade Commission. If Margaret’s involved somehow, then she’s got problems, too. Remember when you asked me about Summersby Building Company? Well, I looked them up and—”

  “I know. It’s a place and has to do with Merris Corp. Elvis found that out,” I told her, not wanting her to think I had been idle, either. I invited her inside to tell her about my visit there, where I last saw Letty Grimm.

  “Oh.” Marion sat quiet at my kitchen table for a rare moment. “I don’t want you to feel bad, Ivy. As though we’ve left you out. We haven’t. It’s just that, well, this is Apple Grove business and we want to handle it our way.”

  “I am part of Apple Grove now, Marion.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “You’re right, Ivy. Donald wanted you here. That’s good enough for Bob and me.” She sat back and crossed her legs. “So, you went to Chicago all alone? You shouldn’t have done that, Ivy.”

  “No one there knew anything, anyway. A fierce-looking woman named Cherry guards the entrance of the Summersby building and she said she’d never seen anyone like Donald.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “I don’t think so. She didn’t really even look at the picture.”