by Molly Fitz
“Have you ever seen a hairless cat?” he asked with a shudder. “It looks like their brains are on the outside.”
I laughed, and so did he. The description was pretty accurate. Even still, I’d begun to like Jacques and Jillianne now that I’ve gotten the chance to talk with them a bit. Sure, they were a bit different, but they were also really stinking cool. “You mentioned having nightmares growing up. Have you always been afraid of cats?”
He cleared his throat and coughed into his fist. “I am not afraid of cats. I used to like them, but then Mom met that breeder in France and since then it’s only been the finest purebred Sphynxes for her.”
It seemed I had an opportunity here, one that seemed fortuitous I hadn’t even thought to hope it could happen. “If you wanted me to look after them while you decide what to do with them, I’d be more than happy to help out,” I offered with an ingratiating smile.
“What?” Octo-Cat demanded, running back through the room and jumping up onto the couch beside Matt. “You can’t be serious! There is no way I’ll allow—”
“Sure,” Matt said, interrupting my feline’s tirade even though he didn’t know it. “That would be great. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” I said with a huge smile, enjoying the expression of horror on my tabby’s face.
“Traitor,” Octo-Cat muttered under his breath.
Matt reached out to pet Octo-Cat but was summarily clawed by my very cranky kitty. “Ouch,” he cried. “And that was my good hand, too.”
The cat hissed and ran to hide in another room, shouting kitty curses at the top of his lungs.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling a swell of embarrassment. I hoped he’d still trust me to watch his mother’s cats after seeing how crazily the one under my care behaved.
“So, how about that tea?” I asked, scurrying away to the kitchen before he had a chance to refuse. This would give me a few private moments to plan my questions. If I asked the right ones, I just might find the missing pieces I needed to solve Lou Harlow’s murder once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
I brought Matt a cup of plain Earl Grey tea—no cream, no sugar, no good, really. It would have to do, though, seeing as I hadn’t had time to go to the store since moving in yesterday afternoon. Honestly, it was kind of a miracle that I even had this.
“Thanks,” he said with a friendly smile, accepting the warm mug and holding it between his hands. “Look, about last night, I just wanted to apologize for… Well, I’m sure you remember.”
“Water under the bridge.” I waved off his apology, even though I was happy it had been given. I needed to keep him on my side if I were to learn what he knew about his mom’s murder.
“You’re just being so hospitable and then offering to take the cats, too. I feel really bad about how I acted. It’s just…” He sighed heavily and turned the mug around in his hands so that the artwork faced me. It was my crazy cat lady mug. Nan had gotten it to celebrate my official adoption of Octo-Cat a few months back, and it had quickly become my favorite.
Matt sighed and cast his eyes toward the floor. “It may not be the manliest thing to admit, but I was terrified.”
“It’s understandable,” I assured him. “After all, someone did just kill your mother.”
“Exactly!” Matt lifted the tea to his lips, took a small sip, then set it on the coffee table. There weren’t any coasters, but the old piece of furniture already had lots of wear, so I figured this wasn’t a problem I needed to worry about at this precise moment. “I’m staying in her house, too. Granted, it was my house growing up, but it just gives me the creeps.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I reached forward to offer him a fist bump on the subject of staying in creepy houses. He didn’t seem to know what to do with it, so we shook hands instead.
“So, you grew up around here?” I asked, taking a sip from my own mug. I couldn’t stand tea without at least two spoonfuls of sugar mixed in, so I’d secretly filled mine with plain hot water. At least this way I could accompany Matt, make my questions seem more like a conversation than an interrogation.
“Not around here.” He stopped and shook his head. “Here. Right next door.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you leave?” I was really pleased with how things were going so far. Matt was opening up to me without even the slightest hesitation. How much more would he be willing to tell me before he reached the bottom of that tea cup?
“Love.” Matt snorted and rolled his eyes. “Lot of good that did me.”
I winced sympathetically. Even though I’d never been in anything more than puppy love, I felt for the recent divorcee. Everything must have still been so fresh and new, and now he’d lost his mother on top of it all. “So, why don’t you come back? I’m assuming your mother left the house to you.”
“She did, but I don’t know.” He drummed his fingers on the side of his mug and frowned. “It would be hard to live there without constantly thinking of her.”
“Was she a good mom?” I asked before taking a casual sip from my mug of hot water.
If Matt thought my questions were coming too fast and close together, he made no indication of it. Rather, he seemed happy to share, or at least happy to have someone to talk to. The poor guy.
“She was the best,” he said with a nostalgic sigh. “Everything you read about her in the papers is true, by the way. She really had the kindest heart. Even before she got elected, she was always volunteering somewhere. In fact, we spent more of our Christmases serving up hot meals at the soup kitchen, then opening gifts at home.”
“That’s incredible. I’m sure a lot of people will miss her dearly. I know I will.” I already knew this about her, of course, but hearing it from her son’s lips made me that much angrier that someone had brought her life to an early and violent end.
Matt’s eyes lit up with true warmth. “Did you know her well?”
I smiled. “Well, I voted for her every time I was able, and I could always tell she believed the things she said. It was refreshing.”
Matt picked his tea up and took a long, slow sip. “I have no idea who would want to hurt her,” he said, shaking his head. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“It could have been an accident,” I pointed out, even though I didn’t believe it myself.
“Maybe,” he conceded.
We sat in silence for a few moments. He didn’t say anything else, but I could also tell he wasn’t ready to go, so I asked another question.
“When I stopped by earlier, you were at the will reading. Did everything go okay there?” I thought back to the first and only will reading I’d attended. It was the same one where I’d nearly died at the hands of an old coffee maker, where I’d discovered my powers and met Octo-Cat for the first time. As far as my experiences told me, will readings could be a real riot.
“It was fine,” Matt answered passively. “No real surprises. I got the house. My kids both got trusts set up for when they turn eighteen. Most of the rest of it went toward a scholarship fund she’d talked about setting up for years but had never got the chance to follow through on.”
“A scholarship? That’s nice,” I said, nodding along. “For students who want to study politics?”
Matt scoffed. “No way. Mom always hated politicians. Even more so after she became one. Said they were smart people with good intentions that got twisted along the way. But hers never did. God bless her soul.”
“May I ask what the scholarship is for?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t insensitive to track back after his tender words. “I mean, I’m thinking about going back to school, so maybe I’ll apply for it.” I wasn’t really considering more school at the moment, but knowing me and my insatiable love of learning, it was really just a matter of time.
Matt glanced around my swanky manor house, his implication obvious—why would you need a scholarship? He didn’t say that, though. Despite our rough start, I could tell he was kind, e
xactly the way his mama had raised him to be. “Biology. Or, more specifically, marine biology,” he told me, and it was not the answer I’d expected.
Seeing the confusion on my face, he jumped in to explain. “I know, it seems weird for a senator, right? But back in the 70’s, she’d just had me and my dad wanted her to stay at home to raise me. I guess that never suited her and she divorced him eventually, but before she did, she became involved with the new Save the Whales movement. It gave her that first taste of political activism, and she was hooked.”
He paused and took another sip of Earl Grey before continuing. “It’s why she stayed in that big house by herself all these years. She didn’t want to leave the ocean and all it meant to her. I guess I take after her a little bit myself because I made sure to get a place that overlooks Lake Michigan back in Chicago. Even now, I can’t imagine looking out my window and seeing anything other than water.”
“So, she wants to continue saving the whales through her scholarship fund,” I summarized with a dreamy smile. “That’s beautiful.”
Another knock sounded at the front door, this one fast and light.
“Coming!” I yelled, jumping to my feet then squealing with happiness when I saw Nan through the stained glass.
“Okay, I’m here,” she said as she stepped inside. She was wearing bright green galoshes and leggings patterned with rainbows. Up top, she wore an old T-shirt that had lost much of its original color from having gone through so many wash cycles. “Now catch me up on these riddle-speaking cats.”
I turned toward Matt and made a funny face. “It’s this book we’re reading together,” I explained quickly. Books really made the best excuses because few people would ask follow-up questions. It was sad but convenient nonetheless. “Anyway, this is my nan. Nan, this is Matt. Senator Harlow was his mother.”
“Oh, you poor dear,” Nan said, rushing over to sit beside him and pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Matt answered, though it sounded more like a question.
“I voted for your dear mama each and every time,” Nan announced proudly. “They didn’t come any better than her.”
Matt raised his mug. “I’ll drink to that.”
I returned to my spot in the wingback chair across from them. “Matt was just telling me a bit more about his mom’s legacy. Also, I’ve volunteered to watch the senator’s cats while Matt gets the rest of the estate sorted out.”
“One can never have too many opinions or too many cats,” Nan said with a nod and a chuckle. Neither of these seemed true to me, but I let it pass.
Matt took another long drink of tea, then set his empty cup back on the coffee table. “I should probably be going,” he said, rising to a stand. “Thank you again for the hospitality and the kind words about my mom.”
Nan stood, too, and gave him a warm hug. She looked so tiny wrapped around his big, bear-like form. Even so, I could tell he appreciated the gesture.
After Nan let him go, I got up and followed Matt to the door. “Let me know when you want me to come by for the cats,” I said as we lingered at the doorway.
“Oh, right,” he said in a way that suggested he’d already forgotten—or was pretending to have forgotten after Octo-Cat’s little hissy fit from earlier. “Are you sure it isn’t too much of an imposition?”
“I’m sure,” I said, perhaps too quickly. The truth was I needed those cats. They held the key to busting this murder mystery wide open, and I really wanted to know what they would say. “In fact, maybe I should just come with you now? Give them some time to settle in before nightfall.”
I couldn’t risk him changing his mind, and now that I had Nan here, she could help keep Octo-Cat in a good enough mood to actually be useful. Even though I was supposedly his best friend, he clearly preferred her company to mine. I tried not to let that hurt my feelings.
Matt’s brows pinched together as he studied me. “Are you sure you’re sure?”
“The more, the merrier!” Nan said, slinging an arm around each of our waists and pulling us closer. “Now let’s go get our guests.”
Matt didn’t say anything more as the three of us exited onto the porch. I searched around but didn’t see any extra vehicles—other than Nan’s souped up sports coupe—which meant Matt must have chosen to walk through the woods to pay me a visit.
And, even though he’d been a perfectly lovely companion for afternoon tea, this realization did not sit well with me. If he felt comfortable traipsing through the woods after our mutual scare last night, might he be willing to come through them again by the cloak of night?
Maybe I wasn’t as safe as I’d hoped after all.
Chapter Thirteen
At the Harlow manor, Matt begged off to take a call, leaving Nana and I to locate and load up the two Sphynx cats. Despite our best efforts to be quick, it still took nearly an hour for us to find Jacques and Jillianne, catch them, and then get them back to my house. Apparently they were every bit as adept at hiding as they were at telling riddles. So that we wouldn’t risk them slinking off again, Nan and I carried them straight up to the room I had dubbed my future library and closed the door tightly before letting them out of their carriers.
I’d also brought Octo-Cat in to join us, and I had the fresh scratches to prove how very not thrilled he was to be there.
“I object!” he cried, hurling himself at the closed door in protest.
“Oh, hush, or I’ll give you something to object about.” I had no idea what that might be, but luckily my mostly empty threat worked.
“C’mere, my sweet kitty!” Nan cooed, tapping her fingers on the hardwood floor where we both sat with our legs crossed.
Octo-Cat hated being called kitty but he loved Nan, so he traipsed over and climbed into her lap. She immediately fussed over him and began to scratch that special spot right beneath his chin. I could see the rage melt right out of him. Thank goodness.
“Let’s make this quick,” he said, eyeing me with obvious disappointment. Luckily I was used to his theatrics and his disappointment, so this didn’t thwart my plans in the least.
The two Sphynx cats had retreated to the far corner of the room and sat shivering near the central cooling vent. They looked so miserable that I almost felt bad confining them here. Still, they had intel that we needed, and they were the ones who’d chosen to sit right beside the cold air pouring into the room.
The little one let out a croaky meow, and Octo-Cat sighed. Like he’d suggested, I’d do my best to make this as quick and painless as possible. If not for him, then at least for our two visitors.
“Let’s go,” Nan said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I can’t wait to solve some riddles.” I’d already told her everything she needed to know on the phone that morning, and now she was primed and ready to see some action.
“Okay.” I focused my gaze on Octo-Cat, who did not return the eye contact. “Octo-Cat,” I said again to get his attention. “If you want this to be quick, you have to pay attention.”
He turned toward me with ears back and tail poofed. “Fine. What do you want me to ask the two hairless wonders?”
“Ask them who killed their owner,” I said with the same impatient attitude I’d perfected as a teen.
Nan giggled gleefully, and Octo-Cat remained seated on her lap as he shouted toward the Sphynxes.
They remained in their dark corner, almost as if they’d been glued there. It took much longer for his back and forth with them than it had with our former terrier witness, and I’ll admit I started to get a bit bored as the minutes passed by without any further answers.
Then, suddenly, Octo-Cat snapped his eyes toward mine, his whiskers twitched, and he did not look happy. “I knew it!” he cried. “You thought I was being breedist or whatever, but my first instincts were absolutely right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, rubbing my hands on my legs to awaken the sleepy nerve endings.
Nan glanced do
wn at Octo-Cat with the dearest admiration as he revealed, “They killed the senator.”
“Oh, c’mon!” I shouted. Was he really coming back to me with this?
He remained steadfast in his insistence of their guilt. “No, really. They just admitted it.”
“Yeah? Then tell me what they said,” I demanded, wishing I didn’t have to rely on him to be my translator when there was a clear bias at play here.
“It would be a whole lot easier if you’d just take me at my word, you know? But fine.” He sighed then recited back their latest riddle. “‘Excuse us while we provide this breakthrough, for the guilt lies with the ones you see before you.’”
He was right, of course. The answer was obvious, but…
“That’s not even really a riddle,” I said glumly. “It’s just a rhyme.”
“Good gravy. They just gave you a confession, and it’s pretty direct as far as their types goes. What more do you need?”
“Ask again in another way,” I demanded, then whispered to Nan to fill her in while Octo-Cat talked with the Sphynxes some more.
Another several minutes passed before Octo-Cat addressed me again. “Well, Angela. They said, ‘You didn’t believe us this first time, but you already know who committed the crime.’”
Octo-Cat thumped his tail hard against Nan’s leg, and she abruptly stopped petting him. “Good enough for you now?” he demanded with wide eyes.
“Not quite,” I answered to his great dissatisfaction. “They say we already know, but I have a whole list of suspects. It could be Mr. Thompson or Matt or even Officer Bouchard.”
“Or it could be the two freakazoids who literally just confessed to murder,” he spat, shooting them a cold look, which he followed up with a hiss.
“What do you think, Nan?” I asked after relaying the latest clue.
“Phooey,” she moaned, rubbing her temples in little circles. “I was never very good at riddles. Either of you could be right with your interpretations.”
I chewed on my bottom lip while thinking about what to do next. “Okay, how about this?” I said, waiting for Octo-Cat’s attention to snap back to me. “Ask them how they killed her. Not how she died, how they killed her.”
