The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo

by Linda Reilly

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Fran.” Lara had heard that much of the story before, but no one, not even her dad, had ever shared the details.

  “I was in our apartment studying for an exam when I heard the doorbell ring. We lived just off campus, close enough for me to walk to classes, but an easy commute to the school where Brian was teaching.” She blotted one eye with the corner of a napkin. “Anyway, I hurried to answer the door—I thought maybe Brian had forgotten his key. I didn’t want him standing out there in the frigid cold any longer than necessary. But it wasn’t Brian. It was a police officer.”

  Lara closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “After he told me what had happened, I think I actually passed out for a few moments. When I came to, I was sitting in a chair, crying. Sobbing, actually.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Lara said hoarsely, feeling tears slide down her cheeks.

  “But…the reason I’m telling you this is that earlier that day, as we were rushing through breakfast, Brian and I had a terrible argument. I’d felt he was running himself ragged taking on too many projects at school. He, on the other hand, wanted to help pay down my student loans as quickly as possible, which is why he started doing some athletic coaching on the side. It didn’t pay a lot, but every cent he earned from it he put toward my loans. As for me, I was young, newly married, and studying hard to earn my degree. I felt as if Brian and I never had enough time to spend together.”

  Lara thought back to her own college experience. Her dad had paid most of her art school tuition out of his own pocket. Any money Lara earned for books and incidentals came from working part-time in bakeries or coffee shops. She realized, now, how lucky she was to have had such a supportive family.

  “Well, I won’t bore you any more with details,” Aunt Fran went on quietly, “but here’s what I want to emphasize. When that policeman told me Brian had been killed by a snowplow, my whole world fell apart. We’d made so many plans for our future. In one horrible moment, in an accident that was beyond his control, his life was cut short.”

  Lara set Munster on her chair, then went over and hugged her aunt tightly. “I never knew.”

  “All I could think of”—her aunt swallowed—“was that the last words we’d spoken to each other were harsh ones. I was anxious for him to get home that night so I could apologize and set things straight. And then—” She bowed her head and squeezed Dolce.

  Lara took in a deep breath to keep herself from bursting into tears. It wasn’t hard to figure out what her aunt was trying to tell her.

  She needed to make things right with Gideon.

  She understood better, now, why her aunt wanted to write a novel. It was cathartic for her. It helped her to deal with the feelings of guilt and loss she’d carried all these years.

  Lara went back to her chair, where Munster had sprawled into a furry orange rug. She lifted him gently and set him in her lap again.

  Aunt Fran sat up straight. “Lara,” she said firmly, “let’s get back to the present. It’s not too late to change your mind about going to the memorial service. Tell Karen the truth—that you don’t feel comfortable attending a service for a man you didn’t even know. Explain that you have a lot going on right now, and that you can’t add one more thing to your schedule.”

  Lara shook her head, and a curly strand of copper-colored hair fell over her eye. She pushed it back. She had an appointment with Kellie at Kurl-me-Klassy the following week. She wanted to get her hair trimmed as close as possible to Sherry’s wedding day, so she’d gone without a haircut for way longer than usual. “I can’t, Aunt Fran. It’s too late for that. I gave her my word. Oh Lord, if you could’ve heard her on the phone. She sounded so…pathetic.”

  “She could have been acting,” her aunt pointed out. “She also could’ve poisoned her husband. Who else would be in a better position to do it?”

  The thought that Karen might have killed her husband gave Lara a mental jolt. The more she ran it through her mind, the more she saw the possibility.

  Why did Karen throw her husband a birthday party in the first place? It wasn’t a milestone birthday, like his fortieth. It was his forty-third birthday. And from everything Lara had learned about Wayne Chancer, he’d made more enemies than friends over the years.

  Maybe Karen had been trying to rescue a faltering marriage. Maybe she’d wanted to give him the party as a gesture of love and faith.

  Or maybe she wanted to set him up for being poisoned with a few dozen potential suspects present.

  “I should have told her no, shouldn’t I?” Lara pushed her empty mug to the center of the table.

  “In my opinion, yes,” her aunt said. “But as you said, you gave your word. Would you like me to go with you?”

  Lara smiled. “You’re such a darling aunt. That’s sweet of you, but I’d feel as if I were subjecting you to torture. I’ll go, and I’ll get through it just fine. After that, I’m done. If I have to go back to Bakewell to pick up my shoes, I’ll drag Sherry along with me.”

  She kissed Munster’s head, then set him on the floor. After cleaning up the table, she went into her studio. So many things were bouncing around in her head. She found it almost impossible to decide what to do next.

  In less than a week’s time, her life had turned upside down. Only a week before, she’d been sure that becoming engaged to Gideon was a near certainty. Now, she was in danger of losing him altogether, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  Her tablet was sitting where she’d left it, on her worktable. She was booting it up when she spied movement out of the corner of her eye.

  The photo again—the one of Amy’s farmhouse. Somehow it had landed on the floor. Which was strange, because Lara distinctly remembered having tucked it safely under her cat-shaped marble paperweight. Now, a fluffy Ragdoll cat sat on the photo, gazing up at Lara with her intense turquoise eyes.

  Lara spoke aloud to the cat. “What are you trying to tell me, Blue? Do you want me to look at the picture again?”

  Her tablet came to life, just as Blue faded into the ether. Lara checked her email. She’d gotten a response from Amy with two photos attached.

  Hey, are these any better? I took them yesterday with my phone, so you might want to stick with the original pic. I’m not the world’s best photographer (giggle). Up to you! Feel free to omit that crummy old wicker chair on the porch from the painting, unless you think it makes for a vintage look. I’ll be throwing it out in the spring. Cheers! Amy.

  Amy’s short message made Lara smile. With all the sad things Amy saw every day in her veterinary practice, she always maintained a bubbly, positive attitude.

  Lara clicked open the first pic. Amy’s farmhouse was shown against a backdrop of dazzling blue sky, a wisp of pale smoke puffing out of the brick chimney. The snow was linen-white, stretching across the old cow pasture in gently rolling mounds. In front of the house, dried patches of frozen leaves huddled against the cold.

  Not seeing much difference between the original photo and the one she’d just viewed, Lara opened the second pic.

  Aw, look at that. In between shots, a male cardinal had landed on the porch railing. The bird was a startling red, a gorgeous burst of color against the seemingly endless snow. Funny that Amy hadn’t mentioned him. She’d probably taken the photos quickly and hadn’t examined them too closely.

  Lara had once read that cardinals were a symbol of loved ones who’ve passed on. They appeared when you needed them most, especially in times of trouble. Her dad had died from colon cancer years before, and she still missed him. Time had softened the ache, but it was always there.

  Was that why the cardinal had appeared suddenly in the photo? Was it a reminder that her dad was watching over her?

  Whether or not it was true, the thought gave her comfort. After placing two sheets of photographic paper into her printer, Lara printed out each one.


  She set all three photos next to one another and examined them. Not much difference. She kind of liked the old wicker chair on Amy’s front porch. Coated with patches of snow, it added a sense of peaceful realism to the scene. For sure, the cardinal would stay.

  What else? Was there a subtle difference she wasn’t picking up on?

  It had to be the cardinal. Maybe it was Blue’s way of reminding her that her dad was always with her. But how did Blue know that a cardinal would appear in a new photo?

  She jumped when her cell rang, and she set aside the photos. She grabbed the phone from her pocket, hoping to see Gideon’s smiling face appear on her screen. Instead, it was an unfamiliar number. “Lara Caphart.”

  “Oh, good,” a woman’s voice said. “I wasn’t sure I had the right number. This is the cat shelter, right?”

  “It is,” Lara said, putting a smile in her voice. Since the shelter was currently closed, the calls were being forwarded to her cell. “What can I help you with?”

  The woman went on to explain that she’d seen a cat on the High Cliff Shelter’s Web page that she might be interested in adopting. She had a tabby of her own who was FIV positive, and she’d been hoping to bring a furry friend into his life.

  “That’s our Sienna,” Lara said. “She’s a beautiful girl with a sweet personality. Adoption hours start at one tomorrow. Can you come by tomorrow afternoon to meet her? If not, we have adoption hours on Saturday, too.”

  “Shoot. I was afraid you’d say that.” The woman sounded distressed. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Jeannie Jennings. I own a catering company, so Fridays and weekends are my busiest days. I don’t suppose, I mean, is there any chance you could make an exception for me? If you’re going to be there, I could drive over this afternoon.”

  Lara didn’t even have to think about it. They agreed that Jeannie would come by around two that afternoon.

  Excited over the prospect of Sienna finding her forever home, Lara ran into the kitchen to tell her aunt.

  Chapter 23

  “I am like, so sick of being a frozen Popsicle. Is this cold ever going to end?” Kayla pulled off her scarf and tugged off her jacket, dropping both on a free chair in the kitchen. Her nose was red, and her glasses were fogged. She whipped them off and blotted them with a corner of her jersey top.

  Lara smiled. “Hey, it’s New Hampshire, and it’s winter. Need I say more?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Kayla waved a hand at her.

  “Hot chocolate?” Lara asked.

  “Yes!”

  Lara put on the kettle, then set up two mugs with hot chocolate mix.

  Kayla sat down and rubbed her hands together. “Where’s Ms. C?”

  “Upstairs. She said she hadn’t cleaned her bedroom in ages, and there’s enough cat hair in there to crochet a new cat. But…I think there might be another reason, too.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Her aunt hadn’t said anything, but Lara had been reading between the lines.

  “Twinkles has been failing. He doesn’t come downstairs much anymore. We’ve been keeping him comfortable upstairs, but I see him getting weaker every day. I think Aunt Fran likes to sit up there with him and read, to let him know that he hasn’t been forgotten. Sometimes”—Lara choked back a lump—“sometimes I hear her reading out loud in her room, but quietly, in a soothing voice. I think she’s reminding Twinkles that she’s there for him, always.”

  Kayla looked heartbroken. “As if any cat in this household would ever be forgotten. I’m not ready to lose Twinkles, Lara.”

  “I’m not either. But I have other news, and it’s good.” She told Kayla about the woman who was coming by that afternoon to visit with Sienna.

  “Oh, that is good news! If she works out, that is. She still needs to be approved.”

  “I know, but I have a good feeling about her.” Lara poured boiling water into Kayla’s mug, then into her own. “Shall we work on finishing that editorial today?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Stirring her hot chocolate, Kayla stared across the table at Lara. “You’re looking a little pale yourself. Are you okay?”

  Lara shook her head. Kayla knew her too well and was adept at reading her moods. “Gideon and I have been struggling over a…particular issue. Right now, we’re sort of at an impasse.”

  Kayla’s eyes flashed. “Hmmm, a particular issue. Anything to do with Blue?”

  “No,” Lara said, but then wondered if Kayla might have hit upon something.

  Gideon had always assured her that he believed in Lara’s spirit cat. Enough crazy things had happened to her that couldn’t otherwise have been explained.

  Still, it took a huge amount of faith to believe in a cat no one could see. No one except Lara, that is—and even then, she only saw brief flashes of Blue. Looking at it from Gideon’s point of view, she could understand a bit of skepticism. If she was honest with herself, there were many times when she’d doubted her own sanity. When she’d wondered if Blue was a figment of her overworked imagination.

  Other times, she knew the Ragdoll cat was real. Blue had been there when Lara needed her most. In a physical sense, she’d rescued her on more than one occasion.

  “Lara?” Kayla waved a hand in front of her. “Are you sure it’s not about Blue?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Lara said. “He’s not thrilled that I’ve gone to Bakewell twice. He thinks I’m—”

  “Wait a minute,” Kayla interrupted. “You went there again?”

  Lara sighed. “Yeah, yesterday. It’s kind of a long story, but Tina Tanaka wanted me to meet her at the diner. She apologized for being so rude to me at the bridal shop. Evidently she checked me out more thoroughly and decided I was one of the good guys.”

  Kayla looked surprised. “That’s good, I guess. Couldn’t she have apologized over the phone, though? Seems like a stretch to ask you to drive over there just for an apology.”

  Lara felt her face flushing. She hated lying, but Tina had revealed her secret about Jade in the strictest of confidence. If anyone would be inclined to believe the story, it was Kayla. Still, Lara had no intention of breaking her promise to Tina.

  “I know, but we chatted about a few other things. One thing I learned for sure, she loathed Wayne Chancer.”

  Kayla’s eyes narrowed, then she sat back in her chair. “Oh my God. You’re investigating the murder, aren’t you? That’s why Gideon’s so bummed.”

  Lara winced. “No, not…not really. I just keep stumbling onto things that are leading me down that path.” She squeezed her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “It’s so hard to explain, Kayla, but something is drawing me there, and I don’t think it has anything to do with Megan.”

  For at least a minute, Kayla was silent. Then she took a sip of her cocoa and dabbed a napkin to her lips. “I don’t know what to say except, what can I do to help?”

  “Probably nothing. Just put up with me until all this stuff passes, okay?” Lara gave Kayla a half-hearted smile.

  “Agreed.” Kayla’s face beamed suddenly at the black-and-white cat strutting toward her. “Hey, I wondered where you were.” She patted her lap and Panda jumped on board. Kayla rubbed her nose against his face, and he purred like a contented tiger.

  For the next few hours, Lara and Kayla worked on changing litter, washing food and water bowls, and grooming the cats. Lara put out a fresh table runner in the meet-and-greet room to prepare for Jeannie Jennings’s visit. Sienna was perched on the cat tree in the large parlor, gazing out at the frozen landscape in between snoozes. Lara prayed that Jeannie might be the perfect mom for her.

  Lara was giving the windows in the meet-and-greet room a once-over with glass cleaner when a little green car swooped into the parking area reserved for the shelter. A woman wearing a hat with knitted ears that made her look like a brown bear hopped out of the car. She hoisted a la
rge, rainbow-patterned handbag onto her shoulder and strode up to the door. Before she had a chance to ring the bell, Lara opened it.

  “Jeannie?”

  The woman, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, flashed a bright white smile. “Yup. In the flesh.” She stuck out a gloved hand. “Are you Lara?”

  “I am. Come on in. Can I take your coat?”

  “Nah. I’ll keep it on for now.” Jeannie’s gaze bounced all around the room, and her smile widened. “Whoa. This place is so cool.” Tugging off her gloves, she ambled over to the bulletin board, where photos of the shelter’s successful adoptions were posted. She pointed at a photo of a trim, seventyish woman clutching two darling kittens. “Hey, I recognize her. She’s a famous actress, right?”

  “That’s right,” Lara said. “Deanna Daltry. Those kittens—Bogie and Bacall—are fully grown now. They have the run of her mansion.”

  “Awesome.”

  Kayla came into the room, and Lara introduced them to one another. “Lara told me you’re interested in meeting Sienna,” Kayla said.

  “I am.” Her expression grew serious. “My little guy, Bunny, is FIV positive. I’ve been hesitant to adopt another cat because of that. The thing is, I know Bunny would love a feline companion. And I would love another cat.”

  Lara waved her over to a chair, and they all sat down.

  Jeannie set her gloves on the table and continued. “My vet assured me that the only way another cat could get infected by Bunny is if he bit the other cat. Which is never gonna happen. No way. But I’ve still been a little worried about getting another cat. The thing is, my job keeps me tied up for long hours, especially on weekends. I want Bunny to have a buddy when I’m gone.”

  Lara suspected that Jeannie had good intentions. Nonetheless, she needed to be sure that Sienna would be as well-loved as Bunny if she became a member of her household.

  Lara had done a bit of research on the subject, and she’d also consulted with Amy. FIV positive cats should be examined by their vet twice a year, which included having blood work done. They should also be spayed or neutered and live indoors. At the slightest sign of illness, a visit to the vet was crucial.