The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo

by Linda Reilly

  “You’re repeating yourself, honey,” Nina Backstrom said, slipping her arm through her husband’s. “You’ve shown Lara three times now how to lower the screen and pull up the glass pane.”

  “Hey, that’s okay,” Lara said lightly. “It never hurts to get a refresher, right?”

  Charlie, handsome in a rugged sort of way, with melt-in-your-mouth brown eyes, smiled at his wife and kissed her cheek. He winked at Lara. “Wives. What would we do without them?”

  Nina feigned a scowl. “Oh, I’m guessing you’d be living on frozen dinners and cardboard pizza and watching sports on TV every night.”

  “Instead of those scintillating mysteries you’re always trying to get me to watch?” He quirked a smile at her. They both looked at Lara.

  Lara held up both hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m not getting in the middle of that one.”

  Charlie and Nina, who were both around thirty, were one of the sweetest couples Lara had ever met. They teased each other a lot, but the banter was always good-natured—at least it seemed to be. Perpetually outfitted in a gray work shirt and blue knee-length cargo shorts, Charlie was a total contrast to his petite wife. Today Nina wore a stylish, pale-pink jersey top over white cotton shorts, a flowered bathing suit peeking out over the jersey’s neckline. Beneath her strawberry-blond bob was a sharp head for numbers. She acted as financial guru—and organizational genius—for the business, while Charlie performed the labor and hired the subs. He walked with a slight limp, which he jokingly referred to as an old football injury.

  “So, what do you think?” Nina said. “Are we done?”

  Lara looked all around the new room and felt her smile widening. “Yes, I think we are. It’s been a long haul, but now that I see the finished product, it was all worth it.”

  On Saturday, she and her aunt were having a grand opening for a few close friends. The following day would be the first official “read to a cat” day in the new room.

  The idea for the addition had sprung from a little girl who’d tried to sneak into the shelter one day, book in hand, determined to read to a cat. After a bit of research, Lara had discovered that several other shelters in New Hampshire had “read to a cat” days.

  With the help of their part-time shelter assistant, Kayla Ramirez, Lara had set up a similar program. It gained popularity more quickly than they’d anticipated, but they had only one problem: space. Aunt Fran’s Folk Victorian home was the entire shelter, the small back porch having been transformed into the “meet-and-greet” room. In that room, cats and prospective adopters made permanent matches, some of which seemed almost magical.

  Earlier in the year, Lara and her aunt had made the decision to add the room to the rear of the house, adjacent to the back porch. A local architect designed the plans, and Lara hired Charlie Backstrom to oversee the project. He used subcontractors when needed but did most of the work himself. A master carpenter, he’d built custom shelves with adjustable tiers for the children’s books.

  He’d pulled off a near miracle, completing the project by the date specified in the contract. Over the course of the construction, which had dragged on for nearly four months, one thing after another went wrong. A pipe burst in the new bathroom, the floor tiles had been damaged in shipping, and a large shrub in Aunt Fran’s yard had to be uprooted because the building specs hadn’t accounted for it.

  To save money and to speed things up, Lara had done a lot of the painting herself. She’d even finished the bathroom ceiling—no easy task. Despite the problems, Charlie’s work was impeccable. He performed every task to perfection, even if he had to do it over three times.

  Lara was anxious for Aunt Fran to return from her lunch date with Jerry Whitley, Whisker Jog’s chief of police. Lara wanted to surprise her aunt with the custom-made door. When the oversized box had arrived two days earlier, she’d rested it against the wall and warned her aunt not to open it or try to peek.

  “Lara,” Nina asked, “where on earth did you ever find a storm door with a cat on it?”

  The new storm door, made from sturdy aluminum, bore the shape of a cat in the center. It was a splurge, but Lara couldn’t resist spending a bit extra for it. She knew Aunt Fran would love it. Thanks to a few hefty donations from generous sponsors, the cost hadn’t broken the budget.

  “I scoured the internet and found a manufacturer that made custom designs,” Lara explained. “Luckily, they were able to make a cat.”

  “Do you mind giving me the company’s name?” Nina asked. “I’d like to check them out and refer our customers there, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” Lara said, and gave her the name. “It’ll come right up if you Google it,” she added.

  Nina pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll add it to my notes. Thanks, Lara.” She tapped her phone a few times, then slipped it back into her pocket and rubbed her hands together. “Now, before Charlie and I head out to White Lake for an afternoon swim, may I take advantage of your hospitality and play with a few of the cats?” She wiggled her fingers. “I need a cat fix.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

  “Oh, be good.” Nina swatted his arm lightly with her fingertips.

  Charlie stayed behind to fiddle further with the door as Lara led Nina through the kitchen toward the large parlor. On the way, she noticed the red message light blinking on the shelter’s landline.

  Nina followed her gaze. “Do you need to check that?”

  “No, I’ll check it later.” She held out a hand toward the large parlor, where a carpeted cat tree rested in front of the picture window. Nina went ahead of her into the room.

  Orca and Pearl, their newest arrivals, had planted themselves on separate levels of the cat tree. The two were siblings, each with forepaws the size of catchers’ mitts. Orca was long-haired and black, with four white feet, while Pearl was silky soft and pure gray. Lara called them “double trouble” because of their feline antics. What one didn’t think of, the other did. Orca had been known to distract Lara by kneading her shoulder and purring in her ear, while his sneaky sister batted all the trinkets and lip-gloss tubes off her bureau. Lara now kept her possessions tucked safely away in drawers, out of reach of their huge paws.

  From his perch, Orca leaned over the edge and batted at Pearl with one gigantic paw. Pearl swiped at him with her own paw as if he were a furry toy.

  “Oh my gosh, those two are so cute. And those paws—they’re so big!” Nina cooed.

  “They’re polydactyl cats,” Lara explained. “Instead of five toes on each forepaw, they have six.”

  Nina gazed at them, her pale-green eyes lighting up. “Do you think the gray one will let me hold him?”

  “That’s Pearl, and she’s a girl,” Lara said. “I’m sure she will. She’s very lovable.”

  Nina stooped and held out her hands to the gray kitty. Pearl leaned into her, and Nina swept her into her arms. Pearl purred into her ear, and a wistful look crossed Nina’s face. “Oh, you’re so sweet. I sure wish I could take you home.”

  “Charlie’s not big on cats, is he?” Lara asked her. She’d sensed that when he was working on the addition. Even Munster’s attempts at bonding with the contractor had been soundly, if gently, rebuffed.

  Nina shook her head. “Don’t remind me.”

  She hugged Pearl for a while, then sighed and released her to the floor. Snowball padded over and brushed against Nina’s arm. Nina laughed and tickled the white fur between the kitty’s ears. She straightened. “I’d better be going. I’m sure Charlie’s getting—”

  The jingle of the front doorbell interrupted her.

  Lara shrugged and looked at Nina. “Will you excuse me a minute? I have no idea who that is. We’re not expecting anyone.”

  Nina stepped away to one side. Lara opened the door to find a scowling, fiftysomething woman standing on the top step.

  �
�Hello. May I help you?”

  The woman, tall with stringy blond waves that brushed her shoulders, held up a clipboard thick with papers. She wore the expression of someone who’d just stepped in a wad of bubble gum and couldn’t get it off her shoe—or, in this case, her bright red sneaker. Around her neck she sported a chain from which a large pendant dangled, a blackbird with a jeweled eye perched on a golden branch.

  “Are you Miss Caphart or Mrs. Clarkson?” she said brusquely.

  The woman’s tone was so rude that for a moment, Lara had to stop and think. “I’m Lara Caphart. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Evonda Fray. I’m the health inspector.”

  Lara hoped her face didn’t register the shock she felt. “Um, health inspector?”

  The woman heaved a sigh, as if she were tired of explaining herself to dolts. “Yes, health inspector. Surely you’ve heard of them. They protect the public from unclean environments?”

  A wave of ire rose in Lara’s chest. Was she implying that the shelter wasn’t clean? And why was she here in the first place?

  Lara took in a calming breath. She tried to think why a health inspector would show up, unannounced, at the shelter, but nothing came to mind. Had Aunt Fran made an appointment with the woman and forgotten to tell Lara? Not likely. Aunt Fran was too efficient to let something like that slip.

  “I’m sorry,” Lara said, attempting to soften her tone. “I…we weren’t expecting you. Did you make an appointment with my aunt?”

  Evonda Fray barked out a laugh. “Health inspectors don’t make appointments, Miss Caphart. You ought to know that.”

  Maybe she should have, but she didn’t. Even in her days working part-time in a Boston bakery, she couldn’t recall a health inspector making a surprise visit.

  Lara suddenly remembered that Nina was there. “Ms. Fray, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment. I have guests, and I need to explain the interruption.”

  “It’s Mrs. Fray,” she snapped. “I’d appreciate you addressing me properly.”

  Oh, if only, Lara thought.

  She nodded and turned toward Nina, but she had already ducked out. Lara strode off and went back to the new reading room. Charlie and Nina were still there, whispering in low tones. It looked as if they were preparing to leave.

  “Nina, Charlie…I’m so sorry about the interruption. The health inspector showed up without warning.”

  Charlie absently picked a piece of lint off the arm of Nina’s pink jersey. “Health inspector? Whoa. Major bummer,” Charlie said. He waved a hand around the room, then his face relaxed. “Hey, look, I wouldn’t worry. This whole place is spotless. You guys keep it so clean…”

  “I know. We do. But—”

  Nina reached over and hugged Lara. “We’ll get out of your way. You’ve got enough to deal with right now. And give Fran our regards, okay?”

  Lara swallowed. “I will,” she said glumly.

  “We drove Nina’s car today,” Charlie said, “but I’ll come back tomorrow with my truck and get rid of that big box the screen door came in. I leaned it against the back of the house, so it won’t be in your way. Oh, and one more thing. I noticed that the storm door has a slight gap at the bottom. When I come back, I’ll add some weather stripping.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. That would be great. We have a permit for the recycling station, but that humongous box will never fit in the Saturn. You’re both coming to the open house on Saturday, right?”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Nina assured her.

  With her aunt away and the Backstroms leaving, Lara didn’t look forward to being alone with General Evonda. Gideon had planned to stop over with BLT wraps from the coffee shop when he got a break, but he must have gotten tied up at the office.

  She almost begged Charlie and Nina to stay, but then thought better of it. They’d driven Nina’s car here instead of Charlie’s truck so they could head directly to White Lake after the door was installed. They deserved a break and were looking forward to an afternoon of relaxation.

  Besides, she and Aunt Fran had nothing to hide. She could handle Inspector Red Sneakers.

  She’d dealt with worse.

  Much worse.

  About the Author

  Author photo credit: Photo by Harper Point Photography

  Raised in a sleepy town in the Berkshires, Linda Reilly has spent the bulk of her career in the field of real estate closings and title examination. It wasn’t until 1995 that her first short mystery, “Out of Luck,” was accepted for publication by Woman’s World Magazine. Since then she’s had more than forty short stories published, including a sprinkling of romances. She is also the author of Some Enchanted Murder and the Deep Fried Mystery series, featuring fry cook Talia Marby. Linda lives in New Hampshire with her husband, who affectionately calls her “Noseinabook.” Visit her on the web at lindasreilly.com.

  The meow of death…

  Whisker Jog, New Hampshire, is a long way from Hollywood, but it’s the place legendary actress Deanna Daltry wants to call home. Taking up residence in a stone mansion off Cemetery Hill, the retired, yet still glamorous, septuagenarian has adopted two kittens from Lara Caphart’s High Cliff Shelter for Cats. With help from her Aunt Fran, Lara makes sure the kitties settle in safely with their new celebrity mom.

  But not everyone in town is a fan of the fading star. Deanna was in Whisker Jog when she was younger, earning a reputation for pussyfooting around, and someone is using that knowledge against her. After being frightened by some nasty pranks, Deanna finds herself the prime murder suspect when the body of a local teacher is found on her property. Now, it’s up to Lara, Aunt Fran, and the blue-eyed Ragdoll mystery cat Lara recently encountered to collar a killer before another victim is pounced upon…

  Here, killer, killer, killer…

  For the first time in sixteen years, Lara Caphart has returned to her hometown of Whisker Jog, New Hampshire. She wants to reconnect with her estranged Aunt Fran, who’s having some difficulty looking after herself—and her eleven cats. Taking care of a clowder of kitties is easy, but keeping Fran from being harassed by local bully Theo Barnes is hard. The wealthy builder has his sights set on Fran’s property, and is determined to make her an offer she doesn’t dare refuse.

  Then Lara spots a blue-eyed Ragdoll cat that she swears is the reincarnation of her beloved Blue, her childhood pet. Pursuing the feline to the edge of Fran’s yard, she stumbles upon the body of Theo Barnes, clearly a victim of foul play. To get her and Fran off the suspect list, Lara finds herself following the cat’s clues in search of a killer. Is Blue’s ghost really trying to help her solve a murder, or has Lara inhaled too much catnip?