11 The Cats that Cooked the Books

by Karen Anne Golden

Rachael drove her pre-owned Toyota Tercel in front of the pink mansion and parked. She climbed out of the car and walked up the steps to the front door. A heavy gust of wind nearly toppled her tiny frame. With one hand, she moved a long strand of hair from her face so she could see, and with the other, she grasped her Boho gypsy skirt so she could walk. A sudden clap of thunder made her jump. She hurried to ring the doorbell.

  Katherine was in the atrium, picking up shards of glass, from what had once been a beautiful Nippon vase. It was her late great-aunt’s and held special meaning, but not anymore. Yesterday, she’d moved the vase to a different table so she could dust. She’d forgotten to put the vase back in its safe spot. Sometime during the cats’ morning steeplechase race, one of them had jumped up onto the table and knocked off the vase. She suspected the youngster Dewey. He wasn’t exactly graceful when trying to win the race. She muttered ruefully, “Not one of my smarter cat-proofing moments.”

  The doorbell sounded loudly.

  “I’m coming,” Katherine said, moving to the door. She looked out the sidelight first and observed an attractive blond-haired woman in her thirties standing on her porch.

  “Hello, may I help you?” she asked, still holding the dustpan in her hand.

  A second round of thunder boomed overhead.

  “Do I know you?” Katherine asked, not offering to open the door any further than a few inches. She’d learned from past experience to trust no one, especially since the pink mansion was a murder magnet.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Rachael Thomas. I’m new to town. I bought the storefront next to the Erie Hotel. I heard so much about you that I thought I should stop by and introduce myself.”

  The wind grew in intensity and a heavy rain began to pour.

  “Come in. Come in,” Katherine invited, “Or we’ll both be drenched.” Katherine directed Rachael into the front parlor. She leaned the dustpan against a side table.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” Rachael observed the pile of broken shards.

  “One of my cats broke a vase. I was cleaning up the mess so they don’t step in it and get a glass sliver in their paws.”

  “Ouch, that would hurt.”

  “Indeed, it would,” she said, then paused, “By the way, I’m Katherine Cokenberger, but most people call me Katz.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Wow,” Rachael said, looking around at the Victorian furnishings and the ornate fireplace surround. “This room is amazing. What am I saying? Your house is amazing, too. Have you lived here long?”

  “I moved here in 2013. Please, take a seat,” Katherine offered.

  Rachael sat on an Eastlake parlor chair. She leaned over and placed her satchel purse underneath the chair, then arranged her long skirt for maximum comfort.

  Katherine sat on the loveseat next to the fireplace. “Margie Cokenberger said she remodeled your building. Margie is the best. Last year, she remodeled my attic.”

  “Yes, she did an excellent job. I haven’t really spoken to Margie much. We conducted a lot of business playing telephone tag. Is she a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, we’ve been friends for several years now.”

  “The electrician has been very nice to me. He’s amazing.”

  Katherine asked surprised, “Stevie Sanders?”

  “Uh huh, Stevie.”

  “Stevie and his daughter live next door, in the Foursquare.”

  “Uh huh.” Rachael nodded. “Salina is her name. I met her last night. He’s very blessed to have her as his daughter.”

  Katherine wanted to ask the new gal in town more questions about Stevie, but instead asked, “I heard you’re opening a new restaurant—”

  “Café,” Rachael corrected. “I want my café to be a warm, cozy place to sit and read a book, chat with friends, or hook up with new friends. Plus, there’ll be an amazing selection of coffee, tea, cookies and muffins.”

  Katherine thought, she uses that word amazing a lot, then said, “Oh, like a coffee bar. I love that idea. I’ve missed my Brooklyn coffee bar since I moved here.”

  “Brooklyn? Where in Brooklyn?”

  “Bay Ridge.”

  “Oh, I’ve been there. I went bar hopping with my friends. We found this great Irish pub. The band was incredible.”

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, back in the day,” Rachael answered evasively, then changed the topic. “Stevie said you were affiliated with the Erie Rescue Center.”

  “Well, yes and no. I have a Director, Lizzie Howe,” Katherine answered, but didn’t mention that her money paid and continued to pay for the no-kill shelter.

  “I’d like to volunteer.”

  “That would be wonderful, but I thought you were opening a café. Won’t that take up a lot of your time?”

  Rachael shook her head. “I’ve run into some obstacles, so I’ve decided to not open it right away. I just moved to town, so I’d like to take things slow.”

  “Okay, that’s great. I’ll give you her number.”

  Rachael reached under her chair and drew out her purse. She unzipped it, grabbed a slip of paper and pen, then returned the purse back under the chair. “Yes, thanks, I need the address, too?”

  “The main number is 762-3513. Ask for the volunteer coordinator, Nicholas. The Center is located south of town, a few miles out on Highway 41.”

  “Thanks, oh, also, can you recommend a vet? I have a new kitten who needs to be spayed.”

  Katherine gushed, “Aww, a baby. My vet is Dr. Sonny. His office is on the outskirts of town. Take the main street out of Erie, head north, and you’ll see his clinic on the left.”

  Rachael finished writing down the information. She slipped the paper and pen in one of her side pockets. “Thanks for the info.”

  Katherine was poised to ask more questions about the kitten, but the doorbell rang. She rose from the loveseat. “One second. Hold that thought. I want to hear more about your new baby.” She darted to the door and opened it.

  Salina stood outside. “Hey, KC, can I play with the cats?”

  “Sure. They’d love to see you. Come in.”

  Salina slipped off her raincoat. “Where should I put this?” she asked, holding up the dripping coat.

  “Put it in that giant urn.”

  “Good place. Whose car is that?”

  “It belongs to Rachael Thomas. She says you know her.”

  Salina gave a quizzical look. “Why is she here?”

  “You can ask her. She’s in the parlor.”

  Salina walked in and smiled at the guest. “Hey, Rachael.”

  “Hello, Salina.”

  “Wow, you really got a car fast.”

  “I took a walk this morning and found a used car place. I bought the Tercel. It’s older, but that’s okay. It runs.”

  “Did Dad help you find it?”

  “No, he didn’t, but I appreciated his offer of helping me find one. I’ll have to let him know that I bought one.”

  “That’s okay. I can tell him.”

  Katherine eyed Salina curiously, and wondered if Salina was a little bit jealous of the newcomer. She switched gears, “Rachael was just starting to talk about her new kitten.”

  Rachael answered proudly, “She’s black with pointed-ears and a flat nose. I’m sure she’s part Siamese because she’s very vocal.”

  Katherine exclaimed, “Aww. How old do you think she is?”

  “Probably about five months.”

  “Definitely weaned.”

  Salina jumped in. “Tell Katz what you named her.”

  “I named her Intruder, because that’s what Stevie called her when the little girl invaded my house.” Rachael laughed.

  “Broke into your house? How did she get inside?”

  “I left the kitchen door open to air out the place. Stevie and I were in the other room. Intruder walked in to my kitchen like she owned the place. She tipped over some pots and pans, and made such a noise, we thought someone had broken in.”

  “Where di
d she come from?”

  “We don’t know. Stevie said she might belong to the Erie Hotel so we carried Intruder next door and asked the owner. She said the kitten was cute but didn’t belong to her.”

  “Finders, keepers, losers, weepers,” Salina said, dropping her bookbag on the floor. She turned and asked Katherine, “Where are the cats?”

  “I locked them in their playroom.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they did a bad, bad thing.”

  Salina wrinkled her nose. “Broke something?”

  Katherine nodded.

  “Expensive?”

  “Very.”

  “Have they served their sentence? Can I bust them out of jail?” Salina giggled.

  “Yes, I think they’ve done their time.”

  Salina bounded upstairs.

  Rachael commented, “Stevie said you had Siamese. I love Siamese. They are my most favorite breed. Very smart and always up to something.”

  “My husband, Jake, and I have six Siamese. Five seal-points and a lilac-point. Plus, a ruddy-ticked Abyssinian.”

  A herd of rambunctious felines darted into the room. In three fluid leaps, Lilac, Abby and Crowie used the back of the loveseat as a springboard and vaulted to the parlor picture-window valance.

  “That was quite a jump,” Rachael praised the cats.

  While everyone focused their attention on the leap of the century, Iris crouched down with her belly skirting the floor and slowly crept under Rachael’s chair. The Siamese began pawing inside Rachael’s purse. It was the perfect set-up for the sneaky feline because Rachael’s long, flowing skirt obstructed the humans’ view. Iris quickly found her prize, clamped down on it, and quietly made her way to the next room where she stashed her stolen loot.

  Scout and Abra hung back and stood at rapt attention, staring at the newcomer. Their sapphire-blue eyes grew big and their ears swiveled forward and backward in surprise.

  Rachael turned her gaze to Scout and Abra. Her mouth dropped. “No, it can’t be,” she whispered, wide-eyed with shock.

  Salina, now sitting on the floor, yanked her phone out of her schoolbag and began shooting video of Rachael.

  “What?” Katherine asked, turning to look at the Siamese.

  Rachael leaned forward in her chair. “Abra? Cadabra?” she called. “Come here.”

  Katherine was speechless, and for a moment didn’t know what was going on.

  “Is it you?” Rachael continued, to the Siamese.

  “Ma-waugh,” Scout cried. “Raw,” Abra seconded.

  The Siamese ran for Rachael and hopped on her lap. They reared up and head-butted her chin. Rachael wrapped her arms around them and buried her face in their fur. She started to cry. “Oh, my. Oh, my. I can’t believe this. I’m so happy you’re together.”

  Salina continued filming, and stopped when Scout and Abra jumped down.

  The Siamese leaned on Rachael’s legs.

  “Do you need a tissue?” Katherine asked.

  “No, I’m okay. It’s just that,” she choked, “I never thought I’d see them again.”

  “Scout? Abra? Are you okay?” Katherine asked, still in shock from what had just happened.

  Abra trotted to Katherine and reached up to be held. Katherine picked her up and cradled her in her arms. Abra quivered against her. “It’s okay, little one,” then to Rachael, “How do you know them?”

  Rachael ignored the question, then asked, “Scout? Is that what you call Cadabra?”

  “I haven’t called Scout that name for a long time. She doesn’t like it.”

  Abby soared down from the valance, onto the back of the loveseat, to the floor. She bounded out of the room and joined Iris in the next room.

  Rachael abruptly got up, reached under her chair and grabbed her purse. “I need to go,” she said, heading for the door.

  Katherine followed her. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

  “Yes, thank you so much for your concern, but I’m fine. I just realized I’m late for an appointment. I’ll show myself out.”

  Rachael hurried to the door, opened it, and rushed out, running to her car to get out of the rain.

  Salina walked in and stood next to Katherine. “Wow, that was weird.”

  Katherine nodded. “Very weird.”

  “Hey, get back,” Katherine said to Iris, who had shot out of the living room and was trying to get outside. “What’s the matter with you?” she scolded the rowdy cat. Katherine quickly closed the door.

  Salina asked, “How does she know Scout and Abra? Why did she call Scout a different name?”

  “Believe it or not, I have a strong feeling that Rachael had something to do with the Hocus Pocus show.”

  “The what?”

  “Harry DeSutter. The magician. Scout and Abra were in one of his acts.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember you telling me about it.”

  “I suspect that Rachael worked for the magician in some capacity, like an animal trainer or handler.”

  Salina snickered, “A Siamese cat wrangler.”

  “Something like that.”

  “It was strange,” Salina said. “One second she’s happy to see them, then the next she’s running out of the house like it’s on fire.”

  “I agree.”

  Salina walked back to the parlor and extracted her schoolbag. “Got to go, KC.”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “I need to go home and feed Wolfy Joe.”

  “Okay, talk to you soon. Oh, don’t forget your raincoat.”

  “Yep, got it.” Salina put on the coat, left and headed to her house next door. On the front porch, and out of the rain, she stopped and texted her friend, Shelly. With thumbs flying, she typed, “I have an amazing video to post on YouTube. Can you come over and help me edit it? It’s way too long and I don’t know how to delete stuff.”

  Three seconds later, Salina’s phone pinged. “It’s raining,” Shelly texted with a sad face emoticon.

  “Please, please with sugar on top,” Salina begged.

  “Oh, all right. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Cool,” Salina texted.

  A few minutes later, Shelly, carrying a wide umbrella, walked as fast as she could to Salina’s house, two blocks away. She pounded up the front steps and rang the bell. Salina was waiting for her. She held Wolfy Joe, who was wriggling to get down.

  Shelly petted his head.

  “Hang on while I put him in the kitchen. I’ll lock him up so he can eat and not bug us.”

  Salina left with the hungry cat, then returned.

  “What’s the dealy-o?” Shelly asked.

  “When I was at KC’s, this woman who my dad likes—”

  Shelly interrupted, like she’d just heard a juicy bit of gossip, “Your dad has a girlfriend?”

  “He calls her a lady-friend,” Salina answered. “Any who, I didn’t call you over here to talk about my dad. I need you to help me edit this video and get it online.”

  “Oh, yeah. The video. Is it on your phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We have to copy it onto your hard drive. Let’s go to your computer and do that. After that’s done, I’ll show you how to edit it.”

  “You’re such a computer whiz,” Salina teased.

  “So, what do you want edited?”

  “I want to delete a part of it, to make it shorter.”

  “Can do.”

  “I also want to add a short narrative.”

  “Can do that, too, but first, spill the beans. What’s the big deal?”

  “Dad’s lady friend was visiting KC.”

  “Duh! I understand that part.”

  “I went over to play with the cats. KC had locked them in their playroom because one of them had broken something. When I went upstairs to see them, I let them out. They ran downstairs and barged into the room KC and Rachael were in.”

  “That’s what you filmed? Why would anyone want to watch that online?” Shelly questioned
with a serious look.

  “Because the Siamese recognized Rachael.”

  “How could the cats know her?”

  “Not all the cats. Just Scout and Abra.”

  “Okay, move on. I can’t stay long. Mom wrote out a list of chores for me to do before she gets home from work.”

  “KC thinks Rachael was the cat wrangler to the magician. She took care of Scout and Abra.”

  “You mean that guy who mistreated Abra?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “No way! That was like a hundred years ago. How would Scout and Abra remember her? And what’s she doing in Erie if she’s a famous cat wrangler?”

  Salina shook her head. “I don’t know, but it’s such a cool story, I have to post it online. I wish you could have been there. It was such a sweet reunion.”

  “I see your point, but we’ll have to come up with a catchy title. How about “Woman reunites with cats she hasn’t seen in years?” Shelly proposed.

  “Not bad, but I think we should mention the woman’s name or what her connection was to the cats. I mean, in the summer class I’m taking, my teacher said that a good journalist must write the five W’s.”

  “Five W’s?”

  “Who, what, when, where and why,” Salina answered.

  “But isn’t that a lot of information for one title?”

  Salina thought for a moment, then suggested, “How about “Rachael Thomas reunites with Siamese cats?”

  “Okay, but we need to tell the viewer what Rachael’s job was. How did she know the cats? Was she an animal trainer? Did she jump out of a hat?” Shelly launched into a fit of giggles.

  “Did she get sawed in half in a box?”

  “Google the magician’s name and see what pops up.”

  Salina did the Google search on Harry DeSutter.

  They both read the results on the monitor.

  “There’s not a single word about a cat wrangler. Press on one of those links,” Shelly said.

  Salina clicked on the link. An article from 2009 appeared from a newspaper, which reported the theft of a valuable stage performer named Abra.

  “Eureka. Read more.”

  “Emma Thomas, a professional cat wrangler, is the prime suspect.”

  The girls stopped reading and exchanged curious glances.

  Salina said, “Emma Thomas, not Rachael Thomas?”

  “Maybe the reporter got the name wrong.”