“Evidence and motive,” Elvis replied and glanced at the door.
“The skin around her mouth was bluish,” I offered.
“It was?” Both men widened their eyes at me, Virgil’s faded ones behind his half-glasses perched on his nose and Elvis’s round green ones above his ocean blue, Maplewood College T-shirt under his jacket.
I smiled, satisfied that I could contribute something. “That’s usually a symptom, isn’t it?” I was pretty sure I possessed some tidbit of information filed somewhere in the attic of my mind. I’d have to tiptoe around the cobwebs to find it though. But another window opened. “There’s something else. Candy!”
Elvis groaned. “Not now, Ivy.” He grabbed his backpack and took two steps toward the door.
“I mean, the unwrapped piece of Featherlight I saw near her hand. It was a kind they don’t even have for sale yet.”
“The North Star factory is nearby, isn’t it? I believe Jason Clark works there.” Virgil scribbled something in blue on the legal pad, then wrote my comment in black.
“Featherlight?” Elvis was thinking so hard I could feel the vibes. “Isn’t that the kind that kept showing up on your doorstep last year?”
I nodded. “Uh, huh. The kind my former fiancé sells.”
“That’s one of the pieces of evidence upon which Stanley Brewer was arrested,” Virg commented quietly as he tapped the pen.
One of? What weren’t they telling me?
“It was unwrapped?” Elvis asked.
“Yep.” I recalled almost touching the paper to examine it more closely. “Another one looked like it had a bite missing.”
A thumping noise on my steps to my upstairs office and mewing distracted me.
Elvis dropped his bag as he turned and went into a slight crouch. He reached toward his back waistband and quickly smoothed his hand along the side of his jeans. Reflexes from his army training? Or FBI?
“Just the kittens,” I called.
But he’d already figured that out. He reached for the kitten he’d claimed. “Amy will love you,” he murmured.
“Amy! I thought you were taking her.”
“I mean…uh…when we see each other.” He set the kitten down, slung his pack on his shoulder and strode to the door. “Gotta get going. I’ll be in touch. See you.”
Virgil was busily scratching more notes.
I went to check the furballs tumbling around the steps. Hmm…there were only three. Elvis’s was there, so he hadn’t stuffed Three in his pocket. Isis hadn’t made an appearance yet this morning. Highly unusual. “I’m just checking something upstairs, I’ll be right back,” I called.
Wheezy kitten sneezing sounds reached me before I clunked up the last hollow step to the wicker cat bed basket. We’d brought it up when we found Isis carrying her babies by the scruff upstairs and hiding them under the daybed in my tech service office.
She was OK with the basket as long as we covered it with a blanket. Sure enough, there she was, wrapped around a baby who was mewling and sneezing. She gave me an unusual worried look. Isis rarely got upset about much, choosing instead to handle problems with raised-nose disdain and her powerful tongue-bathing.
I wasn’t sure how serious cat illnesses could be. For cats, that is. Ever since Donald had died of complications of cat scratch fever, a manmade version of it, I’d learned that cats can carry illnesses that people can catch, and that they could catch illnesses, like a cold or the flu, from people too. I approached slowly, not sure if Isis would see me as a threat. The poor little kitten she was curled around appeared listless and its nose was gummy. I decided to call my friend who also happened to be our veterinarian, Adelle Bailey.
I hurried down the steps. “Virg! Cat problems! I have to call Addy.”
He blinked up at me. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “What can I do?”
The first time I’d met him was when he was volunteering at the animal clinic. His sympathy was a balm. “Oh, thank you, but I’m not sure. I’ll just call and find out what to do first.” I twitched my mouth to the side. “But…”
“Don’t you worry, Miss Ivy, about the case. I have enough notes to get started, and we’ll pick up later. Remember, our job is to prove the accusations against you are baseless, not to solve poor Miss Pressman’s murder. Now, your pets are important too.” He stood and let his glasses hang by their chain. “Maybe not as important as murder charges, but we know that all things work together for the good to those who love God and who have been called according to His purpose.”
I nodded, basking in Virgil’s unshakeable faith. Any last imaginary quest to find something nefarious in his attraction to my mother faded. He was one of the good ones and after my current crisis was over, I’d work my matchmaker magic. Mom deserved the same happiness Adam gave me. “Thanks. I’ll check in with you later.”
I was on the phone before the door closed behind him. The vet desk receptionist answered. After exchanging hurried greetings, she reminded me Addy had surgeries this morning. “But the walk-in clinic is this afternoon. Bring the poor thing in after lunch. I’ll leave a message for the doctor that you called. Oh, and it might be contagious, so if you could bring her in a covered carrier…”
“Yes, yes, I will. Thank you!”
Lunchtime was hours away. The thought of it made me hungry. All this stress called for comfort…treats. On top of the fridge, back under the cabinet, was my emergency stash. I pulled over a stool, climbed up and reached. Ahhh…fudge.
I plucked three from the covered container, thought again, and grabbed two more cubes of my current favorite Featherlight candies, toffee, and pressed the cover back on the bowl before a third thought tempted me.
Wandering into the living room, I unwrapped a chocolate and stared at the shiny bronze wrapper. A puzzle niggled at my brain cells, something about the lavender paper, white side up, near Ivanna’s cold body.
I wondered where the candy wrappers came from. I had no idea why, but the thought wouldn’t let go. Who might know? Was that something Stanley might know? I could try to get a text through, or a phone call to him at the jail. Since Adam was in the book selling business…maybe he knew who made…nah, he’d want to know why I wanted to know and I couldn’t come up with an answer for myself, let alone anyone else. I turned the wrapper over and over in my hands while chocolate melted around my molars. Hmm, this was paper, wasn’t it? It might be shiny on one side, but basically, a candy wrapper was paper. The one place I knew around here that made paper was Emblem Paper Works.
Thump, thump, whump noises came from the steps. I set the rest of the candy on the end table near my sofa and went to investigate.
“Isis, baby, I would have come to get you and Two,” I crooned. The Egyptian Mau kitten with spots and an uncharacteristic black strip between her eyes sneezed and mewled weakly. Isis held her son’s scruff more or less patiently, swiveling her head to watch me prepare to take them to the clinic. I dug out the cat carrier from the hall closet, lined it with old towels and left the door open for Isis to go inside and say farewell while I checked my purse and grabbed an apple. I texted Adam after I loaded the cat carrier in my car.
8
I wasn’t the first to arrive at Apple Grove’s animal hospital. I waited, miserable and unappreciative of Addy’s cheery reception room which had a play area and plastic picnic table for kids, a coloring wall, and lots of photos of happy clients of all species. If I couldn’t keep a kitten well and healthy, what kind of mother would I be?
The kitten pressed against the bars of the carrier on my lap and alternately licked my fingers and sneezed.
Maybe I should rethink the whole parenting thing. People charged with serious crimes probably shouldn’t consider having a baby. And what if I were convicted? I read those horror stories about giving birth in prison. My age would be a factor, soon, too. Being older didn’t make a person necessarily wiser.
“Two!”
I raised my head and glanced at the confused, white-haired helper
standing at the door to the exam rooms, squinting at the sign-in sheet and scanning the room. The huge white lab coat with the rolled-up sleeves she cuddled into made her appear that much more frail.
“Two!” She checked her clipboard. “With her human friend, Ivy?”
Me! “Oh, here we are. I’m so sorry.” I hustled the carrier toward her and read on her name tag that Mabel was a Good Seed from Virgil’s Apple Grove Volunteers.
“Your cat is named Two?” Mabel asked as we trotted down the hall, just to be conversational I hoped, and not trying to make a statement about my lack of conventionality.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled. “We were planning to give them away when they were old enough and thought the new owners could pick their own names.”
She nodded as she opened the door and gestured for me to precede her inside. “Hmm, but surely you understand that intelligent animals bond with their names?”
“Oh?” I set the carrier on the shiny exam table and waited.
Mabel checked a box, noted the time on the form she carried, and continued to study me. “Everyone needs a good name.”
Don’t I know.
“Dr. Bailey will be right in,” Mabel said as she left, closing the door.
I unhooked the door to the carrier and cuddled Two in my palms.
He was still pretty small and immediately set to licking my wrist with his raspy tongue. His whole body shook when he sneezed, and his squeaky purr came in fits and starts. A minute later he curled his tiny tail around his paws and started to snore through the mucous clogging his little nose, making a tiny bubble now and then.
Addy rapped and entered and immediately pulled a chair up to us.
When we stood next to each other, people made Mutt and Jeff jokes. She was a blonde Amazon, a tower-of-strength kind of person even though she’d made her share of mistakes. The special thing about her was that she fessed up and did what she could to make it right. Addy was so perfect I’d hated her on sight when we met last fall. She’d worked on Memnet when he’d been roughed up by some hired thugs sent to harass me. We were too late to save anything but Donald’s reputation last year, and later became staunch friends. She was to be my maid of honor, though we argued over whether that was maid or matron since she was not currently married.
The wedding. Another sigh.
“Two, first,” Addy said as though reading my mind. “What’s up?”
Two sneezed on cue, uncurled, and starting shivering.
Addy twisted on her rolling stool and reached for a blanket. She turned back and scooped Two onto her lap. He let out a little stream of urine. “Well, he’s eliminating all right.” She held her stethoscope to his torso. “Hmm.”
My hands automatically wrung.
“You have a cold?” Addy asked me, eyebrows furrowed. “I keep telling everyone not to kiss their pets…”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “And so’s Adam. And I don’t kiss them…well, not much.”
“Cats pick up germs and viruses, bacteria, much like people,” she muttered. She half closed her eyes in concentration while she listened to his lungs. “Not pneumonia.”
Two tried to purr when Addy stroked his neck and got him to open his little mouth and tickled his tall ears when she peeked inside. “Despite the gummy nose, I don’t know that it’s a bacterial infection, but I’ll take some samples to double check.” She indicated the soiled towel.
I flushed. “Sorry about that.”
Addy laughed. “It’s what kittens do. There are some cases of feline flu going around. It’s past the usual time for it, but pockets break out now and then.”
“Feline flu?” I frowned. “How can a kitten get the flu?”
“Same as anybody else,” Addy said over her shoulder as she weighed the kitten and noted it on his chart. She took his temperature.
“But the kittens haven’t been out of the house. Oh—right, the neighbor kids came to take care of the cats last weekend. One of them might have been sick or came into contact with a sick pet. Transferred the flu like that?”
“Just like that,” Addy agreed. “The Robbins kids?”
“Yep.”
“Cute. OK, then. I can’t do anything else until I know for sure what’s going on. I’ll run some tests and because I don’t like his temperature, I want to keep him overnight.”
Whoa. That got my attention. “He’s really sick? Just how dangerous is it?”
“He’s so little yet, Ivy, that’s all. No guarantees.”
She didn’t seem terribly worried, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “OK.” What else could I do?
“Two will be in good hands, don’t worry. My techs will make sure he’s warm and fed during the night, and I’ll check in.” Addy washed after setting my kitten in a high ventilated box.
Stalling for time before I’d have to face Isis without her son, I said, “I really should come up with an actual name, shouldn’t I? But we wanted to keep just one kitten and give the other two away.”
“Two?” The doctor cocked her head and checked the chart. “There were four, weren’t there? Did something happen to one of them?”
“Elvis happened. Elvis and Amy. They want Three.” I squinted and shook my head slightly when I thought how I sounded like a slapstick comedy skit.
Two curled in a little ball, sides heaving as he breathed. His mixed smoke and silver breed from his mother, Isis, and father, my silver Memnet, gave him a splotchy coat under his distinctive black spots. The third Mau breed was bronze, named for the coppery color of course, but all Maus had spots, with a tabby-patterned face and pale green eyes with mascara streaks copied by Egyptian women, or so the history texts said.
I could stare at Memnet for long minutes, he was so beautiful. I missed him while he stayed with Adam, so he wouldn’t bother the kittens. Not that he would. Isis had a different temperament. She was too busy and aloof to cuddle up with me. Like Memnet used to.
My friend continued to stroke Two’s little head. “Elvis—as in Elvis Hillert, one of the students who was here last fall?”
“Yeah, except he’s about to graduate from college. Then he’s moving to Apple Grove. He’s been dating Amy Collins behind my back apparently all winter, and now he’s taking one of my female kittens and sharing. With her.”
Addy laughed. “Behind your back?”
“Well…I moved here first. He only came here because of me. He met Amy technically through me. This is my territory. I feel responsible.”
“Apparently. And, really—Amy Collins, whose grandmother is the historical society?”
“Is…that’s right, Mrs. Green pretty much runs the whole historical society show, doesn’t she?” I grinned but faded to sober as I considered who else Amy was…her job…my future…Amy was very nice, and I liked her. Addy knew Amy was the wedding event coordinator. I stared at Addy, trying not to cry.
“Let’s not talk about it here,” Addy said. “The wedding. The…uh, situation.”
I nodded, grateful and unable to speak.
“Maybe I’ll take one of the kittens,” she said gruffly and cleared her throat. She tossed me a bright-eyed, knowing little grin as she walked me out. “You remember the Maus have always fascinated me, and with Colleen gone this fall up to Northwestern, it’ll be lonely.”
“Of course, you can have one. And the college isn’t that far, just a couple of hours northeast.” I sniffed. “In the northern ‘burbs. And you love Chicago.”
We stood in the reception area for a minute. I sensed judging eyes on me from those gathered in the waiting room with their pets, a little smirk over there, averted glance on the right. The smirker brought in a parrot. A Chihuahua yapped. I squirmed, hating the attention.
Adam entered, and nodded to a couple of people he knew, his professional smile marking his concern. My hero.
Addy squeezed my arm. “I’ll call you later, OK?”
I nodded, again at a loss for words, grateful for her knowing what to say, but especially what not to say. I sq
ueezed back. “I’ll be at home.” As if I could be anywhere else.
Adam reached us. “Where’s Two?”
Addy had already gone in the back and Mabel called the next pet name on the sign-in sheet, Rocco.
“I’m Rocco, what can I do you for?” the parrot squawked.
I took Adam’s hands and pulled him outside with me.
“Where’s the kitten?” Adam halted after we cleared the door. “Is he all right? Addy didn’t have to…have to…” He swallowed.
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” I hugged him. What a softy. “She just wants to run some tests. Two might have the flu is all.”
He pulled his brows together. “How could that happen?”
I shrugged and pulled him toward our cars. “Same as anyone else, Addy said. I’ll talk to Martha. Probably something the kids brought in when they came over to take care of the cats. You know kids—always have a runny nose.”
“Oh.” He leaned against my car door, appearing all hunky, protective, and slightly dangerous with his scars down the side of his neck not covered by his shirt. He wasn’t a marshmallow, despite being tender-hearted.
I hugged him again.
“Hey, hey.” He scooted out of my reach and tugged on his tie, discretely glancing around the parking lot. “Hands off the mayor. No PDAs. You’ll get us in trouble.”
“Really?” I backed away and teared up. “You can’t be seen with a jailbirdie?” I turned and started walking. Very fast.
“That’s not what I meant.” Adam trotted after me. “C’mon. I was just kidding. Ivy.”
Rejection was not on my agenda for today. Or any day. On the other hand, I didn’t need to be so sensitive. I waved farewell over my shoulder. “OK, sorry, talk to you later.” I kept going, though, and walked past the bank, to the new concrete and pebble-sided bridge across the Founders River. There was no one else out there at one thirty in the afternoon on a week day. I strolled out to the middle and leaned over the rail to watch the gurgling water and let it soothe my jangled nerves. Adam was on my side. He’d just been trying to lighten the mood, but he hit a little too close to my fears. I pulled out my phone and texted him a “sorry, I love you” message. He was too noble to even consider leaving me at the altar. But first we had to make it there.
Meow Matrimony Page 7
