Meow Matrimony

by Lickel, Lisa;

  I frowned. But only for me? Virgil had said I needed to worry about my defense, but that didn’t seem right. Surely Ivanna deserved justice. So did Stanley. And anyone else the killer might have targeted. What could I do for them? Maybe I could start by visiting Stanley. But the little problem of my arrest might make that difficult getting into jail to see him. Or too easy to keep me in jail.

  I sighed and upended the takeout bag. Aha! One last fortune cookie tumbled out. I stared at it. And stared. Could I eat the cookie without giving in to reading the tiny slip of paper baked inside? I did not want to read anyone else’s concept of how my life was supposedly meant to be.

  Or did I? I ripped the cellophane apart, twisted the beige cookie, and gave a flick to the fluttering paper with my forefinger before I could read any of the blue words printed on it.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the fortune glide to the floor next to my feet. Someone would have to pick it up. I didn’t want the kittens to ingest it. I should get out the vacuum cleaner and suck it up.

  That would be a great idea but meant having to get up. I yawned. I’d have to get up for bed eventually. Vacuuming could wait for the morning.

  I hauled myself off the sofa. No, it couldn’t. The kittens would be down here during the night. I put the TV trays away, then bent to pick up the offending fortune, annoyed that the thing caused such a quandary. I pursed my lips and turned it over.

  You will find something important if you search in the right place.

  I smiled. Who needed more confirmation than that?

  ~*~

  Virgil asked me to come to his office later in the week. He had news. Which was excellent, because the quick catch-up and kiss with Adam at my house in the fifteen minutes he had between opening Mea Cuppa and shifting into mayor mode got bor-ing! I could do the inventory and ordering from home, even process orders up to a point, but I came to realize how small my two-bedroom Cape Cod actually was when spending the greatest part of the day there under self-imposed house arrest. I had taken to talking to my tulip bulbs.

  Janie caught me at it the second time, and she just shook her head while holding out my stack of mail.

  I’d even called Emblem Paper Works, hoping against hope to wrangle some information from customer service. I’d been informed company policy did not allow the release of any client information. So…no telling if Featherlight was a client. But I was still curious about the type of paper Emblem made. On a hunch I asked for Mrs. Clark, and was told she was unavailable, out of the office for a few days. I chose not to leave a message.

  At two thirty in the afternoon I skipped into the hall of the lower level of the bank to look for Virgil’s rent-a-room office. Five other glassed-in cubbies jostled cheek-to-jowl for space, creating almost a maze. I checked out the signs as I sauntered past. A non-profit, a start-up catalog middleman, two empty, and some desktop publishing designer occupied the spots Jeff Hanley, the bank VP, rented on a month-to-month basis. They were bare, no-frills, but served a purpose. I’d checked them out for my tech service when I first moved to Apple Grove but needed better access to antennas and higher speed internet.

  Virgil hunched over a desk while cocking his ear toward his speaker phone, obviously on a call.

  I hesitated to knock and thought I’d offer some advice on a better system than the antique square phone box.

  He beckoned.

  I slipped in and silently pushed the door to almost click behind me.

  “So, the official report will be released in the morning?” Virgil told the box.

  “That’s correct. The press release will go out first thing.”

  “Thank you, Miss Moon. I appreciate the head’s-up.” He winked at me. “And on behalf of my client, who is also appreciative, our sincere gratitude. Good bye, now.” He clicked off.

  “Moon?” I beamed. Sounded like a good call. And Moon meant—

  “As in Ella Moon,” Virg confirmed my suspicion. “The coroner confirmed the estimated time of death. Between 11:00 AM and 1:00 PM.”

  “I was at work.”

  “With a great many witnesses.” He made a show of looking at his wristwatch.

  “So—”

  He held up his hand.

  I shut my yap.

  The office door opened behind me. Eau de Larkin.

  I folded my arms and refused to give him the satisfaction.

  Virg winked again, a barely perceptible flicker that might not have meant anything to anyone. “Right on time. Thank you for coming, Officers, sir. I believe you have some information for me and my client.”

  Officers? I turned, immediately relieved to see Tim Ripple standing in the doorway, unable to get inside the tiny room. The attorney, White, crowded Larkin.

  I graciously stepped to the side of the desk.

  Virg and I planted stares on them.

  Larkin twisted his cop hat in his hands. He opened and closed his mouth. Twice.

  Glenn White, the prosecutor who’d brought the ugly charges against me, sweated silently.

  Rolling his eyes, Ripple had pity. More than I would have done. “Officer Larkin, Mr. White, and I have come to inform you both that due to new information, the charges against your client have been dropped.” He cleared his throat and stared at White.

  “The charges have been withdrawn,” White said quietly.

  Ripple lasered on Larkin.

  “Y-yes, withdrawn. Dropped. We apologize for any inconvenience.” Larkin turned and headed for the door.

  Which was still blocked by Ripple.

  Larkin’s shoulders slumped and he half-faced us. “My apologies, ma’am.”

  This time Ripple let him out. The door sighed closed after White. “Chief Hackman put him on night patrol for the next month.”

  I would have preferred to hear the man had been fired, but who knew where he would have gone and what other trouble he’d have found. Maybe he’d quit anyway. He wasn’t a bad person. I shivered despite myself.

  “The discipline will be on his official record,” Ripple was telling Virg. “You let us know if there’s any more guff from anyone, ma’am. Ivy.” Ripple nodded, turned on his heel and left.

  I let out a breath. “Thank you, Virgil, from the deepest place in my heart.” He stood to accept my long hug. I finally let go and wiped my eyes, laughing a little.

  “Have faith, Ivy. Laws are in place for a reason. Good laws protect people.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have been arrested in the first place.”

  “What happens next?”

  “You’re free to resume your life, young lady. An official statement will be released in the morning. You heard that when you came in.” Virg capped his pen and straightened his phone.

  I took a breath. “This means so much to me. Please, you spent a lot of time…I expect your bill. You’ll send it to me, won’t you? Not…not…”

  Virg patted my shoulder on the way to the door. “I won’t demean you, Ivy. You’ll get my statement all right.”

  I smiled, a little shakily, but from a relieved spirit. Relieved for my sake, that was. There was still the killer to consider. I was sure I could coerce Elvis to help me figure out what to do next to help the police with the case. As I pounded up the steps to the bank lobby I mentally calculated my account balance, which took all of three seconds. Virgil deserved everything I had, and more.

  Adam! I had to tell him right away. At least I could go back to work at the store. Colleen had picked up a few more hours while I’d been gone this week, so I hoped she wouldn’t mind cutting back again. Finals and graduation parties weren’t too far off. The extra hours had probably helped her college fund. Adam had been quietly padding her paychecks, offering her plenty of paid study time up to half her working hours.

  As I headed for my car, the sight of elegant chandelier lights gleaming through the window of Wyler’s Fine Jewelry store adjacent to the bank made me stop and look. The shop was a third-generation business, surviving the down years and the bank’s constru
ction. I smiled at the sight of Colleen Bailey at the counter, leaning over the glass and pointing at a tray.

  Heart contented, I drove a couple of blocks and ended up parking in front of the newspaper office. I didn’t mind the few blocks walk to Mea Cuppa, delighted to see all the people. Nothing much got by Yolanda in this bit of a town. I wasn’t surprised when she burst out of the ancient front door and down the few concrete steps of the little brick storefront that housed the Gazette.

  “I heard! I heard! It’s so wonderful!” She folded me in her skinny arms, her loose gray ponytail swinging around us.

  I laughed. “I only just heard myself.”

  “Tim made sure to put it out loud and proud on the scanner that he’d be escorting the prosecutor to Virgil’s office.”

  “Isn’t he supposed to only broadcast code?”

  “Oops.”

  Hearing a giggle from the veteran newspaper editor was almost as bizarre as Larkin’s apology.

  “Well, I’m on my way to…” I pointed behind me and started walking backward.

  “OK, dearie. You go share your news now with that fabulous fella of yours. I tell ya, he’s been the cat’s meow for Apple Grove. Call me later, hear? I always believed in you!”

  I flapped my hand as I rushed down the block. I knew she’d always been on my side even if the news came first.

  ~*~

  I crossed off the days until Elvis and Mom would come. I didn’t need them for my defense anymore, but since the wedding was back on schedule, Mom was more important than ever. Elvis would help me investigate Ivanna’s murder. Um, if the police weren’t moving along, of course.

  I’d only gotten four red Xs on my calendar when I received one of the strangest evening visits ever. About six thirty my doorbell rang. It took me a few seconds to recognize the sound, since no one I knew ever used it. Puzzled, I pushed Two and Four off my lap and hopped up to turn on the outside light and answer the front door.

  The delicate wisp of a woman in an elegant helmet of gentle golden curls and the softest pleading expression caught me by surprise. She slung an expensive designer bag over a stylish, calf-length dusky lavender coat.

  “Hello, may I help you?” I asked, tugging the hem of my orange pumpkin sweatshirt. I know—wrong season but give a girl some warning.

  She hitched the bag higher on her shoulder. “I apologize for intruding like this,” she said.

  I peeked behind her, expecting to see a smoking vehicle, or at least a flat tire. Nope. Just a coppery Jag, gleaming in the last flickers of daylight.

  “I’m Melody Clark. Jason’s mother.”

  Oh. I swallowed and faced her again.

  “I hoped…I wanted…” She glanced up and down the street. “May I come in?”

  Curiosity may have cost me another proverbial life, but she was right there on my step. Seriously, what would any other respectable amateur sleuth have done?

  “Of course.” I stepped back and beckoned her in. With her heels we were about the same height.

  She fished a lace-edged hanky from her purse and dabbed her nose. “Sorry. Just getting over a cold. You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  “Well, yes.” I debated how to quickly transform my clutter into House Beautiful without her noticing. Nothing came to mind. I moved the afghan from the sofa to cover a stain on one of my chairs. “Won’t you have a seat.” Jason must have gotten his beautiful, black wavy hair from his father.

  “It’s the shock, you see,” Mrs. Clark said as she gracefully lit on the end of the sofa. “The wedding was so close, and to have everything over…that poor, young woman. And my son. Well, of course he—we were devastated. I won’t apologize for that awful man who persuaded my Jason to press charges against you. I’m just grateful they were baseless.”

  I plopped the last few inches onto the chair during this speech. About four things ran through my head on how to respond. None of them sounded right. I settled for, “I’m sorry about Ivanna.”

  Her washed-out countenance seemed blank for a nanosecond. She bent her head and cleared her throat. “Thank you. I wanted to meet you ever since I heard you were involved.”

  “Ah—”

  “He’s not himself. My Jason. We’re all so distraught. Normally he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  I could have gone to prison, lady. “I’m glad things worked out.” Plus, now that you’re here… “This might seem insensitive, but I understand you work at Emblem Paperworks.”

  Her perfect brow creased briefly. “Yes, that’s correct. I’m a paper engineer.”

  At my obvious eyebrow lift question mark, she clarified.

  “I make paper.”

  I nodded. The simple version. “So, Emblem not only prints but makes its own product to print on. I’m fascinated.”

  The crease returned. “It’s unusual, yes, but for the past century, that’s how Emblem Paperworks functions.” She relaxed. “Ah, perhaps I understand. The mix-up in wedding invitation shipments. I assure you, the problem will never happen again. The packing clerk was fired, and our mailing system upgraded.”

  “So quickly?” I curled up in the chair, saw her frown, and straightened again. “I’m sorry someone got fired. I was only trying to help by delivering Ivanna and Jason’s invitations to the right address.”

  “My future daughter-in-law was killed.”

  “I’m not sure what mixing up our wedding invitations had to do with Ivanna’s death.” At her pursed lips, I hurried on. “I mean, it’s just tragic. But I wanted to ask you about paper. I mean, about if Emblem makes the paper for candy wrappers.”

  The expression of distasteful surprise made me squirm.

  “Candy? What on earth does that have to do with…” She reached for her bag at the same time my alarm went off in my upstairs office, signaling an incoming business call—something else I hadn’t heard in a long time. I had only four clients at the moment. I hadn’t expected one to use the phone service until next week when one of them went to Asia on business and wanted his calls screened and relayed on time delay. The others were just mail and bill babysitting.

  “Please. If you could wait right here for one—two—minutes. I want to explain. Please. That’s a business call that will just take me a moment to check on.”

  She wrinkled her nose but settled the bag on her knees. “I suppose so. Go ahead.” She nodded and reached inside her bag.

  The alarm had stopped buzzing by the time I reached my switchboard system. The blinking light indicated a message, which I listened to through my headset. Fifteen seconds of static. Or was it? I fiddled with the tuner and listened again. It really sounded more like…crinkling paper.

  10

  When I returned to my living room after the strange call, Melody Clark was still poised on the edge of her chair, serene and uncomfortable. Or maybe that was me. The message I’d listened to upstairs might have been a crank call. Or a warning. Or a clue.

  I cocked my head. On second thought, Jason’s mother’s cheeks were flushed, She took a deep breath. Her bag was back on the floor near her feet.

  I put on my cheery face. “False alarm. I’m so sorry. Could I fix some tea for you? Or something else?”

  “No, no. I simply wanted to stop by to meet you. If you’re so intrigued by papermaking, I can arrange a tour for you. Why don’t you call the office next week? Here’s my card. I’ll be sure to have them show you the stationery line, since you’re so interested.”

  I was? “How come you can get me a tour? I thought you made paper.” Oops, that sounded crass. “I mean—”

  “Well, I don’t simply make paper anymore.” She reached a delicate hand toward me with her baby pink rose embossed business card tucked between her first two fingers. A beautiful gold ring with a silver vine design curled around part of her middle finger.

  “What a pretty ring!”

  “Thank you.” She withdrew her hand to admire the ring too. “My son’s friend made it. He gave it to me last year for Mother’s Day.
”

  I couldn’t help noticing her nails were varnished a satiny polish that matched the natural pearls around her neck. An elegant socialite of the twenty-first century, handing me her calling card. I almost curtsied.

  “I have some sway from my corner office,” she said.

  Four poked his head out from under the sofa and bumped Melody’s ankle. She stifled a ladylike shriek and looked down. “Oh, so this is one of the famous kittens.” She glanced at me. “Isn’t it?”

  A congratulatory grin teased my lips. I actually had one up on this lady. “Yep. Well, I don’t know about famous, but they’re a rare breed.”

  “Egyptian…” Her delicate brow rose.

  Shoot! I’d never be able to master that little trick of appearing befuddled yet in command. “Mau,” I inserted. At least I was the expert on this subject. “They’re the only spotted domestic cat.”

  “Yes. Jason was fascinated by them after all that disturbance last year when a whole search party was organized to search for a missing pet.”

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “My Memnet went looking for the mayor’s cat.”

  “May I?” She reached down to gather the large-eared kitten, who warbled.

  The warble brought Isis clipping down the steps in a frenzy. She stopped in front of Melody and whipped the tip of her tail.

  “That’s Mommy, I take it. Don’t worry, Mother Cat. I’m a mother too and wouldn’t dream of hurting anyone’s child.”

  Ouch. Hit me again, why don’t you?

  “I understand there are three types,” she went on, grinding glass in the wound. “What is this?”

  Mercy! “He’s a mix between silver and smoke, but those two are pretty close…”