Claws of Action

by Linda Reilly

  “Has gray fur,” Aunt Fran said slowly. “Slightly darker than Pearl’s because he’s a tiger cat, but definitely gray. But here’s the problem with that theory. Brian didn’t bring Smuggles here until after Evonda had left on Monday.”

  “You’re right,” Lara said. “But Evonda had been in Brian’s apartment at least one time. She could’ve picked up a few cat hairs that way, without realizing it, and somehow it got left in her car.” Her head throbbing with conflicting thoughts, Lara collected their dishes and brought them over to the sink. “It kills me to say this,” she said, coming back to the table, “but this might all go back to Brian Downing. I like the guy—he’s a real cat lover—but he didn’t hide the fact that he loathed Evonda. Maybe all his drama yesterday was just a cover-up to disguise his guilt.”

  “Could be. Didn’t he admit, though, that he grabbed Evonda’s car window when she was trying to leave the parking lot at his apartment? Maybe some of his cat’s hair got inside her car that way.”

  “That’s a thought,” Lara said. “Darn. I wonder if the gray cat hair they found belongs to Smuggles and not Pearl.”

  The ping of a text sounded from Aunt Fran’s pocket. She looked at Lara, then pulled out her cell and read it. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head, then slipped the phone back in her pocket.

  Lara stared at her aunt.

  “I won’t keep you in suspense,” Aunt Fran said with a wry smile. “That was Jerry. All it said was ‘can we talk later.’”

  “You didn’t answer him,” Lara said wickedly.

  “I’ll answer him when I’m ready to answer him.” Her aunt stared at the table, as if mulling everything in her mind. “Lara, I almost hate to ask this, but…have you had any clues lately? From a certain guardian cat?”

  Lara smiled. Her spirit cat, Blue, hadn’t made an appearance since Tuesday morning, when the chief showed up to break the bad news about Evonda’s murder. “Oddly, no. But maybe there’s not enough yet to go on.”

  “Is it possible…” Aunt Fran began, then shook her head. “No, never mind.”

  “Tell me,” Lara coaxed.

  “I just wondered, could Evonda have touched Pearl or Snowball when we weren’t looking? Maybe gotten a few cat hairs on her clothing?”

  “Touched? You mean like, patted her?” Lara looked at her aunt, aghast.

  Aunt Fran nodded. “Stranger things have happened. Maybe she wasn’t the cat hater she claimed to be.”

  “Wow. That’s something to think about, I guess. Still, I can’t picture it.” A memory tickled her brain. “Although…”

  “Although?” her aunt prodded, after a long moment.

  “That day she was here, before we went into the kitchen, I’d have sworn, for a split second, that she looked at Snowball with something like…I don’t know, tenderness? Affection? But it went away so quickly that I figured I imagined it.”

  “Maybe not.” Aunt Fran said. “Maybe that’s the answer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Early Thursday morning, a call came into the shelter. A woman who worked at a bakery in Tamworth, the adjacent town, had found an abandoned litter of kittens at the bakery’s back door when she arrived to begin her shift.

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Lara said, and immediately called Kayla.

  “I’ll be at your place in twenty,” Kayla said. “We can go from there.”

  Lara had spent the better part of the night tossing in her bed, agonizing over the results of the cat-hair analysis. The whole incident with the crime scene tech had seemed surreal, as if it had happened to someone else. When she awakened, she rubbed her eyes and wondered if she’d dreamed the whole thing. Then reality kicked in with the force of a steel-toe boot. A fresh wave of worry washed over her.

  Lara debated whether or not to tell Kayla about the warrant the police had served the day before. She decided not to mention it, at least for now. The incident might well blow over. In the meantime, it would only give Kayla something else to worry about. Lately Kayla had seemed distracted. Lara didn’t want to press her on it, but she suspected the young woman was having issues at home.

  Forty minutes later, they pulled into a small parking lot behind the bakery—a clapboard affair painted a startling shade of lilac. Two covered trash cans squatted near the back door, which flew open the moment they stepped out of the Saturn.

  “Oh, thank heavens you’re here!” A slender, thirtyish woman with huge brown eyes and fluffy pink hair rushed toward them. “I’m Meg Carmel, by the way. Sorry to call you guys so early, but…I’ve got a situation.”

  “It’s never too early to call the shelter,” Lara assured her. “I’m Lara, and this is Kayla.”

  “Great to meet you both. I’m hoping you’re going to be my saviors,” she said with a concerned look. “Come on in. I did the best I could getting them settled in a comfy spot, but these guys need help—and soon.”

  They followed Meg through the bakery’s rear entrance. The room was obviously a storage room, with metal shelves extending along one wall. The shelves were stacked with boxes of foodstuffs—flour, sugar, canned goods, and other supplies. At the far end was the door to a walk-in fridge. In front of that, on the floor, was a deep, cardboard bakery box.

  “Take a peek.” Meg pointed at the box, a pear-shaped diamond winking off her left ring finger.

  Kayla had already spotted them. “Oh my God, look at them,” she squeaked, dropping down in front of the box.

  Lara took in a breath at the sight. Four tiny kittens, about five or six weeks old, were nestled on a bed of towels inside the box. Two were black-and-white, one was solid black, and the fourth was the tiniest ball of golden fur Lara had ever seen.

  “Look at those little faces,” Lara said, bending to stroke each of the kittens with a gentle finger. “You said someone left them in front of the door?”

  “Exactly. See, I always come in around four in the morning to start baking,” Meg explained, “so it’s always dark out. Anyway, when I got here, I saw this huge wicker basket”—she spread her arms about a yard apart—“just sitting there on the pavement in front of the door. In the dark, I nearly tripped over the darn thing! A sheet had been tucked around the inside of it, which was way weird. My heart tripped for a second. I thought maybe someone had left me an unpleasant surprise or something, you know? All kinds of creeps out there these days.” She shook her head. “But then I heard a teeny, tiny cry, so I pulled back the sheet. This is what I found.” She gazed at the kittens. “Imagine someone dumping these little darlings like they were trash?” She sniffed.

  Unfortunately, as Lara well knew, it happened far too often. She peered more closely at the kittens. They definitely had fleas, and the tiniest one—the golden fluffball—struggled to cozy up to his siblings.

  “I’m sure they’re hungry,” Meg said worriedly. “I made a formula from powdered milk and tried giving each one drops from my finger, but I don’t think they were sure what to do. The little gold one turned his face away. He was having none of it. Poor little things are probably starving.”

  “Is this a bakery box?” Kayla asked her. “It’s huge.”

  “It is, but it’s the kind we use for commercial deliveries,” Meg explained. “I wanted to be sure the little cuties couldn’t escape. ’Course, if the health inspector were to pop in right now, my bakery would be toast, wouldn’t it?” She laughed.

  “We’ll definitely take them,” Lara assured Meg. “They need immediate veterinary care. Our vet in Whisker Jog, Amy Glindell, is terrific. She’ll give them a thorough exam, treat them for fleas, worms, etc. Doesn’t look as if anyone cared about them enough to have gotten them their first shots. Amy’ll take care of that, too.”

  Looking disgusted, Meg crossed her arms over her shapely chest. “Sometimes I like cats better than people. Actually, I do like cats better than people.”

  “
I’m with you there,” Kayla said sharply. “People suck, don’t they?”

  Lara kept her expression neutral, but the bitterness of Kayla’s response surprised her.

  “Meg,” Lara said, “do you have any idea who dumped the kittens here?”

  Meg shook her head. “No, but—well, I’m sort of known around here as a cat nut. I have four of my own. Someone might have figured, you know, because I love cats, that I’d take them all in. Or at least find them homes.”

  Kayla frowned and shook her head. “We should get going, Lara. These babies need to get to the vet ASAP.”

  Lara gave Meg one of the shelter’s business cards. “Feel free to call and check on them any time,” Lara said. “And don’t worry, they’re in excellent hands. In a few weeks, I bet you won’t even recognize them.” She pointed at Meg’s diamond ring and smiled. “Are you engaged?”

  Meg looked at her hand. “Oh, yeah.” She giggled. “Happened about two months ago. I lucked out and found a guy who isn’t a complete jerk. Hard to do these days, right?”

  “You sound kind of jaded.”

  “Nah. Just that I went through more than my share of frogs. It was about time I met a prince. Well, an almost prince. These days, the good ones are few and far between.”

  “Well, congratulations,” Lara said. “I wish you both the best.”

  “Thanks.” Releasing a sigh, Meg cast a final glance at the kittens. “You’ll make sure they all find good homes, right? You won’t—” She swallowed, and her brow creased.

  “At the High Cliff Shelter, every cat remains with us until we find them the right home. And we’re darned fussy, too. We never adopt out a cat or kitten unless we’re sure it’s a perfect match.”

  Meg sagged. “Oh God, that’s such a relief. Sorry, but I don’t know anything about your shelter. I just Googled animal shelters on my phone and called the closest one.”

  “When you get a chance,” Lara said, “take a peek at our Web site. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  Meg hugged them both, tears forming in her eyes. “You gals have already made my day. Hold on a second, okay?” She dashed through a swinging door toward the front of the bakery. She returned holding a square pink box. “Apple fritters. Fresh out of the fryer. To die for, if I do say so myself.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to try them,” Lara said, though she certainly didn’t intend to die for one. “Thank you, Meg.”

  “Thanks,” Kayla said without much enthusiasm. “They sound great.” Turning away, she gently picked up the cardboard box containing the kittens. Her face softened into a smile as she gazed down at their tiny faces.

  After another round of goodbyes, Lara and Kayla went out to the car. Kayla tucked the box with the kittens safely onto the back seat. “They should be fine till we get to Amy’s,” Kayla said. “No way they can climb out of there—it’s too deep. Better get the AC cranking, though. It’s already getting too warm for them in the car.”

  Lara nodded and climbed into the driver’s seat. She flicked the AC on High. “We’ll have air in a minute.”

  “I’m glad she contacted us,” Lara said, on the way home. “Several people have already called the shelter asking if we had any kittens. I know we’ll be able to find great homes for them. But we’re going to be superparticular.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Lara tried again. “I can’t wait to taste one of those apple fritters, can you? And Aunt Fran’s going to love them.”

  “Yep,” Kayla said.

  Something was definitely up with Kayla. On the way to the bakery, all she’d been able to talk about was rescuing those kittens. Now she seemed irritated about something. She’d been understandably angry at someone abandoning four helpless kittens, but Lara sensed something else was going on.

  Kayla had recently made a permanent move to her grandmother’s home in Tuftonboro. It helped her save money, which she needed for tuition, and from there, it was only a short ride to the shelter. Plus, her gram occasionally needed help with groceries and appointments, so the arrangement worked well for both.

  Lately, however, whenever Kayla mentioned her grandmother, it was always with an edge to her voice. Something was amiss in the household. Lara would bet on it.

  For now, Lara decided to let it go. Kayla was moody at times. Besides, everyone had the right to a bad day, didn’t they? For sure, Lara’d had her share.

  They were pulling into the parking lot of the veterinary hospital when Kayla swiveled her head toward Lara. “I have a great name for the gold one,” she said, animated now. “Fritter.”

  Lara smiled. “I love it. Fritter it is.”

  “And the black-and-white one, the one with the black patch under his chin? Can we name him Aden, A-D-E-N? It was my maternal grandfather’s name. He had a goatee just like that.”

  “I like the name, but are we sure it’s a him?” Lara asked. “When Snowball first came into the shelter, I thought she was a male.”

  Kayla shrugged. “I guess we’ll know soon enough. But the name could work for either a male or a female, so what’s the dif?”

  In no mood to argue, Lara swiftly agreed. But once they got back to the shelter, she intended to have a chat with Kayla.

  The young woman was hurting, that much was clear. If there was any way Lara could help, she would.

  Chapter Fourteen

  With the kittens safely delivered to the veterinary hospital, Lara and Kayla headed back to the shelter.

  Aunt Fran was in the kitchen, throwing together a macaroni salad. “I thought I’d do this early, before the day gets any warmer. How about burgers on the grill with macaroni salad?” she asked Lara.

  Lara smiled. “Are you kidding? Count me in.” She peeked into the glass bowl in which Aunt Fran was blending the salad ingredients. “You’re adding peas?”

  “Of course. You and I both like them, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, we do.” But Chief Whitley didn’t. The man hated peas. Did that mean he wasn’t invited? Usually, when they grilled outside, it was a given that Aunt Fran asked the chief to join them.

  “You need me to pick up anything?” Lara asked.

  “No, but thank you for the offer. I still have some of the beefsteak tomatoes I bought at the farm stand last week. We can use those on the burgers. Kayla, some pink lemonade?” Aunt Fran wiped her hands on a towel and pulled a pitcher out of the fridge.

  “Sure, sounds good. Thanks.”

  Lara set the pink box on the kitchen table. She grabbed some plates and napkins, and then opened the box. Six apple fritters nestled inside, golden brown and coated in a sugary glaze. The sight of them made her taste buds dance for joy. She reached into the box for a fritter and set it on Aunt Fran’s plate.

  “Oh, they look delicious,” Aunt Fran said, sitting at the table with them. “Split this one with me?”

  “Sure,” Lara agreed, although she’d hoped to scarf down a whole one on her own.

  Kayla removed one from the box and set it on her plate.

  “How are you today, Kayla?” Aunt Fran asked, gazing kindly at her. Had she gleaned that Kayla wasn’t in the best of spirits?

  “I’m okay,” Kayla said and took a small bite of the fritter.

  Lara exchanged a glance with her aunt, and then she and Kayla gave Aunt Fran a recap of what had happened with the kittens.

  “So, we’re going to have four tiny new residents,” Aunt Fran said. “I can’t wait to see them.”

  “They’re going to need a lot of care for a while,” Lara cautioned. “I’ll make up the cot in the isolation room and sleep in there until they’re okay to be on their own at night.”

  Dolce sidled in from the large parlor and leaped silently onto Aunt Fran’s lap. She laughed and placed a hand on the kitty’s back. “My constant companion.”

  “We’ve already named two of the kittens,” K
ayla piped in. “Fritter and Aden. The other two names are up for grabs.”

  “Well, you gals can name them,” Aunt Fran said.

  Munster and Snowball trotted into the kitchen, each one sizing up the room for a free lap. Kayla scooped up Snowball and kissed her head, which left Munster to seek out the last available lap—Lara’s.

  “Everyone has a cat,” Lara said with a laugh.

  “Everyone should have a cat,” Kayla snapped, hugging Snowball to her chest.

  Oh boy, Lara thought, that touched a nerve.

  Was Kayla angry because her grandmother didn’t allow cats in the house? Was that the reason she’d been a bit testy lately?

  The sight of Snowball’s sweet face reminded Lara of the afternoon before, when that crime scene tech had shown up with the chief to take a sample of her fur. She’d been so distracted with their kitten mission that it had temporarily slipped her mind.

  Kayla looked embarrassed at her outburst. “If it’s okay, I’ll head home. I wasn’t supposed to put in any hours today anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow for adoption day.”

  “Of course, Kayla,” Aunt Fran said in a soothing voice. “Whatever works for you. Lara and I will be attending the service for Mrs. Fray, but we should be home by noon.”

  Lara set Munster on her chair and cleaned up the table. Kayla hadn’t finished her fritter, so Lara wrapped it in foil for her to take home. “Would you like one for your gram?”

  Kayla shook her head. “No. She can have a bite of mine.”

  Lara wished she’d had a chance to talk further to Kayla, but she seemed anxious to leave. She probably needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts.

  Lara was shoving the wrapped fritter into a paper bag when the front doorbell rang. She jumped. More bad news on the way?

  When Lara didn’t move, Kayla shot her a strange look. “I think that was your doorbell.”

  Her heart hammering in her chest, Lara went to the front door on legs that felt like cooked noodles. Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Deep breaths.