They got in the car and Tatty gave directions to the castle. Trouble and Trinity rode in the backseat with their paws on the console.
“It looks like Trouble is taking notes on where we’re going,” Tatty said. “Do you really think he could read the computer?”
“I don’t know how he obtains his knowledge of things,” Gabe said, “but I know he knows. I was thinking back to what Aiden said about the SSK, the serial killer. Trouble helped find the body dump, and he saved Tammy from an abduction. He’s a serious black cat detective, and his father is famous. His name is Familiar.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Be careful,” Gabe said. “Trouble is listening, and you may pay for your skepticism. Trouble, like all cats, does not like to be toyed with or underestimated.”
“So you’re a cat person,” Tatty said.
“I love cats. And dogs. I just love animals. If this isn’t Tammy’s cat Trouble, I’ll certainly consider giving him a home.”
“I like that.” Tatty put a hand on his arm, and Gabe couldn’t deny the thrill it gave him. Her touch was electric.
“Take a right here,” Tatty said. “It’s about five miles down this road on the left.” Her voice cracked a little.
Gabe put a hand on her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find Lana and she’ll be okay. Why don’t you check the hospital and see how Sam is doing?”
“Good idea.” Tatty placed the call and put the phone on speaker.
“We can’t give patient details,” the charge nurse said, “but I will say Mr. Cooke is resting comfortably, and the doctor is keeping an eye on him. When he regains consciousness and the doctor checks him over, he can have visitors. Should be in a few hours.”
Tatty thanked her and hung up. “That’s the best news we’ve had today.”
“I think Sam will be fine and we’ll find Lana and the wedding will go off without a hitch,” Gabe said. He kept his hand on Tatty’s, loving the way her fingers locked into his in such a trusting way. He’d been alone for a long time. Too long. He’d put his work as an architect ahead of everything until Sam had started needling him about meeting Tatty. He’d put the blind date off for weeks—and what a fool he’d been. Never again would he diss a “fix-up” date. Perhaps he’d never again have need of one.
“There it is,” Tatty said, her voice tight with worry. “What are we going to do?”
“I have flashlights and binoculars in the trunk.” He felt a little sheepish. “I birdwatch.”
“Really?”
“It relaxes me.”
“I have a wildlife garden for the birds and butterflies and bees.”
Gabe grinned. “Why am I not surprised?”
They got out and walked to the glow of a light in a window of a formidable fortress. The place might be labeled the so-called bridal suite, but it looked more like the Tower of London. “We’ll have to go over that bridge and up to the door, unless you know how to scale a wall.”
Tatty nudged him lightly. “I have done some rock climbing.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Gabe said again, delighted at each new revelation. She was fast becoming the perfect woman for him. “This night just gets more and more surreal. But I’m hoping the cats can figure out a way in. I think Trouble is pretty darn smart, and that little calico seems smitten with him. Let’s see what they turn up.”
* * *
Oh, give that man a dry vodka martini, shaken and not stirred. He’s aware that Trinity and I are far more capable of getting in to investigate this heap of stones than any human. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Trinity has my back as we rush down the bridge toward the mock castle. This is new construction, not old. This has been built with insulation and a central air and heat unit. Where there is ductwork, there is room for a sleek cat! The first thing we must ascertain is whether Lana is here. I mean, if some hapless biped couple is celebrating a wedding, we don’t want to intrude. My hero, Sherlock, would never stomp on nuptial bliss. So the first chore is finding a window. Preferably one with a light on and human activity near. This one fits the bill. Trinity goes up on the ledge, and then me.
She sees her mistress, Lana Treme, and I’m glad to report Lana is unharmed. But she is tied in a chair, which must be uncomfortable. From what I’ve learned, Lana is not the kind of woman to be restrained without consequences. And there is the kidnapper. Brent Harlow has sloped shoulders and bad posture. That speaks against him, from my perspective. We Brits maintain a stiff upper lip and excellent posture at all times. God bless the Queen!
He’s trying to give Lana something to drink. Uh-oh, she spat it back in his face. He’s turning very red. Lana, you are antagonizing a dangerous man. I have to get in there and stop this. Trinity agrees. But how? We must confer with the humanoids. Brent doesn’t know Gabe, so he must knock on the door, pretending to be food services or something. I will slip through and assist Lana. Miss Long Legs Tatty will have to wait this one out. She isn’t going to like this. She’s very much like her sister. But once we have Brent Harlow restrained, she can kick him all she wants!
Gabe and Tatty are ready for action. I just have to convince them to let me take the lead. That’s difficult for most bipeds, but these two are exceptions, and there’s some chemistry going on between them too. That’s good for me. How to convey to Gabe to pretend to be…maintenance? There are tools in the back of the SUV. I’m showing them to him, and the light goes on in his brain. He grabs up the tools and tool belt and is ready. Tatty is smart enough to know Brent will recognize her. Trinity is staying with Tatty to keep her in line. Because I’m a slip of a shadow, I can slide past Brent without being noticed.
Gabe is knocking on the door, and Brent is answering. He’s wary and angry. I have to be careful, but I’m in. Gabe is explaining that he needs to check the flue in the chimney if they want to have a fire. Brent allows him in but follows him closely. To Gabe’s credit, he is talking loudly in the hopes Lana will hear him and recognize his voice. I must scamper to her aid. Perhaps scamper is too ridiculous a word. I shall slither like a deadly cobra and strike at Brent Harlow when he least expects. But first to free the bonds of Lana Treme.
Lucky for me Sherlock Holmes is an expert at various knots—and how to untie them. The bipeds have the advantage of thumbs, but I’m managing with claws and teeth. Lana is curious about me, but she is doing all in her power to help. Thank goodness she isn’t a humanoid who has to have every step explained to her. Her hands are free and she’s releasing her feet. Gabe is working on the chimney flue, much to the annoyance of Brent, who is now demanding that he leave. I’ll give him a signal, and Lana and I will seek a back exit.
And we’re off. But not fast enough.
* * *
“Lana, stop or I’ll shoot!”
Gabe froze in his tracks because Brent had a pistol pointed at Lana’s back.
Brent swung the gun back at Gabe. “If either of you makes a move, one of you is going to die.”
Lana held up her hands, palms out. “You can’t keep me here, Brent. I promise you, I’ll see that you get professional help. I won’t press charges.” She rubbed her wrists where the rope had cut into her skin. “I’m not injured. No one has to be hurt.”
“I’m not insane. I love you. All I want is a chance to make you see that. To be happy with you.”
Gabe nodded at Lana, willing her to keep the gunman talking. Gabe considered attacking Brent, but even as he thought it, Brent cocked the hammer on the pistol. It could go off without any real effort or even intention. He couldn’t risk getting Lana shot.
“Who are you?” Brent asked him. “You know Lana, but how?”
Gabe knew better than to say he was friends with Lana’s fiancé. “Just a friend.”
“Right? Just a friend.” Brent was growing more agitated. Gabe knew he was running out of options. He had to do something, and fast. At any moment, Brent was going to lose it. Gabe knew he could close the distance between him and the kidna
pper and take him out with a flying tackle, but it was risky. Hopefully, Lana would duck and roll, but she could easily be shot. But if he did nothing, Brent would shoot them both and likely Tatty too.
Gabe reached for the fire poker. One good swat would break Brent’s arm. He had to risk it.
A small black streak of screaming fury shot from beside Lana and launched itself at Brent’s head. The attack was so unexpected, the gunman lifted his arms to protect his face. The gun discharged harmlessly into the ceiling as Trouble landed on Brent’s head, claws digging in. Gabe followed up with a well-placed blow on the gun arm with the poker. The gun went flying across the room and Lana retrieved it just as Tatty pushed in through the front door.
“Brent. Stop this now.” Tatty’s voice cut across the confusion and Brent crumpled to the floor, holding his arm and whimpering. Blood dripped down his face from the razor claws of Trouble, who hopped to the floor and began to lick his front paws. Trinity rushed over to him and began licking his ears.
Lana wasted no time getting the ropes from the chair and tying Brent’s hands behind his back. “I shouldn’t have let you in my home, Brent. I was trying to be kind. That’s all I’ve ever been.”
As Tatty hugged her sister, Gabe placed a call to the sheriff’s department. When he finished, he called the hospital. “I won’t tell Sam about the kidnapping or the gun,” Gabe assured Lana. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“Connect us to Sam Cooke’s room, please,” Gabe said.
A moment later, Lana was talking on speaker phone to a groggy Sam. “Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Mild concussion. Now that I’m waking up, they’re going to keep me awake. I’m sorry our Valentine’s dinner was ruined. What happened? The police have been asking questions I can’t answer. The last I remember was arguing with that man.”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you,” Lana said. “Thanks to your friend Gabe and my Tatty and a very unusual black cat name Trouble, everything turned out just fine. We’re going to drop Trouble off at Tammy Lynn’s house on the way to the hospital to visit you. If you can’t sleep, you might as well have some company. We’ve had quite an adventure.”
“Could you maybe bring some of that pot roast?” Sam asked. “I’m starving. And how are Gabe and Tatty getting on? Give a sick man some details.”
“Better than you’d ever imagine,” Lana threw in. “Now no more questions. You can ask us in person when we get to the hospital.”
Tatty slipped her hand into Gabe’s as she beamed at her sister’s spunk. He laced his fingers with hers and leaned down to whisper, “I have to tell you, Tatty, this is the most exciting blind date I’ve ever had.”
“So, you’re a connoisseur of blind dates? Like one every other night? Once a week?”
Gabe shook his head. He loved her streak of mischief. “I think this may be my last one, if things go the way I want them to.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Me too.”
“I think once we finish at the hospital, maybe we could find an all-night diner and talk calmly over some greasy fried food.”
“I can’t think of anything better!”
* * *
“Thank goodness I’m home before Tammy finds out about my nocturnal wanderings. Lana and Tatty are going to pay a call on her tomorrow in the bookstore and fill her in on the night’s activities. But tonight, I can slip in the cat door and pretend I’ve been napping all evening. How to explain this beautiful little calico that’s followed me home? Ah, I think it best to beg forgiveness rather than ask permission. Trinity is my moggy—my very special gift from Cupid on a wild Valentine’s night adventure. She’s a kitty with a lot of mettle.
Ah, look at the lovebirds Tammy and Aiden. They’re spooned up on the sofa watching some dopey romantic comedy that has her crying and him smiling. I’ll just saunter in with Trinity, demand my supper, and act completely normal. That’s it, bipeds! Snap to it! Trouble, the black cat detective and his guest want to be fed!
About the Author
Carolyn Haines is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over 70 books in a number of genres. She is the president of KaliOka Press. In the 1990s she wrote a series of novels about Familiar, the black cat detective. Familiar is Trouble’s dad. An animal lover and advocate, Haines runs an animal rescue at her farm. Familiar Trouble is the first book in the new multi-author Trouble Cat Mysteries. Trouble is based on her beloved late cat, Coal Shaft Haines.
www.carolynhaines.com
Tidbit From Trouble #2
With their shrill voices and sticky fingers, human children can be the most vexing creatures on the planet. Yet, they are also clever little imps, and I find myself both amused by their antics and touched by their capacity for pure and uncomplicated affection. In some ways, though limited by the genetic misfortune to be homo sapiens rather than felis catus, children are much like cats—unpredictable and capable of more than they’re given credit for. So when an opportunity arises to give a bit of assistance to a man who devotes his life to developing the minds of these small bipeds, I am only too happy to volunteer my services. Vincit omnia veritas—Truth conquers all!
Of Mice and Munchkins
By Laura Benedict
The mouse habitat was empty, its door standing open. It was always a risk to have classroom pets with five-year-olds around, but Gregg Davidson, the head teacher and administrator of East Magnolia Montessori school, made it a point to have animals in the school's two classrooms. He believed it was important for kids to learn about taking care of creatures smaller and more vulnerable than themselves. So many parents didn't give kids that age any sort of responsibility, which was too bad. Ninety percent of the time the kids in his Montessori class lived up to expectations: wiping the tables down and using the manual sweeper after meals, replacing activities back on the shelves when they were through, keeping their cubbies neat. Unfortunately the remaining ten percent of the time, things could go south very quickly. Now, Raymond and Julio were missing.
"Dammit." As soon as the word came out of Gregg's mouth, he looked around, feeling guilty. He wasn't usually prone to slips, but at least the classroom, like the cage, was empty. The afternoon had been more chaotic than usual, with the Valentine's party at the end of the day. With the students’ younger siblings and a dozen hovering Wetumpka and Elmore County moms coming in and out of the schoolroom, any curious child—at least one who didn't know the ways of the classroom—might have opened the habitat and let the mice out. He could imagine the curious mice scouting for sugar cookie crumbs on the floor. But surely someone would've noticed a mouse loose in the room. And there was one person who definitely would have noticed: Marian Dempsey, the owner of Miss Marian's Nursery School and Kindergarten, a Wetumpka institution. She'd brought by a package that had been mis-delivered to her instead of the Montessori school, and hung around the party for several minutes. Marian always smiled when they ran into each other, but there was never any warmth in her voice.
The last of the kids had been picked up or put on the tiny van shuttle for which some of the parents paid dearly. This was usually his favorite quiet time, when the parents (who often wanted "just one" word with him), siblings and kids were gone, their noisy patter fading in the foyer of the school. Except now it felt too quiet.
He heard a quiet thump behind him, and turned to see Trouble, Wetumpka's most popular black cat, threading his way among the counting activities on top of the low cabinet beneath the open window. The children loved it when Trouble visited. Many of them knew him from the bookstore belonging to Tammy Lynn, who had befriended Gregg soon after he arrived in town.
Trouble ignored him, strolling around the classroom like he owned it. Eventually he came to Gregg for a quick scratch behind the ears, then wandered off again as though performing an inspection. There was something quite self-possessed and regal about the cat. The gossip was that Trouble had a knack for solving mysteries—something that Gregg couldn't quite make himself believe. But the cat did seem smart,
and was very tolerant of the ministrations of even the kids in the three to four-year-old group.
"I'm closing up, cat," Gregg said, not feeling silly at all. He suspected that few people who spend their days speaking to kids under six would think twice about talking to a cat.
Trouble jumped down from a chair and batted around a red candy heart he'd spotted on the floor. Gregg went back to tidying the room, keeping an eye out for the mice as he did so. He was just standing after retrieving half a cupcake from beneath a stool when he saw Trouble leap onto the habitat's table and paw at its open door. His nose twitched and he stretched his neck to inspect the inside. Then he backed out again, and Greg could've sworn the cat looked disappointed.
"No mouse treats for you. You figure out where they are, and I'll give you a whole package of duck liver paté. It'll be just like a big piece of liver cake." He didn't add that it had been in his freezer since Christmas Eve, when it had arrived as a gift from his brother and foodie sister-in-law. Didn't cats like to eat things that were long-dead anyway?
Trouble stared at him, then jumped down to rub himself affectionately on Gregg's khakis. After Gregg bent to scratch him behind the ears again, Trouble left out the window through which he'd come.
"So much for help." Gregg closed the window, took a last look around, and turned out the lights. The kids would be sad and disappointed to learn the mice had escaped, and he toyed with stopping at the pet store at the mall to pick up a couple of new ones. But what were the chances that they would have similar, let alone identical ones? Anyway, it wouldn't be fair to do that to the kids. Life was life, and sometimes you lost things that never came back to you. It was something he'd learned the hard way when his wife had been killed by a drunk driver three years earlier. Starting a school of their own had been a dream they shared. No. The kids would have to deal with loss, maybe a little earlier than they wanted to.
The Trouble with Cupid Page 3
