The Trouble with Cupid

by Carolyn Haines

  I lean over to study the torn envelope. Where an address had been written in ink, rain and mud had damaged it, bleeding the letters into an illegible gray stain. I can’t make any words out, and I doubt Mai or Lucas will be able to either. I further doubt that they can convince anyone at a lab to try to revive the lettering.

  A sprinkle of dirty glitter and a water-soaked corner of an envelope. I meow and rub against Lucas. He’s definitely going to need my help on this one.

  * * *

  Soon after, we are back inside Lucas’ vehicle, and I’m carefully tucked in between him and Mai as they toss words back and forth.

  “We don’t have a dang thing to go on.” Lucas backs the car around in the church driveway and heads out to Meredith Road.

  “Dang? Where’d you learn to cuss?” Mai smiles and cocks her head at him. “You a choirboy or what?”

  But her words are teasing, and when she flips her shiny black hair, I get it. She’s flirting. Lucas nearly drives over a curb as he gets it too and turns red. Poor boy. I purr just to remind him I’m here in case he needs my help.

  “Neighborhood boys, I’d reckon.” As soon as he says “reckon,” Lucas blushes a deeper shade of red. “Maybe some kind of scavenger hunt or just the petty theft boys’ll sometimes do to show off.”

  But Mai doesn’t tease him this time. “I don’t know. Do kids even do scavenger hunts anymore?”

  I meow to indicate support for the idea of teens, though not necessarily just boys. Mai frowns and looks down at me. “Does it have its shots and stuff?”

  It? Pardon me. I flatten my ears and give her a hard stare, which she matches and raises one by squinting her eyes into narrow slits as she glares at me. “Does it have fleas?”

  Fleas! She might be cute, and I suppose she’s smart or she wouldn’t be gifted in speaking so many foreign languages, but if she’s planning on spending time with Lucas, she’s going to have to learn better manners. Or wait until Lucas and I have finished our big case and I’ve gone back to Tammy Lynn in Wetumpka.

  “Oh, nothing’s wrong with Trouble.” Lucas perks up, glances at Mai, and smiles, nearly missing a stop sign. As he puts on the brakes and I dig my claws in the seat to keep from tumbling forward, he laughs. “He’s healthy as a horse, and four times smarter. Shoot, he’s as smart as your average person.”

  Huffily, I let out a short, low meow. Average person. I beg your pardon. That’s a low bar to set. And Lucas knows better. He knows I’m far more intelligent. Didn’t I just solve that kidnapping case last year when Lucas and his partner were stumbling around arresting all the wrong people?

  Ignoring my meow, Lucas continues. “Why Trouble can…he can…. I mean he’s smart, and he can see and smell things we can’t. Why he’s even…he…” And Lucas sputters to a stop.

  I suspect he was about to tell Mai about my detective skills, which I inherited from my father, Familiar, but which I have also honed on my own. My ears shoot forward, and I head butt Lucas in the leg, meowing. Go on. Tell her. But Lucas hasn’t completely learned cat language—or else he’s reluctant to tell Mai I’m a better detective than they are because he doesn’t want to invite scorn or ridicule.

  “What?” Mai tilts her head, and smiles at Lucas with that come-hither look in her eyes. “What about the cat?”

  This time I meow more loudly. Hello, my name is Trouble. I’m not an “it.” I’m not “the cat.” I start to head butt her leg, but Lucas rests a hand lightly on my back as if to placate me.

  “Just that he’s really smart. Really.” He smiles at Mai. Then his voice drops into something low and husky. “Maybe you and I could go door to door this evening. After work, I mean. And ask the neighbors if they know anything about the missing Madonna.” He pauses, watching Mai’s face closely. I yowl as he misses his turn onto the street to his house. Mai smiles back at him.

  “And we could get something to eat. You know, after we canvass the neighborhood.” Lucas sounds hopeful, and he apparently doesn’t even realize he just drove past his own street.

  “That would be fine.” Mai smooths her already smooth hair.

  I meow to suggest seafood, and Mai cuts her eyes down at me as if to say something unpleasant.

  * * *

  This simply is not going to work.

  I’m sitting on top of Lucas’ kitchen counter, watching as he reads from a cookbook. Scattered about near me, canisters of flour and sugar sit amidst a mess of other things. Nothing that interests me, of course, but he’s already dismissed my suggestion he poach a nice filet of salmon and forget the cake.

  “Red velvet cake,” he says, as if he hasn’t already explained this to me. “My grandmother’s specialty. I’m going to make it for Mai. You know, for Valentine’s Day.”

  I flatten my ears and meow, once more suggesting salmon. Lucas baking a cake is not going to work. I’ve told him so. I tell him again. Why can’t he just buy her a red heart-shaped box of candy and take her out for seafood?

  “All I have to do is follow the recipe.” He reaches over to pet me while I meow, still poised on his counter. He might not be a talented chef, but at least he doesn’t have fits when I get on his table or countertops like most bipeds do. As if a little cat hair would hurt them.

  “Hmmm,” Lucas mutters, frowning at the cookbook again. “What do you reckon they mean by ‘cream the butter and sugar together’? And you think almond milk will be okay to use? Or am I supposed to add cream to the butter and sugar mixture?”

  How would I know? Cats are strictly carnivorous, in case Lucas missed that lesson. I lick Lucas’ hand, more as a gesture of support than an offer of help. He is actually a very decent roommate. But I’d rather we get back to work on the big case, or even the little case of the missing Madonna because all this dopey love stuff is definitely getting in the way of his work.

  “Don’t you think Mai is beautiful?” He looks at me as if expecting me to understand and answer, so I do, meowing a pleasant “yes.”

  “And smart too. She’s teaching me Vietnamese.” He then proceeds to say a few words I’m quite certain are not how Mai pronounced them.

  I meow that it might be more to his advantage if he learned cat language.

  He stops chatting with me, and frowns as he returns to the cookbook and the bowls of gluey looking stuff on his counter.

  “Salmon.” I meow it distinctly. Salmon for Valentine’s Day would be ever so nice a gift if you ask me. Forget the cake and forget the heart-shaped box of candy. Go for fish! He could add something red on the side if he insisted, like maybe ribbon to wrap the fish with.

  Despite my advice otherwise, Lucas persists. An hour later, he has destroyed his kitchen, and there’s cocoa power on his nose and sprinkles of white flour on my black fur, but some mixture supposing to be a cake is now in the oven.

  His cell phone rings.

  “Mai,” he says, all hopeful as he pulls out his phone. When he checks caller ID, he frowns. But he dusts his hand off and answers. “Yes, sir.” He listens. I put my head up to the cell phone so I can hear. It’s the older priest, the one from the church. He’s telling Lucas that though the missing Madonna is still gone, there’s a smaller, metal Madonna that’s been placed in the garden where the stone Madonna used to stand. Could Lucas and Mai come over and see if they can figure out what is going on?

  Lucas agrees, of course. He’s off duty till Monday, but he and Mai have already decided to do what they can for the kindly priest and the little church with the red door. They agreed to do so off duty as their own private project. After all, it gives them something to work on together, and keeping it unofficial coincides with the priest’s request that no one be arrested.

  Lucas calls Mai, and they arrange to meet at the church in an hour. He puts down his cell phone and grins at me as if he solved the case already. He checks the oven, makes a quick pass at cleaning the kitchen, and winks at me.

  “Watch the cake,” he says, and rushes toward the bathroom. A moment later I hear the sound of
the shower.

  I hop down off the counter and sniff at the oven.

  Salmon would be better.

  So thinking, I hunker down in front of the stove and watch the cake as requested.

  * * *

  “You can’t keep bringing that cat to crime scenes.” Mai puts her hands on her hips and glowers at Lucas. “People are talking.”

  I’m draped over Lucas’s shoulder, my head even with Mai. I stifle the urge to hiss at her. If Lucas would just tell her I’m as much a detective as she is, she’d surely get past this irrational objection she has to me.

  “What people?” Lucas gives her an Opie-like grin and a small shrug of his wide shoulders.

  “Everybody. You’re ruining your reputation. And if you keep this up, you’ll ruin mine too.”

  “Is that what this is about?” The Opie grin disappears. “You’re worried about what people will think about you? Because I have a cat?”

  “You don’t just have a cat. That cat has you.”

  I purr. She’s got that right.

  “And you …you thinking the cat is some kind of detective. That’s nuts. You’re going to end up with psych evaluations and shrinks prying into your head and they’ll demote you. And—”

  Under me, Lucas stiffens. He doesn’t like this shrill Mai. I don’t either.

  “You don’t understand.” Lucas pets at my leg as he glares at Mai. “He is a detective. I swear it.”

  “That’s just crazy. You’re crazy.” Mai steps back from Lucas.

  I drop down on the ground and run to the new statue. While they bicker, I’ll figure this out.

  The elderly priest is leaning on his cane, staring at this new Madonna. He glances at me and smiles. I rub up against him, and he bends down and pets me. “Trouble, I believe. Isn’t that your name?” I purr and arch into his hand petting me. I like this man, with his sweet, kind eyes and his soft voice. If Mai moves in with Lucas and I can’t get back to Tammy Lynn right away, maybe I’ll move into the church rectory with Father Dan.

  Snappish words, getting louder, come from Mai and Lucas. I turn back to them to listen. As I feared, they are still arguing over me.

  “Lovers’ spat?” Father Dan says, eyeing me as if I’m a fellow conspirator.

  I meow yes. Mai and Lucas have only been dating a short time, but Lucas is seriously smitten. His efforts at the failed red velvet cake prove that. But he’s not going to abandon me for his new love—that much is clear from his stand against Mai’s accusations.

  “It’s a cat, all right. A dumb animal. That’s all.” Mai shouts it.

  As I arch and flatten my ears, Father Dan rests a soft hand on my head. “Don’t let that bother you. No cat is ever a dumb animal. She’ll learn.” Then he winks at me and ambles toward the feuding detectives. His feet and cane maneuver carefully in the thick, dead grasses of winter.

  “My friends,” he says. “This is the day the Lord made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Looking from one to the other, his wise eyes never waiver. “I thank you for coming to help me with this mystery. And for sharing your time and your talents with me.” He smiles sweetly. “And for sharing your beautiful cat, Trouble, with me. He is a joy.”

  I purr on cue and rub against Father Dan. Mai’s shoulders gradually relax. Lucas eases closer to her. I look around, sniffing the air and the day. Despite the chill in the air, it is a gloriously gorgeous winter day in Tallahassee.

  “So,” Mai says, stepping closer to the priest, “you said someone just brought this new statue and left it here?”

  Father Dan explains all over again, as we all make our way toward the replacement statue. A moment later, we circle the metal Madonna. She’s pretty in a copper and crafty kind of way, but there’s something hard about her too.

  While Mai and Lucas question Father Dan, I sniff around the new statue. In doing so, I spot just the faintest hint of glitter. I paw and sniff, but even I can’t say if this is new to the scene, or just some of the same glitter I had spotted before.

  A small sporty car spins into the driveway at the church, and we all turn toward the vehicle as it screeches to a stop.

  A long, lean woman with a hard face and conspicuously dyed black hair steps out. She’s dressed like she’s a teen, but the dyed hair and squint marks around her eyes make me suspect she’s on the other side of forty and wishing she were not. She’s wearing entirely too much perfume and it assaults my nose. Perhaps to humans, it isn’t so awful, but to my sensitive olfactory organs, it smells of soured citrus with a hint of rotten eggs. I sneeze. Father Dan glances at me, and he winks as if to say he understands. I sneeze again.

  Beside me, Father Dan laughs. “Ah, Trouble, she sometimes has that impact on me too, but she is a faithful member of the church and one of God’s blessed children. We must go forth and greet her.”

  The woman sashays up to all of us. “Greetings, Father Daniel. Greetings fellow people.” Her voice is high and overly perky. I surmise she’s putting on an act, and not an especially good one. “What a lovely, lovely day. And how are you, dear Father Dan?”

  “I’m just fine,” Father Dan says, and smiles with what appears to be genuine pleasure despite his earlier words. “And how are you today, Eleanor?”

  “Fine, fine.” She pats his hand. Then she casts her eyes at Lucas and me, but completely ignores Mai. “Company?”

  Father Dan makes the introductions to all of us, kindly including me too, but Eleanor only responds to Lucas—in a strangely flirtatious way that makes him turn red.

  “And what brings you here today, Eleanor?” Father Dan asks, edging gently between her and the blushing Lucas.

  “I just wanted to be sure you are still planning on joining us this evening. You know, the neighborhood community gathering to address the rise in recent crime in our area.” She speaks directly at Father Dan in loud, slow words as if he is hard of hearing, or senile.

  He agrees, somewhat reluctantly it would appear to me, that he’ll join the meeting.

  Apparently satisfied, she turns to Lucas. “Why are the police here?” she asks, straining it would seem, to sound nice.

  Father Dan explains when neither Lucas nor Mai respond. “You knew, of course, someone had taken the Madonna. You were kind to offer to help me search for her, but then I called in the professionals.” He pauses to grin at Mai and Lucas, and taps me on the head as if he knows I’m on the job too. “Now this morning, I find this metal figurine. As if someone is replacing the missing statue.”

  She studies the metal Madonna and makes a noise not unlike a human trying to purr. “It’s lovely, this new one. Don’t you think so?” She glances at Father Dan and rests her fingers lightly on the metal statue. “I’m sorry, really, about the other one. I know how much the Mother Mary sculpture meant to you.”

  For once, Eleanor sounds genuine and I stifle another sneeze.

  “But, that’s precisely the type of crime we need to address tonight at the meeting. Vandals and thieves.” Eleanor casts a nearly cross-eyed look at Mai. “All these newcomers—outsiders—coming to the area. Foreigners. Who knows what will be next? Why, I’m nervous to be home alone these days.”

  “It’s a good neighborhood,” Father Dan says. “We’ve never had any problems.”

  “And that’s, of course, exactly why you have this handsome man, one of Tallahassee’s finest here, with you now.” Eleanor taps Lucas lightly on his chest. “To help you with those non-problems. Right?”

  Mai shifts her weight and chews her lip as if trying not to retort to the woman. Lucas blushes an even deeper red.

  Someone in Eleanor’s car honks a horn. We all turn, as none of us—myself included—had realized she had a passenger with her.

  “Oh, that’s just my sister.” Eleanor sighs as she glances back at the car. “We’ve been out on errands. You know how she tires easily, so I won’t be staying too much longer.”

  “Ah, you brought Sarah with you.” Father Dan’s face breaks into a smile. Turning briefly to L
ucas, Mai and me, he says. “Sarah and Eleanor are both members of our church and very active in keeping the church and the grounds so beautiful.”

  Eleanor smiles. If she’d been a cat, she would have purred and preened. “I’m glad you appreciate us. I adore being part of your church. Of course, Sarah is still trying to make up for her youthful indiscretions as if cleaning the church was community service.”

  “Of course, Eleanor. I appreciate you. And Sarah has nothing to make up for, you know that.” Father Dan taps his cane on the ground as if to emphasize his words. “She’s been a lovely mother, even if she had to raise her child alone.”

  Looking appropriately chastised by Father Dan’s gentle rebuke, Eleanor casts her eyes downward. “I didn’t mean anything bad by that.”

  “Of course not.” Father Dan pats Eleanor’s hand and she looks up again. “Well, let me totter over and speak with your lovely sister. And see what she wants.”

  “She wants to go home,” Eleanor says. “I won’t be but a minute or two more, but I want to discuss something with this young detective.” She’s eyeing Lucas, and still ignoring Mai and me.

  “Very well. I’ll let her know,” Father Dan says, and aims himself toward the car. I follow in case he needs my help. And also to escape Eleanor’s perfume.

  A moment later, Father Dan opens the car door. A nice-looking, but frail woman, somewhere between thirty and fifty (with humans sometimes it is hard to tell), is resting, somewhat collapsed against the headrest.

  “Oh, my dear,” Father Dan says, and takes her hand. “How can I help?”

  “It’s just a migraine. I should never have agreed to go with Eleanor to gather up people for her meeting. But she was so insistent I needed to get out of the house.”

  I sneeze. The car reeks of citrus and rotten eggs.

  “The perfume.” Father Dan says it gently, but a trace of irritation shows on his face. “She should know better. You have your allergies.”