The Trouble with Cupid

by Carolyn Haines

  Cracking right along, is it my fault I missed the flight home with Tammy because I was busy solving a murder? It’s what I do. Tammy Lynn understands me, but these humans are quite elementary in the communications department. My exceptional nose for clues handily put that last killer to bed, and I applaud the police departments that are finally using cats instead of dogs to sniff out drugs and cadavers. The Egyptians knew that our sense of smell was superior millennia ago. Glad the rest of the world is catching on.

  Instead of making my usual inquisitive rounds, I am going to rest and dream of crab cakes and salmon. Tammy Lynn, I’m coming to you.

  But what is this? We barely took off and now we are preparing to land? I am going up to those stewardesses and find out what’s what. That second jolt after the landing gear retracted was unusual I admit. We should be halfway to Atlanta by now. I don’t like how they keep mentioning Chicago and an engine that isn’t properly functioning. Chicago is barely 90 miles from where we departed.

  This is utterly unacceptable. I’m simply must find a way off this second-rate conveyance and hitch a ride south in something more dependable. At least Cami is asleep. She barely slept last night, and I certainly am in no hurry to witness a meltdown. Of course, I spoke too soon. The plane landing has awakened her, and I can already see her distress as the captain prattles on about how quickly we’ll be underway.

  * * *

  Cami punched the message into her phone letting Levi and Tammy Lynn know that she was at Chicago O’Hare airport, and didn’t know when she’d be in Atlanta. There was no phone signal except right by the window and everybody was either on his or her phone or watching the snowflakes tumble from the sky. At least the two girls dancing in front of the ladies’ room were mildly entertaining. They had a hat out in the walkway and people were actually throwing money into it—a yellow knit ski cap with a huge eye staring out at the crowd. Fascinating. “C’mon, Trouble. Let’s see why these girls are doing tandem acrobatics to bad music.”

  Cami watched the girls dance in sync for a few moments, but curiosity consumed her. “What does your sign mean, ‘Help Ghana go to the Olympics?’”

  One of the girls stopped in mid twist and pointed to a man sitting in a wheelchair next to the water fountain. “Moses has been stranded here for two days. He has no food, and we’re dancing to get him some spending money. So we were a little creative with the sign.” She panted a little as she spoke.

  “And this has what to do with the Oympics?”

  The black man spoke in a rich, heavily accented rumble. “This is my job. I am on a tour of America, raising money for the Ghanaian Paralympic Team. But now I am stranded, and the snow has cost me much time and needed funds.”

  “Sure,” Cami answered, and turned to walk away.

  “Stop. I will show you something that will convince you. These girls are doing me a great service. Let me show you a sight you may never see again.”

  Trouble jumped from the compartment in Cami’s purse and strode over to the man, who was fumbling with a black pouch. His arms were heavily muscled and he wore gloves on his hands. Of course, it must get dirty pushing the wheelchair with all those muddy shoes and boots around. His skin and eyes were almost black, and his hair was shaved nearly to the scalp. He had kind but tired eyes, and his head was shaped almost like a square except for the pointy chin. His lips and nose were fat and flat, and his cheekbones were high. The veins in his arms looked like a road map, and Cami forced herself to look away when she noticed that below his knees his legs and feet were three sizes too small, covered only in black socks.

  He unrolled pieces of black velvet cloth and pulled out something that looked like two silver flying saucers attached to ribbons.

  “The silver medals are 100% silver, but the gold medal is only coated with gold. It has silver on the inside because the cost would be incredible for the host country. Come see how heavy they are.” He unrolled the purple velvet that concealed the gold medal, and Cami reached out her hand toward it.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Trouble was on the man’s lap in a flash closely inspecting the three disks on his legs. He ran a paw along the gold medal and then did the same with the two silver medals. Trouble’s head tilted downward, and he began to purr loudly. Unfazed, the man held out one of the silver medals, and Cami didn’t hesitate to take it. The medal really was heavier than she expected, and her hand dipped as she grasped it. She looked at the inscription, and her jaw dropped open.

  “You’re right. I’ve never held an Olympic silver medal in my hand. This is awesome.”

  The two dancing girls crowded next to her. “My turn,” the one with the blue highlights said. She held out her hand. Cami looked at the man, who nodded. Soon a small crowd had gathered, and Trouble jumped off the man’s lap. It didn’t take Cami long to notice that Trouble was guarding the ski cap full of donations, and busy as the terminal was, it was the best call. But Cami wanted to hold the gold medal too. She didn’t figure that she would be hanging out with any Olympic athletes any time soon, and this almost made the pit stop in Chicago worth the trip. Of course, the fact that they could have landed in a fiery crash had made her blood pressure soar, but it was all water under the bridge now. Cami took out her phone and began to snap pictures of Moses and his medals. Levi and the gang at work were never going to believe this one!

  “Can I hold the gold medal, please?” She looked at Moses, who was beaming like a proud father as the silver medal was passed from one to another and phones clicked furiously.

  “Yes, but do not pass it around. It is not mine to give.”

  Cami looked at the golden disk with reverence for just a second, held it up as if somebody was handing it to her from above, and snapped a selfie.

  Trouble meowed, and Moses’ face changed to a mask of concern. “But I must get these back in the case. Ghana was once peppered with gold mines, but now all we have is this one gold medal to remind the world of the heights from which we have come. This a great treasure for Ghana, and I could be shot for letting the medals out in public like this. But I will blame it on exhaustion and hope for mercy. After all, one of those silver medals is mine—from the paratriathalon—only Kenya is faster. I am named after the great marathon racer, Moses Tanui, but my last name is Amartey.” He gathered the medals into his lap and carefully began folding them into their velvet cloths.

  Trouble was at the foot of the wheelchair with the ski cap in his mouth. It fell to the floor with a clank.

  Cami picked the cap up and placed it next to the oblong black pouch. “Nice to meet you, Moses Amartey. But if you are a professional fundraiser and have these valuable medals, why are those girls collecting money this way? And where is your security team?” Cami tried to keep the skepticism from her voice.

  Moses shook his head and gave a low chuckle. “Life is interesting for me. One day I am at a fine hotel eating rich desserts and raising many thousands of dollars for our Paralympic team, and two days later I am stranded at the airport just a few miles away with no money for food or even a decent place to rest. I would give many things of value for a shower.” He shifted in his seat. “But they have assured me I will be on the next plane. If only it will stop snowing. My first look at snow and it may cost my country and our Olympic teams much money. Such is my life.”

  Moses looked nervous for a moment as he secured the medals in the black case and tucked it into the satchel near his footrest. “As for security, the airport police are spread thin. I have been assured that there is a U.S. Marshal somewhere nearby, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to be in this place for two days straight either. The airline has offered me a hotel voucher, but the weather reports keep saying the snow will turn to rain, and I am anxious to catch the next plane to Atlanta. I have many scheduled events there. Of course my luggage is there too.”

  Cami felt pity for the man and decided to try and lighten the mood. “Then we will be flying together. Trouble and I are going to Atlanta too.” S
he swiped the ski cap from the floor and placed it in Moses’ lap with a clank.

  “Why do you require the services of an animal?” The crowd was dispersing quickly, except for the two girls. Instead of dancing, they were sitting cross-legged on the floor, giggling. Both were blonde, but that was where the similarity ended. One was stocky with deep blue eyes, a smattering of freckles and streaks of blue in her short hair. The other was pale of face and eyes, and her legs were so long and skinny that Cami wondered how they held her up. That girl’s perfectly highlighted hair cascaded to her waist, and Cami felt a twinge of envy. She could tell the girls had danced together before, maybe in a school production or dance class. They were maybe nineteen or twenty, and full of joie de vivre. Or alcohol. Cami smelled the unmistakable incense of whiskey wafting from their direction.

  “It’s a long story,” Cami said softly. “But tell me your story, and I will tell you mine. It may help to pass the time. I hate to admit that I’ve only watched one Paralympic event, and that’s because I heard that wheelchair basketball is part basketball, part smash-up derby. It was so cool.”

  Moses flashed a smile and retrieved the money from the cap. He pushed himself up with one arm and pocketed it without counting, and then turned his chair toward the two girls. “Thank you so much for your assistance. God bless you.”

  The girls looked startled for a moment, and then burst into giggles. The girl with the long hair put the cap back on her head and began to thank Moses in Minion language. At least that’s what Cami thought she was doing. Moses rolled toward the nearest restaurant with Cami and Trouble following like ducks. Trouble growled, and Cami remembered that her suitcase was still sitting under the water fountain.

  “I have to get my bag, Moses. I’ll be right back.” Cami scooped up Trouble and kissed him on the head. “Thanks for the reminder, fella.” He was in her purse in a flash.

  Moses nodded, but Cami could see that his attention was mostly on the menu specials listed on the chalkboard. Cami wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten as she quickly strode to get her bag. She would die of embarrassment if she had to beg some security guy for her stuff. Or worse, show up at Tammy Lynn’s with no clothes or toothbrush.

  The girls were standing next to her suitcase when she got there. The blue-haired one snorted. “I wondered how long it would take you to remember your stuff.”

  Cami felt her face color as she reached for the handle and snapped it up. “You girls are just full of helpfulness today. Can I buy you lunch? Moses is eating at that Italian restaurant over there, and I’ve heard their pizza is awesome.”

  “Sure,” the girls said in unison, and Cami felt the first real smile of the day light up her face.

  The good thing about the restaurant was that there were few people in it, maybe thirty, since it was well before lunchtime. Moses had found a small table near the front, and he was watching the people go by as he sipped a tall glass of lemonade.

  At the table next to him sat a harried-looking woman with the most beautiful toddler Cami had ever seen beside her. The girl’s eyes were cornflower blue, her cheeks were pink, and a golden halo of curls tumbled about her head. The pink dress she wore was smocked, with a satiny white ribbon at the center, and her shoes were shiny black patent leather. In the unmistakable accent of a Brit she asked, “Mummy, when can we see Daddy?” She was the picture of adorable, albeit in constant motion, climbing up and down the high chair like it was a ladder.

  “As soon as the snow stops, Pippa dear,” the woman answered in a tired voice. “Daddy is anxious to see us too. Now eat. You haven’t touched your breakfast, and we should be on our plane by dinner time.” The woman sighed deeply. “I’d give anything for a plate of bangers about now.”

  The girl slipped into the chair and nodded solemnly, and the woman returned to her plate of food. There was a stroller next to the table, and Cami found herself wondering if the child actually sat in the thing. Before Cami’s glass of water was delivered, the little girl had climbed from one end of the table to the other, and then she was gone. The mother was obviously used to this because she didn’t look at all concerned. She just got up and circled their booth in ever widening spheres until she found the girl at the waitress station with two hands full of sugar packets.

  “Put it down, Pippa sweetie. Mummy has enough sugar.”

  “Yes, Mummy.” And the girl returned to her seat with the most cherubic look on her face. After the child was primly seated in her high chair, Cami watched her pull a fistful of straws, three different types of crackers, and several jelly packets from inside her dress like Houdini.

  The skinny dancer, who Cami now knew was named Paula, pointed this out to her companion, whose name escaped her. In her thoughts, Cami called the girl Betty. Blue-hair Betty.

  Cami could barely suppress her giggle, though Moses was telling of his struggles of the past two days. She agreed that airline employees were the most polite people in the world until you were stranded at the airport. She knew better than to expect quick service, which is why she was sitting in an overpriced restaurant eating with three strangers instead of pacing at the gate waiting for her plane to arrive. The new, unbroken version of her plane. Yep, holding her breath on that one. Levi hadn’t answered her text, but he’d know how she felt about this whole situation. Absolutely terrified. She liked order, and this was definitely chaos.

  * * *

  This restaurant smells great, but something is off. I can’t put my paw on it. Maybe I’m having a reaction to the strange cheese they used on the pizza Cami gave me. Imagine a pizza place with no anchovies in Chicago. But I must suffer at times for the greater good. At least the snow has stopped. I would try to point it out to Cami, but I have done more than my duty today between saving the hat full of cash and her luggage. If only this uneasy feeling would depart, I could take a decent nap before we go back to the chaos of the terminal.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later Moses pushed up with one arm and reached into his pocket to retrieve his money, and then let out a horrified gasp. “My bag!” he nearly shouted. “I don’t feel it against me.”

  Cami looked down to see his pouch hanging in its place near his footrest. But it hung limp, obviously empty. Never in her life had Cami seen a man turn so pale and remain conscious. His pallor was gray, and his eyes started to roll back in his head. She feared he would pass out, and a shriek of fright escaped one of the girls.

  The two college girls jumped up as if scalded. “What’s wrong?” the blue-haired one asked.

  “Look at his pouch.” Cami’s hand shook as she pointed. “I’m getting the manager.”

  Moses had unclasped the bag from beneath him, shook it furiously and held it crumpled in his hand. “The police,” Moses whispered as if he didn’t have any strength left in him. “We need the police.”

  Cami raced toward the cash register, hoping there was some way this could all be explained. It had to be a mistake. All four of them were there the whole time. Nobody had come near. How did the Olympic medals disappear?

  * * *

  The zipper is still intact. That pouch has been slit open from the back with a razor or other sharp object. It had to happen in the past few minutes while I was patrolling the area. But what uncanny sneak thief had the temerity to slide up behind the man in the wheelchair, slit the bag open and remove the medals without anybody noticing it? This person had to be present in the lobby to see the valuable medals, formulate a way to blend into the background and obtain it, all the while having the good fortune to be traveling by way of one of the nearby gates. Or maybe even our gate. Could that person be in this very restaurant, or has he already boarded his plane making the getaway a clean one? And what will the repercussions be for the athlete, Moses? I am going to circle the area and see if I can locate the case. I believe in making my own luck, and I feel lucky today.

  * * *

  “Everybody in this terminal is confined to these last few gates for the next hour,” said the
Deputy U.S. Marshal. “Nothing is going out, and I believe we can coax the passengers into helping with the search. Moses, your story is known, and most people are sympathetic. The storm is forecast to be ending within the next hour, and your replacement plane is en route.” The Marshal was an older fellow with a military haircut and a slim build. He had merry blue eyes, and could have passed for anybody’s grandfather. His involvement in the investigation was a favor to the airport police supervisor, an old friend from his Army days. “Intra-agency goodwill,” he’d said with a wink.

  Moses looked about to cry. A large vein in his forehead throbbed. “The plane is worth nothing now. I cannot go anywhere without the medals.”

  The U.S. Marshal began to pace. “There has only been one flight out of here in the past forty minutes, and we have video of the few folks who have recently left the airport. Chances are, the medals are still here. We don’t have a warrant, but we do have years of experience searching for items of importance. And we have a few gadgets up our sleeve the thief may not have anticipated.”

  “Yes,” said Cami. She watched Trouble walk through the restaurant, stopping to peer into each bag on the floor and pawing at luggage and purses unnoticed.

  Pippa, the angelic-looking girl at the next table, was taking more items out from under her dress. She had a black leather glove, three silver bangle bracelets, and an ornate red barrette. Her mother glanced at the Marshal, the police and security officers circulating through the area, and then down at the table, her face pale and horrified.

  “Trouble, my money is on her for the thief,” Cami whispered into Trouble’s ear when he returned.

  The little girl stared at Cami from across the room as if she knew exactly what she had just whispered. A cold chill ran down Cami’s back and the cornflower blue eyes seemed to slice right through her.