Calico Confusion

by Katherine Hayton

“Really? How fascinating. When Jerry told me he had a pretty single friend who ran a café, I never thought to ask more. How often do you adopt out the animals?”

  But Marjorie was still caught up with what he’d said about Jerry. “You set me up on a date?” she asked him in astonishment, then gave him a playful slap. “After years of weaning Esme out of the habit, now I have to worry about you too?”

  “I’m sorry.” Braden frowned and straightened in his chair, pulling the sleeves of his shirt down at the cuffs. “Did I misunderstand? You’re not single?”

  “I’m happily single as I keep repeating, though no one seems to listen.”

  Esme held her hands up. “Hey, don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Except you invited me under false pretences.”

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here,” Braden said, “but it’s not like I’m about to jump your bones or anything.”

  Marjorie turned to him, her mouth hanging open, then burst into peals of laughter. “Good luck finding them. I’ve put up plenty of camouflage to get in your way!”

  “I don’t know what everyone’s so upset about,” Jerry grumbled. “All I want is for everyone else to have what Esme and I have.”

  “And what’s that?” Candace asked.

  Jerry stared into Esme’s eyes and took her hand between his. “Something special that we both treasure.”

  It sounded nice. But so did spending almost every night curled up on the couch brimming with kittens.

  Marjorie waggled a warning finger in Jerry’s face. “I’ll forgive you this time but only because you called me pretty. Next time, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Braden rolled his eyes. “And she’s already planning for the next time. I think this means I struck out, buddy.”

  A gigantic snore interrupted their shared laughter. Candace had fallen asleep with her head tipped back, closed eyes facing the ceiling. Connor gave an embarrassed smile and shook his wife awake. “I think it’s time we made a move. Thanks for a lovely evening.”

  Although Marjorie wouldn’t have minded the evening continuing for a while, she felt awkward staying when it was just her and Braden. And Esme and Jerry, of course. It would feel like being chaperoned by someone the same age, or even younger.

  “I’ll make my excuses, too,” she said, ignoring the scolding from her knees as she sprang to her feet. “It was great meeting you, Braden. And you, Connor and Candace. I hope I see you around town.”

  “If you want to see her again,” Esme said, tipping a wink at Braden, “hang around the pet food aisle in the supermarket. Twice a week, right on clockwork. I’ll text you the details.”

  Mortified and buzzing in equal measure, Marjorie escaped, the cold night air wiping away the last traces of wine from her head. As she walked out of the driveway of the house and turned into her own a metre further down, she squinted down at the township below her.

  A police officer stood on guard outside Angelica Carmel’s house, just in front of the tape still marking the scene. As Connor tooted the horn and waved on his way past, Marjorie gave a small shudder and ran for the safety of her house.

  And stopped dead at the foot of the stairs.

  A mess of torn paper, smashed dishes, and ripped fabric tumbled down the steps. At the head of the staircase, a single kitten sat waiting, cleaning herself with luxurious strokes of her rough tongue.

  Sweet Callie.

  Chapter Four

  Marjorie woke the following morning with a sense of foreboding. From her scalp to her toes, she could feel something terrible was waiting. When she remembered and jumped out of bed, the mess in the house appeared even worse than the night before.

  “How can such a sweet face cause such mayhem,” she scolded the new kitten as she set about clearing up. The previous evening, Marjorie had felt too tired to tackle it. Now her current-self wished her late-night-self had spared more thoughts for the future.

  Luckily, a lot of the mess was just shredded paper. Some tissues from the box she kept on the coffee table and some toilet paper set free from the bathroom dispenser. Despite complaints from her lower back, she got most of it into the bin with her hands and let the vacuum cleaner deal with the rest.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t see that,” she said as Sweet Callie hissed at her from the crate. She’d freed herself from the contraption the previous evening—or talked another kitten into aiding and abetting her escape—so every couple of minutes, Marjorie went over to check the clasp was still holding firm.

  “You’re upset?” She pointed to the kitten as another menacing squawk emerged. “I’m the one who should be upset!”

  Her old furniture would just have to suffer through its new, shabby chic appearance. Marjorie didn’t have the money to repair the torn fabric, let alone replace it. She also knew from experience that a kitten attack didn’t count as an ‘accident.’

  With everything tidied as best it could be, and the morning’s baking cooling on the bench, Marjorie opened the crate door and coaxed Sweet Callie out with a bit of kibble.

  “I should’ve named you Cyclone,” she whispered, pulling the kitten up to her chest. When Marjorie sat down, the kitten gave a small mew of distress. “Are you missing your mummy? Is that it? Well, I’m sorry about what’s happened, but me and the other kittens will have to do for now.”

  As the kitten relaxed, Marjorie stroked her back and felt the tension departing from the small limbs. Marmalade stuck his head around the corner, raising his nose as though sniffing the air for trouble.

  “It’s okay,” Marjorie told him. “You can come on in.”

  The ginger kitten tumbled into the room, releasing a torrent of energy as it chased its own tail around the new décor.

  “Hey now,” she whispered to the calico as it stiffened into a bow. “This wee man isn’t a threat to you. None of them are.”

  Monkey Business ambled past the open door, giving the scene a side-eye before deciding it wasn’t for him, and striding into the kitchen.

  “Stay off the bench,” Marjorie called out, then shook her head and stood up as she realised a stern warning wouldn’t keep the baking safe.

  Not from a Persian destined for trouble.

  “You’ve got a contender for chief mischief-maker,” Marjorie said as she corralled Monkey into the playpen, ready for work later. “But I suppose you know that already. Did you sit back and take notes as she destroyed the entire house?”

  From the cheeky way he wrinkled his nose, Marjorie supposed the chocolate kitten had done precisely that. She peeped down at the calico as it padded at her chest. “How about a toy? Would you like to select one from the box and see if it tickles your fancy?”

  She set Sweet Callie down in the treasure chest of playthings, but the kitten just collapsed and wailed. “Okay, not a toy lover. How about we get you breakfast early to keep you out of the other kittens’ way?”

  An impossibility. The moment she opened the pantry door, eleven kittens piled into the room, fighting to be first to their bowls. Disappointment assailed Marjorie from every direction.

  “I guess breakfast’s early for everyone today,” she said, giving in. Five years’ experience had taught her to pick her battles. This was one she couldn’t win.

  The only kitten not interested in eating was Sweet Callie. She walked over to the sofa and climbed up the tattered edge to sit on the back, staring out the window. She cast one imploring look back over her shoulder before settling her chin down on her paws.

  When Marjorie stared out at the view, she saw the kitten was staring straight down the valley at her old house. “How about we pay your old place a quick visit?”

  If she couldn’t integrate the kitten quickly into the house and café routine, she wouldn’t be able to keep her. It wasn’t fair to the other kittens or the guests who might provide their forever home.

  So instead of shifting everyone downstairs to the café, ready for opening, Marjorie packed Sweet Callie into the car and
put a note on the blackboard outside. “I’ll be opening an hour late this morning. Free coffee if you wait!”

  “Now I just have to hope not too many people drop by,” she told the kitten, nosing the car down the hill. “It’d be just my luck for this to be the morning everyone in town wakes up early and come out for a decent brew and a kitty cuddle.”

  As she pulled up down the street from Angelica’s house, Marjorie was forcibly reminded of the terrible crime that had taken place. The police guard had gone but the trail of police vehicles along the street were a grim reminder.

  “Hey,” a voice called out as Marjorie put her hand on the front gate. “Are you a friend of Angelica’s?”

  Reseating Sweet Callie near her shoulder, Marjorie walked a few metres down to the neighbour. The woman had neat curls in a shade of chestnut that couldn’t possibly be natural, given her age. Marjorie placed her at or past retirement, give or take a decade of experience. She had the trim body of a woman who’d made it her business to keep up with golf and gardening.

  She also had an enormous pair of shears in her hand.

  “I don’t know her personally,” Marjorie admitted, shaking the woman’s hand when it was thrust towards her. “But I’ve inherited her kitten and wanted to see if we could get something to remind her of home.”

  “She’s a cute one,” the woman said with a stern expression. “Angelica hadn’t had her long, but she enjoyed the company.”

  “I think she’s missing her,” Marjorie said as the kitten tried to launch herself off her chest to a nearby hedge. It felt mean to restrain her, but she snuck a hand onto Sweet Callie’s tail, just in case. “Did you know Angelica well?”

  “More than I wanted,” the woman said with a sniff. “If you’re going inside, could you ask the police to remove a pot plant from the back step. I’ve got a cat of my own who sometimes likes to wander and the plant’s poisonous. I nagged Angelica all the time to keep it out of the way, but a few days ago, she stuck it outside again, right where Bubbles can get into it.”

  Marjorie presumed the cat in question was the grey feline currently stalking along the spouting of the house. Its stealthy movements suggested it was hunting prey.

  “I’ll ask them. What’s the plant?”

  “Elephant ears. It’s got pale leaves with crimson markings along the steam and ridges. I don’t know why she liked the thing so much.” The woman shook her head, then snorted. “Actually, I do. I wouldn’t put it past Angelica to keep the thing just to tick me off. The phrase good fences make good neighbours could’ve been invented for her.”

  The woman glanced back over her shoulder, the harsh lines of her face softening when she saw her cat on the roof. “Poor Bubbles likes to eat everything and anything he comes across. A few years back he nibbled on some of those leaves and I spent a few tense days in the vet’s office, praying he’d come around.”

  “He looks in great shape now,” Marjorie said, her heart melting at what the poor lady must have been through. “I’ll ask them and if they don’t seem interested, I’ll move it myself.”

  “Thank you.” The woman stuck her hand out to shake again. “My name’s Evie Swan. If you ever need a lawyer, contact me and I’ll return the favour.”

  Sweet Callie voiced her displeasure at the interruption, a yowl shrill enough to make Marjorie’s ear pop.

  “I think that sound means we need to get going,” she said, giving Evie a wave before walking back to Angelica’s front gate.

  The warning tape had gone so Marjorie assumed it was okay to walk up the path. When she rang the front doorbell, Regina answered, wearing blue plastic booties and gloves. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Marjorie shuffled her feet. “I wouldn’t, except this little one is having trouble settling in at home. I wondered if there was a cat bed or a toy we could take away. If she smells something familiar in her new environment, it might help her to stay calm.”

  Regina glanced over her shoulder, then frowned back at Marjorie. “This is still an active crime scene. I can’t just take stuff out of it.”

  “You took her out of it,” Marjorie answered, holding the calico kitten in front of her. “Just pretend she wouldn’t let go of her favourite toy when you carried her out of there.”

  The officer shook her head. “If you wait a couple of days or a week, then we’ll have finished here and you can ask the relatives about it.”

  “But if I can’t settle Sweet Callie into my home and café in the next day or two, I’ll need to remove her. I’ve got another eleven kittens to think about. She nearly tore my house apart last night when she escaped from her crate.”

  When Regina hesitated, Marjorie upped the ante. “You brought her to me in the first place because the relatives wouldn’t take her, and you didn’t want to stick her in the pound. It’s such a small request. Can’t you just ask?”

  “Fine.” Regina stepped back, then waggled a warning finger under Marjorie’s nose. “But you stay right here, on the doorstep. If you track foreign dirt or DNA in here, I’ll be out of a job by the end of the day.”

  “I promise.”

  Marjorie watched her old school friend stride through the house, calling out to her sergeant. When Regina had disappeared into another room, Marjorie poked her head in through the door for a quick look about.

  The kitchen was right by the front door. A weird choice, but since the angle caught the morning sun it got Marjorie’s approval. On the kitchen counter, a mortar and pestle sat next to a collection of pill bottles.

  It reminded Marjorie of her father in his last year and the range of medications he took after every meal. As he lined them up and dispatched them with sips of water, he’d joked they were like the world’s worst dessert.

  The dishwasher sat in completed status, the lights still on. How sad to think nobody would ever empty it again. No one would care if the tines on the fork stuck up or down or if the teacups and coffee mugs should line up on the same rack.

  “Here you go,” Regina said, handing across a cat bed stacked with small toys. From the number disembowelled, Marjorie surmised Sweet Callie enjoyed tearing things apart even when her home life was stable.

  “Thanks for that. I also wondered if you’d be able to move a pot plant sitting out near the back door.”

  Regina’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been around the back? I told you to stand here and wait!”

  If Marjorie had any hands free, she would have held them up to calm her friend, but she settled for a step back. “I haven’t. I stood right here all the time you were inside, but the neighbour saw it had been moved a few days ago and she’s worried her cat might eat it. It’s poisonous.”

  Regina rolled her eyes.

  “Officer Ashford, are you planning on coming back inside and doing some work today?” Sergeant Matthewson called out from down the hallway. “It’s what the good people of Hanmer Springs are paying you for.”

  “Not to mention the bad,” Marjorie whispered with a grin. “Sorry for getting you in trouble.”

  “I’m about to perform a fingertip search in the bedroom,” Regina said, turning to face her boss. “But this woman’s just said something interesting.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Tell him about the plant.”

  “Oh, well… The next-door neighbour told me there’s a poisonous plant on the back step.”

  The sergeant stared at Regina, then returned his gaze to Marjorie. “Sounds fascinating.”

  “And the other bit.”

  Marjorie looked at Regina, nonplussed. The officer sighed and told her boss, “It was just moved there a few days ago. We should talk to her because it might have been—”

  Sergeant Matthewson held his hand to cut her off. “Right. I understand. Why don’t you do that before you tackle the search? I’ll get PC Chandling to start without you.” He glanced at Marjorie. “Was there something else you wanted to tell us?”

  She backed up, juggling the cat bed, toys, and an adventurous kit
ten. “Nope. That’s it from me.”

  When she reached the car, Marjorie turned back to see the front door had been closed. “Well, wasn’t that a bit of luck,” she said to Sweet Callie while helping the kitten inside the carrier. “If you helped solve the case, you’ll get an extra serving of kibble as a reward.”

  Chapter Five

  No customers had taken up her offer of a free coffee. Either they’d decided it wasn’t worth the effort to wait or none had turned up at all. Given the colder mornings and later sunrise of the deepening winter, Marjorie guessed the latter.

  “Still, it gives me extra time to get all of you sorted out before the first guests arrive,” she told the kittens, lifting the stairway gate to let them down into the cafe. “And I hope you’re feeling extra cute today, Nimble. If things have gone well with the SPCA inspection, this might be your final day with us.”

  The tabby tilted his head at her, then jumped forward, scoring himself a stray piece of fluff from the rug. Marmalade made a grab for it—if another kitten wanted something, it must be worth fighting for—and the morning games were afoot.

  “Anyone home?”

  Marjorie jumped at the voice and laughed at herself when she saw Leah Parish standing in the doorway. “Come on in,” she said, bustling forward to grab the door since her visitor’s arms were balancing a tray.

  “Thanks for that. Whoo.” Leah placed her load of goodies on the café counter. “I need to start working out to build up some muscles.”

  “Another victim of her own success,” Marjorie said, smiling as she checked the labels on the honey delivery. “I swear, every new batch looks more delicious than the last.”

  “It’s been a good year for my little workers. They’ve outdone themselves.”

  Sweet Callie bumped her head into the back of Marjorie’s ankles, and she lifted the kitten up. “Do you want an introduction?”

  Leah frowned. “I think I recognise this one already. Isn’t this Angelica’s cat?”

  “It is. I’ve been having a bit of trouble settling her in upstairs, so I hope she doesn’t cause too much of a fuss today.”