Till the Cat Lady Sings (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 4)

by Ellen Riggs

  “Shut it, you,” I said as Mom nearly slithered out of my grip. “We’re here as a family to buy dresses. That’s our cover story. You and Mom are superb actors, so I suggest you find your inner thespian.”

  “I resent that,” Mom said. However, she stopped squirming the very second the store owner emerged from the back room. Her shoulders went back and she stood a little taller, as if imagining high heels, a red dress and a full face of makeup.

  “Whereas I’m flattered,” Poppy said, walking over to greet the owner. “Nice to see you again, Belle. We’re here to try on some dresses for a special occasion. Can you handle the Galloway Five?”

  Belle was an elegant woman of about Mom’s age, and equally attractive in a different way. Her hair was fair and backcombed into an elaborate twist and she wore a flowy, floral dress that looked like perpetual summer. Scanning the circle, she stopped counting when she reached Mom.

  “I can most definitely handle five,” she said. “Six may put me over the top.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Mom is excited to be here. She’s always wanted one of your dresses and this is her chance.”

  Belle’s carefully drawn eyebrows rose in a delicate dance as she eyed Mom’s outfit. “How wonderful.”

  Mom flushed an odd shade of puce. She took pride in refurbishing used clothing to suit her trim style, and Belle’s line of feminine frocks—many with layers of chiffon—offended her sensibilities. Worse, being seen here at less than her best made her the one-down in a dispute that appeared to be ongoing. Perhaps two or even three down, judging by the smirk on Belle’s face. Then the designer’s eyes dropped to Keats, who had leaned into my mom’s leg to offer support, and the smirk faded.

  Before she could complain, I raised my hand. “Keats is a therapy dog. I have the paperwork if you need to see it.”

  She chewed on that for a moment and seemed to swallow whatever she’d intended to say. “Ladies, tell me the occasion and let’s get started, shall we?”

  I stepped forward, surrendering custody of Mom to Daisy. “We’re having another party at Bloomers and we all want to look our very best.”

  “A party?” The stenciled eyebrows swooped up again. “There was yellow hazard tape around the salon when I passed this morning.”

  “Temporary,” I said. “It will reopen in no time and we want to be dressed for it. Nothing too showy, mind you.”

  “I should think not,” Belle murmured. “Poor Portia.”

  Mom’s color deepened but Iris and Daisy had her flanked in a human vise. With Violet behind, there was no escape.

  “Poor Portia,” I echoed. “It was a tragedy and we’re all reeling. It’s a Galloway tradition to gather as a family in times of need and do something positive. After this, we’re going to visit cat rescues to contribute in Portia’s memory.” I glanced at Mom. “One of the best is in Fairbrook.”

  Releasing a sigh of resignation, Mom said, “Belle, I’d love to try on one of your creations. Something understated.”

  “Understated?” Belle said. “Red is your signature color. What you did with that dress of mine was… remarkable.”

  Ah. So Belle was miffed Mom had found one of her designs in a vintage shop and worked her dubious magic with a sewing machine.

  “I’m sure she did her best to honor the original design,” I said. “And your dress had a new life after someone else retired it.”

  “There was no honor involved in cutting off the skirt and replacing it entirely,” Belle said. “There is no honor in red dye.”

  “It was stained!” Mom’s voice notched up. “And chiffon has never been my friend. I’m so petite I look like a collectible doll.”

  Now Belle flushed. This battle wasn’t going to end today, if ever. The best I could do was relegate Mom to my sisters and keep Belle distracted.

  I signaled to Keats to stick with the others and led Belle to the racks of dresses that really were far too precious for any Galloway girl. With the exception of Mom and Poppy, we were all sensible to the core. Even Iris, the most stylish among us, liked clean lines. No fuss, no muss.

  With Belle’s help, I chose five different dresses—the simplest on the rack—and delivered them to my family, and then came back out front.

  “I’m sorry about my mom,” I whispered. “She’s quite overcome by what happened.”

  “Of course,” Belle said. “What a shock it must have been. I assume Portia came to the salon after hours to correct that horrible haircut. It looked like someone took a chainsaw to it.” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. How tactless of me.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’m sure every store owner in town is rattled today. If it could happen in Bloomers, it could happen anywhere.”

  That gave Belle pause. “I can’t see how. It seems like a very isolated event. Dahlia and Portia had a very public disagreement, as I understand it.”

  “Over my work with animals, I’m afraid. Portia threatened me with bodily harm, which any mother would need to defend. There were witnesses.”

  “I heard Dahlia pulled a switchblade on Portia, right there in the salon. There were witnesses.”

  Just as I was about to blurt something caustic, a warm body pressed against my shin. Keats gave me the strength to force a smile instead. “Mom happened to be holding a straightedge razor when Portia threatened to shoot me, not to mention Keats and my friend Jilly. She was in the middle of shaving Wayne Flagg. There was no risk to Portia and I’m sure he’ll verify that.”

  “Still, it’s all very strange,” Belle said.

  “True, but Portia had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way. I heard you had an altercation with her, too.”

  Color soared up from the collar of her dress and she grabbed her throat as if to stop it. “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, you know the Clover Grove grapevine as well as I do. Someone said Portia didn’t approve of the way you managed your cat. Negligent, was the word.”

  “Negligent! My Fifi is spoiled rotten.”

  “Portia told people you left Fifi alone overnight, even entire weekends, and that the stress of abandonment made Fifi pull out her own hair. Portia was planning to report you to Animal Services.”

  Belle rattled hangers on the rack until a couple of dresses slipped off in a pile of pretty fabric. “Well, I suppose Portia won’t have that chance now, will she?”

  “No, but other people might. Portia was ornery, no question, but she was known for her kindness and dedication to cats.”

  “If you’re accusing me of something, Ivy, you didn’t need to cover for it by bringing your entire family in here to disrespect my designs.” She eyed my overalls. “It’s obvious that we don’t share a vision on style.”

  I held up a simple pink sheath that resembled the one Drama Llama had ruined for Jilly. “On the contrary. This is something I’d be proud to wear, Belle.”

  Her expression softened slightly. “Try it on. And then I think you might want to stop by and visit Dina Macintosh at The Hound and the Furry.”

  “The pet boutique? Why?” I followed her to the back of the store. “I fuel up at the feed store. It’s way cheaper.”

  “Because Dina’s husband was having an affair with Portia.”

  She turned quickly, before I could pull the shutters on my shock.

  “An affair?” I said. “Are you sure?”

  “Doesn’t matter if I’m sure. Dina was sure, and that’s what counts.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Portia,” I said. “She was committed to cat rescue.”

  Belle actually laughed. “As if that means anything.”

  “It seems out of character, that’s all.”

  Opening the curtains to the large, communal changeroom, Belle shoved me inside. “You’ve been gone too long, Ivy. Affairs are as common in Clover Grove as anywhere else.”

  Clutching the curtains in the middle, I poked my head out of the top and Keats poked his out of the bottom. His tail was wagging, so I knew he didn’t have an
y major concerns about the designer. “Thank you, Belle,” I called as she walked away.

  “Thank me by leaving me out of this,” she said. “And thank me by not letting your mother get anywhere near my designs again.”

  “As if I’d even want to,” Mom said, standing in front of the mirror in a blue ruffled dress. She did indeed look like a collectible doll. “This frock is a travesty.”

  “Quiet,” I said, as I slipped out of my overalls and into the pink dress. It was a little too tight and a lot too short. In other words, perfect for Jilly.

  Poppy sneakily snapped some photos of Mom as she pirouetted in front of the mirror. When Mom saw the phone, she flew at Poppy like an irate hen. Daisy tried to break it up and got clipped in the head for her efforts.

  Belle’s voice rang out over the fracas. “You rip it, you buy it. Stupid children.”

  I left the rest of my family in the changeroom and went out to pay for the pink dress. Belle was leaning over a table slicing through fabric with savage precision. Her scissors looked exactly like the gold-handled set I’d seen in Iris’s hand while she cut hair.

  Not to mention Portia’s back the night before.

  She set them down with a clatter and came around to ring up the dress. Packing it carefully in tissue, she slipped the dress into a bag and offered a smile that showed her teeth for the first time. I couldn’t help noticing that her canines turned in a little, which made her smile seem both sinister and false. With my family’s antics, I was sure it was false.

  Handing me the bag, she said, “Wear it in good health, Ivy.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  By afternoon, Jilly had recovered enough to join the next mission. Keats sat on her lap in Buttercup’s passenger seat. In the back, a wailing cougar thrashed in a plastic crate.

  “That noise is going to bring back my migraine,” Jilly said. “Remind me why Percy had to come along?”

  “Because Dina’s a cat lover, first and foremost. I want Percy to woo her with his feline charms and then we can ask her about her husband’s sordid affair.”

  Jilly rubbed her forehead, wincing. “Feline charms. Seriously. Can we let him out of the crate to shut him up?”

  “I’m afraid he’ll taunt Keats and we’ll end up in the ditch. Imagine how I’d explain that to Kellan.”

  Now she smiled. “I’m already imagining how you’re going to explain to Kellan that you’ve interrogated three people in less than a day.”

  “Interrogating makes it sound so official. We’re just picking up a nice collar for Percy at the pet boutique. If one thing leads to another, Kellan should be grateful I’m getting some of the grunt work out of the way for him.”

  “That sounds just like him,” she said, laughing. “Grateful for your assistance with his cases.”

  Reaching behind me, I unlatched the crate door to release the howling cat. “Percy, I’m giving you one chance, and only because of Jilly’s headache. If you cause any trouble, this is your final mission.” I glanced at Jilly and smiled. “As for Kellan, I suppose grateful is the wrong word.”

  “Infuriated is the right word,” she said, as Percy settled on the back seat and began to groom off the crate cooties.

  “As long as he’s still infatuated, that’s okay. At least, according to Hazel Bingham. This morning she said the secret to holding a man’s interest is to keep them off balance.”

  “That may be true of most men. Even your brother,” Jilly said. “I’m not so sure about Kellan.” She ran her hand over Keats again and again. If he noticed, it didn’t show because his paws were on the dash and his muzzle was to the windshield, helping me drive. “The mysteries of livestock management are probably enough to keep him guessing, right? Being off balance about his police work is too much.”

  “I’m helping him. We’re helping him.”

  “But he wants his girlfriend to be safe. It’s bad enough that you’re getting trampled by llamas and rolled in swamps by killer pigs.”

  “I’ve got a new policy,” I said. “If a big revelation comes to me, I’ll call Kellan sooner. That’s always been my fatal error. Luckily, near-fatal. I always put the pieces together a little too late. If I think faster, I can let Kellan do the takedown, instead of Keats.”

  There was a strident meow from the back seat.

  “You mean Keats and Percy,” Jilly said. “I believe he had a pivotal role in the last takedown.”

  “Sorry Percy,” I said. “Your scalp-raking maneuver was inspired. But let’s all agree to leave the big moves to the armed officers next time.”

  “Wise decision,” Jilly said. Then she sighed. “I suppose a little conversation with Dina wouldn’t hurt. She might be more likely to confide in women. Besides, the sooner your mom is vindicated, and the salon reopened, the sooner we can focus on bringing guests to the inn again.”

  “That’s the spirit,” I said, negotiating a rather tight parking spot with Buttercup. “And after we get that straightened out, I can take some private driving lessons in the truck. I am fed up with this car’s moods.”

  “You just hate being so conspicuous. It’s hard to sneak around in a big yellow jalopy.”

  “Kellan always seems to know where I’ve been and it’s not fair,” I said. “Buttercup is a regular feature on the Clover Grove grapevine.”

  Jilly stayed where she was as I got out of the car and came around to release the beasts.

  “I’m not going to lie, this is embarrassing,” she said. “People already talk smack about us and now we’re feeding the flames by bringing a cat along for the ride.”

  “He’s even harder to miss than Buttercup,” I said, as Percy strutted along the sidewalk beside Keats. Both tails rose like plumes. “Maybe Cori was right about these two being secret buddies. She said they had a joint cause. What could it be?”

  Jilly gave me a blatant “duh” look. Her head must still be pounding because she was usually far more subtle. “Their joint cause is protecting you from yourself. You saved them, they save you.”

  My heart contracted a little at the thought. I didn’t want my pets putting themselves at risk for me. That’s exactly what Portia had accused me of doing, when it had never been deliberate. It just worked out that way.

  “I didn’t save Percy,” I said, tackling the easier issue. “Edna did that.”

  “You saved Percy from Edna. He isn’t feral and was never meant to live life in the wilds. He’s grateful to be sleeping on the pillow beside you and he shows it.” She waited a beat before adding, “You’d better wash the pillowcase well if you ever want Kellan to use it.”

  Now my face ignited. “For someone with a headache, you’re awfully chipper.”

  “Breathing,” she said, patting her abdomen. “We need to be on our game here, Ivy.”

  I paused outside the cute little pet boutique and took two deep breaths. “In for seven, out for seven. This isn’t a nine-count situation, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve met Dina and she’s quite nice.”

  “That was before she was a woman scorned. If the affair comes up, let me take over, okay?”

  “Consider it done.”

  I pushed open the door and a tinkle of tiny bells announced our arrival. Dina Macintosh was on her hands and knees, arranging stuffed dog toys in a basket. Her long, highlighted hair made her look about 40 but I knew she was closer to 50. As hoped, her face lit up when Percy sashayed toward her and she sat down cross-legged to greet him.

  “Oh my. I’ve never seen a more gorgeous marmalade,” she said. Percy stepped into her lap, turned twice and collapsed on his back, inviting a tummy tickle. I’d never seen him offer his spotted belly to anyone before.

  Keats sat beside me and watched Percy work. Generally, the dog didn’t warm to people on first meeting and couldn’t fake it, so this seemed like an area where the cat could shine. Percy assumed everyone loved him until told otherwise, and even then he didn’t buy it.

  “Hi, Dina,” I said. “This is my friend Jilly Blackwood, and you’ve
met Keats. The bold gentleman in your lap is Percy. He joined the family recently and needs a new collar and tag. Two in fact, as he conveniently keeps losing them.”

  “Well, you certainly wouldn’t want to lose him. What a fine specimen.”

  She made no effort to move, so Jilly and I leaned against the counter. There wasn’t much room in the small store because it was packed to the ceiling with high-end pet products.

  “How’s business?” I asked. “Does the change in season affect you?”

  She nodded. “There’s an uptick as people buy winter coats and boots for the dogs, and warmer beds. That usually rolls right into Christmas, our biggest time of the year.” She caught herself and stroked Percy harder. “My biggest time. I run the place alone now.”

  “You mean Roy’s found something else?”

  “Someone else.” She eased the cat off her lap and stood up. “I’m sure you heard about Portia.”

  “That she passed away last night in tragic circumstances? Yes. It was in my mother’s salon.”

  I plucked a rhinestone-encrusted leash off a hook and dangled it in front of Keats. He shuddered as if I’d doused him in water. He was rarely on leash, and this one would embarrass him greatly.

  Dina walked over to a rack of cat collars and sorted through them. “It was tragic. But I can’t say I’m sorry I’ll never have to run into her again. That’s the worst part about a breakup in a small town. You can never escape it.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Especially when you have a pet store and the other woman is a cat sitter.”

  I glanced at Jilly and she accepted the baton. “Oh, Dina, that must have been so hard,” she said. “I’ve been where you are, only it was in my workplace. That’s like a small town, actually.”

  With her back still to us, Dina seemed to swipe at her face with one hand. Meanwhile, Percy wove between her legs in a tight figure eight. Each turn featured a stylish swish of the tail that wrapped around her ankle and then unfurled. It was mesmerizing, and her head tilted down to watch.

  “Thank you, Percy,” she said. “That really helps.” Turning with a few collars looped over her hand, she tried to smile but grimaced instead. “It certainly was hard. You know Portia. Imagine what it was like to lose out to someone so abrasive.”