The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7)

by Karen Anne Golden

  “Fling around like a fish out of water,” Jake advised, grinning.

  Katherine followed the instructions, then got up, brushing the snow away from her face and hair. Fortunately, there was no one standing on the observation platform to see the faux pas. Jake moved over and helped.

  Angie took the picture, then said, “Can’t tell if it’s an angel or not, but it ain’t bad, if I say so myself.” She walked away before Katherine could answer.

  Jake grabbed her hand, and they tromped through the snow to the Jeep. He fired up the engine, and turned up the heater. “I’m freezing,” she complained, her teeth chattering. “Your heater takes forever to warm up.”

  Jake fished around the back of the passenger seat. He pulled up a towel. “Here, dry with this. Oh, and by the way, thanks for coming with me today.”

  Katherine rolled her eyes and sneezed, “No comment.”

  * * *

  On the way back to Erie, close to the outskirts of town, Katherine’s cell phone rang. Reaching into her bag, she extracted the phone and answered it. A very excited and loud realtor was on the other end.

  “Hi, Mrs. Cokenberger!” the voice shouted.

  Katherine moved the cell a few inches from her ear.

  “This is Lucy from the Star Realty. We’ve got an offer on your property.”

  “Which one?” Katherine asked. She had more than one house currently on the market.

  “The one next door to your house.”

  “The yellow Foursquare? That’s amazing, but I haven’t signed the paperwork yet,” Katherine answered.

  “Please do sign it. Send it right away. And don’t forget to complete the disclosure form. The buyer needs this information.”

  “The For Sale sign isn’t even up yet. How did the buyer know about it?”

  “Oh, he came to my office and was looking for a house in the historic district. Lucky me, huh?” the realtor said enthusiastically.

  “Yes, definitely, but is it proper to make an offer on a house he hasn’t seen?”

  “Oh, but he has seen it. I just showed it to him.”

  “Okay,” Katherine said in a tell-me-more voice. “Jake and I haven’t been gone more than an hour, how could you show him the house without us seeing a vehicle parked outside?”

  “By photos. He didn’t want to see it. He said he was familiar with the neighborhood. Then he made an offer,” Lucy said, still almost shrieking in an excited voice.

  “Wonderful. Thanks so much, Lucy. Can you email the offer to me. I’ll look for it when I get home. Thanks again,” she said, hanging up.

  Katherine turned to Jake. “Well, that’s good news.”

  Jake answered, “I think I heard. The lungs on that woman.”

  Katherine laughed. “We have an offer on the Foursquare, and I haven’t even finished the paperwork.”

  “Katz, you’ve been wrangling with the disclosure form for too long. There isn’t a check box for ghost.”

  Katherine said almost inaudibly, “I hope the ghost is gone for good.”

  “I heard that. Katz, you have to stop worrying about that house being haunted. Katrina is gone. End of story.”

  “I know, but according to law, I have to tell the buyer about the haunting, at least if I’m asked. Do you think it will hurt my chances of selling the house to this buyer?” she asked, already speculating on the answer.

  “Not all people believe in ghosts, so maybe you’ll be lucky, and the new owner will be a skeptic like me.”

  Later, at the pink mansion, sitting in front of her computer, Katherine downloaded the offer and sent it to the printer.

  Jake stood nearby and removed the sheet of paper. He stopped reading after the first line. “Interesting,” he said, handing the document to Katherine.

  Katherine’s read the prospective owner’s name, then her jaw dropped. “Stephen Sanders? Stevie wants to buy the house.”

  “Yeah, probably to keep an eye on you,” Jake said suspiciously.

  “Contrary to your opinion of Stevie, which isn’t good, Stevie is not a stalker. He saved my life. He saved Scout’s life. I will always be grateful to him for that.”

  “I hope not too grateful,” Jake joked, hiding his true feeling that Stevie might be a threat to his relationship with his new wife. “Oh, really? You could have fooled me. Every time I see him drive by in his new truck, he’s practically hanging out the window.”

  “I have no fear of Stevie. He’s not a stalker. End of story.”

  Jake threw up his hands in exasperation. “Okay, case closed. What did he offer?”

  Katherine read on, and said with a smile. “Full price.”

  “What bank is going to give him a mortgage with his criminal record?”

  “Jake,” Katherine said, looking up with a disapproving look.

  “I’m serious. He just started his electrical business. The down payment will be at least twenty percent. Where does he have that kind of money?”

  Katherine read the offer again. “It’s in cash. All cash at closing.”

  Jake’s eyes widened and he blurted, “Cash? I won’t go there.” He took the document and read it again, this time more thoroughly. “Katz, it’s your house. Are you going to accept it?”

  “Let me ask the cats. After all, their favorite room in the mansion faces the Foursquare. But first I’ve got to let them out of their playroom.” Ever since the explosion, whenever she left the house, Katherine locked the cats in the playroom. In light of the mansion’s reputation as being a murder house, it was a good idea not to have them running around while she was gone. Normally, she would hire Elsa the cat wrangler to sit with them, but Elsa wasn’t available. And today Katherine was only gone for a few hours.

  “I know our cats are extraordinary, but how will they let you know if they approve or not?” Jake inquired.

  “I’m kidding,” she said, amused. “I’m just stalling for time to consider Stevie’s offer, that’s all.”

  “Good idea. In the meantime, I’ll let them out. I’ve got to go upstairs anyway and get out of these wet clothes. I need to put on my snow diggin’ suit.” Once again Jake lapsed into his country accent.

  Katherine asked, “Do you ever speak that accent with your colleagues?”

  “Hale no, woman. I save that way of talkin’ jess fer you.”

  Katherine giggled. “Okay, get out of here.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Cokenberger, I’m going outside to do a little more snow shoveling.” He reached over and pulled Katherine into a kiss. “I’ll need a kiss for the effort.”

  Katherine smiled, and watched him leave. Then she thought, Do I really want Stevie Sanders living next door? I think he has feelings for me.

  She picked up her cell and called her best friend, Colleen, who lived in an apartment in the nearby city. “Hey, Carrot Top, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I just got an offer on the yellow Foursquare.”

  “Shut the door! Really? I thought that would never happen. Katz, you don’t sound too happy about it. Seller’s remorse?”

  “I feel guilty about selling a haunted house.”

  “But you’re not. Katrina has crossed over. I’d take the money and run. One less piece of real estate you have to worry about.”

  “This is true,” Katherine agreed. From her great-aunt’s estate, she’d inherited several Erie properties, some of them rentals. Although she hired a property manager to handle them, she didn’t like being a landlord, especially since one of her buildings had been damaged by an arsonist several months earlier. “So, here’s the interesting part. You won’t believe who made the offer.”

  “That friend of Stevie Sanders that looks like a Sasquatch.”

  “Close, but try Mr. Stevie Sanders. He, himself, and —”

  “Are you kidding? Oh, Katz, I didn’t see that coming.”

  “What should I do? I really want to sever my ties with the house.”

  “Katz, by severing ties with the hou
se, you establish ties with a man who was a crim. What if he doesn’t stay clean? What if his crim father moves in?”

  “For Stevie’s sake, I hope that never happens.”

  “Exactly. What does Jake think about it?”

  “He thinks Stevie is a stalker because he sees him drive by a lot.”

  “Well, is he?”

  Katherine answered reluctantly, “I’m not sure.”

  “Then don’t sell the house to him. There has to be someone else who will buy it.”

  “Really? Even with Margie’s stunning interior rehab, there weren’t any takers during the previous listing.”

  “Katz, why don’t you just take it off the market and keep it? Sounds to me you need to think about it some more.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Listen, I’ve got to go upstairs and check on the cats.”

  “Okay, talk to you later,” Colleen said, then hurriedly added, “Hey, before I forget, Mum called and said she ran into an old school friend of ours.”

  “Who?”

  “Remember Madison Orson?”

  “The model?”

  “Uh-huh. Mum said she ran into her on 47th Street. Madison said she was working some place nearby as a temp.”

  “I didn’t think there were any modeling agencies on 47th Street.”

  “No, not modeling, but a temporary reception job.”

  “Reception?”

  “Yes, that’s what she said. I hope you won’t get annoyed with Mum, but . . . ”

  Katherine thought, What has Mum done now? She loved Mum like her own mother, but sometimes Mum didn’t make smart life choices. In fact, Katherine still hadn’t forgiven Mum for disabling the pink mansion’s security system to let in a murderer. That foolish mistake nearly cost Jake his life. The aftermath wreaked so much havoc in her life, she had to go through counselling. “But what?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “Mum told her about Jake and you getting married. Madison said she wanted to call and congratulate you. Mum gave her your cell number. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “That’s okay,” Katherine said. “I’d love to talk to Madison. Do some catch-up. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to her.”

  “Oh, ‘tis grand. Mum also gave Madison your address because Madison wants to send you a gift.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t have to do that. Did Mum get Madison’s number?”

  “Ah, no. She said that Madison had to hurry off because she was late getting back to her job.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  Colleen quipped, “Let me know if Stevie Sanders is going to be your new neighbor.”

  “Will do.” Katherine pressed the end call button and walked upstairs to the cats’ playroom. When she put the key in the lock, she wondered why the cats were being so quiet on the other side. Normally when they heard her climb the stairs, they’d be waiting at the door, ready to bolt out as soon as she opened it. But today she found the cats snuggled together on the lower perch of the largest cat tree. Scout and Abra’s paws hung over the platform.

  “Hi, guys and dolls,” she said, walking over.

  “Mao,” Dewey belted, waking up.

  “Why are my treasures sleeping as one giant fur ball? You’ve got other cozies in this room. Are you trying to keep warm?”

  “Ma-waugh,” Scout confirmed, jumping down. She stretched, then rubbed her face on Katherine’s leg.

  Katherine gently picked up Scout and held her close. “You’ve been sleeping a lot, magic cat. Should I be worried about you?”

  She surmised that Scout, in the past few months, had too many outside, stressful adventures. Lately, all Scout wanted to do was sleep. Katherine startled when she heard someone climbing the stairs.

  Jake called from the first landing. “Katz, are you up here?”

  “I’m in the playroom.”

  Jake walked into the room, and patted Scout on the head. “I’m sorry. I forgot to let them out.”

  “You weren’t outside very long. Surely, you can’t be done shoveling.”

  Jake laughed. “A young entrepreneur walked by carrying a mighty nice lookin’ shovel, so I hired the lad to finish for me. I gave the kid twenty bucks. He acted like it was a million dollars.”

  Scout began struggling to be put down. “Ouch, Scout. Your back claws are really sharp.”

  Jake walked down the hall, and started to unlock the attic door. Scout darted down the hall to join him. Jake said to the Siamese, “You better ask your mom.”

  Katherine walked into the hallway. “I’m sorry, Scout, but cats and bats don’t mix. Let’s go back into the playroom.”

  Scout fired off her signature sapphire-blue glare, then hiked her tail and sprinted into the playroom.

  “Good girl,” Katherine praised.

  Standing by the attic door, Jake waited impatiently. “Hurry up,” he prodded.

  Distracted, Katherine forgot to relock the cat playroom door. “I’m coming as fast as I can,” she offered. “Should I wear protective gear?”

  “Actually, Sweet Pea, I was up there earlier, investigated every nook and cranny, and didn’t see any winged creatures.”

  “That’s encouraging,” she said, mounting the stairs after him. On the landing, Jake turned and said, “Boo!”

  Katherine grabbed the stair rail. “Don’t do that,” she said, pressing her other hand to her chest and sneezing. “Jake, first thing we need to do is dust.”

  The floored attic was a wide-open space, separated by chimneys for the fireplaces on the first floor. The combination furnace-and-air-conditioning unit for the second story stood off to the side, near the east side of the house.

  Katherine rarely went into the attic. It was dark from inadequate lighting, stuffy, and dangerous to walk in because of the floor boards that were warped, damaged, or missing. Under her great aunt’s will, Orvenia’s belongings were donated to the Erie Museum or to charitable organizations. Katherine had diligently sorted through the mounds of “stuff,” which reminded her of King Tut’s tomb. At the time, she hadn’t officially inherited the house or the money yet, but wanted to make sure she sorted fine antiques and valuable personal papers from junk. She hired a crew to remove most of the things, but had kept several empty wardrobe trunks, two antique wood chests, and a tall, antique grandfather clock with a cracked glass door. One of its weights lay on the floor, and seem to cry out, “Fix me.”

  The grandfather clock had been a thorn in her side. At first the museum wanted it, but later, the now-deceased museum curator, Robbie Brentwood, had declined, stating it needed too much work, especially a new base, because the short, Regency-style legs that held it up were cracked in several places. So, it remained where the movers left it — on a short, knee-height half wall above the first set of attic stairs. Looming like a top-heavy giant, it posed a safety hazard to anyone ascending the stairs.

  Jake, who was very enthusiastic about his “new office” project, announced, “I want my desk facing the front of the house.” He pointed to the three leaded glass windows in the turret area.

  Joining him, Katherine said, “We’ll have to put new insulation and drywall up on the walls and ceiling. Also, we’ll have to hire an electrician to rewire.” She thought of Stevie Sanders, but didn’t mention his name.

  Jake seemed to read her mind and suggested, “We could hire Stevie Sanders to do the electrical work.”

  Katherine eyes grew big. She didn’t answer, but said instead, “Let’s ask Margie to come up with a plan, and have her do the hiring.”

  Jake walked over and hugged Katherine. “I like your thinkin’, Lincoln.”

  Katherine was enjoying the warmth of Jake’s body pressed against hers, because the attic was freezing. They both were startled when they heard a box fall in the far corner of the attic. The sound seemed to come from the vicinity of the furnace.

  Katherine jumped. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s check it out.”

  Behind the furnace was a small, closet-sized room. Its w
alls and ceiling were built of the same pine planks that formed the attic floor. The room’s purpose wasn’t obvious. Clearly, it wasn’t for storage, because there were no shelves or hooks to store or hang things. Katherine was surprised to see the planked door, painted in layers of green paint, partially open.

  Katherine had gone into the room one time, and that was enough. It instantly set off bad vibes. She couldn’t explain it, and was reluctant to mention her feelings to Jake or Colleen. Jake, being the confirmed skeptic, would offer a rational explanation, while Colleen would want to bring over her spirit-hunting equipment and do a paranormal investigation. Katherine didn’t want Colleen dredging up any of the spirits of the poor souls murdered in the mansion, especially Patricia Marston, who was doing just fine in hell, where she belonged.

  What was odd about the room was that it didn’t have a ceiling light fixture, and because it also didn’t have a window, peering into the space was like looking into a dark void. The only way you could see inside was with a flashlight.

  “Jake, there’s a flashlight hanging on a nail by the front window.”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, heading over to fetch it.

  Katherine slowly walked to the door, and peered into the space. Four glowing, red eyes met her gaze.

  “Raw,” Abra cried. “Waugh,” Scout added.

  Katherine suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to lock the playroom door. “Just great,” she said, annoyed.

  “How did they get up here?” Jake said, beaming the light toward the cats.

  Scout and Abra started swaying back-in-forth in their macabre death dance. They arched their backs, and began bouncing up and down like deranged Halloween cats. Scout hissed; Abra foamed at the mouth. Both cats’ eyes were red and reflected an eerie glint in the flashlight’s beam.

  In a soothing voice, Katherine said to the cats, “It’s okay. Come to me,” then to Jake, “If you grab Abra, I’ll get Scout.”

  Jake lunged for Abra, and caught the Siamese around the middle. Abra squawked, but didn’t try to get down.

  Still holding the flashlight, Jake directed the light to Scout who had stopped swaying, but was now slinking toward a missing floorboard.