Toby had been in the waiting room all this time and was asleep with a magazine open on his lap. I shook him gently, and he took a moment to get his bearings. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, thankfully. Can you handle one more stop at Beatrix’s before I take you to your place?”
“Sure, whatever it takes. Jenny’s opening tomorrow—I mean, this morning, so no worries.”
On the way to Beatrix’s, I explained to Trixie that I didn’t think she needed to be alone after the night’s ordeal. She’d be spending the night at my cottage. While she and Toby waited in the car, I gathered comfy clothes, a robe, and a nightgown.
We traveled down High Street and dropped Toby off in front of the Tearoom. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, ladies. I’ll be in my flat snoozing.”
We thanked him and headed to my cottage. By now, it was three am and still dark. I suspected Dickens would greet us but Christie would stay curled up on my bed. I was right.
Dickens was slow to wake up but was barking by the time I entered the mudroom. “My goodness. What time is it? Where have you been?”
I reached down to rub his head. “Now behave yourself. We have a guest. You remember Trixie, don’t you?”
He cocked his head and seemed to think for a moment. “She’s the one Max grabbed that day at the Fête. She smacked him good, too.”
We trooped upstairs, and I made Trixie comfortable in the guest room. Christie finally roused herself and put in an appearance. In the bedroom doorway, she stretched one front paw and then the other. “Who’s this?”
“Hello there, Christie. Meet Trixie. I bet she’d enjoy a snuggle.”
Trixie smiled and extended her hand for Christie to sniff. “Yes, I would. If I crawl into bed, will you join me?”
How is it cats know cat people when they meet them? Christie licked Trixie’s hand and rubbed against her legs. When Trixie sat on the bed, Christie hopped right up and stretched out.
“Leta,” meowed my sleepyhead cat, “I think this is our first overnight guest. Is this what you call a spend-the-night party?”
“I’m sure you understood her,” I joked with Trixie. “She thinks we’re having a pajama party.”
“Then I need to get into my jammies quick, don’t I?” said Trixie.
I was happy to hear my guest sounding cheerful. Hopefully, she’d sleep soundly and feel good as new when she woke up.
“Okay, then. Let’s change into our pajamas and try to get some sleep. We have no reason to get up early. We can go to bed and sleep as long as we like.
“I’m just across the hall. If you start to feel bad or need anything, call me. I’m a light sleeper, and I’ll hear you. And if I don’t, Christie or Dickens will, and they’ll let me know.”
Christie stayed in the guest room, and Dickens went with me. He was full of questions, and I was wide awake. As I washed my face and put on a nightgown, I gave him the short version of the night’s events.
“Goodness gracious, Leta. That poor girl. You must both be worn out.”
“Yes, but I’m keyed up too. Maybe reading a few pages of my book will put me to sleep. I wonder whether I should text Beatrix now or wait until the morning? Hold on a moment.”
I stuck my head in the door to the guestroom. “Trixie, is Beatrix expecting to hear from you? Have you checked your messages? I don’t want her to be worried about you.”
“It’s okay, Leta. I texted her when I got to the pub last night and told her I’d talk to her tomorrow—I mean today, I guess. We don’t open the shop until eleven on Sundays, and she’ll expect to connect with me around that time, I’m sure.”
“Good, then we can sleep in and not worry about explaining all this to her until a reasonable hour. Sleep tight.”
I wouldn’t say I woke up refreshed, but I didn’t feel too bad. My guest and Christie were still sound asleep when I tiptoed down the stairs followed by Dickens. I let him out and started the coffee. It was 9:30.
Should I make a Sainsbury’s run? I thought. I studied the contents of the refrigerator, which didn’t take long. No eggs and no bacon. The pantry yielded better results. I can treat Trixie to cheese grits, I thought. I bet that will be a first for her.
I started a fire in the sitting room and let Dickens in. “Martha and Dylan! Let’s go see them”, he barked. “We can take Christie and Trixie. Don’t you like the way their names rhyme?”
“My, my. You’re perky today. When everyone’s awake, I’ll make breakfast. Then, yes, we can all go for a walk.”
I poured my first cup of coffee and took it and my phone to the couch. Time to call Beatrix. She wasn’t surprised to hear from me.
“I’ve been expecting you to call, Leta. Did you discover anything useful in Totnes?”
I shared all the glowing comments we’d heard about Trixie and the news that Sparkle had a different name when in Totnes. Rehashing the trip with Beatrix only served to remind me that Wendy, Belle, and I hadn’t unearthed any clues that pointed to Max’s killer.
“The Totnes trip isn’t the only reason for my call,” I said. “I wanted to let you know that Trixie spent the night with me last night.”
There was a pause. “What? She spent the night?”
“Yes, it’s a long story.” I laid out the night’s events for her, and I assured her that Trixie was fine. As I expected, she wanted to come straight home.
“Well, let’s talk about that for a minute. I’ve been thinking about you being in Manchester and the plans you have for the day, and I’ve got an idea. First, once Trixie wakes up, I plan to make her cheese grits.”
Beatrix laughed. “That’s your idea?”
“Hey, at least I made you laugh, but I’m serious. After breakfast, I thought I’d leave her here to rest, and I’d go to the Book Nook. I’ll put a sign in the window saying ‘Closed due to illness.’ You know the shops in Astonbury and the neighboring villages don’t all open on Sundays. And, even if they do, they sometimes close on short notice. How does that sound? Oh, and I’ll feed Tommy and Tuppence too.”
“Okay, and I can get on the road and be back by one or so and open up.”
“No, that’s not what I’m thinking. Why don’t you visit the flea markets and used bookstores as you’d planned? Is it really worth it for you to rush back to open for only a few hours? Trixie said it was dead yesterday.”
Beatrix hesitated. I thought she was tempted. “I don’t know. I feel like I should come home to check on Trixie. And the weather is better today. There might be more customers.”
I bit my tongue, hoping she’d work her way around to taking my suggestion.
“What does Trixie think?” Beatrix asked.
“She’s still asleep upstairs with Christie snuggled in the crook of her arm.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Sounds like you’re taking good care of her.”
“Yes, Beatrix, I think I am. So how about it? Finish out your trip and I’ll bring Trixie home after you get in.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. But you’ll call me if anything changes, right?”
“Absolutely. Have a successful shopping day.”
Funny how I could be so calm about Trixie’s attack as I spoke with Beatrix. I wasn’t lying when I said there was no need for her to rush home. There wasn’t anything she could do to change what happened last night, but the whole chain of events seemed off to me. I just couldn’t put my finger on why.
Chapter Fourteen
Not long after I hung up, Christie came down. She strolled into the sitting room yawning, and I took the hint. I went to the kitchen and poured her a dab of milk and fixed myself another cup of coffee.
As I stood there with my hip propped against the counter, Trixie appeared. She rubbed her eyes as she came down still in her robe.
She saw Christie lapping her milk and smiled. “You’re the best sleep buddy ever, Christie.”
“Well, of course, I am,” meowed the princess.
Hearing that conversatio
n, Dickens bounded in the kitchen. “Right. If only I were allowed on the beds, I could be the best sleep buddy. It’s not fair.”
I chuckled at my four-legged roommates. Just a tad competitive, I thought.
I poured a cup of coffee for Trixie, and she sipped it and sighed. She looked a little pale to me, but I don’t think anyone else would have suspected she’d visited the emergency room last night. I had to wonder if I’d ever been capable of bouncing back like that.
She was eager to try grits and sat at the kitchen table while I pulled out milk, cheese, and butter. They were simple to make, and measurements were hardly necessary since I’d been making them for years.
I explained as I cooked. “Grits are hard to mess up. If they seem too thick, add more water or milk. If they’re too soupy, cook ’em until they thicken. You boil the water and milk first—more water than milk. Add grits and salt. Cook and stir on medium heat until they’re the consistency you like. I like mine thick, not quite like oatmeal, but not soupy either. I like to add plenty of salt and pepper too.”
Trixie looked surprised. “Not sugar?”
“Nope. Grits aren’t served like porridge or oatmeal or cream of wheat. I had a college friend from Ohio who grew up on cream of wheat, and when I saw her add sugar to her grits in the cafeteria, I almost gagged. We straightened her out pretty quick.”
I held up the grated cheddar cheese. “You can serve them plain or at the last moment, add cheese and butter and stir. And, voila!”
I dished them up into bowls and sat down at the table too. I watched as Trixie tried her first spoonful.
“Yum. I need to make these for Aunt Beatrix. Has she tried yours?”
“No. She may have had them somewhere else, but I doubt it. I haven’t found anywhere to buy them here, so I order mine from Amazon.”
She looked around the kitchen. “Leta, I love your cottage. The reds and golds in here are so cozy and cheerful. And the little touches of green are subtle.”
“Coming from someone with your art background, that means a lot to me. I had help pulling it together, but I chose much the same colors I had in my Atlanta home.
“Would you care for a second helping?” I asked.
She nodded yes, and I filled both bowls again. As we ate, I filled her in on my conversation with Beatrix and the plan we’d agreed on for the day. I think she was relieved she didn’t have to go into the shop and that her aunt could still finish out her shopping weekend. I shooed her into the sitting room while I washed up and then joined her in front of the fireplace.
“Comfy?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? I could spend all day in here, dozing and drinking tea. I like the way you continued the red and gold color scheme in here.”
I pulled a fleece throw from the large basket by the couch and offered it to her. “My aunt made two of these for me, this one with cats on it and another with dogs. Each of my sisters got a set too. Best snuggle blankets ever.”
I left her ensconced on the couch with the throw tucked around her, Dickens at her feet and Christie in her lap. I showered, applied minimal makeup, and dressed in jeans, a silver sweater and a purple patterned scarf highlighted with silver threads. As I’d entered my fifties and my hair had begun to grey, I’d added that color to the blacks, whites, reds, and purples I favored.
I should have known Trixie would have something to say about my outfit. “You know your colors, don’t you?” she asked. “I’m always amazed at the people who have no clue the colors they should wear. But you’re not one of those.”
I laughed. “If you can believe it, I and several girlfriends had our colors done years ago. And, I never vary from my recommended palette. Red is my favorite, but I enjoy the other jewel tones too.
“Now, can I get you anything else before I head to the book shop? From there, I plan to go to Sainsbury’s, since the cupboard is almost bare. I’ll be gone for a few hours. And we can still get in that walk to see the donkeys, maybe after lunch.”
“No thank you. I’m fine, and I can make a cup of tea if I feel like one while you’re gone. Are you taking Dickens?”
I was sure I was, but I paused for a moment. “You know, I think I’ll take them both if you won’t be too lonely. I’m trying to get Christie accustomed to riding in a backpack. I took her to meet Paddington at the inn. It’s time she met Tommy and Tuppence.”
“I’ll be fine, but a backpack? This I’ve got to see.”
When I pulled out the backpack and placed it on the floor, Christie jumped down from the couch and came right over. “You’re serious? I get to go with you—again? What are we waiting for?”
In a flash, Christie crawled in, turned around, and stuck her head out. Dickens ran to the door and looked back at me, as I grabbed my coat and his leash. I hollered goodbye, and we were off.
Plenty of cars were parked in front of Toby’s Tearoom but none across the street at the Book Nook. As I parked my taxi, I admired the librarian scarecrow propped by the door. The lights glowing in the window display provided ambiance day and night, but I switched on a few more as I let myself in. Dickens set off in search of Tommy and Tuppence as I released Christie from her backpack.
“Leta, you said there were friendly felines here? Where are they?” asked my curious cat.
“I think they’re friendly, though they’ve kept their distance from Dickens. With all the room in this shop, you three can either make friends or go your separate ways. Up to you.”
Dickens came running from the back room and slid to a stop by the counter. “Tommy and Tuppence are awake now, thanks to me. I told ’em all about you, Christie, and they said for you to come on back.”
Tommy was a plump black and white tuxedo cat, and Tuppence was a petite white kitty. I’d never had a conversation with either one. They mostly lounged around the shop, occasionally approaching customers and getting a tickle, but they weren’t talkative. I wondered what my little princess would think of them.
This should be interesting, I thought. Christie followed her brother, and I turned my attention to making a sign for the front door. I decided a simple “Will Open on Monday” taped to the Closed sign would do. No need to worry Beatrix’s regulars that anything was wrong with her or Trixie. I was searching for tape when my phone rang.
It was Trixie. “Hi, Leta. Sparkle just called to check on me and to tell me I’d left my coat in her car. She offered to bring it by your cottage, but I thought it’d be easier for her to find the Book Nook. Will you be there a while longer?”
“Sure. Not a problem. I can occupy myself browsing the Agatha Christie books. After my visit to Greenway, I added two titles to my never-ending ‘To Read’ list. Might look for a biography too. When do you think Sparkle will get here?”
“I’ll ring her right back to let her know you’re waiting. It shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes. And, oh, if you find the books you want, just bring them home and leave Aunt Beatrix a note. You know you can settle up with her later. Thanks for waiting.”
With the note firmly attached to the sign on the front door, I decided a cup of tea was in order. Beatrix kept an electric kettle in the back room, so I plugged it in and found some Earl Grey.
I carried my cup to the mystery section and sat it on a shelf. What a treat to have an entire bookshop to myself. Who knows? I thought. I could spend the afternoon here.
I was paging through Murder on the Orient Express when my phone rang again.
Toby was calling. “I saw your car,” he said, “and I was hoping I could get a report on Trixie. Is she over there too?”
I updated him on how the patient was doing and how I’d convinced Beatrix to finish her shopping trip. “I only came in to put a sign on the door. But since I’m here, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to browse. Oh, and now Sparkle’s bringing Trixie’s coat by—Trixie left it behind last night—so I have an excuse to stay a little longer.”
Toby chuckled. “I have this image of you sitting on the floor, your back against a r
ow of shelves, with a book in your lap. Maybe with Tommy and Tuppence on either side. If you’re not gone by dark, should I come chase you out?”
He knew me too well. “Nope. I promise as soon as I take delivery of Trixie’s coat, I’ll be gone. The grocery store awaits.”
“Right. I predict your departure won’t be quite that fast. Shall I bring over a pumpkin latte and a scone to fortify you?”
I had to laugh. He was tempting me not only to indulge my book habit but also my love of coffee drinks. “Okay. I can’t resist that offer. No hurry though. I can tell from all the cars that you’re doing a booming business this morning.”
I continued browsing and found Five Little Pigs and Deadman’s Folly before turning to the biography section. My search was interrupted when three cats tumbled through the doorway from the back room, followed by Dickens.
“Leta, look at these cats, will you?” barked Dickens. “I haven’t seen Christie this playful since she was a kitten.”
He was right. Neither had I. They were a sight running over and under tables, hiding beneath rugs, doing that funny butt wiggle cats do when they’re about to attack something. When the three skidded to a stop by the wall of children’s books, I grabbed my phone to see if I could capture their antics on video. I was in luck, as they chose that moment to collapse in a pile.
“Leta,” meowed Christie. “Can Tommy and Tuppence visit us? This is great fun.”
“Hmmm. It may be better for us to come back here. After all, I bet you’re the only kitty in Astonbury who travels in her own backpack.”
I could tell she wasn’t listening to me. Almost simultaneously, the frisky felines flopped and rolled, exposing their bellies as they stretched. This was going to make a great video to send my sister Anna. Her videos of her five cats were a hoot, and I never had anything to share in return.
Pumpkins, Paws and Murder (A Dickens & Christie mystery Book 2) Page 20
