Cupid's Revenge

by Melanie Jackson

  Mr. Jackman cleared his throat.

  “I talked to Emmett— Emmett Spalding, the night manager. He says he got a phone call warning him that there was smoke coming out of the unit. The Good Samaritan didn’t leave a name.”

  “Man or woman?” I asked.

  “He couldn’t tell. The voice whispered.”

  “So, we have someone who is willing to wreck the gazebo, but not to burn down a building. That’s good, I guess.”

  “Good!” My mother sounded outraged. “This is an assault upon tradition. The destruction of our gazebo would mean more than the burning of this old building.”

  “Probably not to the people who are storing things in the unit next door,” I said dryly. Then, to put the argument in terms my mother would understand, I added: “What if all our family photo albums were in there?”

  “Oh.” Mom fell silent, doing the heavy math that would quantify the loss of a town landmark against the destruction of treasured personal mementos.

  “It also means that we aren’t— at least yet— looking at anyone who will commit an act of violence.”

  “Who was the front-runner for the award before the library thing happened?” I asked Mom. “Who might be bent out of shape?”

  “Debbie Mullins and her community garden. She donates the extra produce her fifth grade class grows to the food bank. But the garden got its funding and the library didn’t so….”

  “I don’t know Debbie well. Her son was a year ahead of me in school and seemed like kind of jerk. Is she a jerk too?”

  Alex snorted and then laughed. Mom looked pained.

  “Yes, she’s a jerk,” Mrs. Graves answered. The word didn’t sound natural on her tongue but she was at least willing to say it. My mom would have a seizure before using the word.

  “Too bad she doesn’t teach at the high school. We would have the perfect suspect,” I said, looking at the extension cord again. “Don’t!” I added when Mr. Jackman turned and reached for it. “I know that the culprit probably wore gloves since it has been so cold. And it is also likely that the cord has been handled at least by Emmett Spalding and half the high school, but I am going to take it in and dust it for prints anyway.”

  That would mean telling the chief what was going on, but I didn’t think he would mind. This was a small crime, but it could have been a bad one if the fire had spread.

  “Well, that’s very— very— efficient of you,” Mom said brightly. “But I really think that we should get back to work on the gazebo. We have only a few days left to get this done.”

  I opened my mouth to explain that I wasn’t there to make paper carnations, but Alex beat me to the punch.

  “Sure. Let me wipe my hands off,” he said, looking enthused. “I’ve never done this before.”

  There was no point in protesting. This was part of the small town charm that was all new and appealing to Alex. He’d learn quickly enough when his finger got raw from scraping against the wire as he poked in the carnations.

  “Let me get an evidence bag out of the car and then I’ll get started,” I said. Really it was just a clear zip-lock I kept a car blanket in, but it would do.

  Chapter 3

  I brought the extension cord into work early the next morning and stopped in to see the chief before the morning briefing. I explained what I wanted and why, and he kindly didn’t argue. Like me, he was concerned that someone had been willing to risk a fire to stop completion of the gazebo. It is a tribute to our relationship that he didn’t question my hunch that this was more than random bad luck.

  “What’s wrong with your hands?” the chief asked when I took off my gloves and pulled the makeshift evidence bag out of my pack. They were nicked and scratched but also an unhealthy shade of red from the crepe paper dye that wouldn’t wash off.

  “The gazebo is what’s wrong. I’m kind of sorry the fire didn’t melt the thing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you got your ticket to the ball yet?” I asked.

  “Well, I ah—” the chief stalled.

  “No problem. I have some here.” Mom had thrust them upon me with instructions to sell them to my co-workers. “It’s to benefit Books on Wheels. It’ll look wrong if you aren’t there,” I added. “Dad has to come too. It’s your civic duty.”

  The chief sighed and reached for his wallet.

  “How much?”

  “Twenty bucks. Be sure to drink heavily at the bar. You’ll need to if they’ve booked the same band. And that’s where they make their real money anyway.”

  The chief handed me a twenty and I handed him a ticket. He shuddered at the bright pink hearts and white doves.

  “I haven’t seen Blue for a while. She’s with Alex today?”

  The chief hadn’t been thrilled with Blue being with me on the job when he first arrived in Hope Falls but he had grown fond of her, as every right thinking person does eventually.

  “Yeah. I miss her a lot, but the cold is harder on her now that she’s older and she likes Alex almost as much as me,” I said, being brave and unselfish.

  The chief nodded.

  “Chloe, you know that even if the cord has prints on it that it won’t prove anything by itself?”

  “I know. But it could be supportive evidence if this ever comes to making an arrest.” I sighed and got to my feet.

  “Anything else wrong?” the chief asked. It was kind of him to take an interest.

  “Alex’s parents are arriving this afternoon. They are staying for Valentine’s Day.”

  “That’s not good?”

  “We haven’t told them that we’re engaged.”

  “You haven’t told me either,” the chief pointed out.

  “I’m trying not to tell anyone because they’ll blab. But Mom found out anyway. Now Dad and Aunt Dorothy and Althea and Dale and Mary Elizabeth probably all know.”

  “Mothers! They find out everything.” The chief grinned at me and I found myself smiling back. Maybe I was sounding a little petulant.

  “Yeah, what’re you gonna do?”

  “Turn off your cell phone?” he suggested, knowing my mother the way he did.

  “Already done. I will check messages though in case you find Jack the Ripper’s prints on that cord.”

  “Hope ever, hope on.”

  It was another slow day and parking revenues would be down at least until the weekend when tourists and even locals would come into town for bright lights and big romance, or at least a fancy meal. Since I had some spare time, I swung by the community garden site. It was still too cold for anyone to be working there, but I figured that I could talk to the neighbors and get a feel for how much support the garden had at the neighborhood level. Someone might be angry enough and dumb enough to try and get back funding by ruining the Sweethearts Ball.

  As I had hoped, a couple of the seniors were out having a chat at the mailbox. One of them was Rosie Templeton, a terrible gossip and good friend of Mrs. Everett. The other was Elvis Baum. I didn’t know him real well and didn’t want to. Dill pickles are less sour.

  “Hello, Chloe,” Mrs. Templeton said. “Blue not with you today?”

  “No. She’s home with Alex.” I smiled at both of them.

  “I hear you’re engaged.”

  Mom was wasting no time.

  “Yes, it was all very sudden.”

  “And Alex’s parents are coming up to celebrate?”

  Celebrate our engagement? Not hardly.

  “They’ll be in this afternoon. They don’t know the happy news yet. We thought we would surprise them tonight.” And hopefully not shock them into coronary arrest. “So, I came by to look at the garden. You know, I’ve never taken a plot here but maybe I should since pumpkins take up my whole yard.”

  “You should,” Mrs. Templeton said, with a sweet smile that didn’t match her next words. “We would far rather have you here than those brats of Debbie Mullins’s.”

  I blinked, not expecting this attack.

  “The kids are no
isy?” I asked.

  “The damn brats are painting graffiti all over the place,” Mr. Baum added, finally taking part in the conversation.

  “Graffiti? Have you called the station?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Templeton answered, scowling now. “They said it was just chalk and we should wash down the sidewalks.”

  “Oh.” I was at a bit of loss. The suggestion seemed sensible to me.

  “It’s a good thing they didn’t get that Sweetheart money,” Mr. Baum said. “They wanted to lease the lot next to mine and expand the garden. I’d have the damn brats all over my yard too, writing stuff on my sidewalk.”

  “I had no idea that the children were causing so much trouble.” I still didn’t have that idea. For heavensakes! Chalk on sidewalks was harmless.

  “She may still get her money,” Mrs. Templeton warned. “Debbie Mullins is one stubborn woman and she was not happy about the money being voted to the Books on Wheels program.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “Books on Wheels sounds like a great project.”

  “And it keeps the other kids out of town!” Mr. Baum added and then shuffled away, muttering to himself.

  “He should go to a retirement home. The man’s so old he might have come off Noah’s Ark,” said Mrs. Templeton who was at least his age and perhaps even older.

  “I imagine that it would be hard to give up the home you’ve always lived in,” I said gently.

  Mrs. Templeton snorted but didn’t disagree. I said goodbye and got back on my route.

  So, Debbie Mullins was angry about not getting the grant. She didn’t seem the type to be vindictive, but I didn’t know her that well. And her son was still a jerk.

  * * *

  “Did your parents arrive?” I asked Alex, slipping off my coat and going down on one knee to hug Blue, who is my soul made visible and who I had missed so badly I felt like crying. As we exchanged greetings, I noticed that Apollo and Aphrodite were both on top of the television and looking tense.

  “Yes.” At Alex’s strangled tone I looked up and saw he was showing some white around the eye.

  “What? What’s wrong? Did you tell them about the engagement?”

  “They brought the cats,” he whispered.

  “Oh good God in heaven.”

  Blue whined agreement.

  Xu Ming and Lu Zhi (Zooming and Lucy) are Burmillas, a cross between Burmese and chinchilla cats. Silvery grey, howlingly rare and beautiful beyond words. They were also spoiled beyond words and had to be groomed like six hundred times a day and ate only homemade cat food. A blue blooded princess in residence couldn’t be more work.

  “How did they travel?” I asked.

  “Not very well apparently.” Alex blinked. “Oh, by plane.”

  “They didn’t drive? Poor cats,” I said feelingly. I wanted to explain to Alex how insane that was, but from his expression he apparently already knew this.

  “It’s Dad who’s frazzled. They howled all the way from the airport. He looks absolutely gray. I suggested they have a nap.”

  Oh damn. This was going to be a great reunion.

  “Look, maybe we shouldn’t tell your folks right away about being engaged.” Before Alex could get offended, I added: “Your folks are stressed out right now and frankly I don’t know how happy they are going to be. Let’s give them a fighting chance at saying the right thing when we tell them.” That was kind of blunt. I decided to spread the blame. “And anyway, Mom is bad enough to deal with right now. She called me six times today to try and talk about wedding stuff. I don’t want to be double teamed before dinner. And you know that if they can’t get to me to plan stuff then they’ll go after you instead. I can go to work and turn off my cell, but you’re stuck here where they can find you. Before you know it they’ll have booked a polka band for the reception and have you wearing a purple tux with a pink loafers.”

  Alex looked thoughtful. He didn’t try to tell me that it wouldn’t happen. His mother was the stronger personality.

  “Well… maybe we should wait a little. Let the jet-lag wear off.”

  I didn’t point out that there was no jet-lag from California to Washington.

  “Did you find any prints on the extension cord?” he asked instead of pursuing the question of openness with the parents. Before I could answer, his folks came through the new door that connected the two sides on the duplex. Alex’s parents slipped through and the door shut quickly. Almost at once I could hear scratching and feline wails of anger on the other side of the door.

  “Chloe!” Bob sounded mildly pleased considering he looked like he had a headache. Rosemary’s voice when she echoed him was neutral. We didn’t hug but we all managed to smile.

  “How was the flight?” I asked, pretending not to hear the cats next door. I needed this like I needed domestic terrorists. In fact, the cats kind of were domestic terrorists.

  “Ghastly. The seats were so tight that Bob got bruised knees and they confiscated my lip gloss,” Rosemary answered. Bob had been allowed to utter my name but that was all he was going to get to say. “We had to go into that horrible body scanner. They even searched Xu Ming and Lu Zhi! As if my precious kitties were terrorists!”

  “Poor kitties!” I said sincerely, though I kind of agreed with airport security on this one. “I doubt these TSA people have any animal training. Let me hang up my coat and I will start dinner. I think we could all use a peaceful meal. Alex, would you open the wine?”

  With those words I fled to the bedroom. I couldn’t delay the confrontation for long, but I needed a minute to myself.

  They brought the cats! Without telling me or Alex! Didn’t they understand that cats are territorial? We’d be lucky if Apollo and Aphrodite didn’t leave smelly expressions of displeasure in our shoes. I would have to remind Alex to keep the closet door closed until his parents left.

  Chapter 4

  “Now look,” I said to Zooming and Lucy, though Blue, Apollo and Aphrodite were lined up by the sofa and listening too. “We are all civilized creatures in this house. There will be no more acting like godless heathens and sharpening the claws on the drapes and screaming at the cook. They are ugly drapes but Alex chose them and you will respect that. And if you make me angry there will be nothing buy dry kitty kibble for breakfast.”

  I saw movement from the corner of my eye and caught Bob slipping through the connecting door. I couldn’t be sure but I thought he was laughing. That was good. At least one of my future in-laws had a sense of humor. Alex’s aunt, Mary Elizabeth was a nice woman, but I wouldn’t say that she was over-endowed with playfulness and whimsy. And if Rosemary had any sense of humor at all, I’d seen no signs of it.

  Bob and Rosemary were going to breakfast with Mary Elizabeth, so I was again thwarted in my attempt to have a solo conversation with either of them. I was thinking unkind thoughts about couples who become conjoined twins, but stopped myself when I considered how I was with Blue. And how much did I want to talk with either of them anyway?

  Alex could have been having breakfast with me, but he was out giving my dad a jump-start since his van’s battery was dead and it looked bad when the new mayor wasn’t in his office by eight. So I was alone, baby-sitting spoiled cats and supervising the interspecies encounter group.

  We were trying the group experience since, left on their own last evening, the cats had attacked the drapes and screamed ceaselessly until Bob and Rosemary got back from their walk. Hence my lecture to the cats about respect for personal property. All things considered, I thought we were doing pretty well. There had been no hissing, spitting or barking when the connecting door opened and worlds collided.

  Just as I was patting myself on the back, two things happened almost at once. Bob and Rosemary left, the wind banging the door loudly and making us all jump. Then the phone rang and I got up to answer it, turning my back on the ungrateful vipers I was trying to nurse to my bosom. Seeing an opportunity to eat something other than health food, Zoom skidded across the
table, scooping up my bacon and knocking my abandoned toast on the floor. The plate it was on didn’t break but my coffee cup went over and there was mocha everywhere, including my shoe.

  I gave a bellow of rage which startled Alex and he immediately began demanding to know what was wrong. I ignored him except to say ‘damn cat’ and hung up the phone.

  Blue, torn between taking part in my plan to catch the bacon thief and cleaning up my spilled toast and coffee made the correct decision and pounced on the feline marauder first.

  Zoom, faced for the first time in her life with a stronger personality, wisely went limp. Blue, roused to unprecedented action, picked her up by the scruff and brought her over to me.

  “Oh God. Good girl,” I said to Blue, taking the cat from her. Blue has a soft mouth and was doing a low, slow tail-wag, but I was terrified at how close the stupid feline had come to disaster. I don’t know how many PSI’s a Rottweiler’s jaw can exert but it is surely enough to snap a cat’s neck.

  “Dumb kitty,” I said resuming my seat, but stroking the cat with gentle hands. Her gray coat was blotched with drool and coffee. “Stupid, stupid kitty. What if Blue wasn’t a good doggy? Next time just ask for bacon. I’ll share if your mommy isn’t around.”

  Blue, her job as enforcer complete, sat down to enjoy some slightly dusty toast with jam and coffee. The other three cats were on the back of the sofa looking on with enormous eyes. Apollo and Aphrodite had never seen Blue acting like a dog, and Lucy had never seen any dog act like a dog. They may not have seen a dog period.

  The phone rang again. Laying the cat over my shoulder, I went to reassure Alex.

  “It’s okay,” I said at once. “Blue didn’t eat her.”

  “That’s good to know,” the chief said agreeably. “Though I am sure whoever ‘she’ is that she deserved it. Blue is an excellent judge of character.”

  I snorted. “You have that right. My mother-in-law-to-be’s cats are the worst-mannered animals I have ever met. They already tore up the drapes in Alex’s office and stole my breakfast.”