“Nick certainly seems glad to see you today,” I said.
“And well he should be. Nice article in Noir, by the way.”
“Thanks.” My lips drooped a bit. “Too bad it couldn’t have had a happier ending.”
“You reunited Violet with her long-lost niece, helped shut down some terrorists, and brought a murderer—albeit a misguided one—to justice. It’s not a bad ending.” Ollie reached into his pocket and pulled out the postcards. He touched the top one. “There’s a brand new one—just came today.”
Nick reached up and clawed at Ollie’s pants with his forepaws.
Ollie chuckled. “Look at him, the rascal. He’s all primed to solve the mystery.” He dangled the postcards in front of my face. “You did say to bring these by, right?”
I motioned toward a rear table. “Yes. Sit down. I’ve got some news for you, too. I had a little chat with Alexa you should know about.”
He settled his burly frame into a chair. “Got some good, strong coffee? Judging by the expression on your face, I’ve got a feeling I’m gonna need it.”
I poured us two steaming mugs and then related my morning conversation with Alexa. When I finished, Ollie took a long swig and sat for a few minutes before replying.
“I guess deep down I always knew he was alive, but a spy?” He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “That’s a bit over the top.”
“I’ve leafed through his journals. Nick himself was over the top, wouldn’t you say?”
He laughed. “True. But Nick as a James Bond type? I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to swallow.”
“Alexa wasn’t positive about the letterhead,” I said. “The spy thing is her own theory. But you must admit, Nick’s request to her is rather . . . odd. Why disappear in such a dramatic fashion?”
“Someone has to be after him.” Ollie nodded. “The mob, maybe? After all, he did figure out the truth about Adrienne, and Lord knows what else he never saw fit to share.”
“I’m hoping the answer is here.” I tapped the stack of postcards. “Let’s have a look at the latest one.”
He plucked the top one from the pile and flipped it toward me. “Here you go. And if you thought the other messages didn’t make sense, wait till you get a load of this one.”
I picked up the postcard. The photo was a long shot of the Hilton New Orleans Riverside Hotel. I turned the card over, surprised to see every inch of space covered in Nick’s cramped handwriting. I read the message out loud:
Ollie. No Doubt. Sky’s beautiful. Every day! Can’t complain. River’s perfect. Every day! Time’s wastin’. Must go. I miss you. Sherlock, too. ‘Specially him. I gotta leave. Ollie, take care. No worries.
“N”
Nick lofted himself onto the table while I was reading and sat, his head cocked, his eyes wide. When I finished, I set the card down on the table. Nick turned around in a circle, planted himself atop the card, and then his tail came down . . . hard! Thump! Thump! Thump! A total of fifteen hearty thumps in all before he rose, stretched, and leapt gracefully back to the floor where he meandered back to his spot in front of the fridge and lay down, head on paws.
Ollie scratched at his head. “Well . . . that was odd.” He said at last.
“Not really. He’s trying to tell us something.” I got up and crossed over to the rear cabinet. I opened the bottom drawer, pulled out a slim book, and rejoined Ollie at the table. “When I visited Pichard in prison, he told me if I wanted to figure out Nick’s secret messages, I should listen to what the cat had to say.”
“Yeah? Well ain’t that somethin’.” Ollie slapped his knee. “What did he expect Nick would tell us?”
“How to figure out Nick’s code.”
Ollie blinked. “Oh, Nora. How could Pichard possibly know that?”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Pichard’s one spooky character, and even though I think most of his mannerisms are just for shock effect, in this instance he’s right on the money. Nick has been trying to tell us how to crack the code all along.” I took the pile of cards and laid them out, one by one. “Here’s the first card. The first time I read this message for Nick, he thumped that tail of his four times. And the second—he thumped his tail nine times. The third postcard got a grand total of seven thumps, and now this last one got fifteen.”
Ollie looked at me, perplexed. “And you think this tells us something?”
“Absolutely. He’s telling us how to decipher Nick’s message.” I held out the book. “I borrowed this from my cashier, Mollie, who’s studying cryptology, believe it or not. There’s a chapter in here on ciphers. See for yourself.”
I held the book out to him and pointed to a highlighted portion. “Read the part on acrostic codes.”
Ollie skimmed the printed words, and then looked up at me. “I still don’t get it.”
“Nick loved puzzles, right? He loved the game of Scrabble so much he wanted to teach it to his cat. He also loved crosswords, and there’s a type of crossword puzzle called an acrostic. In a crossword acrostic cypher, the answer is spelled out by the initial letters of words in the cryptic portion of the clue. This”—I tapped the highlighted text—“is a type of code referred to as first sentence acrostic. Now this first postcard has four sentences, the second nine. The third has seven, and this last one has fifteen. Plus, the first few times, Nick pointed with the tip of his tail to the first letter in the sentence, like he’s doing now.”
We glanced over at the cat, who indeed lay sprawled across the table, the tip of his tail pointing to the first letter of the first sentence of the postcard lying near his rump.
“So he’s telling us . . . there’s a code here?”
I nodded. “An acrostic first sentence code. The first letter of each sentence should spell out a message.”
Ollie whipped a pen out of his pocket. “Let’s see if little Nick is right.”
I got a pad from the counter, ripped off two sheets of paper, and we each took two cards and sat in silence, scribbling for several minutes. At last we were finished, and laid the papers side-by-side.
Ollie had the first two postcards. His read:
IM OK.
HAD TO GO.
And mine:
IM ON A CASE
ON SECRET MISSION.
Ollie let out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Old Nick was trying to tell me something after all.” He glanced up sharply. “This last message—ON SECRET MISSION. You don’t really think . . . I mean, is it possible he is involved in some sort of espionage?”
I fingered the card and then abruptly stood up. “Honest? I’m not quite sure what to think. This postcard’s dated two days ago, so we know he’s alive . . . for the moment, anyway. As for the espionage aspect, well, maybe we’ll find out the truth someday.”
Ollie swiped at his forehead. “Or maybe we won’t. Nick always enjoyed projecting an air of mystery.”
I walked around the table to stand behind feline Nick, who’d raised himself to a sitting position. “You know, I’ve often wondered just how Nick found his way to my doorstep that night. I know he’s pretty adept at getting himself around but I’ve got to wonder if it was merely chance or by design.”
Ollie’s eyes widened. He stared first at me, and then at the cat. “You think Nick Atkins left him there? You think he purposely left him on your doorstep? But why would he do that? He didn’t even know you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Atkins will turn up one day and be able to explain. Maybe we’ll never hear from him again. Right now we know he’s alive and as far as Nick’s ownership goes, well . . . I’ll cross that bridge when or if I ever come to it.” I flopped back into my chair and pointed my finger at Ollie. “I’ll tell you this, though. I’m not giving him up without a fight.”
“I still don’t think you have to worry about that,” Ollie said. “I think
the two of you were always destined to be together.”
Nick ambled over to me, butted my elbow. I grasped his middle and pulled him onto my lap. “I think so, too,” I whispered into his ruff. “Nick and I are a team, and that’s the way it’s gonna stay, right, pal?”
Nick twisted his head, looked at me, blinked twice, and then gave a loud meow of approval.
I leaned my head against his and didn’t even try to stop the wet moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
FROM NORA’S RECIPE BOOK
HUGH JACKMAN SUB
Long Italian roll
Horseradish dressing
Roast beef, cut very thin
American cheese, sliced thin
Monterey jack cheese, sliced thin
Hot and sweet peppers
Shaved lettuce
Tomato slices
Oregano
Toast roll. Slather both sides with horseradish dressing. Layer on roast beef, American and Monterey jack cheeses, hot and sweet peppers, shaved lettuce. Top with tomato slices. Garnish with oregano.
EMMA STONE CAPRI SANDWICH
Breaded chicken cutlets, sliced thin
Italian bread
Fresh mozzarella
Fresh tomato slices
Arugula
1 tablespoon olive oil
A pinch of fresh ground black pepper
Place chicken cutlets on Italian bread, top with fresh mozzarella. Place in toaster oven for approximately 2 minutes. Remove. Top with tomato slices and fresh arugula. Drizzle olive oil over the top of the arugula. Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper.
Born in New York City, T. C. LoTempio is the national bestselling author of the Nick and Nora Mysteries, including Claws for Alarm and Meow If It’s Murder. She has been a staff reporter at the young adult magazine Susabella Passengers and Friends for more than a decade. When she isn’t reporting or writing novels, she and her cat Rocco fundraise for Nathan Fillion’s charity, Kids Need to Read. Visit tclotempio.com; facebook.com/toni.lotempio.5; and catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com.
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Crime and Catnip Page 23
