The Cats that Stopped the Magic (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 9)

by Karen Anne Golden

  Margo peeked through the top hole of the carrier and complimented. “What a beautiful Siamese. Mrs. Lincoln will be so happy.”

  Roland smiled a wide grin, and walked into his wife’s bedroom.

  Olivia was sitting up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She had a fleece coverlet draped over her lap. Her new nurse, Julia, sat in a nearby chair.

  They both looked up with curious interest when Roland walked in.

  Olivia said excitedly, “Roe, darling, did you bring me a cat?”

  Roland set the carrier on the foot of the bed, undid the top, reached in and pulled out the Siamese.

  “Oh—oh—oh,” Olivia cried happily. She squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief, then opened them. She stretched her arms out. “Duchess, come to me.”

  Roland placed the Siamese on his wife’s lap.

  Olivia drew the cat near and hugged it. She tenderly kissed the Siamese on the head. Happy tears fell from her eyes. “Roe, she looks so much like Duchess,” then she digressed, “I assume she’s a she.” She laughed.

  “Yes, dear,” he said affectionately. “She’s a girl.”

  “Where did you find her?”

  “A cat store on the upper west side.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Olivia, she’s a rescue. The woman who sold her to me said she didn’t know—”

  “We’ll call her Duchess the Second.”

  “Raw,” the Siamese cried, purring. “Raw. Raw.”

  While Roland and Olivia were discussing the new cat on the block, Julia stooped down and drew the playbill out of her purse. She turned to the dog-eared page with Abra’s and Cadabra’s stage picture. She studied the photo, then looked at the Siamese now called Duchess. Her face dropped.

  “Julia, what do you think of us calling our new cat, Duchess? Roland asked, moving over.

  Julia stuffed the playbill back into her purse. She composed herself, and smiled warmly, “I think it’s a wonderful name. Congratulations!”

  Olivia asked, “Julia, can you take our picture?”

  “Yes, of course. Group photo of mom and dad with their new fur-child.”

  Roland handed his cell phone to Julia. He sat down next to Olivia on the bed. Duchess curled up on Olivia’s lap and looked directly at the camera. Julia took the photo, then passed the phone back to him.

  “It’s a very sweet picture,” she said.

  There was a knock at the door, and the chauffeur, Mel, came in. He was holding a litterbox. “Where do you want me to put it?” he asked.

  “Over there in the corner,” Olivia instructed.

  Julia took this opportunity to walk out of the room. She moved down the long hall toward the formal dining room, opened the French doors, and walked in. She yanked her cell phone out of her pocket and texted Roy. “What time are you getting home? I need to speak to you. It’s urgent!”

  Julia sat down on an art deco chair and waited for Roy’s answer. After fifteen minutes of anticipating a text that didn’t come, Julia left the dining room and headed back to Olivia’s bedroom. She was livid, but she had to get out of her mood and not show the Lincolns how angry she was. She thought, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think Roy had something to do with this.

  Chapter Twelve

  Monday Afternoon/The Show Must Go On

  Hocus-Pocus Rehearsal

  Sarah Goode, the new cat wrangler, wrestled the cat carrier to the center of the stage. Her purple-streaked hair was cut in a shaggy style. She was short and very slender.

  Inside the carrier, a Siamese was having a royal cat fit. Cadabra lay on her back and kicked the top of the plastic cage. She shrieked like a banshee. “Waugh,” the Siamese protested.

  “Cut it out,” Sarah shouted at the cat. “I can’t take it. Shut up right now,” she said, setting the carrier down, a little too hard, on the floor. She jiggled the front metal gate for emphasis. “I mean it!”

  Roy rushed over. “Sarah, that’s not the way to communicate with a cat. You must have a quiet voice. You’re upsetting Cadabra by being angry. She’s already upset by what happened the other night.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous. You act like the cat’s in mourning or something. Do your own job! I know what I’m doing,” the woman answered haughtily.

  Magic Harry strode in, carrying a large cardboard box. “Is there a problem here? I thought I heard yelling.”

  Sarah smiled a toothy grin. “Hello, Harry. How are you?” she asked in a sugary voice.

  “Just fine, thank you,” Harry answered. “Roy, are we ready?”

  “Ready for what?” the animal trainer asked.

  Harry placed the box on the floor. “Warren just delivered this. It’s a cat-sized magician’s box. I sent you an email about it yesterday. Today, I want you to train Cadabra to be comfortable getting in and out of it.”

  “I read it, but my question is, how is she going to be comfortable with her hind legs strapped down?” Roy asked, annoyed.

  Harry threw him a dirty look. “You’re the animal trainer. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

  “I was just telling him that,” Sarah shot off.

  Harry bent over, reached inside the cardboard box, and lifted out the magician’s box and placed it on the trick table. He clamped the circular saw’s base to back of the table, ran his fingers over the rubber retractable blade, then plugged the saw into an outlet underneath the table. He picked up the magician’s box, lined up the tracks on the bottom of the box with the saw blade, and secured the box to the blade. Once the two pieces were joined, he raised a padded bar that would lower over the cat’s back legs. “Okay, Sarah, let Cadabra out,” the magician said.

  “Wait! Harry, excuse me, one second,” Roy requested. “Sarah, did you bring my target stick?”

  “Your target stick?” she asked, with one eyebrow up in confusion. “I don’t know what that is, but here’s a clicker.” She handed a clicker to Roy.

  Roy muttered, “And you claim to know what you’re doing?”

  “I heard that,” she said.

  “Did you bring the canned tuna treats?”

  “No,” she said, with one hand on her hip. “I brought dry treats I bought at the pet store.”

  “But, Cadabra doesn’t like the dry treats,” Roy grumbled.

  Harry blurted. “Children, play nice. Sarah, when Roy asks you something, don’t give him any lip. Roy, my show isn’t about what the dang cat likes. Now, let’s get on with it.”

  Sarah gave a smug smile and handed a few treats to Roy.

  One of the doors at the back of the theater opened, then closed. A stately-looking, white-haired woman in her seventies found a seat and sat down. Harry, Roy and Sarah were too far away to notice.

  Roy moved to the trick table and used his finger to tap on the box. He gestured to Sarah to open the cat carrier’s door.

  Sarah opened it wide. Inside, the Siamese didn’t budge.

  Roy clicked his clicker. “Cadabra, here,” he instructed.

  The Siamese stretched, slowly walked out of the carrier, sauntered over, and sprang to the table.

  Roy gave her a treat and praised, “Good girl.”

  Cadabra scrunched up her nose in disgust and spit the treat out. It bounced on the floor, then rolled under the table.

  Roy picked the Siamese up and cradled her like a baby. He gently placed her in the magician’s box.

  Cadabra panicked. She used her hind legs to launch out of the device. She soared off the table and ran toward the carrier.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Sarah said, shutting the carrier’s gate.

  Cadabra catapulted off the closed cat carrier, and darted to the left wing.

  Sarah was in quick pursuit. “Got you,” she said, tackling the cat.

  “Waugh,” Cadabra wailed.

  Harry interjected in a booming voice, “That’s a fine kettle of fish. Roy, start over.”

  Roy suggested to Harry, “Perhaps, initially, Cadabra would do better if it was just me
here. No offence, boss, but your voice is rather loud.”

  “Loud is it? Need I remind you that I’m the star of this show, and I determine the loudness of my voice. You just work for me,” Harry said angrily. “Call the cat back, and I’ll put her in the box.” Harry returned behind the trick table.

  Roy instructed, “Sarah, put Cadabra back in her carrier.”

  The new cat wrangler did what she was told.

  Roy clicked his clicker and tapped on the magician’s box. “Cadabra, back!”

  Sarah opened the gate.

  The Siamese launched out of the carrier. At breakneck speed she dashed toward the right wing, spun her back legs on the highly polished floor, then darted to the left wing. She bulleted all over the stage, from left-to-right, back-to-front.

  Harry, Sarah and Roy chased her.

  Harry yelled at Roy. “For crying out loud, do something.”

  Upstage, Cadabra leaped on the velvet curtains, and began to climb.

  Roy rushed over. “I got her,” he announced. He gently grabbed Cadabra’s middle, but the Siamese further dug her claws into the heavy fabric. “Come on, my little girlfriend,” he cooed. He unhooked one paw and reached over to unhook the other. Cadabra grabbed the curtain with the paw he’d just unhooked.

  Harry rushed over and forcibly yanked the cat off the stage curtain. The Siamese yelped in pain. One of her front claws had broken to the quick and was now bleeding.

  Harry was oblivious to the injury. He flipped Cadabra over on her back and pushed her into the box. He barked at Roy, “Pull the bar over her legs.”

  Cadabra became a wild animal. She struggled to get free from Harry, succeeded, leaped off the table, and ran to the edge of the stage. There she stopped in sudden surprise.

  A woman was marching down the aisle, carrying a clipboard.

  Harry noticed the woman and shouted, “You’re not supposed to be here. This is a closed rehearsal.”

  The woman walked up to the stage, tucked the clipboard under her arm, and pulled Cadabra off the stage. She held the upset Siamese and petted her. “There now, sugar pop. It’s okay, precious.” Cadabra collapsed against her and began to purr loudly.

  Harry repeated, “Put my cat down and get out!”

  “My name is Miriam Foster. I’m a case worker for the state’s animal advocacy organization,” she said, addressing Harry. “We’ve received a complaint that you intend to use a dangerous device in your show, and the device could seriously injure an animal.”

  “Who complained about me?” Harry asked. “Was it Emma Thomas? I fired Emma for dereliction of duty.”

  Miriam pointed at the magician’s box on the trick table. “Is that the device you intend to use?” she asked.

  “That’s none of your business,” Harry said arrogantly.

  The woman shot him a cold look. “Actually, it is my business. And if you make the wrong move, it’s the District Attorney’s business. I have the power to close down your show if you insist on using a feline or any other animal to perform such a dangerous trick.”

  “Says who?” Harry asked. His face reddened with anger.

  “There are laws that protect animals. You need to stop what you’re doing or face the consequences in court.”

  Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Are you implying that I’m breaking the law? I’ve always treated my animals with the utmost of respect.”

  “I beg to differ,” the woman said. She kissed Cadabra on the top of the cat’s head and set the Siamese back down on stage.

  Cadabra limped to her cat carrier and leaned against it. She sat down on her haunches and began to lick her bloodied claw.

  Miriam unclipped a page from her clipboard. “Here’s a ‘cease and desist’ notice. I’ve delivered one to the owner of this hotel, and here’s your copy. To make sure you comply, I will be here at your next performance.”

  Harry realized the gravity of the situation and lightened up. “Okay, I’m clear.”

  “Mr. DeSutter, now that I’ve talked to you in an official capacity, I’ll speak to you as a bona fide cat lady. If I had my way, I’d shut your show down permanently. How dare you yank that cat off of the curtains like that? You’re such a cruel man, you didn’t even notice you’d hurt her claw. Best take care of it,” Miriam said, turning on her heels and taking long strides up the aisle to the exit door.

  Harry yelled after her, “Who do you think you are?”

  Miriam stopped and shouted, “I’m the one holding the clipboard!”

  Once he was out of Miriam’s earshot, Harry’s anger returned. He yelled at Sarah, “Put the dang cat in the carrier, you moron.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” Sarah apologized. She snatched Cadabra and roughly threw her in the cage.

  “Waugh,” Cadabra cried, hitting the side, which made the carrier tip.

  Roy ran to the carrier and checked on the Siamese. He gave Sarah an angry look. “If you EVER throw her in like that again, I’ll break your neck.”

  Sarah ran to Harry’s side. “He threatened me.”

  “Sarah,” Harry shouted. “What are you still doing here? Take the cat to my dressing room, and while you’re there, check out her paw.”

  “Consider it done,” Sarah said, grabbing the cat carrier handle. She lifted the cage and clumped off the stage.

  Roy asked, “Well, boss, since you can’t use the magician’s box, what’s your backup plan?”

  Harry belted out a laugh. “Backup plan?” he asked incredulously.

  Roy looked confused. “The animal advocacy woman just said—”

  Harry shook his head. “She’s ridiculous. The show must go on.”

  Roy was quiet for a moment, then said apprehensively, “I can’t train Cadabra to do this trick. I might have been able to train Abra, but I know this as a fact, Cadabra will never stand for anyone to strap her hind legs down.”

  “Boring . . . boring . . . boring. You’re like a stuck record. I simply don’t have the patience for your whining about Cadabra,” Harry complained, then paused briefly. He added, “Roy, I want you to do something for me. Find the nearest animal shelter.”

  “Surely you don’t want me to take Cadabra to an animal shelter?” Roy asked in a shocked voice.

  “No, you idiot. I want you to buy, adopt, or whatever the hell those places do, and bring back a cat you can train. I’ve spent a lot of money on this magician’s box, and I’m not going to go in debt because you can’t do your job.”

  Roy defended himself. “I’m pretty much sure I’m not going to find a Siamese replacement that looks like Cadabra at a shelter.”

  “The cat doesn’t have to be a Siamese.”

  “Okay, fine. In the meantime, what about Cadabra? What’s going to happen to her?”

  “She’s been screwing up. It’s obvious that she can’t perform without Abra. I’m retiring her.”

  “Screwing up? Retiring her? It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours since Abra went missing. Can’t you give her a little more time?”

  “She goes,” Harry stated firmly.

  “I got a text from Emma yesterday. She’s out of the hospital. I know she’d really take good care of her.”

  Harry scoffed. “Like she’s taking care of Abra right now.”

  “Emma did not steal Abra. She’s devastated that Abra is still missing.”

  “Forget about Emma. I wouldn’t give her the time of day. If it wasn’t for her incompetence, Abra would be with us right now. Case closed. Off you go. Find me a cat you can work with.”

  “Unbelievable,” Roy said, leaving the stage.

  “What’s unbelievable?” Harry fumed.

  Roy stopped and faced Harry. “Listen to me. It would be a bad idea to continue with the magician’s box. That advocacy woman could cause you a lot of grief. Think about it. She could go straight to the D.A. or the newspapers. Do you really want negative press right now?”

  Harry thought for a moment, then said, “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll not use the box here.”<
br />
  “That’s a relief,” Roy said.

  “I’ll introduce it in Vegas. That will give you time to start training the new cat.”

  Roy shook his head in shock. “There are animal welfare advocates everywhere.”

  “Disappear! Get out of my sight,” Harry said, heading to his dressing room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday Evening

  Oyster Bay Carriage House

  Home of Roy and Julia

  When Julia got home from work, she was fuming. All she could think about was confronting Roy. She paced the living room floor. She checked the front window a dozen times, looking for her husband, who was hours late. She was spitting nails. She was so angry at Roy, she was afraid of what she might do to him. When she heard the key turn in the lock, she rushed over to the door.

  Roy came in. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked with a shocked expression. “You look like you’re going to blow a gasket.”

  Julia thrust the playbill into his chest. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “What’s ailing you, cupcake?”

  “My employers just bought a Siamese that looks identical to this cat in the playbill . . . you know . . . the one that disappeared after Saturday’s performance.”

  “So? A Siamese is a Siamese.” He walked to the refrigerator, yanked out a beer, and twisted off the top. “Want one?” he offered. He took a long swig.

  She shook her head. “Oh, come on, Roy. I’m not stupid. You weren’t messing with me the other night. You knew that cat was going to go missing. Did you steal it and sell it to that pet store on the upper west side?”

  “Have you lost your mind? What pet store?”

  “I don’t know the name of it, but some pet store. Mr. Lincoln said that’s where he bought the cat.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Why would I steal the star of the show?”

  Julia sat down hard on the sofa. “I’ve a mind to call the police and tell them where the cat is.”

  Roy became defensive. He moved over and joined his wife on the sofa. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said with an ominous tone.

  Julia mouth dropped. She looked hard at his face, then began to cry. “Why? Why did you do it? You could go to jail.”