The Cats that Surfed the Web

by Golden, Karen

  Katherine rolled her eyes and said, “Scout is a known drug addict. I’ve caught her licking the processing fluid off old photographs, slurping the tops of household cleanser cans, and once, she ate a fabric softener sheet.”

  “I’ve never heard of a junkie cat.”

  “Most likely there’s a chemical in the book binding that Scout wants to get high on,” Katherine said, opening the top drawer and putting the book inside. “You know what really unnerves me?”

  “What, that your cat needs to enter a drug rehab center?”

  “No, that my inner sanctum has been violated. I’m desperate to know who ransacked my room, and I don’t believe for a moment that a bunch of local hooligans did it.”

  “I’ve got another notion in my head, that perhaps this house has a poltergeist,” Colleen ventured.

  “Oh, please. You don’t really think this house is haunted?”

  “Well, now,” Colleen said, with her hands on her hips. “Considering the fact my ghost meter has been smashed into smithereens, I can’t very well find out.”

  “And, I am so sorry about that,” Katherine said.

  “Something happened last night. Actually, in the middle of the night, because it woke me up from a dead sleep,” Colleen began. “It sounded like something was scratching on my door.”

  “It couldn’t have been the cats because they were with me all night.”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t get up and answer it.”

  “Maybe it was a tree limb outside, or something rattling on the street.”

  “I looked,” Colleen said. “Katz, come here.” She directed Katherine to the back hallway window. “Look out. There isn’t a tree to be seen, and the street is in front of the house.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Of course not. You’re legally dead when you sleep.”

  “But if there is something odd, the cats always wake me up.”

  “Maybe this time they didn’t.”

  “I bet you’re going to tell me that the ghost of Vivian Marston tapped on your door last night.”

  “The saints preserve us,” Colleen said theatrically, covering her ears. “It’s not right to speak about the newly departed.”

  “The saints preserve us,” Katherine imitated, covering her ears. “Five seconds ago, you thought I should dig up my great aunt.”

  “Waugh,” Scout wailed.

  In the guest room, one of the cats began coughing and gagging.

  Katherine darted back into the room and found Abigail hunched over on the Renaissance bed. “Abby?”

  “What’s wrong?” Colleen said, rushing in behind her.

  Abigail continued retching and then threw up a large beige hairball. She glanced at Katherine as if she didn’t understand what had happened. Katherine picked her up and said, “Does your tummy hurt, sweetheart?” Abigail squeezed her eyes.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Colleen said, hovering nearby. “Oh, the saints preserve us.”

  “Preserve us again . . . Now what’s wrong?”

  “Look at my best cable knit sweater,” Colleen said, holding up last night’s cat nest, which now bore a large, gaping hole in the neck. “The little terror tried to eat my sweater.”

  “Chirp,” Abigail hiccupped guiltily. The Abyssinian squirmed free of Katherine’s grasp, jumped off the bed, and scampered down the hall.

  Katherine stooped down and re-examined the hairball. “It’s wool,” she said.

  “So?” Colleen said, eyes blazing.

  “Abigail must have a wool fetish.”

  “A what?”

  “Pica is an unnatural craving for non-food substances. I’ve read that Siamese sometimes develop a liking for wool, but I didn’t know other cats did, as well.”

  Iris growled.

  “What’s the matter?”

  The front door bell rang loudly. Katherine put on her robe and raced down the stairs, as the bell clanged a second time. “Okay, already. I’m coming.” She rushed to the door and opened it.

  “Interstate Shipping,” said a man dressed in an olive green uniform, stamping his feet to rid them of slush.

  “Yes?” Katherine asked, observing the panel truck parked on the street.

  “Are you Ms. Kendall?”

  “Yes. Yes. Are you delivering my boxes from New York?”

  He looked down at his notebook and nodded. “I need you to sign on these lines.” He handed her a plastic pen.

  Katherine signed and handed the notebook back to him.

  “They’re a total of twenty boxes. Is there a way to wedge open this door?”

  “I’ll let you in and out. I have cats.”

  He rushed back to his truck.

  “Who is it?” Colleen called over the upstairs handrail.

  “Some guy delivering my boxes, in the dead of winter, not wearing a coat.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  “Bring my fuzzy slippers!”

  The first box unloaded was Katherine’s desktop computer. She clapped her hands gleefully. The man loaded the CPU and monitor boxes onto a hand-truck and managed it up the porch steps. “Where to?” he asked.

  “Please come inside. I’ll show you after I close the door.”

  Colleen came down and handed Katherine her slippers.

  The deliveryman looked around and complimented, “I love old houses. This is the neatest house I’ve ever seen.”

  Katherine put her slippers on and showed the man to her new office. He set down the box and returned to the truck for another one. The cats became hyperactive and began running around the house.

  After he delivered all of the boxes, she thanked him and suggested that he wear a coat. He grinned and left.

  “Let’s get the computer hooked up first. Email, Internet, our link to the outside world,” Colleen said dramatically.

  “Hold on there, Missy. The cable company gave us a window from 10:00 to noon.”

  “We can still get everything set up.”

  “I’m good with that.” Then she said, “I don’t know what I was thinking. Some of these boxes go upstairs. Why did I make that poor man bring them all back here?”

  “Point them out and I’ll carry them up there.”

  “Some of them are really heavy.”

  “No problem,” Colleen said. “I’ll be fine unless one of your creatures trips me.”

  “I’m going to get dressed first.”

  “I’ll make some tea.”

  * * * *

  By early afternoon, most of the boxes were unpacked. The computer was on the antique desk along with the printer, but Katherine had to forage in one of the other rooms for a table to set the scanner on. She found an Eastlake table that didn’t have a marble top, and moved a Waterford crystal vase from the table to the fireplace mantel. Colleen helped move a damask-covered wing chair to serve as an office chair.

  By 11:30 a.m., the Colfax mansion had something it had never had – high-speed Internet service. The moment the cable technician left, Colleen said impatiently, “Now can I pull my email?”

  “Yes, by all means,” Katherine said, struggling to get out of the chair. “But, this wing back is not working for me. My back is killing me.”

  “I don’t care. Move over,” Colleen said, adjusting the chair. “After I get done, you can order a proper office chair online,” she giggled.

  As Colleen was logging into her email account, she became pensive and said, “I don’t want to upset you, but don’t you think we’ve had rotten luck since we left Manhattan?”

  “I know,” Katherine said sadly. “I just had such a wonderful daydream of how happy I’d be here, but then Vivian Marston dies in the basement.”

  “Don’t kick yourself too hard, Katz. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It’s just something dreadful that happened.”

  “Look, while you’re doing that, I’ll go up to my vandalized room and see what I can do with it,” Katherine said, leaving. From the next room, she called
back to Colleen, “Hey, before I forget, Mark texted me a while back and said we deserved a pizza night. So he’s picking us up at 7:00.”

  “Got it,” Colleen said. “Tell me true. Is there really a place in this town that makes pizza?”

  “I guess so,” Katherine laughed and walked into the atrium. Iris darted after her and nearly tripped her.

  “Iris, are you trying to kill me?”

  The little cat growled, and then the doorbell rang.

  Racing to the front door, Katherine opened it to find Patricia Marston standing outside. “Patricia,” Katherine said surprised.

  “May I come in?” Patricia asked tentatively.

  “Yes, of course. Please come in,” Katherine said, directing Patricia into the parlor. “I think the chairs in here are the most comfortable ones in the entire house.”

  Patricia sat down.

  Iris hunkered in. Her ears were twitching nervously. Patricia tried to pet her, but Iris emitted a low growl and dodged behind the chair.

  “Iris, be nice,” Katherine warned.

  Iris slunk back and warily eyed Patricia. She drew her gums back and exposed her fangs. “Hissss,” she snarled menacingly.

  “Iris!” Katherine scolded. She turned to Patricia and apologized. “I don’t know what has gotten into her.”

  “I don’t like the way that cat is looking at me,” Patricia said nervously.

  Katherine quickly moved to pick up the hostile cat. When she reached down to snatch Iris, the Siamese squirmed from her grasp and bulleted out of the room. She partially hid behind the Eastlake hall tree and watched intently from her corner vantage point. From where Katherine was standing in the parlor, she could observe Iris’s tail thrashing back and forth angrily.

  “I’m so sorry about your mother,” Katherine said solemnly. “If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

  “Can you think of any reason why my mother was in your house last night?” Patricia asked sharply, and with sudden energy.

  “No, quite frankly, I can’t,” Katherine said sitting down. “Would you care for some tea or coffee?”

  “No, this isn’t a social visit. I’m quite upset that my mother chose to wake up from a coma and die in your house. This is totally unacceptable to me.”

  “Actually it’s quite unacceptable to me as well,” Katherine countered.

  “My mother slaved for Orvenia Colfax for thirty long years. That old bag promised this house to her. Now they’re both dead and you’re living here,” Patricia said coldly.

  “I’m truly sorry about your loss, but I don’t appreciate your tone,” Katherine said, getting up. “I think you’d better leave now.”

  “Everything was fine until you showed up!” Patricia got up and started for the door. “If any of Mother’s belongings are still here, please call and let me know so I can make arrangements to pick them up.”

  Katherine walked into the vestibule and opened the door.

  On the way out, Patricia turned her head to reveal tears welling in her eyes. In a quavering voice, but with increasing anger, she said, “Under the circumstances, I choose not to work for you. Thank you and good day.” She walked briskly from the house and started to get in her car.

  “By the way,” Katherine called after her. “You didn’t happen to be in my house last night?”

  Patricia did not answer, but slammed the car door and started the engine. Katherine closed the door.

  Iris came out from hiding and bumped into Katherine’s leg. “Yowl,” she said, looking up with innocent eyes.

  “Yowl, indeed. What’s with that make-the-guest-uncomfortable routine? I don’t think I want to see that again, Miss Siam,” she admonished.

  Iris slithered into the living room with her head down.

  Katherine called after her. “And no pouting either. Your human has lived in this house for a few days, and already she’s had a woman die in the basement, a burglar who didn’t steal anything, a best friend who claims she’s seen a ghost, and an employee—who baked delicious muffins and minded the plants—quit without notice. Your little act didn’t help much.”

  “Yowl,” Iris sassed.

  “Hey, Katz,” Colleen yelled. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  Katherine went into the office. “You missed an incredible amount of drama.”

  “What?” Colleen said, logging off the computer. “Who was at the door?”

  “Patricia Marston.”

  “Patricia? That poor woman. She must be beside herself with grief,” Colleen said.

  “I’d say more like beside herself with anger. She quit! Take a look at the new gardener,” Katherine said pointing to herself.

  “Get out!” Colleen said in amazement.

  “Not only did she quit, but she also demanded that if we find anything that belonged to her mother, we should notify her so she can make arrangements to pick them up.”

  “Did she give you a reason why she was quitting?”

  No, I didn’t ask her. She wasn’t exactly friendly.”

  “Katz, she just lost her mother.”

  “Okay. Okay. I feel rotten.”

  “Did you ask her if her mother was missing a poison book?” Colleen said cynically.

  “For heaven’s sake, Colleen. You’re being silly. The woman started out meek and depressed, then nearly bit my head off. I wasn’t about to ask such a question.”

  Colleen stifled a laugh.

  “Besides, there’s a hole in your theory.”

  “Sort of like the hole in my sweater?”

  “The book Scout found is ancient. Surely Vivian Marston could have found a more up-to-date book,” Katherine said.

  “Oh, please Katz, let’s not go there again.”

  “Did you get any interesting email?” Katherine asked, changing the subject.

  “Well, after deleting tons of junk mail, I found one from Jacky quite interesting. He said that my stuff has been moved to the apartment, and that he already finished putting up the partition in the living room.”

  “Wow, that was quick.”

  “I’ll have my own room and Jacky will have his. This will be the first time for the both of us. I’m so excited about having my own place.”

  Katherine suddenly looked depressed.

  “I’m sorry, Katz,” Colleen apologized. “Are you homesick?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m just somewhat sad that my stay here has been so dramatic. It was hell to drive out here. Now it’s turning out to be hell to live here. I’ve always been so honest all my life. It saddens me that anyone could possibly think I was a party to Vivian Marston’s death.”

  “Cheer up,” Colleen consoled. "Look, I’m finished here. Let’s go upstairs and tackle your new bedroom.”

  “Considering what happened last night, I don’t think I’ll ever sleep in that room again.”

  “But, why?” Colleen raised her eyebrows curiously.

  “Bad vibes, that’s all.”

  “Waugh,” Scout agreed.

  “And Scout, are you getting bad vibes too?” Colleen joked.

  The two went upstairs with Scout and Iris bringing up the rear.

  * * * *

  Mark arrived a few minutes past seven p.m. and parked behind Katherine’s Toyota. He quickly got out of his car and rushed up the carport steps. He clanged the brass doorbell twice and Colleen answered.

  “Hey,” he said cheerily.

  “Hello,” Colleen answered. “Her Royal Highness is not ready yet, so would you like to come in for a minute until she blesses us with—”

  “I heard that, Carrot Top,” Katherine said as she descended the stairs. “Hi, Mark. Thanks so much for inviting us to dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind two starving women. We’ve been working all day, and quite frankly, I could eat an entire pie!”

  Mark laughed. “Let’s head to the hotel.”

  “Wait a minute! Did you say hotel?” Katherine asked.

  “Yes, the Erie Hotel makes the best pizzas.�
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  “Isn’t there another restaurant?”

  “Why?” he asked, and then added, “They don’t make you wear a bib if you order pizza.”

  Colleen asked. “Doesn’t Patricia Marston work there?”

  “Yes, but she most likely won’t be working there tonight. I’m sure Velma gave her the week off. You shouldn’t avoid her just because of last night. You had absolutely nothing to do with her mother’s death.”

  “Patricia came over today and quit.”

  “What?” Mark said, shocked. “I’m surprised. She’s worked for Orvenia for several years. This was her job during summer vacation. As soon as you get the coroner’s report, you can make her a copy, and then maybe she’ll come back and work for you.”

  “Actually, I’m not interested,” Katherine said.

  “Waugh,” Scout protested upstairs.

  “I closed the cats up in my room,” Katherine said quickly. “The two of you are my witnesses. If we come home tonight and find the cats prowling about, we’ll definitely know someone has been coming into the house and playing a game.”

  “What do you mean?” Mark asked.

  “Last night, when the chief searched the house, my bedroom door was closed and locked.”

  “And?”

  “This morning I examined the door. There are two locks on it: one is an old, antique lock which at one time probably had a skeleton key, and the other one is a modern bolt lock—interior bolt lock—without a key. To lock the door, one has to bolt it from the inside.”

  Colleen became frightened. “Oh, Katz, please don’t scare me again.”

  “So what you’re saying,” Mark began, “is that someone was in your room when the chief searched the house? I wonder why he didn’t ask you to unlock the door so he could check inside.”

  “I don’t know,” Katherine shrugged.

  “I can’t understand why anyone would want to ransack Orvenia’s room. All of her jewelry and valuables have been placed in a lock-box at the bank. Her clothes were donated to charity. She did have a small safe on the closet floor, but after she passed away, I personally removed the contents and put them in my law office’s safe.”

  Katherine was silent for a moment and then said, “Maybe it wasn’t a vandal. Maybe the person was looking for something in my room—something belonging to my great aunt.”

  “Maybe the housekeeper came up here before she died in the basement,” Colleen surmised.