Faux Paw: A Magical Cats Mystery

by Sofie Kelly

  “Some of it was Marcus, wasn’t it?”

  The floor was suddenly very interesting.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. “It explains why Marcus was so quick to spring to Owen’s defense.”

  Hercules kept me company while I piled the papers in the box again. He even managed to snag an empty file folder that had somehow ended up underneath the sofa.

  I scooped him up once we were finished. “Thank you,” I said. “What would I do without you?”

  He narrowed his green eyes at me as though he were actually contemplating the question.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon making phone calls, taking a break long enough to make a pan of cinnamon rolls and call Harrison to see if he would be free after supper for a visit. I still wanted to hear about the woman he’d met online. By suppertime I’d managed to coordinate moving most of the library’s programs temporarily over to Maggie’s studio, with the seniors heading to Henderson Holdings for their reading group. And Harrison had called back to say he’d see me at about seven thirty.

  After supper I sat on the living room floor with Hercules beside me and reorganized the box of papers. And played Barry Manilow Live from the iPod dock. There was no sign of Owen.

  Young Harry dropped off Harry Senior just before seven thirty. “I’ll be back to get him in about an hour,” Harry said to me.

  “There’s no rush,” I said.

  “We’re just fine. Go,” the old man said, waving one hand at his son. Harry mouthed a “thank you” at me and left.

  Harrison settled himself at the table. “Something smells good,” he commented.

  “Cinnamon rolls,” I said. “Would you like one?”

  “Are they good for me?” he asked reaching in his pocket for something. Hercules had wandered in from somewhere and was sitting next to Harrison’s chair looking up at him.

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “In that case, yes, I’ll have one along with a cup of that coffee I smell.” He pulled what looked like a small piece of old shoe leather out of his pocket and held it out to Hercules. The cat sniffed it curiously and then took it from him, holding it in place on the floor with one paw and chewing happily on the other end.

  “What are you feeding my cat?” I asked as I set a plate in front of the old man.

  “Turkey jerky,” he said. Hercules looked up at him and seemed to almost smile just as the basement door opened and Owen appeared. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, then headed toward our guest.

  “I didn’t forget you,” Harrison said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He took out a second piece of the jerky and held it out to Owen, who meowed his thanks and took it.

  “Turkey jerky?” I asked as I poured our coffee.

  “Burtis and the boys made it,” Harrison said. “It’s pretty good. Sorry I didn’t bring a piece for you.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll take your word on it,” I said, joining him at the table.

  He grinned at me. “It’s good stuff.” He patted his chest with one large hand. “It’ll put hair on your chest.”

  I smiled back at him. “That’s just what I need.”

  He laughed and leaned back in the chair with his coffee. “So tell me, when’s the library going to reopen? I’ve got about a half a dozen books requested.”

  “It’s going to be sometime next week at least,” I said adding cream and sugar to my cup. “But if something you’ve been waiting for comes in, I’ll bring it out to you.”

  “That’s good of you, Kathleen,” Harrison said. He took a bite of his cinnamon roll, smiled and licked a dab of icing off the side of his thumb. “That’s better than Burtis’s jerky.”

  “That’s high praise,” I teased.

  He reached over and patted my hand. “You’re darn right it is.” He took a long sip of his coffee and then his gaze focused on my face. “So start with the questions.”

  I pulled one leg up underneath me. “No questions,” I said. “I’d like to hear about this woman you’ve met.”

  “My son’s time would be better spent finding a date of his own.”

  I nodded. “Maybe. But we’re not talking about Harry; we’re talking about you.”

  “I met a woman. Yes, I know how to use a computer. I’m old, not dead. We decided it’s time we met in person. End of story.”

  “Harry and Elizabeth are worried about you.”

  He broke off another section of cinnamon roll, popped it in his mouth and ate it. “Kathleen, you know I love my kids. Harry is a damn fine man.” He mock frowned at me. “And if you repeat that to him I’ll pretend I had a stroke and was just mumbling nonsense.” He reached for his coffee again. “For a while I wasn’t even sure I was going to meet Elizabeth, let alone get to be part of her life, and I’m grateful every day that it all worked out. And I’m grateful for your part in that.”

  I smiled across the table at him. “I did very little, but I’m glad it helped.”

  “They worry too much, Kathleen,” Harrison said. “We’re meeting in a public place and I’m going to that meeting with my eyes wide-open. I know my lady friend could be a bald fella in sweatpants, but I don’t think she is. All I can tell you is when you’re looking at life from my end of things, it looks pretty damn short.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “All right?” He looked surprised. “That’s it?”

  I smiled at him. “You didn’t see that coming, did you?”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “No, I did not.”

  “You have good judgment, Harrison,” I said. “I don’t think you’re going to do anything stupid.”

  “I had a whole argument worked out, you know,” he said. His eyes were twinkling.

  “And I’m sure it was a good one,” I said, taking the last bite of my own cinnamon roll. “I’ll listen to it if you’d like.”

  His shook his head and fingered his white beard. “I should have known I didn’t need an argument for you. You’re pretty much the most sensible person I know.”

  I got up to get myself more coffee and squeezed his shoulder as I passed behind his chair. “More like I know what a waste of time it is getting into any argument with you.”

  He put his hand on mine for a moment and laughed. “Are you trying to say I’m a bit stubborn?”

  “A bit?” I countered.

  Harrison laughed. “There are damn few perks to being as old as I am, Kathleen,” he said. “Having my own way is one of them and I’m not about to let it go.”

  We spent the rest of our time together talking about what was going on around town. When Young Harry arrived to pick up his father, the old man got to his feet and gave me a hug. “Always good to see you, Kathleen,” he said. “Come out to the house sometime for supper. It’s been too long.”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  He looked at his son.

  “I’ll set it up,” Harry Junior said.

  Harrison headed for the porch door. “I’m going out to the truck so you two can talk about me behind my back.”

  “Yeah, we appreciate that, Dad,” Harry said drily. Once we heard the outside door close he turned back to me. “You didn’t have any luck, did you?”

  I shook my head. “You know what he’s like. He has his mind made up and nothing is going to change that.”

  Harry swiped a hand over his neck. “That’s pretty much how I figured things would go. Thanks for talking to him.”

  “I didn’t mind. I like spending time with your father,” I said.

  “I’ll call about supper,” he said. “The old man will be like a dog with a bone until I do.”

  I laughed. “The way things are at the library right now, my schedule is pretty open.”

  “Marcus getting anywhere on that?”

  I sighed. “The draw
ing that was stolen might be worth a lot more than anyone knew.”

  “Which means there could have been even more people who wanted it,” he finished.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Larry said she was a nice woman,” Harry said as we headed out into the porch.

  I knew he was referring to Margo. Larry had worked well with her because he didn’t mind her perfectionism. He was a bit of a perfectionist himself.

  “But you know, I think his head’s been turned by that new artist who’s working with Ruby.”

  “You mean Rena Adler, the painter?” I asked.

  Harry pulled off his Twins ball cap and smoothed a hand over his bald pate before putting the hat back on. “That’s the one. I pulled up to the library the day before the robbery. Larry was supposed to be making some last-minute changes to a few lights. He’s in the parking lot in the van checking his hair in the rearview mirror.”

  He laughed. “I tapped on the window and almost gave him a heart attack.”

  “Has he asked her out?”

  Hercules had followed us out to the porch. He’d jumped up onto the bench and seemed to be intently following the conversation, head tipped to one side. I reached over and stroked his fur.

  Harry shook his head. “Lord no! He’s the opposite of the old man. Larry pretty much moves at a snail’s pace when it comes to women. But I’m thinking she might like him. He said they spent a lot of time talking. She even brought a cup of coffee down to the basement to him while he was working.”

  I thought about all the cups of coffee Marcus and I had shared while we were getting to know each other. “It sounds like she might be interested,” I said.

  “At least she’s real,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “And we know she’s a woman.”

  “Your father’s not going to do anything stupid,” I said.

  “I hope you’re right, Kathleen.” He smiled again. “I’ll call you about dinner.”

  I nodded.

  Hercules watched Harry disappear around the side of the house. Then he looked at me and meowed. I leaned down and picked him up, heading back into the kitchen.

  Before I could set him down the phone rang. I went back to the living room to answer it. It was Marcus.

  “How was the rest of your afternoon?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said. “I have every program from the library relocated, and Harrison came for coffee. By the way, did you know Thorsten got a piercing?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  The seemingly straitlaced caretaker of the community center didn’t seem like the type for a piercing.

  I dropped onto the footstool, still holding on to the cat. Hercules kneaded my lap with his paws and stretched out. “No, I’m not.”

  “I just saw him about an hour ago. I didn’t notice an earring.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t in an ear,” I said, struggling not to laugh.

  “Well then, where was— No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  I did laugh then, picturing him holding up one hand and shaking his head even though I couldn’t see either gesture.

  “Okay, let’s change the subject,” I said. Hercules was eyeing me as though he was trying to figure out what was so funny. “How was the rest of your afternoon?”

  “I went out to The Brick,” Marcus said. “Mary’s in Red Wing so I couldn’t confirm Solomon’s alibi with her. Did you know they record their amateur shows?”

  “No,” I said slowly.

  “Solomon wasn’t lying,” he said. “Let’s just say I’ve seen way more of him and Mary than I ever wanted to see.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean,” I said. I heard him laugh on the other end of the phone. “So now what?”

  He sighed and I pictured him running one hand back through his hair the way he did when he was frustrated. “I don’t know. It looks like we’re back to square one.”

  15

  I’d planned to sleep in Saturday morning, but Owen had other ideas. He’d swatted my face with a paw and grumbled because I didn’t seem to be getting dressed fast enough for him.

  “Do you have plans this morning?” I asked as I followed him down to the kitchen.

  “Merow!” he said loudly.

  Owen had already started his breakfast when Hercules wandered in, yawning. He came over to me, leaned against my leg and eyed his brother curiously.

  “He has plans,” I said, reaching down to scratch the top of Herc’s head.

  I put half an English muffin in the toaster and scrambled an egg with onions, pepper and tomatoes. It made a very good breakfast sandwich—not quite what Eric served but delicious just the same.

  Owen finished breakfast, washed his face and then headed toward the back door like a cat with a purpose. At the door he looked back over his shoulder and meowed sharply at me.

  “I’m coming,” I said, padding across the floor to let him out. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t hear any ‘please.’”

  “Murp,” he said, much to my amusement.

  I opened both doors and let Owen out onto the back step. He headed down the stairs and I wondered if he was going to Rebecca’s.

  “I’m going to the library if I hear back from Marcus this morning,” I said.

  That got me another murp, but he didn’t even slow down.

  I finished my breakfast, threw a load of bedding in the washer and then sat at the table, making a list of things I wanted from the Farmers’ Market, with Hercules settled on my lap. “Do you think the Jam Lady will have any marmalade?” I asked.

  The cat’s whiskers twitched. He liked the occasional dab of marmalade on a sardine cracker, information we didn’t share with Roma.

  I pulled on my hoodie and got my cloth shopping bags from the hall closet. Hercules followed me out into the porch and watched while I tied my sneakers. He looked a little at loose ends to me.

  “You want to come for a ride in the truck?” I asked, canting my head in the direction of the driveway and feeling a little foolish as I said the words. At least half of a cat’s life was spent lying around at loose ends, as far as I could see.

  He had been washing the white fur on his chest. He lifted his head, shook himself and then went to sit by the outside door. That was a yes.

  I stood in the middle of the backyard and called Owen several times. There was no sign of him. Hercules meowed at me from the steps. “I know,” I said. “He’s probably over at Rebecca’s mooching a treat. Let’s go.”

  I found a parking spot on the street not too far from the market. “I won’t be very long,” I told the cat, grabbing a bag from the floor on the passenger side of the truck. He stretched out on the seat.

  “Maybe we’ll go to Tubby’s when I’m done,” I said, “as long as you promise not to tell Roma—or your brother.” I wasn’t really sure who would be more annoyed to find out I’d let Hercules have a taste of Tubby’s bestselling strawberry frozen yogurt: the cat or the vet.

  I’d long since come to the conclusion that not only were the boys not exactly ordinary house cats; they didn’t have the digestive systems of regular cats, either. But I didn’t want to take any chances on their health, so when Roma had gotten after me about feeding them people food, I’d gotten a lot stricter about what they ate.

  Hercules looked at me and at the same time crossed one paw over the other. Was that cat for “cross my heart”? It was good enough for me.

  I got some onions, a dozen brown eggs, the marmalade and some spring lettuce and onions from the greenhouse Taylor King’s parents kept. I was just about to head back to the truck when I bumped—literally—into Diana Holmes. I was surprised to see the owner—or to be exact, half owner—of the Weston drawing. I hadn’t had any contact with her since Margo’s death.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching down to pick up the ba
g of lettuce she’d knocked from my hand. “I had my eye on a red velvet cupcake and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She was wearing a long, slim black-and-white-patterned skirt with a white cotton sweater and a short jean jacket. I felt a little underdressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve been distracted by Georgia’s cupcakes more than once myself.” I took my lettuce from her and put it back in my shopping bag. “I didn’t realize you were still in town.”

  Diana smiled with more politeness than genuine warmth. “Marshall has been discussing some business with Everett Henderson. He decided to stay for a few more days. It’s such a lovely little town, even with everything that happened, I thought I’d do the same.”

  “I’m sorry about the Weston drawing being stolen,” I said.

  She nodded. “So am I. It was my father’s favorite piece in his collection.”

  It seemed to me I could see a glimpse of real sadness in her expression for a moment.

  “I’m trying not to lose sight of what’s really important,” she continued. “The drawing is . . . a thing. And it was insured. I just want the police to find whoever killed Margo Walsh.”

  “So do I,” I said.

  “Have you heard anything?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. But Mayville Heights has an excellent police department. They’ll find whoever did this.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She gave me the polite smile again. “It was nice to see you, Kathleen,” she said. “Enjoy your weekend.”

  I walked back to the truck, wondering what kind of business Everett was doing with Marshall Holmes.

  I put the shopping bags on the floor of the passenger side. Hercules leaned over to sniff each one and then straightened up and looked at me.

  “Yes, we’re going to Tubby’s,” I said.

  I parked by the waterfront and Hercules and I sat in the truck with the windows rolled partway down and enjoyed a small cup of creamy, icy strawberry frozen yogurt. I got Hercules his own flat-paddle wooden spoon and gave him a couple of tastes. Then he curled up on the seat next to me with a sigh of contentment. He was so relaxed that when my phone buzzed on the seat next to him he started and almost fell onto the floor.