The Cats Came Back

by Sofie Kelly

  “Have you talked to Pearl?” I asked, digging out my keys. Roma’s mom was thrilled that her daughter and Eddie were getting married. She was already referring to Eddie’s daughter, Sydney, as her granddaughter.

  Maggie nodded. “I did. She’ll be here.”

  “Have we forgotten anything?”

  Maggie smiled. “How many lists have you made in the last month?”

  I ducked my head. “No comment.”

  That made her laugh. “We haven’t forgotten anything, Kath. The shower is going to be wonderful. I promise.”

  I dropped Maggie at her apartment and headed home.

  Hercules was waiting on the back steps. I reached down to stroke his fur, and he wrinkled his nose at me, taking in my sweat-blotched shirt.

  “It’s not that bad,” I said, grabbing the edge of the shirt and pulling it away from my body.

  “Mrr,” he said, still making a face. Hercules was particular about his own hygiene—and mine, too, it seemed.

  I unlocked the doors and Hercules went ahead of me into the kitchen. I told him about Rebecca waiting for me at tai chi and how I’d agreed to see what I could find out as I made toast with peanut butter and poured a glass of lemonade.

  Hercules listened thoughtfully it seemed to me, his green eyes locked on my face, although it may have been the toast and not my words that really had his attention. When I sat down at the table he jumped onto my lap. “I thought I was too sweaty and offensive for you,” I teased, stroking his dark fur.

  “Mrr,” he said, sending a pointed look at my plate.

  “One small bite,” I said. Roma was always warning me about the cats’ penchant for people food over cat food, and while I felt fairly certain they didn’t have the digestive systems of “normal” cats, I tried to follow her guidance, just in case.

  Herc ate his treat and licked his whiskers.

  “One bite,” I reminded him.

  He continued to stare at me, just the way Rebecca had. She wasn’t the only one who challenged my ability to say no and stick to it. There was a dab of peanut butter on the edge of my thumb, and I stuck it out so he could lick it off.

  “You’re as bad as Rebecca,” I said.

  The cat glanced at me and almost seemed to smile. Both Owen and Hercules adored Rebecca. I stroked his fur again. “I have to tell Marcus,” I said.

  Hercules murped his agreement.

  “I’m not sure how I keep getting involved in his cases, but good or bad, I’m involved. Again.”

  I put my hand flat on the table, and to my amusement the cat put his paw on top of it. It seemed that good or bad, he was in, too.

  chapter 6

  It was one of those Wednesdays at the library when it seemed as though half the population of Mayville Heights came into the building looking for something. Lunch was part of a sandwich that I ate in snatches between answering questions, searching the shelves for books and solving a small computer crisis. So much for my plan to take in another lunchtime concert at the Stratton Theatre.

  “It was a good day,” I said to Susan, smiling with satisfaction as I locked the main doors at the end of the day. “I love it when we have a lineup at the checkout desk and everyone is carrying a stack of books.”

  “Me too,” she said, nudging her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose. “Which reminds me, I have to grab a couple of books for the boys.” As usual her hair was twisted up in a topknot, held today with an unsharpened number-two pencil, and what I was reasonably certain was a brush for applying eyeliner. I was never quite sure what was going to be poked into Susan’s updo, and I was equally unsure of whether that was because she sometimes tended to be a little distracted or because she let her genius twins do her hair.

  “What are they reading these days?” I asked.

  Susan counted on her fingers. “Treasure Island, the latest Einstein book and one on robotics.” She pushed a stray strand of hair off her face. “I’ve been dropping hints for some kind of maid-bot that will empty the dishwasher and bring me coffee in bed every morning. The boys are leaning toward a rocket that will probably set the backyard on fire.” She smiled. “Five minutes and I’ll be ready.”

  I watched her head for the stacks and wondered what it would be like to head home to a child or two. Marcus and I had talked about the future in the abstract sense but nothing more. Before we could make any kind of long-term plans, I had to tell him about Owen and Hercules and their . . . superpowers, something that I’d put off for far too long. And before I did that, I needed to tell him that I was going to see if I could find out anything about Miranda Moore’s murder.

  I helped Susan carry the books she’d picked out to her car. I was about to get into my truck when I heard someone call my name. Ami was cutting across the parking lot.

  “Rebbie told me that you said you’d look into Miranda’s murder,” she said as she came level with me. She pushed her hair out of her face. “I just wanted to say thank you. So . . . thank you.”

  “I’m not making any promises,” I warned. I didn’t want to get her hopes up that I could somehow come up with answers, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

  She nodded. “I know. I just feel better knowing you’re looking for answers. If I can help, you’ll call me, right?”

  “I will,” I said.

  She smiled. “Okay, so I better get to practice.” She took a couple of steps backward and then turned and made her way toward the sidewalk.

  I got in the truck and headed up Mountain Road. There was no sign of Owen or Hercules when I stepped into the kitchen. “I’m home,” I called. After a moment there was an answering meow from the second floor, followed by another from the basement.

  Hercules wandered in while I was making a salad for supper, probably drawn by the smell of the hard-boiled egg and slice of bacon I was chopping. I expected him to park himself at my feet, but instead he headed across the floor to where my messenger bag leaned against the wall under the coat hooks, and tried to get under the front flap with a paw.

  “After supper,” I said.

  He turned and looked at me with his big green eyes, then pawed at the bag again.

  “After supper,” I repeated a little louder, carefully enunciating both words. I tossed the egg into my bowl along with some roasted pumpkin seeds and added dressing. Then I set the dish on the table.

  Hercules had given up trying to lift the flap of my bag and was now poking a paw at the side.

  I sat down and reached for my fork. “I get that you want to do some research on Miranda, but we don’t have time right now, because we’re meeting Ruby in a little while.” I didn’t turn around, but I imagined his head coming up when I said Ruby’s name. After a moment I glanced down to see him at my feet. He meowed inquiringly.

  “She wants to finish taking pictures down by the marina. If that’s okay with you.”

  He immediately started to wash his face. That was one yes, I decided.

  I had another bite of my salad, and then Owen’s furry gray tabby face peered around the living room doorway.

  “Ruby wants to take more photos,” I said around a mouthful of egg, cheese and crunchy romaine lettuce.

  He looked down at his chest, then looked at me again and meowed once more. It seemed to me I could hear a question in the sound.

  “You look very handsome today,” I said.

  It seemed to be the right answer, because he disappeared (not literally) once more.

  I had time to do the dishes and clean the bathroom before we left. The boys willingly climbed into the truck and settled themselves on the front seat. Owen seemed to feel I wasn’t moving fast enough. He looked from me to the windshield a couple of times, grumbling just under his breath.

  Ruby was waiting for us at the marina. “Hey, guys,” she said as we got out of the truck. Like the last time, I was carrying Owen in my ar
ms, and Hercules was riding in the cat carrier slung over my shoulder.

  Ruby seemed more subdued and quieter than usual. Her hair was pulled back from her face, she wasn’t wearing any makeup and she was dressed in a plain navy T-shirt.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. “We can go somewhere else or just take the night off if you want to.”

  She gave me a half smile and shrugged. Both hands were jammed in the pockets of her gray shorts. “Truthfully, I could use the distraction,” she said.

  Owen was eyeing her, golden eyes narrowed.

  “I’m fine,” she reassured him.

  He seemed satisfied and used one paw to take a quick swipe at his face.

  I glanced at Hercules, who was looking intently at me. Ruby had already started across the grass. I felt a bit silly, but I tipped my head toward him and whispered, “She’s okay.”

  I saw Ruby send a quick glance in the direction of where Miranda’s body had been found before she walked a bit farther up the shoreline. The boys and I followed her without comment, although Hercules looked up at me again. I wondered if I was imagining the concern in his eyes.

  Ruby decided she’d work with Owen first. “Where do you want him?” I asked.

  She pointed to a large rocky outcropping. “There would be good.”

  I set Owen down on a flat area on the top of a weathered boulder and smoothed the fur on the top of his head. Then Hercules and I stood back and watched.

  Once again I couldn’t help thinking how unlike most “regular” cats Owen was as he posed for Ruby, following her instructions and hand gestures—most of the time. I knew how lucky I was that Mayville Heights was the type of place where pretty much no one would think it was the least bit odd that my cats made great models.

  Ruby finished with Owen as the shadows got longer, and then it was Herc’s turn. I set him down by a large elm tree and was reaching to pick up Owen as a woman walked by. She looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, wearing a dark blue T-shirt dress with a pretty shawl in soft shades of blue and gray over her shoulders.

  Owen bolted out of my reach and scampered across the grass, stopping a few feet in front of the woman and meowing loudly at her. The woman looked down at him, and I started toward them before she could make the mistake of trying to stroke his soft gray fur.

  Ruby caught sight of the woman. “Nora?” she said.

  The woman stopped. “Hello,” she said to Ruby, with just a hint of a smile.

  “Hang on a second,” Ruby said to Hercules as though he were a person, and he obligingly sat down.

  She walked over to the woman—Nora. She looked familiar, although I couldn’t place her. Maybe she’d been in the library recently.

  “What are you doing?” Nora asked, looking surprised to see us and the boys.

  Ruby explained about the photo project.

  Nora leaned forward and held out her hand to Owen. “What a beautiful cat,” she said.

  In that perverse way cats sometimes have, he took a couple of steps toward her. I stepped in, putting my arm out in front of him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Owen used to be feral. He doesn’t have the best social skills.”

  “He looks so friendly,” she said.

  Ruby nodded. “He is. So is Hercules.” She gestured over her shoulder at the little tuxedo cat, still sitting patiently waiting for us. “As long as you stick to a strict hands-off policy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I added.

  For a moment Nora almost seemed put out, but then she recovered. “I understand,” she said, smiling at Owen. “I don’t like people I don’t know getting handsy with me, either.” She looked at me. “He really is a beautiful animal.”

  “Who thinks he’s a person most of the time,” I said, bending down to pick up the subject of the conversation. Owen continued to stare at Nora, clearly curious about the woman.

  Ruby shook her head. “I’m sorry; Nora, this is my friend Kathleen Paulson.” She turned to me and her voice softened. “Kathleen, this is Nora Finley.”

  Nora was Emme’s sister. That’s why she looked familiar. Emme had dropped out of the music festival. I wondered why her sister was still in town. “I’m so sorry about Miranda,” I said. “I didn’t know her very well, but I liked her.”

  Nora nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Emme and Miranda had been friends for so long Miranda felt like another little sister.” She let out a breath. “And what makes it even worse is the idea that someone may have wanted Emme dead and killed Miranda by mistake.”

  “What?” Ruby exclaimed. She stared at Nora, then abruptly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was rude.”

  Nora held up one hand. “It’s all right. It’s just that Miranda was wearing one of Emme’s dresses along with her sweater. And they did look a lot alike. Plus, Miranda didn’t have an enemy in the world, while some of Emme’s fans could get . . . well, a little obsessed. It just seems to me that her death had to have been a horrible case of mistaken identity.”

  “Do you know why Miranda was wearing Emme’s things?” I asked.

  “She did her laundry and somehow a red T-shirt ended up in the washer. Her clothes all came out a rather sickening shade of pink. Since they were the same size Emme offered to lend Miranda what she needed.” Nora sighed softly. “Other than that, the day just seemed like any other day, you know. We went home at about four thirty. We didn’t even go out for supper. We ordered in. I keep thinking what if Emme had gone out instead?”

  Up close I could see that Nora Finley was closer to fifty than forty. She wore her dark brown hair in a layered chin-length bob with long bangs. She had hazel eyes behind her tinted glasses. Her makeup had been expertly applied but couldn’t quite hide the lines around her eyes and the dark circles underneath them. She looked tired, which was understandable under the circumstances.

  “The police will find whoever did this,” I said.

  Nora’s gaze darted toward the stretch of riverbank where Miranda’s body had been found. “I hope so,” she said. “What I really hope happens is that they find Emme’s ex-boyfriend.”

  “The professor?” Ruby said.

  Nora shook her head. “No, not Elliot. I was referring to that lowlife loser Emme briefly got mixed up with.”

  “Do you think he could have . . . hurt Miranda?”

  “I know it’s a cliché—the ex did it—but Derrick didn’t take his and Emme’s breakup well. And he was arrested once for a fight outside a club.”

  “Is Emme okay?” Ruby asked, twisting the hem of her T-shirt between her fingers. “I wish she’d stayed.”

  “She’s all right,” Nora said. “I mean, she’s upset about Miranda, of course. It was just too painful for her to stay. She just—she just needs to take a few days for herself, and then we’re going back to Chicago. Emme’s agent has a number of club dates lined up.”

  Ruby looked surprised. “Does that mean she’s given up on going back to school? I thought that was all set.”

  “She’s put it aside for now,” Nora said. “With everything that’s happened Emme needs to get back to her life. Back to her music. It’s the best thing.”

  Owen was squirming restlessly in my arms.

  “I should let you get back to work,” she said. She gave me a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “You as well,” I said.

  “Tell Emme we’re all thinking about her,” Ruby said. She’d stopped playing with her shirt and stuffed her hands in her pockets again. “If she needs anything or you do . . .” She let the end of the sentence trail off.

  “I will,” Nora said. She turned and walked back the way she’d come.

  Ruby just stood there for a moment, looking after Nora. Then she shook her head. “This is just a big mess,” she said in a voice that was barely audible as she turned back to Hercules.
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br />   Since she seemed to be talking mostly to herself I didn’t comment, but Owen meowed softly, seemingly in agreement.

  chapter 7

  Ruby wrapped up the photo session just as it was getting dark. I set the boys on the front seat of the truck and gave them each two sardine crackers. Hercules gave a meow of thanks but he looked at Ruby instead of me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I said.

  She nodded. “I am,” she said. “It’s just . . . strange. I can’t seem to get my mind around the idea that Miranda is dead and it’s because someone really wanted Emme dead.”

  I was having a bit of trouble with that as well. Certainly anyone who had known Emme couldn’t have mistaken Miranda for her. “Nora said that Emme’s ex had a history of violence.”

  “Can you call a bar fight a history of violence?” Ruby asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sure Marcus is looking for the man. Did Emme say anything about him to you?”

  She shrugged. “Not a lot. Derrick’s last name is Clifton. I asked Ami. I think he was a year ahead of Emme in school. She showed me a picture of him once on her phone. Average-looking guy. Brown hair, scruffy beard.” She touched the left side of her forehead. “He had a scar right here.”

  Aside from the scar it sounded like there was nothing distinctive about Derrick Clifton. It would be easy to walk right past him on the street.

  “Did you get the sense that Emme was afraid of him?” I asked.

  Ruby shook her head. “No. Truthfully, I got the sense that she was crazy about the guy. When she showed me the picture her whole face lit up. Nora, on the other hand, has no use for the guy. Protective big sister, I guess.”

  So Emme wasn’t over her ex. That was interesting.

  “I wish she hadn’t left town,” Ruby said. “She wrote me a note to say good-bye. I can’t help thinking if we’d talked face-to-face maybe I could have convinced her to stay.”

  “Do you know why Nora is still here?”

  “She volunteered to help with promotion for the music festival. She wanted to finish what she started. And Ami thinks she’s hoping Emme will change her mind and come back. I wish she would.” She held up both hands. “And I’m making myself crazy when there’s nothing I can do.” She gave me a hug. “I’ll talk to you soon.”