Magical Cool Cats Mysteries Boxed Set Vol 2(Books 4,5,6 & 7)

by Mary Matthews

  Jack tucked the paper into his rucksack.

  “Maybe Roland staged a robbery,” he suggested.

  “Roland says he treats it like his own art. He treats it like his own money.”

  “Embezzlers always say that,” Jack said.

  The music from the Pavilion could be heard in the arcade, outside the shops, along the promenade, and the pier. Everything in Coronado Tent City seemed to happen to music. Jack looked nostalgically at his former cottage. A cat sat on top of it, unblinking, claiming a former magical cat’s territory as her own. Tatania lept up next to him. Grace took a deep breath. She’d never seen Tatania hiss at another cat but she didn’t know if Tatania felt displaced and the calico was being presumptuous sitting on top of the cottage where Tatania once lived. Tatania walked by, the calico dipped her head slightly in respect, and Tatania lept to the adjacent cottage.

  Grace and Jack carried their cups of Joe to the Kodak guy. He stood next to black curtains, surrounding a camera on a pole, by the Merry Go Round.

  “They say detectives never sleep. But look at you.” Jack gestured towards the morning’s Coronado Tent City News.

  The photographer smiled first at Jack, and then at Grace, “It was an exquisite night to photograph a beauty. Nice English accent. So is this morning.” Tatania turned and looked at him. For a deaf cat, she often seemed capable of hearing.

  “Don’t look at me,” Grace whispered.

  “Grace,” Jack said, “if you pose for him, Pierre can use the photograph, and you won’t have to sit for a portrait.”

  Grace smiled.

  “Just make me look beautiful,” she said.

  “That will be easy,” he replied.

  She stood against the dark backdrop with a shelf at the top, Tatania jumped up so that she was on the shelf slightly above Grace. The camera shutter clicked.

  “I’ll have this developed for you right away. I have a Kodak lab at the Del.” He promised.

  Chapter Seven

  Grace ran her fingers through her bobbed hair, dried naturally by the Coronado sun. An armed robbery at Henry’s home felt jarring, juxtaposed against the serene Coronado beach outside where the lull of the Pacific Ocean’s roaring could send you to a restful slumber at night. Oblivious to what had occurred, families lay on blankets with umbrellas lodged in the sand. Children built sand castles. Armed robbery didn’t happen in Coronado.

  When Grace went to the movies with her friends from Finishing School, she developed a crush on Rudolph Valentino. Then she’d met Jack on the train from the East Coast to Coronado for the summer. And for once, reality supplanted fantasy. Jack was better than any crush. Alive, infused, like a force of nature, he drew her to him.

  To be this happy seemed to risk a smack down. Still she couldn’t move away from him. She always took mental snapshots of him to retrieve later. She’d allow the memory of being so fulfilled, so content with life, to sweep over her later. This time with Jack was enough to sustain her through life.

  Strong jaw, a kind of handsome symmetry, and green eyes that looked back at you like a magnificent tomcat. Jack.

  “Maybe it’s just that I associate portraits with dead people.”

  “You’ll live a long life, Grace, And when you’re an old lady, you’ll look at that portrait and think you were the bees knees once. And so will Jack. I could tell from your hand that you got married,” Olga, the Tent City Palmist, said when they walked through Tent City.

  “Was the rock on her finger the clue?” Jack asked,

  “No, you were.” Olga reached for Jack’s hand. He didn’t wear a wedding ring.

  “You look married without a ring, Jack. Some married men never seem like they’re married.”

  Zeus turned towards the Hotel del Coronado. Annie Knickerbocker, Grace’s dear friend who never liked to miss anything, stood by the entrance with a cigarette in one hand, wrist purse dangling.

  Tatania rubbed against the radio on the deck outside the Hotel del Coronado.

  “Turn on the radio,” Jack said.

  Someone jumped to turn on the radio for Jack. He had the kind of voice that always stirred people to do whatever he commanded. Emanating authority, he had been a top aviator in the Great War.

  An ad for Citrus washing powder played.

  “Did you have breakfast?” Annie asked.

  “I feed her all the time. She’s just always been thin.” Jack circled Grace’s waist with his hands.

  “What’s the least you’ve ever weighed?”

  “Seven pounds, two ounces,” Graces said.

  Annie drew deeply from her red filtered Marlboro cigarette.

  “Red cigarette filters don’t show lipstick smudges,” Annie explained.

  “It’s so frightening, Jack. I just want to crawl under something until everything is back to normal. I don’t like thinking about art thieves on Coronado. Sullying the island. And I’ll feel better when Pierre starts painting my portrait from the photo instead of staring at me.”

  Zeus looked at Grace like that sounded like a reasonable solution to him.

  “I hope he makes a lot of dough as a portrait artist,” Jack said.

  “Dear, I’ve always believed only in the traditional ways to make money: marriage and inheritance,” Annie said.

  “I’ll make an exception for the Kodak guy. I like the young guys,” Annie added.

  “Annie, could you do us a favor? Could you pick up a photo of Grace and Tatania from the Kodak guy and take it to our house and give it to Pierre?”

  “Bees Knees. I’d love to do that.” Annie put her cigarette out in a crystal ashtray.

  Chapter Eight

  Grace pulled out her compact and put more Fletcher’s Bleach Paste on her face to prevent sunburn. Zeus dropped a mouse on her Mary Jane pumps. A former feral cat understands survival at a raw and elemental level.

  Tatania’s nose quivered. She loved the scent of the sea mixed with fresh rodent. And Tatania loved Jack. He brought her to life again when a breeder tried to drown her when she was a kitten. The breeder thought Tatania’s deafness would mar her pedigree.

  Grace opened her mouth to scream but the sight of Zeus’s face stopped her.

  “Cute.” She looked at Jack for help.

  “Good hunter,” Jack said. “I respect that.

  Exasperated, Grace watched the rodent slide off her pump. She put her compact back in her wrist purse.

  “Does seem odd that Roland wouldn’t have noticed the thief’s presence in the house earlier.”

  “We need to find out who would have wanted the portraits and–“

  “—who knew Henry was at our party?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And who noticed the thief? You couldn’t just walk out with a couple portraits without someone noticing, could you?” Grace watched children scamper across the beach with parents stumbling to keep up with them.

  “With this view, maybe you wouldn’t notice,” Jack said staring at the sea.

  “It’s sad that Roland is here without his wife,” Grace said.

  “He didn’t look like he was too sad.”

  Grace stopped walking.

  “Not like I would be without my gorgeous and intelligent wife.” His green eyes reminded her of someone. She couldn’t identify whom exactly but it felt like she’d known him from the beginning of time.

  Grace and Jack strolled along the Del’s boardwalk. The chasm that separated Coronado Tent City from the Del never separated them — even when Jack lived in Coronado Tent City and Grace lived at the Del.

  “I’m exhausted,” Grace said.

  “You look good.”

  “You can’t go by how I look.”

  Charlie Chaplin rode by on his scooter. He waved at Grace and Jack. They didn’t know him. Coronado brought out friendliness even in the famous.

  “The beauty of Coronado,” Jack said, watching Tatania and Zeus chase jackrabbits on the beach, is that dreams never die here. At every age, each morning, you wake up in paradi
se, believing all things are truly possible.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable with the portrait, Jack. It seems so vain. And it’s not like I’m a Duchess.”

  “No. You’re better looking. And you’re a real society dame too,” Jack whispered in her ear.

  Kids played with sand buckets on the beach, scooping in sand, and spilling it out, laughing never tiring of the game, like a kitten with a ball of yarn. Bursts of energy and then a millisecond later, fast asleep.

  The Coronado sun, reflected in Grace’s rhinestone barrette, made her look like a shiny object to Zeus, who jumped up, and batted the barrette with his paw.

  “How do cats jump so high?” Grace pulled out the barrette and gave it to Zeus to play.

  “It’s all part of being magnificent.”

  Tatania often decided that Grace’s dangling crystal earrings would look better on the floor and batted each off the night stand.

  “It might be hard for us to live anyplace else. Because anyplace else would only be bearable if we could continue to return to Coronado always.”

  “Sand is getting in my shoes.”

  “I can take care of that.”

  She thought he was going to reach to take off her shoes. Then he picked her up and carried her along the beach. She clasped her arms around his neck and breathed in the scent that was forever uniquely him. Confident. Masculine. Jack.

  And he’d left Pinkerton Detective Agency when they wouldn’t hire her. Because Pinkerton doesn’t hire women. Poor Pinkerton. They lost Jack. And now he’d found their agency, with her, Wentworth & Brewster.

  Chapter Nine

  They went back to Danbury Manor. Zeus jumped up, chasing a butterfly outside. Tatania paused to claw a tree. When Tatania worked on a case, she kept her claws sharp.

  “Greetings,” Roland said, opening the door..

  A woman in a white uniform stood behind him.

  Grace smiled at her.

  “Meet Louise. Danbury’s laundress.”

  Louise held out a stack of perfectly folded blankets to Roland.

  “She helps me keep our art covered when necessary. Can’t be too careful about damage from the saltwater air. Mr. Danbury likes the windows open.”

  “And we’re getting married,” Louise said, showing Grace her ring finger. Her former Aunt Alice would have called Louise’s stone a chip. But Louise looked happier than a girl with the Hope Diamond.

  Roland looked at her sharply.

  She put her arm through his, encouraged by Grace’s smile.

  “I’ve been working extra hours at North Island’s laundry to save for the wedding.”

  “You’re resourceful. That’s good,” Grace said.

  Louse smiled back.

  “And we keep the manor temperature controlled for the art.” Roland said, clearing his throat.

  “And the wine?” Grace asked, remembering a lovely French wine she’d once shared with Jack at Danbury Manor.

  “Would you like to tour the wine cellar?”

  “No. I like to keep her away from the wine before noon,” Jack said.

  “I’d hit him in the stomach but I might hurt my hand. I’d like to add a wine cellar to our home. It would be perfect for earthquake shelter. We just need to add cold cucumber soup and crackers.” Grace said.

  “Thank you. I’ll suggest we add a supply of crackers and cold cucumber soup.”

  Grace opened her mouth to say she was joking but changed her mind.

  “Do you remember anything else about the thief? Had you seen him before?”

  Roland trembled.

  Jack put his hand on Roland’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It might take another day to come back to you. Sometimes, memories come in spurts of several days. Henry has our phone number. Have him call us. Good to meet you, Louise.”

  Louise smiled radiantly.

  Chapter Ten

  “He doesn’t mention that he’s getting married to Louise? Or that he’s getting married at all?” Grace whispered when they were outside.

  “He wouldn’t be the first guy,” Jack said.

  “Jack, beauty is like being rich and growing poorer.”

  “You’re getting your money back. Don’t worry, if you lose your beauty, we’ll get that back too.”

  “Former Aunt Alice once asked me if I thought I could pray to St. Anthony, the patron saint of missing objects, if I lost my looks.”

  “The best part of former Aunt Alice is former.”

  “What if the portrait of me ages but not me?”

  “I don’t think that worked out well for Dorian Gray. And you’d never sell your soul. I know you too well.”

  Tatania wound through Grace’s legs and then through Jack’s. Zeus rolled over on the walkway in an apparent attempt to impress a watching tabby. Tomcat wanted two felines of his own. The nerve. Tatania turned her back to Zeus. Then she looked over her shoulder back at him.

  He wasn’t looking back at her. She swivelled her ears three times, became invisible and went romping through the grass to the Hotel del Coronado across the way. Tourists would stare, mouths open when she rounded the path that was still partially dirt, unpaved, and left her little paw prints in it. That was always entertaining.

  Watching a door open, she hurried into the lobby. She enjoyed the women’s balcony. It was well situated above the doorway. Single women watched the men enter and quickly judged whether they were interested. Tatania wasn’t certain how they picked their criteria for men because none of the men brought fish inside.

  She roamed around the balcony carefully staying clear of rocking chairs. One woman seemed to be smirking. Tatania watched her closely until she opened her purse. Then, Tatania stood on her hind legs to peer inside. She moved a few things around, lipstick, compact, Coronado Tent City Band Schedule, trying to uncover the clue she needed. It had sank to the bottom. Passport. The woman, apparently alarmed by the objects inside her purse moving, reached to steady herself with the arm of the chair. She picked up her libation. Tatania sniffed. There was whiskey in her drink. Sour drunk.

  She swivelled her ears three times, became visible again, and ran to meet Grace, Jack, and Zeus on their way home again. The ice truck was outside. They watched the ice delivery man open the door to their ice box from outside. He expertly slid in a block of ice, shut the exterior door, and bounded back down the pathway.

  “Thank you,” Jack said, pulling out a billfold and handing him a tip. Tatania was already in the drawing room when they entered, rolling around on a black cashmere sweater from Grace’s closet. She didn’t know how Tatania managed to get things in and out of closets and cupboards.

  Pierre worked on the portrait of Grace and Tatania, photo clipped at the side. And then he moved closer. She felt increasing uncomfortable. Except for Jack, she didn’t like anyone close enough for her to feel his breath.

  “When Jack and I were in the war, we shared everything,” he said.

  Guy was pushing her patience.

  “We’d become one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The plane and I would become one. When I flew. Did Jack tell you I was an aviator too?”

  “Yes. Of course.” Grace backed away slightly. He stood too close to her. Zeus and Tatania moved between them so she had a reason to back further away. It felt better. Pierre could suck oxygen out of a room.

  Annie walked in with an ice pick.

  “I heard the ice delivery man. What will they think of next? We can open the ice box from the inside, lock it, and they can open it from the outside, put in our ice, and lock it from the outside. We live in the greatest decade ever. Anyone in the mood for a cocktail?”

  “Not yet,” Grace said quickly.

  “Oh! I just talked to Martin. A woman with a British accent contacted the museum. Trying to sell the portrait.”

  “Did you set up a meeting at the museum?”

  “It was odd.” Annie drew on her ebony cigarette holder. “She wanted to meet at North Island. At a laundry facility t
here. She’s selling both for twenty Grover Clevelands. What kind of crook undervalues like that? No art history background? Either portrait is worth more than twenty thousand.”

  They looked at each other. Louise.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zeus was napping in the pilot’s seat of The Tatania. When he saw Jack putting on his pilot’s jacket and goggles, he jumped out of the plane, and took off running towards Tent City. He couldn’t stand the sound of the plane.

  Grace’s stomach flipped at the sight of Zeus running. But she had faith he’d return. Grace put on her pink scarf and goggles. Tatania jumped on her lap. Grace carefully attached Tatania’s matching pink scarf and goggles. The plane noise never bothered the deaf cat.

  Jack took off from Coronado, and Grace watched Tent City grow smaller as the plane soared. The Del’s red turrets seemed to sparkle like a vision of luxury on Coronado’s beach.

  Tatania moved under Grace’s jacket for warmth. Jack flew steadily, without wind, in the calm sky towards North Island, turning left at the bay that joined Coronado to San Diego.

  Jack landed on North Island. Tatania lept out of the plane. Grace slipped off her Mary Jane pumps and climbed over the plane.

  They raced to the door marked, ingenuously enough, Laundry.

  She’d left the portraits on the folding table for laundry with a typewritten note saying to leave twenty Grover Clevelands.

  Tatania hissed. She emitted a low growling sound that Grace had never heard from her before. A scream emitted from behind the boxes. A woman arose, in an off the shoulder dress, and they watched scratch marks appearing on her shoulders. She shook her head and her red hair flew left and right.

  “He didn’t get to leave me behind. I had no dough after he moved to America. He said he’d come get me. I starved. He lives in your fancy beach town. England’s been in rubble since the Great War.

  I couldn’t get a job. Poker and prostitution seemed like my only options. I decided there was more money to be made in poker. Then I met Pierre. A portrait artist who went to poker games flushed with some dough from his Dad’s estate. He told me about Coronado. He’d met Henry and seen his art collection. He was supposed to send for me. He didn’t.”