Claws for Celebration

by Linda Reilly

  Sherry’s face sagged in relief. “Thank you, Lara. You’re the best. Are you guys still on Little Women?”

  Lara and Aunt Fran belonged to a book club that read the classics. Since one of the members, Brooke Weston, was a high school student, they met weekly at the coffee shop after the school bus dropped her off. The fourth member was Mary Newman, who owned the gift shop adjacent to Bowker’s Coffee Stop.

  “We’re just finishing it up. Gosh, I love that book! It’ll be Mary’s turn to choose the next classic. I sense she’s leaning toward Rebecca, which I’ve read twice. I don’t mind reading it again, though. Brooke’s only seen the movie, so she’s anxious to read the real thing.”

  “All right,” Sherry said, getting back on track. “I’ll see if Loretta can have coffee with us Thursday or Friday. In fact, maybe we should meet her at the bagel place on Elm Street. Neutral territory,” she added meaningfully.

  “Sounds good to me,” Lara said. “Keep me posted on the other stuff, okay? And give Daisy a hug for me.”

  * * * *

  Later that morning, Lara was working on a watercolor for a client in Boston when Gail from the veterinary office called. “Your girl is all set to rock and roll,” she said, a smile evident in her tone. “She wasn’t chipped, but here’s the odd thing. Amy discovered she’d already been spayed. She thinks this cat might be lost, not abandoned.”

  “Really?” Lara said.

  “Yup. Amy guesses she’s about a year old, give or take. Anyway, she’s gotten a lot friendlier since you brought her in. I think she knows she’s in good hands now. She’s gonna make somebody a great little companion.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Half an hour later, Aunt Fran was cooing over the newcomer. “Oh, look at her. She has the sweetest face.” Aunt Fran pulled Nutmeg into her arms. Lara was shocked when the kitty nuzzled right up and sniffed her hair.

  “My gosh, she’s an absolute love,” her aunt said.

  Lara offered the tortie some kibble, but Nutmeg sniffed at it and strode away. Either she wasn’t hungry or she wanted something different, Lara surmised. She recalled Jason telling her that the cat was fussy. She wondered how he’d figured that out in the short time he’d been feeding her.

  Lara scooped her up. Normally, she’d arrange a cozy spot for a newcomer in the isolation room upstairs. After a day or so, she’d gradually introduce the cat to the rest of the household. But Nutmeg was such a sociable kitty that she decided to bring her into her own bedroom, where a carpeted kitty tree had been installed with a view of the backyard.

  She carried the tortie upstairs, earning a hiss or two from Valenteena, who watched from the top of one of the chairs in the large parlor. Lara gave Nutmeg a tour of where the litter boxes were located, then brought her into her own bedroom. She set her down on her braided carpet. Nutmeg sniffed the rug, looked around, and promptly jumped onto the cat tree.

  Lara sat on her bed and observed the tortie settling into her new digs. Someone had taken good care of this cat. So, who dumped her? Why had someone tossed her away? Or, as Amy had opined, was she simply lost?

  Today was an adoption day, but Nutmeg needed to remain in the shelter for seven days before she could be adopted. Besides, Lara wanted her to adjust to her new surroundings first. That way she and her aunt could evaluate her personality, as well as her individual needs.

  Lara smiled when Purrcival poked his head around the corner. He’d spent the night nestled under Lara’s chin. Valenteena had tried to inject herself between them, but he’d stubbornly refused to move. Lara almost had to pry him off her shoulder in the morning so she could get out of bed and perform her cat duties.

  A sudden feeling of discomfort gripped Lara’s abdomen. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason. What was it that bugged her?

  Taking advantage of Valenteena’s absence, Purrcy strolled into the bedroom to investigate. Lara patted her knee, and he went over and wrapped his swirly form around her legs.

  “Hey, Purrcy, you have a new friend,” Lara told him, lifting him onto her lap. A deep rumble issued from his throat. Nutmeg studied him from her perch, tail twitching. After a minute or so, she grew bored and turned her gaze back to the window.

  Lara set Purrcy down. She needed to get ready for visitors, assuming anyone showed up today. Adoption days were Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday afternoons, but Tuesdays were typically slow.

  Aunt Fran peeked her head inside Lara’s room. “Everything okay in here?” She grinned at the tortie nestled on the cat tree. “Look at her. She’s already made this her home.”

  “She won’t have any trouble getting adopted, that’s for sure,” Lara said, and bit her lip. “Poor Kayla. She’s really worried about Snowball. She thinks no one will ever adopt her because of her eye color.”

  Aunt Fran sat down on the bed next to Lara. “I don’t think the eye color has much to do with it. She’ll find her forever home, I’m sure of it. But in the unlikely event she doesn’t, she stays with us. I’ve just cut up some tiny bits of cheese for her. I’m saving them for her snack later.”

  “Oh, you’ll be her hero.” Lara grinned.

  “By the way, I had a thought. With Sherry and Daisy having such...troubles lately, why don’t we move book club here tomorrow afternoon. I’ll make us some mini-sandwiches, and we can have hot chocolate or hot mulled cider. I’ll make it look all festive for the season. How about it?”

  Lara slid her arm around her aunt’s shoulder. “As always, I love the way you think.”

  Chapter 14

  Kayla stopped by after her last class late on Tuesday. “No visitors today?” she said gloomily, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She hooked the strap of her book bag around the back of her chair.

  “Not a one,” Lara said. “Honestly, though, it doesn’t surprise me. People get so frazzled this time of year with all their seasonal chores. Although we did get a call from a woman who wanted to stop by and reserve a kitten, as she put it, as a surprise Christmas gift for her grandson.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “I know. I had to patiently explain why surprising a child with a pet on Christmas morning was not a good idea, especially when no one’s prepared for it. I started to give her my spiel about a pet not being a toy, but she hung up on me before I could finish. Hey, I was just putting the kettle on. Want to have some cranberry tea with me?”

  “Thanks. Cranberry tea would definitely hit the spot.”

  At the sound of Kayla’s voice, Snowball padded into the kitchen. Kayla lifted the kitty onto her lap and scratched her under the chin. “Any word yet on Nutmeg?”

  Lara had texted Kayla the day before to let her know that the tortie had been rescued.

  “Believe it or not, she’s here. She’s been hanging out on the cat tree in my bedroom. Amy discovered she’s been already spayed. I don’t think she’d been living outside too long. Someone was taking good care of her.”

  “Before they dumped her,” Kayla said sourly. She bent and kissed Snowball’s head.

  “Amy’s not convinced she was dumped, Kayla, and I’m beginning to agree. She’s pretty sociable, so she might just be lost. I’m going to post her pic on our Facebook page. For all we know, her owner is out there frantic with worry.”

  “You’re right. We shouldn’t make assumptions.” Kayla opened her book bag and pulled out a handful of papers. “Can I see her before I leave?”

  “You sure can. I’ll take you upstairs before you go. So, what’s all this stuff?”

  “Something was bugging the heck out of me, so I went back to the library.”

  Lara prepared two mugs of cranberry tea and set them on the table. Kayla stirred sugar into hers.

  “I got thinking about the first obit we read,” Kayla went on. “The one about the old woman who had a heart attack shoveling snow. I thought— Wait a minute. Mayb
e we should bring your aunt in on this, too. Is she home?”

  “Nope. She’s out doing a little shopping. We’re going to have book club here tomorrow, so she wants to serve some light snacks.”

  Kayla made a face. “Wish I had time to join your book club. As it is, my classes are keeping me buried. This shelter—and you guys—are my social life.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing,” Lara said, and Kayla smiled. “Anyway, why did you go back to the library? Something about that first obit?”

  “Yeah. Sarah Nally. She died at home after a second heart attack, remember? I got thinking, what if someone in her family decided to end her misery?”

  Lara frowned. “You mean, they thought she’d never be her old self again and wouldn’t want to...hang around?”

  “It’s possible, right?” Kayla pushed up her glasses. “Or maybe they just wanted to be rid of her. Remember, the mystery letter said she’d gotten nasty and mean. Whoever she was.”

  “I don’t know, Kayla. I think that’s a stretch.” Lara took a sip from her mug. “Anyway, did you find out anything new?”

  Kayla grinned. “Yeah, I did. I did some Googling last night—should have thought of that first—and discovered that Sarah Nally had been, like, this major cat lover. She even fostered kittens in her home!”

  “Hmm.” Lara sat up straighter. “Her obit didn’t mention that.”

  “No, it didn’t. Isn’t that odd?”

  “Not really. Someone in her family wrote that obituary. If that person didn’t like cats, I can picture them omitting it altogether.”

  Kayla pushed a sheet of paper over to Lara. “Look at this. She was mentioned in a feature article in 1983. She belonged to a group that knitted catnip toys for one of the local cat rescue operations. Evidently, these ladies raised so much money that they got a mention in the local paper.”

  Lara skimmed the article. A smiling Sarah Nally, her head covered with tight curls, was pictured holding a basketful of knitted cat toys. “Okay, she loved cats. But I’m still not making the connection to murder.”

  “There is no connection. Just my theory,” Kayla said, a bit defensively. “I’m only pointing out that there could’ve been a cat with her when she died. And if her death was hurried along by someone...”

  “Then someone in the household could have witnessed her death and written the letter.”

  Kayla’s shoulders drooped. She sank her fingers into Snowball’s soft white fur. “You think I’m imagining things.”

  I’d be the last person to accuse anyone of that, Lara thought wryly.

  “No, I think you’ve given this a lot of thought, and I appreciate it. Honestly, I do. I’m only saying that it’s a big leap from her being a cat lover to her being murdered in her bed.” Kayla started to protest, but Lara held up a hand. “But you’ve made a good point, so I think it’s worth looking into. Maybe we can make some quiet inquiries.”

  Kayla looked somewhat appeased. “Okay. But we need to come up with a game plan.”

  Squirming in her chair, Lara softened her voice. “Kayla, I have to ask you something. The letter also talked about the spirit of the cat leaving to care for a new life. What did you make of that?”

  For a long time, Kayla said nothing. Then, shaking her head, she said, “I don’t know what to make of it. But I do believe that our souls leave our bodies after we die and go on to a different...realm, I guess. Why shouldn’t animal souls do the same? Why should humans—” Her eyes brightened, and a smile lit up her face. “Lara,” she whispered, “look behind you.”

  Lara turned in her chair. Nutmeg was padding into the kitchen, her nose lifting to assess the various sights and scents around her. “You came down to visit us,” Lara said softly. She swiveled on her chair and patted her lap. “Do you want to sit with me?”

  The tortie gazed at her, then sat down on the linoleum floor. She seemed to be deciding which route to follow.

  In the next instant she leaped onto Lara’s lap. She purred softly, then more loudly as Lara stroked her head. “Oh, you are such a darling, aren’t you, sweetie?”

  Nutmeg leaned into her hand, as if to say, You bet I’m a darling.

  The cat parade began. Munster, not one to be left out of a party, strutted in to check out the newcomer. He leaned both paws on Lara’s knees and sniffed Nutmeg’s tail. Apparently, she met with his approval. He dropped down and curled up with his head on Lara’s shoe.

  “Shall I add some kibble to their bowls?” Kayla asked.

  “It’s not their suppertime, but that’s a good idea,” Lara said. “I want Nutmeg to feel comfortable eating with the other cats.”

  Within a few minutes, Purrcival and Valenteena had joined the party. Teena hissed a warning at Nutmeg, then went over to the food bowls and tried to shove Purrcival aside. This time Purrcy didn’t budge—he stayed right where he’d planted his paws.

  Kayla grinned. “Purrcy’s getting better at holding his ground. Good for him.”

  Lara agreed, but a part of her ached for Valenteena. The little female, so malnourished as a kitten, still ate like every meal was her last.

  “Butterscotch still doesn’t eat if anyone’s in the room, does he?” Kayla asked.

  “’Fraid not. All humans need to be absent before he feels comfortable at the food bowls. I really want to work with him over the winter. Right now, he’s not social enough to be adopted.”

  Kayla frowned. “I wish I could be here more. My classes are brutal this semester.”

  “Your studies come first,” Lara said. “Once you get your vet tech degree, you’ll see it was all worth it.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Hey, I better go. I’ve got a load of studying to do tonight.”

  Lara thanked Kayla for the additional research and gave her a hug. “You’ve been doing all the legwork on the mystery letter investigation. I’ll try to dig around on the internet and see if I can find out anything else. I might even pop over to the library tomorrow. I have that book to return.”

  * * * *

  Neither Aunt Fran nor Lara had felt like cooking dinner, so Lara picked up a pepperoni and mushroom pizza from Whisker Jog’s sole pizza parlor—Paddy’s Pizza. After they’d finished, she wrapped up the three uneaten slices and stashed them in the fridge. Aunt Fran headed into the large parlor with her latest historical novel, Dolce nestled in her lap like a furry hand rest.

  Leaving her aunt to read, Lara went to the fridge for a few Cat Nips. She offered one to Nutmeg, but the tortie turned up her nose at it. Lara stuck them in her pocket, scooped up Nutmeg, and went upstairs to her room. After setting the kitty on her bed, she plopped onto it herself and turned on her tablet. She brought up Google and entered Loretta Gregson’s name in the search box. A list of links popped up.

  The first Loretta Gregson was a state rep in one of the Midwestern states. Another was a realtor in Arkansas. A third one lived in the UK.

  The fourth link made Lara’s breath catch in her throat. It was an article in one of the local papers about an altercation at the Shop-Along back in June.

  The incident involved a woman, Loretta Gregson, who’d parked her car in a handicapped slot in the supermarket’s parking lot. A patron who’d just left the market noticed it, took a pic of the license plate, and reported it to the police.

  Loretta might have gotten away with a fine notification in the mail, except that a squad car happened to be close by. It arrived just as Loretta was wheeling her car out of the parking space. The patron who’d called the police was none other than Gladys Plouffe.

  Instead of admitting her guilt, Loretta had apparently railed at the officers, claiming she’d injured her leg in a fall and was forced to park in the space reserved for the handicapped. But Miss Plouffe told the police she’d seen Loretta in the store, zooming her cart along the aisles as if she were at NASCAR.

  The situation escalated.
Threats were made, and fists were raised, resulting in both women being escorted to the police station. A court date was scheduled for the following Monday.

  Lara racked her brain. What was it Loretta had said to her at the veterinarian’s office?

  The police don’t always get it right.

  It explains why Loretta was so worried about the police delving into Miss Plouffe’s background.

  Lara saved the link to the article. Even if it was flimsy, she’d found the connection she’d been looking for between Loretta and Miss Plouffe. A big question loomed, though: Did Loretta know about Miss Plouffe’s deadly allergy?

  Nutmeg hopped up on the bed next to Lara. She sniffed at Lara’s pocket, then pawed at it.

  “Oh, so now you want the Cat Nip?” Lara laughed and gave her the last one. Nutmeg sniffed it again, deemed it edible, and swallowed it without much enthusiasm.

  A sudden movement on the cat tree caught Lara’s attention. Ballou, who normally sat like a sphinx on the top level, was poised at the edge of his perch, his gaze fastened on Nutmeg.

  “Oh my glory,” Lara whispered. “Look at the way he’s watching you, Nutmeg. He looks like he’s getting ready to hop up here on the bed with you.”

  Nutmeg didn’t so much as glance in his direction. She flopped against Lara’s leg, licked a forepaw, and began taking a leisurely bath.

  Very slowly, Lara scooped up her tablet and set it on her night table, then rose from the bed. She left the room quietly, leaving the door open about three inches. If Ballou had any designs on joining Nutmeg, he wouldn’t do it with Lara still in the room.

  Giggling, Lara started to head downstairs. Had she witnessed a possible breakthrough for Ballou? The thought made her feel elated.

  When she reached the bottom step, she called out, “Aunt Fran, you should’ve seen Ballou—” Abruptly, she stopped.

  A sleepy Munster curled in her lap, Sherry sat on the sofa, crying silently into the pink tissue crushed inside her fist.