Claws for Celebration

by Linda Reilly

  “Do you remember her?” Lara said, excitement rising in her voice.

  “Ohhh, yeah,” Wanda said. “Believe me, you would too if you’d a worked here back then. Man, she was a real pain, that one. ’Course I felt sorry for her, what with her tummy troubles and such. It’s prob’ly why she was so miserable to people all the time. Got this one poor gal fired for callin’ her Eugenia instead of Mrs. Thryce. Yep, that woman sure thought she was the queen—”

  “Wanda, do you remember the day she...passed?” Lara asked, issuing her a silent plea to cut to the chase.

  Wanda nodded, her dull blue gaze darting off to one side. “I remember. I wasn’t in the room when she crossed over—I was down the hallway. But all of a sudden, I saw the nurse on duty shut the door to her room. Which wasn’t exactly unusual in this place, but then two of the aides went running in, and then the doc. Next thing I know, the paramedics come rushing in and then they’re wheeling her out on a stretcher. I thought she was on her way to the hospital.” Wanda shook her head soberly. “Turned out she was already gone, on her way to meet Jesus.” She crossed herself. “At least I hope that’s where she went.”

  “Do you remember the names of the aides who were working that day? Or the nurse?”

  Wanda blew out a long breath. “That’s what I been trying to remember. One of ’em was a skinny gal, barely weighed a hundred pounds. Pammy something-or-other, I think. Sorry, the last name escapes me. But I knew the other aide pretty well—Janice Weller. The two of us used to take our breaks together and go outside to smoke—back when I was still indulging, that is. Don’t go looking for her, though. She died a couple years ago.”

  “What about the nurse?”

  Wanda shook her head. “Nurses come and go like flies around here. None of ’em last. I’m afraid I don’t have a clue who it was.”

  Lara sagged. She was asking this poor woman to dredge up names from nearly three decades ago. It was only natural she wouldn’t remember most of them.

  “You know,” Wanda said, “there is someone else I oughta mention. I almost forgot about her. There was a young gal used to work in the kitchen. Came to the US of A with her folks from Italy when she was only a teenager. I remember, she got real friendly with old lady Thryce. For some reason the old bat liked her.”

  “Did the kitchen staff normally spend time with patients?”

  “Nah. They delivered the meals, but that was about it. That’s why it was so odd that Rosalba—” Wanda slapped her forehead. “That’s it! Her name was Rosalba! Now how the heck did that jump into my brain so fast?”

  Lara closed her eyes, then opened them again. A fluffy Ragdoll cat rested on Wanda’s white sneakers.

  “Wanda,” Lara said softly, “do you remember Rosalba’s last name?”

  Wanda shook her head. “Gallo, Gallino...something like that. I can’t be sure.”

  “Did you ever see anyone try to harm Mrs. Thryce? Threaten her? Raise their voice to her?”

  “No, never. ’Course she didn’t have many visitors that I ever seen. I saw the grandson a couple times—he visited kind of regular—but that was about it. One time I even saw him reading to her. But like I said, I only went in her room to clean. The aides woulda known a lot more.”

  A voice in the hallway made Lara’s heart jump.

  “Wanda, can I meet you someplace after work?” Lara whispered.

  The woman shook her head. “Sorry. I gotta babysit my great-grands after work. Besides, there’s nothing left to tell. I just emptied my brain of everything I remember.” She grabbed Lara’s wrist and spoke in a low tone. “But listen, I gotta tell you one last thing. That day, after they found the old lady and took her out of the room, the doc told me there was a plastic bag in the closet. He told me not to look inside, but to store it someplace cold till the grandson could get there to pick it up.”

  The grandson—Todd Thryce.

  “Did...you look in the bag?”

  “No, I did like the doc said. I knew something weird was going on, and I didn’t want any part of it.”

  Blue had already vanished—faded like a whiff of smoke. Lara had a sinking feeling she knew what had been in the bag.

  Someone twisted the door lock. A woman’s voice called out, “Hello? Is this occupied?”

  Wanda jumped off the commode and gave Lara an exaggerated wink. “Follow my lead.”

  “What...?”

  Wanda swung open the door, startling the poor woman who was waiting in the wings. She turned and gave Lara the stink-eye. “Yeah, well next time don’t be such a slob. You think I got nothing better to do than clean up after people like you?”

  If Lara hadn’t known Wanda was acting, she’d have been totally fooled. “Thank you again...and sorry,” she muttered, rushing toward the lobby.

  She waited until she got into her car, then burst into a fit of giggles.

  Wanda had truly made her day. In more ways than one.

  * * * *

  Lara set a small stack of holiday-themed paper plates, cups, and napkins on the table in the meet-and-greet room. She wanted the room to look especially festive for any potential adopters. She’d already hung a balsam wreath on the entrance door to the shelter. Its huge red bow was emblazoned with tiny cats. Lara had purchased the ribbon online—a find, if there ever was one—and made the bow herself.

  Daisy’s cat-shaped cookies were in the kitchen, still sealed in the foil container. She’d bring them out only if someone showed up to meet the cats.

  Lara’s head was still reeling from what she’d learned at the nursing home. In spite of Olga Tully’s curt dismissal, the delightful Wanda had supplied her with some juicy tidbits of intel.

  Todd Thryce. Had he been involved in Eugenia’s death? He’d been the only regular visitor, according to Wanda. The thought that he might have harmed his own grandmother made Lara’s insides roll over. Had he been wild in his younger days? At odds with the woman who Wanda had said was a “real pain”?

  Lara hated thinking of him as a killer. For starters, he loved cats—a big checkmark in his “plus” column. In Lara’s experience, which she confessed was limited, animal lovers tended to be peaceful types. That was a big generalization, but nevertheless, she thought it was true.

  Wanda had made Mrs. Thryce sound like a tyrant. Had she refused to give Todd money? He’d have been around college age when she died. Maybe she’d told him she was cutting him out of her will—giving it all to cat charities, or something like that. But why would she do that if he’d been the dedicated, caring grandson who’d visited her in the nursing home?

  Any number of reasons, Lara thought with a groan. Family politics were often complex—she’d learned that firsthand.

  Eugenia’s will. Now that was a thought. Where could Lara find it? Were wills always made public?

  A good question for Gideon. She’d text him later, after she decided how much to tell him about her strange visit to Pine Hollow.

  So much to think about. She put it aside and concentrated on getting ready for adoption day. Munster, Twinkles, and Dolce had to be outfitted with blue collars for the afternoon. The collars indicated that they were in-house cats and not available for adoption. Munster, who loved meeting new people, would have been adopted several times over if he hadn’t been one of Aunt Fran’s original cats.

  “Hey, I see you’re ready for the holiday,” Aunt Fran said, stepping onto the back porch. “That wreath is so pretty. Maybe we should put one on the front door, too.”

  “We haven’t really done much decorating yet, have we?” Lara noted.

  Her aunt laughed. “It’s just as well we don’t have a tree up. Valenteena would’ve probably torn it to shreds by now.”

  “I love that little girl,” Lara said wistfully. “I’m kind of worried about placing her. She really needs a special kind of home, don’t you think?”

  �
��I agree,” Aunt Fran said. “The little monkey. She sure can find ways to get herself into trouble, can’t she? But isn’t that a typical cat? Anyway, it won’t do any good to fret over it. We agreed early on that we wouldn’t place any cat in a home that wasn’t perfect for them.”

  Lara reached over and gave her aunt an impulsive hug. “Thanks, Aunt Fran. You know, I never had time to stop at the market for your crabmeat. I’m going to pop over there as soon as adoption hours end, okay?”

  “Sure, but I can go if that’s easier. I’m heading to the, ugh, mall, but I can drop by on my way home.”

  “Nope. I know you have a lot planned for the afternoon. I promised to do it, and I’m going to. Soon as you get back with the car, of course.”

  Her aunt held up both hands. “Then I’ll leave you to it. You said Kayla might stop over?”

  Lara reached over and straightened the colorful table runner. “Yup. She wants to work for a few hours today instead of tomorrow. I told her it was fine.”

  “She’s been a blessing, hasn’t she?” Aunt Fran said.

  “Yeah, you said it. Best part is, she loves being here. I swear she’d move in if she could.”

  “If I see anything at the mall that we can give her for Christmas, I’ll pick it up. Is that okay?”

  “Lord, yes. I trust your judgment completely.”

  Lara debated whether or not to tell her aunt what she’d learned at the nursing home, but she decided to wait. They both had full afternoons planned. Evening would be soon enough to talk about everything.

  She bade her aunt goodbye, warning her to be careful on the icy roads. Then she went into the kitchen to prepare a pitcher of spiced cider for any potential visitors. Not surprisingly, her thoughts drifted to Gideon.

  So far, he hadn’t asked her to do anything with him after work. On Friday nights they typically had dinner out, and sometimes took in a movie. Today, however, she hadn’t heard from him at all. He hadn’t even sent her a text. Was he that busy?

  That insecure voice, like a nagging elf, danced again in her head. She tried shoving it aside, but it kept waltzing back. Kayla’s face peeking through the kitchen door pane pulled her out of her funk.

  “Hey, you’re early!” Lara said, unlocking the door. “It’s not even one yet.”

  Kayla stepped inside and shivered. “The temperature’s already dropping. It’s not even Christmas, and I’m so sick of winter.” She pulled off her jacket and scarf and draped them over a chair. “I’ll hang those in a minute. I came in this way because I knew the shelter door would be locked. Anyway, so listen to this. I was supposed to have a chemistry exam at twelve thirty. So we all get there, and there’s a note on the classroom door. Exam canceled. Professor Gormley has the flu. Rescheduled for Monday, same time.” She dropped into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Well that’s a pain,” Lara said. “You probably studied half the night for it.”

  “I did. Anyway,” Kayla said, rubbing her hands, “I’m here early. What can I do to help?”

  “Um, maybe start by putting the blue collars on Munster, Dolce, and Twinkles. And then do some grooming?”

  “You got it. How’s Nutmeg doing?”

  Lara poured a glass of spiced cider for Kayla. “Taste this. Let me know if it needs more cinnamon. To answer your question, Nutmeg is doing great. And I think Ballou is starting to bond with her.”

  “That’s so good to hear,” Kayla said. She sipped the cider. “It’s perfect as is. Doesn’t need anything. You know, this could open up a whole new world for Ballou.”

  “My thoughts exactly. The thing is, I don’t want to get my hopes up. Slow and steady wins the race, right?”

  “Right.” Kayla grinned.

  Lara glanced at her watch. The shelter was scheduled to open in ten minutes. That didn’t mean anyone would show up at one o’clock. Lara wondered if she had time to tell Kayla what she’d learned that morning at the nursing home.

  “Kayla,” Lara said, sitting down adjacent to her friend. “I visited a nursing home today. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I’m glad I went. I found out some interesting stuff.”

  “Oh my God, did you check out Sarah Nally? Did they remember her?” Kayla took a long sip of her cider, then wiped her lips with her finger.

  “No, not Sarah Nally. Something told me she wasn’t the lady we were looking for, so last night I went to the library to look for more obituaries.”

  Kayla’s lips puckered. Disappointment flickered in her gaze. “Okay. So, what did you find out at the library?”

  Lara told her everything—how she’d searched way past the date of death to find Eugenia’s obituary, and how her date of death matched up exactly to Lara’s birth date. The fact that she was a cat lover added fuel to the belief that she was the woman they’d been trying to find.

  “But...Lara,” Kayla said, her face draining of color. “She was one of the Thryces, the same people who sponsored the cookie competition. Don’t you find that, like, way weird? I mean, how did you find that letter when you did? The letter was the same age as you! Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Yes, but not about the letter. The hurt in Kayla’s eyes made Lara’s heart twist.

  Kayla didn’t wait for an answer. “You know, Lara, if you didn’t think I found the right obituary, why didn’t you just tell me? I’d have been glad to go back to the library. You didn’t have to re-do my work.”

  Lara rubbed her hand over her forehead. She felt light-headed, floaty—beads of moisture populating her upper lip. “Kayla,” she said, her words sounding distant in her ears. “Would you please get me a glass of ice water?”

  Without hesitating, Kayla jumped off her chair. She returned seconds later with the water. Lara snatched it up and drank thirstily, then rolled the glass over her forehead.

  “Lara, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” Kayla’s voice quaked. “Are you going to faint?”

  After a long moment, Lara shook her head. “No, I’m okay. I’m fine.” She set down the glass and took several slow, deep breaths.

  She couldn’t go on this way. It was time—time to tell someone. Someone she trusted. Someone who had an open mind.

  Lara glanced over at the chair next to the one Kayla occupied. Until a moment ago, the chair had been empty. Now, a blue-eyed Ragdoll cat sat there staring at Lara. The tranquility in those turquoise eyes was like a living thing—so defined that Lara felt she could reach out and touch it. The cat blinked, then rested her chin on the table, her gaze shifting to Kayla.

  Lara felt a sense of peace flow over her like a cleansing waterfall. She knew what she had to do.

  “Kayla, there’s something I have to tell you. Something I’ve never told anyone, not even Aunt Fran or Gideon. But you have to promise to keep an open mind, okay?”

  Kayla nodded. “You know I will.”

  “I...need to tell you about one of the cats,” Lara murmured, then swallowed.

  “Oh no, is one of them sick?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Lara said quickly. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad, okay?”

  “Okay,” Kayla said, relief smoothing her face. “Well, which cat is it?”

  Lara looked across the table and nodded at Blue. “The cat sitting on the chair right next to you.”

  Chapter 27

  Kayla looked at the chair, then peeked under the table. “There’s no one here, Lara. Strange, because even Munster hasn’t come in to greet me today.”

  “The cat’s name is Blue,” Lara said quietly. “She was the cat I had as a child.”

  “A child?” Kayla shook her head. “Lara, isn’t that pretty much impossible? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “No one except me has ever seen her. Aunt Fran doesn’t believe she ever existed.”

  “Oh my God,” Kayla whispered. “I think I’m getting it now. Y
ou’re saying she’s a...ghost cat?”

  “Exactly.”

  Kayla looked at the chair again. “Is she still here?”

  Lara smiled. “She is, and she’s looking right at you. With approval, I might add. Oh, Kayla, she’s a gorgeous, fluffy Ragdoll, with creamy fur and chocolate-colored ears, paws, and tail. Her eyes are so blue—I think that must be why I named her that.”

  For a long time Kayla was silent. Then, “When did you first see her?”

  “Best I can recall, it was when I was a kid, playing near the river. She stopped me from trapping a poor little salamander and sticking it in a cage. I didn’t know any better. I thought I could keep it as a pet.”

  From there, Lara told her everything. How Blue had helped Darryl read, how she vetted people who came to the shelter to adopt. Most important, how she gave Lara cryptic clues that helped lead her to murderers.

  “Is that why you went back to the library?” Kayla asked.

  “Exactly. You know those obituaries you copied from the microfiche room? Blue pushed them right into the wastebasket in my studio. It took me a few seconds to figure out what she was trying to tell me, but then I got it. That’s why I knew I had to keep looking.”

  “And look what you found,” Kayla said soberly and took another sip of her cider. “But...why doesn’t she just tell you who the killer is? You know, like write it on a piece of paper with her paw or something.”

  Lara smiled. “I don’t think it’s that easy. It’s a good question, though, and I’ve asked myself that many times. Best I can figure, it takes a good deal of energy for her to even let me see her. I think she has to reserve that energy for crucial times. Like right now—I knew she was telling me to share her with you. It won’t be long before she fades.”

  “I feel kind of honored to be the first one to know.” Kayla paused before saying, “Lara, has it...occurred to you that Blue might be the cat who was mentioned in that letter? The one whose spirit floated off to care for a new person.”

  “Actually, Kayla, that did occur to me. The thing is, I wasn’t the only soul born that day, so why should it be me? Why not someone else?”