Candy Canes & Corpses

by Abby L. Vandiver

  I nod. It is a very nice painting.

  “I mean…if the Monet is any one of the ones we’ve seen, it’s this one,” he says.

  I nod in agreement as I google Monet Landscapes in order to find something to compare it to. Then Ben and I look at the various images on my phone and compare them to the painting in front of us.

  “The light reflecting on the water looks similar to this one,” I say, pointing out an image from a 1908 Monet painting.

  “Yeah, it does,” Ben nods. He scrolls through a few more images on my phone and shows me. “And the brushstrokes on that tree look similar to the tree in your painting too.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” I frown. And then I can’t help but smile. We sound like two gallery owners conferring over an acquisition – rather than two nobodies who don’t know the first thing about art.

  Still I can’t help but be excited. If this is the Monet that Agnes was talking about, it would solve all my problems and then some. It would allow me to pay off all the back taxes on the house and have some left over to start my cupcake cafe!

  “Well…” Ben breaks the spell. “I say we take it to be authenticated tomorrow. But right now, it looks like Choxie needs a walk. So, I guess I should get going.”

  “Okay,” I say with a smile as I follow him and Choxie to the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And as they walk down the steps Ben turns and gives me a cute smile and a wave. Then he and Choxie walk away.

  “Well that turned out to be a fun night, wasn’t it Pumpkin?” I say as I close the door.

  We both head into the kitchen where I toss Pumpkin a few cat treats. He gobbles up quickly as I pour myself a glass of wine.

  I take a sip and think about how the night went. I could be depressed to have found out how I was used by Rafe—but it wound up being a better night than I could’ve imagined. And not just because of the possibly valuable painting. “Ben is pretty cute, don’t you think?” I say to Pumpkin. But he doesn’t pay me any mind – he’s still attempting to get one of the treats out from where it rolled under the stove.

  “And he’s really nice. He was really helpful tonight. Both he and Choxie.”

  Watching Pumpkin maneuver the treat out with his paw, I smile, feeling happy and relaxed and hopeful for the first time since I moved here. And maybe, thanks to the Monet, I’d be able to stay.

  I take my wine and head back upstairs to take a bath. As I do, I pass the possible-Monet painting that’s still sitting on the dining room table. I stop and study it again as

  Pumpkin hops up onto the table next to it. He sniffs at it then he sits down nearby to groom himself. “Tomorrow we’ll have the painting authenticated and hopefully it’ll be real,” I say. “I just love a happy ending, don’t you?”

  Pumpkin blinks at me unimpressed.

  PUMPKIN

  I pace around the bedroom, feeling on edge. As I pass the bathroom door, I peek in – she’s falling asleep in the bath and seems happier than she’s been since she moved in here. But still…I can sense something’s wrong. I just wish I knew what it was.

  I go into the bathroom and sit next to her and meow a few times. Her eyes open slightly, and she reaches out to pet me with a wet hand. “Hi Pumpkin, honey…what’s wrong?”

  I meow again, looking right into her eyes.

  She stares at me and I think she’s going to get it. To pick up on the alarm I’m trying to send her. But then her eyelids start drooping and she falls back asleep.

  It’s all up to me, I guess.

  I head down the stairs then pause halfway down. Listening. Alert.

  But I’m not picking up on anything out of the ordinary, so I walk into the living room.

  I head to the front door and sniff around the bottom of it. No suspicious smells there. I jump up on the window frame and stare out. I don’t see or smell anyone outside. But I sense something. Something bad is coming.

  PAISLEY

  I drag myself out of the tub and quickly pull on a warm sleep shirt and shorts before climbing into bed.

  “Pumpkin,” I call out – usually he’s somewhere in my vicinity at bedtime, but I don’t see him anywhere around. I wonder if I should go downstairs and look for him. He was behaving a little oddly earlier.

  Usually when I’m in the bath, he climbs into the sink and grooms himself – but tonight. Tonight he was just sitting there, meowing at me.

  Oh well. He probably just wanted more treats, I think as I snuggle into my covers.

  “Pumpkin I call out half-heartedly. “Come here Pumpkin.”

  Then I fall asleep.

  PUMPKIN

  I hear her calling me from upstairs, but I ignore her. Instead I go into the guest bathroom and jump onto the back of the toilet then all the way up onto the small, high window. I slip through the narrow opening and then onto a tree branch outside.

  Making my way to the ground, I prowl around the perimeter making sure everything’s okay. Which is when I hear it. Footsteps. Coming from the bushes in the back of the house.

  Freezing in place, I listen – then I spot them. Feet, heading toward the house. He’s trying to be quiet…careful. But I see him. He’s all in black with something black pulled down over his face.

  I stalk behind him, quiet as a ninja, watching as he goes to the back door. He’s doing something with his black-gloved hands, trying to get it open.

  Slowly….slowly I creep up behind him. Then…just as he gets the door open...I pounce!

  I clamp myself onto his back and he spins, screaming trying to get me off. He backs me into a wall and mashes me up against it. Hard. I yowl but I’m able to dig my claws in and climb up and over his head and clamp on even tighter.

  “Aahhh!” he screams. He dances around blindly, with me clinging tightly to his head, until we both wind up out into the glass atrium.

  He screams again and pulls his mask off – taking me with it - flinging me down hard onto the ground. And for a moment I lie there, dazed and stunned, watching as he grabs his mask and puts it back on. Then he backs away out of the atrium, slamming the sliding-glass door closed between us.

  I meow at him and scratch at the glass door but until he pulls something metal out of his pocket and aims it at me.

  “Stop! Don’t shoot!” she yells, running down the stairs looking terrified. We both freeze and look over at her. “Don’t hurt him! Please. He’s just a cat!” She jumps in between me and him.

  At which point he aims the metal thing at her.

  PAISLEY

  My hands fly up automatically as I stare at the gun which is now pointed at my face. “Oh no. Don’t shoot. Please,” I say, turning away and closing my eyes.

  “Where is it?” he growls. “Where’s the painting?”

  “What?” I say. I’m so shocked and confused by what’s happening that I wonder if I’m still dreaming.

  I open my eyes again and look at the gun. Unfortunately…it looks very real.

  This is clearly no dream.

  “The painting dammit! Where is it? I’ll kill you and that stupid cat if you don’t show me where it is. Now.”

  I look back to see Pumpkin stuck in the glass atrium, clawing at the door trying to get out. But at least he’s safe in there, I think.

  Me, on the other hand…

  His hand cocks the trigger.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll get it for you.”

  I head into the living room, finally realizing exactly what’s happening. The masked man is Rafe – coming for the thing he’s been trying to get this whole time. The thing that was going to save my house and my future.

  “The painting’s in there,” I say, defeated, motioning with my head towards the dining room.

  “You first,” he says and I have no choice but to obey. I head into the dining room and he follows. And there on the table is the Monet in its gold frame.

  He stares at the painting for a long moment and I wonder if I could hit him over the head with something while he’s distracted.


  But as I look around for a heavy object, I realize it’s too late. He’s already picked up the painting and is carrying it out under his arm.

  Upset as I am about the painting, I’m relieved that he’s leaving, and that Pumpkin and I are safe and unharmed. Which is when he turns and says “Oh yeah. One more thing.” Then he raises his gun and aims it.

  SHERLOCK

  I see him pointing the gun at me. I quickly leap up onto one of the plant shelves in the atrium and from there I hop onto the roof and scurry away.

  I make my way over to Ben’s house and in through the doggie door and up to Ben’s bedroom.

  There I jump on him and paw at him until he wakes up and looks at me in confusion.

  “Pumpkin?” he says, sounding surprised. “Is something wrong?”

  I hop back down and make my way back downstairs and after checking that Ben is indeed following, I head outside and over to our front door.

  Ben (and, of course, Choxie as well) are close behind and when I get to the front door I stand there and wait. Ben rings our bell and then pounds on the door calling out, “Paisley! Paisley, are you in there?”

  When no one answers Ben goes over and looks in the window. “Paisley!” he calls out nervously. “I’m coming.”

  I jump up on the window ledge to see what he’s looking at and see her there, lying on the floor on the other side of the sofa.

  Pawing at the hole I made in the corner of the screen, I hop into the living room, followed by Ben who jimmies the window even higher and removes the screen altogether. Then he climbs in after me.

  Sadly, Choxie, who is unable to jump in an agile feline fashion is forced to wait outside.

  “Paisley, what happened?” Ben asks as he hurries over and unties her.

  “It was Rafe!” she says, shaken. “It had to be him. He stole the painting and almost killed Pumpkin!”

  Ben continues untying her hands and then her feet. “He could’ve killed you too.” He helps her up, looking more upset and shaken than she is. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” he says. “Who knows what he could’ve done. We have to call the police. Right now.”

  She nods and brushes herself off. “Right,” she says as she grabs her coat and her car keys. “We’ll call them on the way.”

  “On the way? On the way where?” Ben stops in his tracks and looks at her dubiously.

  “To Rafe’s. I’m getting that painting back.”

  As she hurries out the front door, Ben follows behind her and I slip out as well, ready to jump into the car along with Choxie. But she grabs me and puts me back into the house. “Sorry, Pumpkin,” she says, “But you’re staying home. It’s safer for you here.”

  Then she leaves and closes the door behind her, locking it with a sharp click.

  That’s what you think.

  If Rafe is about to get sent down the river, I for one, am going to be there to see it. I head to the open living room window and make my escape.

  PAISLEY

  Ben speeds down towards Rafe’s building, driving fast as I dial the police and report the crime. The police officer on the other end warns me not to go inside the building and confront Rafe on my own and I tell them I don’t intend to – he did have a gun after all.

  By the time we get to our destination, I’m steaming mad. How dare Rafe scare me and Pumpkin that way. And how dare he steal my valuable Monet.

  Ben parks across from his building and we walk over on foot, leaving Choxie in the car with the window cracked open. While we wait for the police to arrive, we go to the parking lot behind the building to make sure Rafe’s car is there.

  It is. I touch the hood which is still warm. “That proves it,” I say to Ben. “He clearly just got home and parked, after robbing me of my valuable painting.”

  Not two minutes later, Officer Brady arrives - a heavy-set man in his fifties. And when I explain to him about my stolen painting – he says, “Okay. Let’s go find this guy and see what’s what.”

  But the problem is, the building directory doesn’t list anyone named Rafe Sanders.

  “Well, his car was parked in space 32,” Ben says, “So maybe that corresponds to his apartment number as well.” Ben runs his finger down the directory and lands on apartment #32. “Andrew Bronson.”

  “I bet that’s him” I say. “I bet he told me the wrong name when I met him. He used an alias.”

  “Could be,” Officer Brady admits as we walk into the building – catching the open door just as a man and his dog head out.

  Upstairs at apartment #32, Officer Brady pounds on the door in an official fashion.

  “Who is it?” a male voice calls out from inside – and unfortunately I can’t tell if it belongs to Rafe or not.

  “Police!” Officer Brady calls back. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  My heart pounds as I hear the door unlocking from inside. Then, it slowly swings open. And there stands Rafe.”

  “That’s him. Arrest that man!” I say. “That’s the man who stole my painting!”

  “Your painting?” Rafe says looking half-asleep, his face a mask of innocent puzzlement. “Is this a joke? Paisley, what’re you doing here?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind,” Officer Brady says.

  Rafe nods and we all step inside.

  PUMPKIN

  Finally. I make it inside the building and up to Rafe’s apartment. And luckily, they’re all so busy talking and accusing each other of various crimes, that they don’t even notice me as I slip inside the door and listen.

  “Your painting?” Rafe says, in all innocence. “Paisley, I don’t know anything about any painting.”

  “He’s lying!” she protests loudly. “He’s lying about everything. Even his name!”

  “Rafe is my nickname.” He smiles smugly. “That’s not a crime is it?”

  “No,” the policeman admits. “It’s not.”

  “Look,” Rafe says with another fake yawn. “I get that someone may have broken into your house and stolen your painting. And for some reason you think it was me– but did you actually see even see the guy’s face?”

  They all look at her. “No,” she says slowly. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t him! Look at the scratches on his arms and neck. Those came from my cat Pumpkin.”

  Sure did. I sit up a little straighter. I consider adding a few more scratches to his collection, but I don’t want to call attention to myself.

  “These scratches…” Rafe sighs and lowers his voice as though embarrassed. “I was with another girl tonight after I dropped Paisley off. I think that’s why she’s accusing me. She was jealous and upset that our date didn’t work out so well.”

  “He’s lying!” she yells. “You can see it on his smirky face!”

  I sure can.

  “Look, if you’re innocent, you won’t mind if we look around, right?” Ben suggests. And we all wait for a response.

  Rafe’s beady eyes go from the cop to his apartment and back to the cop again. “Okay. Fine,” Rafe sighs. “But be quick. I have work in the morning.”

  He backs away and spreads his arm wide to say “have at it” at which point the policeman goes in and starts looking around the living room.

  “It was a Monet painting, about 12 inches by 24 in a gold frame,” she tells him.

  “Uh huh,” the cop says as he looks behind the couch and under the couch cushions and all through the TV cabinet. Then he heads into the bedroom and bathroom where he searches every conceivable hiding place. Finally, he winds up in the kitchen and after checking every cabinet and even the refrigerator, he turns to her and says, “Sorry. Don’t see any paintings here.”

  “But it has to be,” she frowns, on the verge of tears. “I know he took it.”

  Rafe gives her a smug smile and says, “I’m really sorry it didn’t work out between us and I hope you’ll get over it.” He turns to the policeman and says, “A woman scorned, huh?”

  Luckily Ben holds he
r back because at that point she seems ready to add to the scratches on Rafe’s face herself.

  “Well, sorry for the trouble,” the policeman says, ready to walk back out of the kitchen.

  Which is when I sniff the air and realize where the sleezeball is hiding it.

  I jump onto the counter and sniff around.

  “Pumpkin? Is that Pumpkin?” Ben says as if suddenly becoming aware of my presence.

  “Pumpkin?” she says, sounding equally surprised. At which point Ben comes over and picks me up and carries me out of the kitchen. As I struggle and meow and yowl, he carries me out into the living room and to the front door.

  I look into Ben’s eyes, trying convey the direness of the situation, but he’s not even looking at me. He’s looking back towards her.

  “It just has to be here,” she’s saying to the policeman. “I don’t understand. Maybe you could check his car?”

  The officer shakes his head ‘no’ like he doesn’t believe her anymore.

  She sighs and joins us at the door. We’re all about leave when I look over and see the irritating smile on Rafe’s face. So I dart out of Ben’s arms and run back toward the kitchen.

  “That cat!” Rafe growls, trying to grab me as I run past him. But dart away from him and into the kitchen where I hop back up onto the counter.

  Rafe storms in looking ready to kill me.

  “Don’t touch my cat,” she says, hurrying in after us.

  And as she reaches to grab me herself, I jump onto a glass of orange juice that’s sitting on the counter and knock it onto the floor.

  “Darn it!” Rafe yells. “Now would everyone please leave! NOW!”

  “Sorry for the disturbance,” the cop says, having joined us now too. “We really shouldn’t have troubled you. Here I’ll get that.” He reaches for the paper towel dispenser that’s sitting on the counter. But when he tries to pull the towel off, the roll won’t turn. “Hmm. It’s stuck,” he mumbles.