Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  “If I let you out of the cages, will you give me answers?” I countered as I adjusted my legs to help circulate my blood flow in the restrictive garment.

  Old one-eye crept forward and put a paw against the wire bars of his cage. “Sure, we’ll give you whatever answers you want, human. Now make with the opening these cages.”

  I swallowed back a sigh and transitioned to my hands and knees to crawl the short way to the first of the crates. It was an awkward maneuver, but still easier than standing and kneeling.

  I let the one-eyed boss cat out first, and he immediately shot past me to make a flying leap for Octo-Cat’s pride and joy, a one-hundred-and-forty-gallon freshwater fish tank. He jumped straight for it and hit it face first with a giant thwap!

  “What’s with this invisible force field?” he grumbled as he picked himself up off the ground and made eyes at the offending glass.

  “Let me guess,” I said, trying hard not to laugh. “Born a stray.”

  “And I would have died a stray, too, if not for these do-gooding saps putting me behind bars!” His fur twitched in odd spasms and he eyed the fish tank woefully.

  “They’re trying to get a home for you, so you can have a better life,” I explained. The cats knew that, didn’t they? The people who ran the shelter had good and kind hearts. I didn’t doubt that for a second, but I also knew just how hard it was to please a worked-up feline. My spoiled tabby was case in point.

  “I had a good enough life back on the streets,” One-Eye hissed at me.

  A new feline voice rose up in response. “Oh, hush up, Jinx. No one wants to hear your complaints… again.”

  I searched the line of cages until I found the speaker, a sleek black cat with glowing golden eyes and a small white patch of fur on his chest.

  I let him out next. “What’s your name?” I asked as he passed me with slow confident steps.

  “It’s Mr. Fluffikins, and I was taken in by mistake. You see, I was on a top-secret mission and far from my home base in Georgia. I’d almost cornered our man when—”

  “No one wants to hear your lunatic rants, Fluffikins,” the fat tom snapped. “Can it!”

  Mr. Fluffikins growled but otherwise fell quiet as he paced the length of the room. He looked so determined, but I had no idea what he intended to accomplish while holed up here.

  I left Fluffikins to his own thoughts. One by one, I continued to let the cats out of their cages. No one else made a run at Octo-Cat’s fish tank, but several made themselves comfortable on his fancy, custom-made silk cat bed. He would definitely not be happy about that. Still, it was a small price to pay if spoiling these cats a bit would get me the answers I sought. Besides, they’d all had pretty rough lives from what I could tell. They deserved a small taste of luxury as well as forever homes that would spoil them for all the rest of their nine lives.

  “So,” I began casually now that everyone was free of their cages and had gotten some time to explore the room. “Did you see a young male human with longish dark hair in here earlier?”

  “There were two humans watching over us, but one went home,” Jinx informed me, licking his paw and swiping it over his forehead with strange, jerky movements.

  “Yes, but another human came in and fought with them a while ago,” I explained patiently. One of them had to have seen something. If I asked my questions in the right way, someone would have answers for me. They may even know the identity of Max’s killer. The motive, too. “His name was Max. Do you remember him?”

  “A few other humans have come in tonight. Which one are you asking about?” the fat tom asked, coming over to sit at Jinx’s side.

  “He was young, maybe early twenties. Dark, stringy hair.”

  Jinx raised a paw. “Let me stop you right there and save us all some time. Yes, there have been humans in here, but honestly you guys all look the same. How am I supposed to know which one you’re talking about?”

  I sighed. Yes, I’d gone through all of this when I first met Octo-Cat. He’d gotten much better at telling people apart now that he actually tried, but it made sense that the shelter cats hadn’t quite been initiated yet.

  “I know who you’re talking about,” Mr. Fluffikins said, marching straight up to me. “His name was Max and he was here as a DJ. You agreed to give him $100.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly right. Good kitty!”

  He wrinkled his nose and scoffed at this. “Please don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “Sorry, sorry, you’re right. It won’t happen again. So, um, what can you tell me about Max?”

  Mr. Fluffikins’s eyes locked on mine. The golden irises appeared to swim with intelligence in a way that set him apart from other cats I’d met, including my own. “It is exactly as the other human, the one called Scarlett, told you, but with one notable difference.”

  My heart picked up speed. Could this be it?

  “Oh?” I said simply, trying to remain calm and steady so that he would tell me more.

  “After he said he was getting paid, he asked her to go out on a date with her. Said he’d take her to the nicest restaurant on the bay and have the night of their lives. All while he wore this disgusting animal carcass as some kind of fashion statement.” Fluffikins shuddered. “Disgusting humans.”

  “What did Scarlett say to that?”

  “She tried to politely decline, but then the other guy who was in here—the one who went home—he got real angry when Max wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Ooh, this was getting good. “What did he do?”

  Mr. Fluffikins chuckled. “He shoved him at the door and told him to never bother her again or else.”

  Well, this definitely seemed like a promising lead. “Thank you, Mr. Fluffikins, you’ve been most helpful.”

  “I know,” came his response before he began grooming his paw with a smirk.

  “Right. I guess I should go get Scarlett back. Do you guys promise to be good if I let you stay out of your cages? I’ll tell Scarlett it’s all right.”

  “Yes, we’ll be good,” Jinx said, his one eye narrowing at the closed door.

  “And you won’t try to escape when I open the door,” I continued with a raised eyebrow.

  No one said anything.

  “Promise me,” I demanded, a hand on each hip.

  “Fine. We promise,” Jinx agreed with a nod.

  “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” I looked specifically at Mr. Fluffikins since none of the others had been able or willing to assist with my investigation. “Scarlett should be back soon. Be good until then. Bye for now.”

  I twisted the doorknob, preparing to take my leave. I hadn’t even opened the door more than a few inches before Jinx shot past me and ran right out into the hall.

  Bad kitty!

  Chapter Eight

  I rushed out into the hall, but Jinx moved far too fast for me keep up. By the time I closed the door behind me, he’d already made it to the bottom of the grand staircase. And he was headed straight for the party—or toward the door. Thankfully, we’d had the foresight to secure the pet door to prevent our backyard raccoon neighbor from crashing the gala and terrifying all our guests.

  Unfortunately, there was no way for me to quietly go about corralling Jinx, so I stood in the entryway and shouted for everyone’s attention. “We have an escaped cat from the adoption room. If you see him, would you please pick him up and take him back upstairs? Sorry for interrupting your dinner.”

  My piece now said, I raced back up the stairs to get Scarlett. I found her seated on the rug on my floor with both Octo-Cat and Paisley sharing her lap contentedly. Octo-Cat purred so loudly, I could hear him from the doorway.

  “Oh, wow. You really are good at this,” I said with extreme reverence. Paisley was easy to please; Octo-cat, on the other hand, was darn near impossible.

  “I’ve always loved animals,” she said, petting each animal with one of her hands simultaneously.

  “That’s great, but I have a bit of
bad news.” I waited for her to meet my eyes before continuing. “I let the cats out of their cages and one of them escaped while I was coming to get you.”

  Scarlett gasped. “You did what? Why would you do that?”

  “Um, I don’t suppose you’ll take ‘they asked me to’ as an answer?” Heat rose to my cheeks. I really should have known better, but I was so blind in my pursuit of answers that I hadn’t listened to my instincts. No matter what a cat promised you, he would always play the situation in whatever way benefited him the most—and you could take that to the bank.

  “Of course not. Gosh, I have to get down there now and make sure nobody gets into a fight.” Scarlett set my pets on the ground and jumped to her feet, then lumbered through the door to make right what I’d set wrong.

  “Now there’s one human with a heck of a right-ear scratch,” Octo-Cat moaned as he watched her depart. “Those fingers are like a dream. You should have her give you some lessons before she goes.”

  “Yeah. I like her very much, Mommy,” Paisley added with a wiggly butt and a merry voice.

  “Great. I’m happy for you guys, but I can’t stay and chat. Sorry.” I stared down at them and bit my lip.

  “Why not?” my cat demanded, marching straight up to me and placing a paw on my foot. As if that could stop me from going.

  “There’s been a murder,” I whispered just in case anyone was eavesdropping on the stairs.

  “Again?” My cat balked. “That’s like the third time this month.”

  “It is not,” I argued with an indignant snort. “You have no sense of time. Like, at all.”

  “Well, then it’s at least the third time this year,” he shot back.

  Okay, maybe he was right about that. I didn’t have time to tick off all the murders we’d investigated on my fingers. Although I suppose it was a bad sign that I’d managed to lose count.

  Most people stopped at one—or heck, never even got to one in the first place. Me, I had a good handful or two of murder investigations under my belt.

  “Who’s the stiff this time?” my cat wanted to know.

  “Mommy, I’m scared,” Paisley whined. “Am I going to get murdered, too?”

  I reached down and picked her up. Her ears lay flat against her head and her eyes squinted as she shivered with fright. “You’re safe, Paisley. I promise.”

  She whimpered and hid her face in the crook of my arm. “But why does everyone always get murdered when you’re around, then?”

  Octo-Cat burst out laughing.

  “Stop it,” I scolded him. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”

  “That’s why I’m laughing,” he answered, then laughed some more. “And she’s not wrong. People get murdered around you all the time.”

  “I barely knew the guy, okay? He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. It was a last-minute substitution, and—wait. Why am I explaining this to you? I have a case to solve. See you later.”

  I set Paisley on the bed and gave her a loving pat on the head. “It’s okay,” I promised her. “Your big brother will watch out for you.”

  “Says you.” Octo-Cat hopped up onto the bed. “I’m coming with you. I am your partner, after all.”

  “No, you’re not. Things are chaotic enough down there without adding your fluffy behind into the mix.”

  “But Angela—” he began in that droll voice of his.

  I didn’t hear what he said after that because I’d already slammed the door behind me.

  This was one case I needed to solve without my talking tabby partner. And fast.

  I found Mr. Gable waiting for me in the second-floor hallway. “There you are. I was beginning to worry.” His forehead creased with even more wrinkles than usual. The poor old man looked wrung out.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked breathlessly. Please tell me things had not gotten worse in my short absence.

  He kept his voice low while answering. “The guests are beginning to get a bit fussy. They want to know how they’re supposed to solve the murder mystery without any clues as to who the killer might be. They do have a point.”

  This was definitely not good.

  “Can’t you just make something up?” I asked, but before I’d even gotten the full question out Mr. Gable began shaking his head.

  “I wish I were that creative, but I’m worried I’ll get my story crossed, and they’ll start to suspect something.”

  “Charles,” I said at once knowing the answer to this one problem, at least. “He was born for this. Can you go outside and get him to switch places with you? You can help the police, and he can keep the guests occupied.”

  “I’m on it,” Nan’s boyfriend assured me with yet another thumbs up. His overuse of the gesture was starting to irritate me, but at least he meant well. And he was buying us all the time we so desperately needed.

  I peeked into the adoption room and saw Scarlett herding the cats into their cages… It was not going well. “Is Jinx back yet?” I called to her through a small crack in the door, unwilling to open it fully.

  She looked up at me with a confused expression. “Who?”

  “Oh, um, the cat who escaped,” I muttered quickly to cover my tracks. “The one with one eye.”

  “His name is Captain Blackbeard,” she corrected me with a tired shake of her head. “And no, he’s still at large.”

  “I’ll go find J—the Captain for you. Be right back,” I promised, shutting the door carefully and completely to avoid any other great escapes.

  By the time I returned to the main floor, Charles was just returning from outside. I drew close and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything going okay out there?”

  He sighed but still managed a smile for me. “Not really.”

  “Any ideas as to who did it?” I whispered.

  “I have lots of ideas, but no proof to go with them.”

  “That’s what I’m working on finding. The proof. And also a one-eyed black cat that escaped. Any chance you’ve seen him?”

  Charles squinted at me as he thought, then his entire face relaxed and he said, “Yes, actually. I believe Bonnie had him outside.”

  “He’s with Bonnie? Why would she have him? And why was she outside with you when you were supposed to be alone?”

  He raised his hands in self-defense. “It’s not like that. She was telling me about her case and asking for housing recommendations. She’s hoping to move to Glendale soon and needed a few tips.”

  “Oh, I’ll give her a tip, all right,” I muttered under my breath.

  Charles gave me a peck on the cheek. “It’s cute that you’re jealous. You have nothing to worry about, though.”

  I nodded and forced a smile, because actually I had lots to worry about. There was a killer on the loose, a crowd of charity guests who could find out at any moment, and a gorgeous stranger who seemed to have far more than a professional interest in my boyfriend.

  I’d solve all these problems before the night was through, mostly because I had no choice in the matter.

  First, though, I was going to retrieve that naughty kitty.

  Chapter Nine

  I watched as Charles went to retrieve the event microphone from Nan. Once he had it, he jumped straight into a fascinating tale of murder and intrigue that I knew for a fact he was making up on the spot to appease our curious guests.

  I listened for a few minutes to make sure the audience was buying it—they were—and then made my break.

  Just in case anyone was paying attention to me, I chose to creep into the kitchen rather than heading straight through the front door. Beyond the kitchen, situated just past the pantry, a modest-sized mudroom lay tucked out of view from the main rooms. Inside were two doors, one that led into our garage and one that went straight out into the back garden.

  I chose the latter, proceeding with slow and quiet movements until I was outside on the small stoop. The screen door clattered behind me, startling a willowy figure with sandy hair in the process.
>
  He flinched and froze in place, as if doing so would somehow keep me from noticing him. Instead it gave me an even clearer view of his features, allowing me to recognize him in an instant.

  “You’re Doug,” I said, a fact and an accusation.

  Doug attempted to relax into a more casual pose, but his jaw remained tense. “Guilty as charged. Shoot! I mean… Yeah, I’m Doug.”

  Wow, this guy did not know how to play it cool. At least it should be easy to walk him into a confession, because right now he looked incredibly guilty. I crossed my arms over my chest and stalked closer. “I thought you went home. At least that’s what Scarlett said.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Doug shoved both hands in his pockets and forced a cough, bending at the waist as he did. When he straightened back up, his eyes looked wild and desperate, like an animal that knows it’s about to become prey. His hands moved beneath the denim fabric of his jeans as he spoke. Definitely hiding something.

  “I’m on my way now. See ya.” He kept one hand in his right pocket and took off in an awkward loping run.

  “Wait,” I called before he could make it very far across the back lawn. “What’s in your pocket?”

  He paused for long enough to mumble, “Nothing. Sorry I’ve gotta go.” Then removed both hands from his pockets and broke into a full-on sprint.

  I bolted after him, despite not being able to move very fast in the tight dress. This would never have happened if Nan let me wear my own clothes, I thought bitterly. Meanwhile hoping and praying he didn’t have a gun concealed in that pocket.

  He couldn’t pull a weapon on me without attracting the attention of the policemen out front. With any luck, Doug would run right into Officer Bouchard’s path. I would have called for police assistance, but the guests would definitely hear if I shouted. Doug had to know he couldn’t hurt me without others noticing, and right now he was running away from me.

  Nothing threatening about that.