When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  It had to be, right?

  I certainly hadn’t murdered the campground manager. In fact, I didn’t know a thing about her except that she could be a bit lax with the rules.

  Still, I’d been under suspicion before. And for a lot less, too.

  Now I couldn’t dismiss the nagging feeling that things would get a lot worse be-fore they got any better.

  Chapter Ten

  “Let’s get this convoy moving! Wait for me,” Pringle shouted right before I closed the door to the RV.

  Of course, I had to go back in to explain why I would not be waiting for him. “You have to stay inside,” I said, hoping that would be enough.

  He squinted his eyes and spoke in a husky voice not at all befitting of him. “But what if I have to pay the water bill?”

  I blinked down at him in utter bewilderment. “What are you even talking about?”

  “You know.” The raccoon dropped his voice to a whisper. “The bathroom?”

  “You’re smart enough to use the toilet, aren’t you?” I challenged with a smirk. “Either that or you can wait for dark and then sneak out to do your business then.”

  His shoulders slumped and he dropped down onto all fours. “Are you really going to make me hide out in this crummy camper the whole weekend?”

  I glared down the bridge of my nose at him. “Yes, I really am. I would never have willingly brought you on this trip, but you took that choice away from me when you forced your way on board. The way I see it, you have no one to blame but yourself.”

  “Well, I am coming with you,” Octo-Cat called from the kitchenette counter.

  I glanced over and found him cleaning his face and paws after presumably licking all the butter off the unfinished side of the grilled cheese sandwiches.

  “What? Why do you want to come?” I asked.

  “Mostly because ‘The Bandit’ wants to but can’t.” The cat lifted his head and grinned at the raccoon. “But also because I’m your partner, and it sounds like we might have an investigation on our paws. I plan on claiming my share of our payment, so I might as well take on some of the work, too,” he added, licking his chops with glee.

  “Fair enough,” I said, not bothering to tell him there wouldn’t be any payment for this particular case.

  “Not fair at all!” Pringle cried, throwing his body up against the door so we wouldn’t exit without him.

  Goodness gracious! Why did it feel like I was trying to deal with a couple of ornery toddlers here?

  I shook my finger at him. “Listen up, good buddy. If I catch your big-rig raccoon butt outside of this camper even once, I’m demolishing your tree house, cancelling your cable TV, and throwing out the Nerf guns, too. Got it?”

  He gulped hard. “N-n-not Carla. You wouldn’t.” Yes, the silly trash panda loved his Nerf gun so much, he’d named the darn thing.

  I narrowed my gaze. “Care to try me? You know, I also think I heard Nan talking about a beagle at the shelter that needed a new home. Maybe you’d like a new play-mate?”

  “You’ll pay for this,” the raccoon muttered as he stepped back from the door and disappeared into the bedroom.

  “If I pay, you pay!” I shouted after him.

  Octo-Cat chuckled as he leisurely made his way toward the door. “You sure told him.”

  “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” I said, spinning toward the cat. “I’m still mad at you, too.”

  Octo-Cat gave his best approximation of a shrug. “You may be angry with me today, but I’m angry with you pretty much every day. As far as I see it, we’re even for the time being,” he said, sauntering over.

  There was so much wrong with that statement, too much for me to even attempt to address. So instead of trying, I simply opened the door and motioned for my cat to walk out ahead of me.

  Charles had grabbed a set of green fabric camping chairs and set them out in front of the RV.

  The police had arrived as well. A cruiser sat parked at the edge of the campground, but the officers were nowhere to be seen. Probably already inside Junetta’s home, taking stock of the scene.

  A few other visitors to the campground had pulled out lawn chairs of their own and sat watching the scene unfold.

  “Ugh, it smells bad,” Octo-Cat said before unleashing a trio of mighty sneezes. “What is that strange yet alluring smell?”

  “Charles…” I said, practically collapsing into the seat at his side. “Please let Octavius know that I’m not available to speak with him at the moment.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” the tabby groaned. “Can’t let these unimportant strangers know your big secret. Never mind that you’ll probably never see any of them ever again. I’m sure they’re all watching with rapt attention just in case they catch you talk-ing to a magnificent specimen of the feline species rather than—I don’t know—gawking at the police investigation happening right under their noses. No, better you play it extra safe rather than actually discuss the case with your partner. Yeah, no thank you. While you sit here twiddling your thumbs, I’m going to investigate.”

  “No, bad kitty!” I called as he trotted away with his tail raised high and haughty. “Come back here right now!”

  He’d almost made it to Junetta’s trailer when a middle-aged woman with a blonde pixie cut and enough scarves to qualify as a makeshift kite stepped out from between two campers and scooped him into her arms.

  “Where are you going, Mr. Tabby? You look way too fat and happy to be a stray. Maybe I should call you Mr. Tubby?” She stopped to laugh at her own joke. “You don’t want your mommy worrying about you, do you? What do you say we go find her together?”

  “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life,” Octo-Cat yowled and attempted to squirm out of her arms.

  “Now, now, Mr. Tubby-Tabby,” the woman said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help,” he growled as his wide amber eyes scanned the area in a panic. When he spotted me standing at the RV and attempting not to laugh, he shouted, “Angela! Help me!”

  “He does not look happy,” Charles said. “Are you going to go claim him?”

  “In a second,” I said, watching Octo-Cat’s pupils grow wide with terror.

  The blonde woman caught me watching her and called out, “Does this chubby little guy belong to you?”

  “Again with the insults!” Octo-Cat hissed. “Bah!”

  “Yes, he’s mine. Thanks for grabbing him,” I said, then silently added, and for teaching him a bit of a lesson.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I’ll go grab another chair,” Charles said as the woman carrying Octo-Cat made her way over.

  “Is that your husband?” she asked, watching Charles with a little too much interest as he left. “Because, if so… Well done, sister.”

  “My boyfriend,” I corrected with an awkward smile. “And that’s my cat.”

  “Lucky lady on both counts.” The woman said plopped down into Charles’s vacat-ed seat while keeping a firm grip on Octo-Cat.

  “My name’s Angie,” I offered.

  “Sharon. Ahh!” Suddenly, she pulled her hand toward her face, showing off a bright scarlet scratch that now marred her pale skin.

  Octo-Cat shouted a string of kitty curses and ran off to hide somewhere.

  Sharon popped out of her chair to follow him, but I called her off. “Don’t worry about him. He always comes back.”

  She clucked her tongue and settled back in the chair. “My Chester could sure take a lesson or two from him. What’s your little tubster’s name?”

  From a distance, Octo-Cat yowled and spat even more insults at the woman. De-spite my irritation, even I was starting to feel a little bad for him.

  “His name is Octo-Cat, and the vet says he’s in the healthy weight range for his size. He’s actually part Maine Coon on his grandmother’s side.” At least he always said that about his lineage. I had doubts about its veracity, though. It also wasn’t exactly what the vet had said during our
last visit. Octo-Cat had, in fact, crept a little above the recommended weight range—thanks, lobster rolls—but I had chosen not to share that particular tidbit with him.

  Sharon shrugged and leaned back in the chair, stretching her legs straight out in front of her. “My Chessy just loves the RV life, even though he never leaves our little home on wheels. Why, I imagine he’s enjoying himself a little nap in a sunbeam right about now.”

  Hmm. A regular. Perhaps she knew a thing or two about who might want Junetta dead.

  “Do you and Chester come here often?” I asked conversationally.

  Sharon laughed so hard she began to cough, then formed a fist and punched her chest several times. “Whoo! It’s been a long time since I heard a pickup line.”

  My eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Now don’t you go taking it back. Just let me enjoy it.” She let out a happy sigh, then sat silent for a few moments before speaking again. “Chester and I have a nice little rotation, and Katahdin is part of it. Each month we hit several of our favorite parks so that we can see all our friends across the state. Of course, most folks stay put during the winter months. But not Chester and me. We’re always on the move. We’re like sharks. If we stop swimming, we die.” She laughed again, but not hard enough to send herself into another fit.

  Throughout my life, I’d met few people who could talk as much as Sharon did—or with as little input from a conversational partner. So, yes, if I asked the right questions, I might be able to sneak a little of the local park gossip out of her.

  “Did you notice the police car when it pulled up?” I asked, nodding toward the parked cruiser.

  “Oh, yes. I most assuredly did. A couple of officers got out and marched right over to Junetta’s. Between you and me, that woman is always in some kind of trouble. She had a nasty divorce last year. That’s why she gave everything up and moved into the park permanently. Of course, that snake of an ex of hers shows up every so often begging her to take him back.”

  My features pinched in sympathy. “I had no idea.”

  “Well, why would you? You’re a first-time visitor, right?” She bobbed her head and grinned. “I always recognize a first-timer.”

  I nodded, even though it seemed Sharon didn’t need any confirmation from me.

  At the same time, Charles returned with empty hands. “Couldn’t find another chair, but I don’t mind getting a little dirty,” he announced before settling himself on the ground.

  “Oh, I bet you don’t.” Sharon growled flirtatiously.

  Charles’s cheeks turned beet red.

  “Well, I best get back to Chester. Say, why don’t the two of you and Octo-Cat stop by mine later for coffee and gossip. What was your name again, dear?”

  “Angie. And this is Charles.” Of course, she remembered the cat’s name, but not mine.

  “Yes, definitely bring him along.” Sharon puckered her lips and made a smooch-ing sound, then burst out laughing yet again.

  “Well, as Tigger says, TTFN!” she sang, blowing us both kisses as she left.

  “Wow,” Charles said when the two of us were alone again. He got up from the grass and settled himself in the chair Sharon had just vacated.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, then hung my head back and watched the clouds as they idled by.

  Finally, a moment of peace.

  Of course, it didn’t last anywhere near long enough.

  “Over there! That’s her!” a familiar voice shouted.

  When I lowered my gaze, I saw the woman from the Airstream marching straight at us with a police officer following hot on her heels.

  Chapter Twelve

  “She’s the one who did it!” the woman cried in hysterics.

  I rose from my chair, and Charles did the same. “I’m the one who discovered the body,” I admitted.

  “She’s guilty!” the woman shouted again even though we were only standing a few feet apart.

  “Ma’am,” the officer said in a stern voice. “I’m going to have to ask you to give us some privacy.”

  He then turned toward me. “Mind if we talk inside?”

  Unfortunately “inside” was something of a problem. That’s where we had a rogue raccoon acting like a toddler while pretending to be a big-rig trucker.

  I couldn’t exactly refuse a request from the police, and the longer I hesitated, the more suspicious we would appear.

  I shot a glance to Charles, who met my gaze with a subtle nod.

  Charles strode up to the door and pushed it open.

  I whispered a quick prayer under my breath as the policeman and I followed him inside.

  “Is everything all right, miss?” the officer asked, catching me as I frantically searched the camper’s living space.

  No Pringle, which meant he was either hidden out of sight, or he’d snuck away despite my orders to remain put.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, perhaps a bit too tersely.

  Charles motioned toward the table that was flanked with booth seats. “She’s still in shock after that discovery. Please, won’t you come sit?”

  He studied Charles with fresh interest. “Were you with her when she discovered the body?”

  “No, but I’m Miss Russo’s attorney,” he answered glibly.

  Now the officer turned back to me. “You sure lawyered up quick for someone that—”

  “She’s also my girlfriend,” Charles added before the officer could take that any further. “We came up here for a relaxing getaway.”

  The policeman slid into one side of the booth, and I took the other. Charles sat beside me and held my hand under the table. The officer eyed us both for moment before pulling out his notepad and beginning.

  “Ms. Stevens out there seems pretty convinced you’re the one who killed our victim,” the policeman said slowly, keeping a careful watch on my reaction.

  It took everything I had to remain calm. Yes, I’d been suspected of murder before, but that was on my home turf. Here, I knew no one, and no one knew me.

  “She’s wrong.” I pressed my free hand flat on the table. “I’m just the one who had the bad luck of discovering—”

  “And why is that?” the officer interrupted, clicking his pen. “Why were you in her trailer uninvited?”

  “She was the one who—” I spat, but Charles raised a hand to stop me.

  “Angie was urged to enter the premises when her knocks went unanswered. Ms. Stevens herself was the one who told her to proceed.”

  “She said Junetta had an open-door policy,” I added in a whisper.

  The policeman tapped his pen on his notebook for a few beats. “What did you need to see her about?”

  “My client is not under suspicion. Is she?” Charles asked, flipping into full lawyer mode. He moved his eyes from the officer’s face down to the shiny badge on his shirt. “Officer Hamil, is it?”

  “Yes, that’s my name. And we’re just gathering information right now,” he replied before getting up to wander the tight living space.

  He stopped at the kitchenette. “Burnt grilled cheese sandwiches. Are you usually such a disaster in the kitchen, Ms. Russo? Perhaps you’re better at baking? Like, say, a pie?”

  I gritted my teeth. Officer Hamil was clearly trying to rile me up. I knew that, and yet I had a hard time letting his rude and sexist remarks slide.

  Charles squeezed my hand as a reminder that he was there for me, that he would make sure I came through this all right. “I was the one cooking lunch. Understandably, I stopped when Angie returned to the trailer and told me what she’d found.”

  “Boyfriend, lawyer, and personal chef,” Hamil said to me with a wink. “Is there any-thing this guy doesn’t do?”

  “He doesn’t accuse innocent people of murder,” I shot back before Charles could remind me to keep mum.

  The policeman tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth without speak-ing. Was it really so hard to believe that someone would talk back to him in the same manner in which he spoke t
o others? “Now you wait just a min—”

  A knock on the door cut him off.

  “Mind if I answer?” he asked me, choosing to ignore Charles completely. Apparently he thought he had a better chance of getting a confession if he dealt directly with me. Too bad I wouldn’t be confessing to a crime I’d had zero involvement in.

  “Go right ahead,” I said without missing a beat.

  Officer Hamil kept his eyes on us for another few moments before sighing and heading toward the door.

  “Yeah, what have you got?” he mumbled to whoever was there.

  I strained to see, but his wide body blocked my view.

  After a couple minutes of hushed conversation, he stepped back into the trailer and walked up to the table, standing close to Charles and blocking him in as some kind of intimidation technique.

  “Not just a lawyer, chef, boyfriend, but also a convicted felon, eh?” He paused and sucked air through his teeth. “Sir, I’m going to ask you to come with me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I tried to follow, but Officer Hamil wouldn’t allow me to exit the vehicle.

  “We’ll just be a moment,” he said before shutting the door firmly behind them.

  Shoot. As much as I hated being the one under suspicion, I liked it even less when Charles came under fire. But the investigation wasn’t my only problem.

  “Pringle?” I whispered, still unsure where the nosy critter had gone.

  When he didn’t answer, I moved to the front of the RV and lowered the window a crack. Thankfully, it was just enough to listen to the conversation outside if I strained.

  Officer Hamil was now joined by a female speaker. I didn’t recognize her voice as belonging to the Airstream lady—Ms. Stevens—who was so completely and totally convinced that I had offed a woman I’d never even met.

  This left me to assume that the woman in question was the other police officer who had arrived on the scene.

  “This isn’t my RV,” Charles explained calmly.