When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  I grumbled. I saw his point, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Not to mention the questionable legality of it all, but what choice did I have?

  “So you want me to help you cover it up.” I frowned.

  “Cover it up? No. You’re helping us, and in doing so helping yourself. From what Rita told me, you were quite desperate for a job on this ship…”

  I clenched my jaw. How dare her! Pushing out a breath through my nostrils, I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine, fine. What do you want me to do?”

  “It’s simple, really. Keep doing your job. Keep your head down and your eyes open. Anything you find out about Hawthorne, you report directly to me. I can keep the heat off you for a little while, but not forever. Do we have a deal?”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to refuse and kick him out of my room. I wanted to leave, to go back home in my empty house and sorrow and grief. This supposed trip of healing had turned into a nightmare overnight.

  First the strange tingling, then that weirdo cat, and now this?

  Let’s just say this turn of events was definitely not what I had planned.

  When the captain and the guard were finally finished grilling me, it was nearly six a.m. I yawned and eyed the bed blearily, wishing I could go back to sleep. Even if I had time, though, I don’t think I would have been able to.

  There was too much, too fresh on my mind.

  Talking cats. An ultimatum. And Evan Hawthorne, the famous businessman, dead. I still couldn’t believe it.

  He owned quite an empire comprising many companies and thousands of employees. What would happen to them?

  Even more disturbing were my memories of the reading I shared with Evan just the morning before. He came to me in his hour of need, convinced someone was following him.

  Guess he was right.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heels of my hands into my forehead. I should have done more. I should have taken him more seriously.

  If I had, maybe he wouldn’t be dead.

  And maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation.

  I pulled open the drawer on the bedside table and looked down at the deck of cards. They had already gotten me in so much trouble. I was no reader. I was no psychic. I should never have come here.

  Yet as I touched the silk bag holding the cards once more, another spark traveled from my finger up my arm. A chill raced down my spine.

  Was there really something to this? Looked like I was going to find out — whether I wanted to or not.

  While I got ready for work, I tried to come up with a plan of action. My first priority was still my job. That wasn’t changing. Well, not for me, anyway.

  I had a sinking feeling that word had already spread about the incident and everyone would be asking me what happened. Maybe they’d boycott my stand and leave me sitting there all day. Maybe they’d storm in and demand answers to their own problems. Either way, I wasn’t exactly thrilled.

  It’s kind of hard to go back to work like nothing’s happened when one of your clients just died.

  * * *

  When I pushed aside the curtains to my shop I was surprised to see someone already there.

  Or rather, something.

  There was that cat again, sleeping right on top of the table! Remembering his dire warnings from last time, I stalked into the room straight toward him.

  I stomped and clattered as much as I could to wake him up. When he finally opened one blue eye, he was less than pleased.

  “Oh, look who finally decided to show up.” He gave a jaw-breaking yawn and blinked up at me.

  I put my hands on my hips. No way was I going to let a cat talk down to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sleeping. What does it look like?”

  “Quit lying,” I snapped. I didn’t mean to, but my composure was still a bit fragile after the morning’s news. “What do you want from me? I asked you last time and I’ll ask you again. Either talk or get out.”

  “Fine, fine,” he drawled, finally standing up. “Bossy.” Darwin hopped down off the table and brushed past my legs. “So I take it you heard about the murder.”

  “The mur—“ I froze, eyes wide. Realization trickled through my veins like ice. "Wait, are you saying Evan's death was a—“

  "Hello?" A female voice called from outside. A hand swiped open the curtains and a woman stepped into the room, looking lost. "Is this the psychic shop?"

  I clenched my fists. Let out a clean, steady breath. What timing.

  "Yes," I said in my cheeriest voice, but it sounded fake even to my own ears. "How can I help you?"

  "I am—“ She cleared her throat. "Was, I mean—Evan's assistant. I wanted to ask you a few questions."

  I gulped. I could say the same to you, lady. "Why don't you sit down?" I offered her a chair. "Let's chat."

  “My name is Stella Tabor. I’ve been working for Evan for about two years now. He was…a difficult man, but I can’t say I’m happy to see him dead.” She shivered. “It was just so sudden.”

  I nodded in agreement. “When he came to me that day he seemed stressed. Said that he thought someone was watching him. Would you know anything about that?”

  Her face darkened. “He mentioned something to me, but to be honest I didn’t think much of it.” She stared down at her shoes. “He’s always been a tad paranoid. Like the boy that cried wolf, you know?”

  “Only this time, there actually was a wolf.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sat there in awkward silence for a few moments. I looked around, but Darwin was nowhere to be found. Guess he ran off again.

  "I don't know what I'm going to do," Stella said softly, looking down at her hands. "I needed that position. My mom, she's in the hospital, and..."

  I reached forward and covered her hand with my own. My heart was breaking for her, but I didn't know what to say. "I can't say I know how you feel, but I was pretty hard up before I got this job too. I..." My eyes dropped to the floor, emotion welling up inside me again. "I recently lost my mom."

  Stella gave me a sad, knowing smile. "I know it's part of life, but it doesn't make it any easier, does it?" She sighed and swiped at her face. "I just wish I could be there with her instead of here. I need the money, though, so..." Stella shrugged. "Here I am."

  “Look,” I started, making up the words as I went along. Maybe this could work to my advantage. "I want to help you. Maybe we can help each other. But I have to know, did Evan have any enemies? Anyone that would have wanted to see him dead?"

  Stella thought for a moment, closed her eyes, and shook her head. "When you get to his level, you're always going to have enemies. I wouldn’t say she had a death wish or anything, but the lady that was working for him before me — I think her name was Agatha? She’s a piece of work, let me tell you. I hear they had some big falling out.”

  Ah. A disgruntled former employee. Wonder what happened between them. “Agatha,” I repeated. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  My mind flashed back to the man I’d seen skulking about the bar that night. “Now that I think about it, there was someone…”

  Stella perked up. “What do you mean?”

  “The other night, my first night on board, actually, I was at the rooftop bar. I was talking to Harry and having a drink when he pointed out Evan sulking near the railing. Evan got up and left not long after, and then there was this man…I didn’t catch his face. This man got up and followed him. Waited a bit though, like he didn’t want to be seen.” I rubbed my chin. “It’s probably a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence or not, that sounds pretty sketchy.” Stella shook her head. “Anything else you remember about him?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged. “Just some guy.”

  At that moment, Stella’s phone buzzed. She looked at me, winced, then apologized. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this. Thank you for everything—“ She paused. “Wait, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

  I gave her a warm smile. “Rose.”
/>
  “Thank you, Rose. I’ll see you again soon!”

  With that, she rushed out of the room and out of sight.

  I sighed, rested my chin on my hands, and wondered how my life had gotten so crazy.

  Chapter Six

  The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Just what had I walked into here?

  Maybe those cards had been right. Maybe there was more than met the eye on this ship. With that ominous thought in mind, I wrapped up the day, seeing only a few more guests. Their readings went smoothly enough — at least, from my point of view — and thankfully no one asked about Evan’s untimely demise.

  Had they really kept it under wraps that well? For a ship this size, that was an impressive undertaking. But hey, the less questions I had to answer, the better.

  Darwin hadn’t shown himself any more that day. Of course, the one time I needed him he was nowhere to be found. Typical cat — they work on their own schedule, no one else’s.

  What I wouldn’t give to turn my brain off after work, but unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. After dinner I couldn’t put the thought out of my mind any more — I needed to investigate. Not only for my own curiosity, but my position on the ship depended on it.

  I decided to go back to the place it all began: the rooftop bar. Besides, after the day I’d had? I needed a drink.

  With a martini in hand, the world looked a bit less gloomy. But that was probably just the alcohol talking.

  There was another reason I had come up here, though, and it wasn’t just to drink my troubles away.

  “Harry,” I called over to the bartender. “You know most of the guests here, right?”

  He looked up from cleaning a row of pint glasses. “I suppose so, why?”

  “You know anyone named Agatha? Apparently she used to work for Evan Hawthorne?”

  “Agatha Ainsley?” His eyes lit up with recognition. “Sure I do, she’s one of the regulars. Right over there, in fact.”

  I sucked in a breath. It was all I could do not to turn and stare immediately, but I didn’t want her to notice me. “Oh, I had no idea she was still on board.” I gave a nervous laugh and finished my drink. “I thought, since her and Evan had a falling out...” I left the end of the sentence vague, hoping he would fill in the details.

  “You heard about that, huh?” Harry grimaced. “Can’t believe that story’s still going around. It’s been years now.”

  “What happened?”

  “Beats me. There are so many versions of it it’s impossible to tell the truth, but rumor has it that they were having some kind of affair.” He eyed me. “Course, no telling if that’s true or not.”

  I tapped my chin. An ex-employee and an ex-lover? That was motive enough right there. “You said this was years ago,” I started. “Did anything happen since then? I mean, since she’s still here and all — have they had any conflict aboard that you know of?”

  “Not up here, at least. That’s about all I know. I hear stories from guests when they come by, but that’s all they are is stories. People get to talking once they’ve got a bit of booze in them, ya know?”

  I looked down at my empty martini glass. “Guilty as charged. Thanks for the information, though.”

  “No problem, Rose. Hey, how’s that fortune tellin’ going? If I ever get a break from work I might stop by. Could you do a reading for me?”

  The idea struck like lightning. “I can pull a card for you right now.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the deck. “I brought them with me.”

  “Really?” Harry beamed. “That would be great!”

  “Sure,” I smiled, showing all my teeth. “Think of it like a free sample.”

  “And I suppose you’ll be wantin’ some ‘free samples’ in return?” Harry’s eyes met mine before roaming over the bottles of liquor against the wall.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” I said sweetly.

  With a laugh, Harry pulled down a decanter.. “You’re a good saleswoman, I’ll give you that.” He poured two fingers of a dark liquid and passed it across the counter. “Now it’s time for your end of the bargain. Let me have it.”

  “Do you have a question in mind? Something you want to focus on?” I checked for a dry spot on the bar and laid down a few napkins just in case. After shuffling, I set the deck down and gestured at him. “Keep the question in mind, then pull the first card off the deck with your left hand. Put it down next to the deck so I can see.”

  Harry rubbed his hands together, thought for a moment, then picked up the first card. “Here goes nothing.”

  He flipped it over onto the napkin and I leaned forward to get a look.

  The King of Swords. And it was facing me, which meant that Harry had drawn it in the reversed position.

  He looked up at me, then back at the card. “Well? Is it good?”

  “The cards are never specifically good or bad,” I reminded him. “It’s more about the interpretation and what you do with that knowledge that matters.”

  Harry nodded, and gestured for me to go on.

  “So what I’m seeing here is that you wield a sort of ‘quiet power’, which makes sense. No one tends to notice the bartender, but think about it — you probably get more dirt on the guests than the rest of us combined. There are those who say knowledge is power, after all.”

  “But it’s upside down.” Harry pointed. “What does that mean?”

  "So each card has two meanings. Right side up it refers to intelligence, power, and decisiveness. When it's the other way around, which we call 'reversed', it usually means the opposite of that in some way."

  "The opposite of intelligence?" Harry frowned. "You calling me stupid?"

  "No!" I laughed, tapping the card. "It means that your shrewd perception and endless ideas have you sort of stuck at the moment. That you feel like you're spinning your wheels and you're not sure what to do next." I met his eyes. "Tell me, Harry, is working here on a cruise bar really what you want to be doing with your life?"

  His face fell into a stony mask of recognition. His mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped. "Why, I..." Harry pressed his lips together, then swallowed. "How'd you know that?"

  I grinned up at him. "It's all in the cards."

  "Huh." Harry stood back and rubbed his goatee. "You're good at that."

  "So was I right?" I prompted.

  "Yeah..." He said at last. "At first, I was only going to work here until I'd saved up enough to go back to school. Then I just got kind of comfortable, you know? I thought about leaving. Thought about trying something else. But I'm getting old now, and I don't know if it's even worth it to change course at this point..."

  I thought about something my mom had told me in her declining days. She had few regrets, but one thing she made sure to pass on to me was the idea that it was never too late.

  "I don't think so," I told him honestly. I held up the card. "This doesn't think so either." With a smile, I continued. "If you know what you want, it's never too late to go after it. My mom taught me that."

  Harry's eyes glistened. "Then she's just as smart as her daughter. Thank you, Rose."

  "All part of the job." I had to admit, it felt good to help people. Even when I still felt like I was kind of hoodwinking them, maybe there was more to this whole reading thing. I couldn't deny that the cards pulled often had more to do with the situation than I expected. They came up at the right time for the right person.

  Well, except for that one time...

  Why would tarot card decks even have a Death card, anyway? They should know it would freak people out, no matter how much you try to explain it.

  "Ahem. Excuse me?" A woman leaned past me and gave me a withering glare. She pushed her long black hair behind her ear to reveal green eyes and ruby-red lipstick.

  Harry flinched and bowed his head in apology. "Sorry, Miss Agatha. Rose here was just showing me her talent. She's the new on-board psychic."

  She turned on me, and yep — I smelled the booze on her
breath. So this was the woman Harry was talking about. Evan's former assistant. "Welcome to the worst ship on the seven seas, lady."

  "Hey! Don't scare her off like that," Harry chuckled. "Don't mind Agatha. She's just a little rough around the edges, is all."

  "Nice to meet you, Agatha." I used my best Southern hospitality voice and tried to smile.

  "Hmm."

  Okay then...

  "Get me another gin and tonic, Harry. It's been a long day." She continued to lean over the counter, totally ignoring me. If that's how she wanted to be, fine. But I was still going to listen in.

  "Say, have you spoken to Evan lately?" Harry asked her. His voice came off as cool and casual as a cucumber. Did he know what happened?

  "Why would I?" Agatha all but growled. "He's not the genius billionaire everyone thinks he is."

  Harry eyed me, then slid the drink across the counter to Agatha. She started in on it at once, giving a loud, obnoxious "ahhh" after the first sip.

  "What do you mean by that?" I tried asking. She probably wouldn't give me the time of day, but I also knew how loose lipped some people got when drinking. Maybe I could get some clues.

  To my surprise, she had quite a bit to say on that.

  "That he's a total jerk, is what I mean!" Agatha took another sip of her drink and grimaced. "You don't know what it was like, working for him. It was a nightmare."

  I'd met Stella earlier and she said that Evan was hard to work with, but this seemed a little extreme. "Did he...hurt you?" I chanced. I needed to know if there was any truth to those rumors about them.

  "Ha!" She spat the word like poison. "In every way but physical, yes." Agatha downed another sip of her drink and leaned forward onto the counter, resting her chin in her hands. "He's just like the rest of those rich guys. Promise you the world and then take it all away." She hiccuped, which then turned into a sob. "Why do you think I'm up here most nights? Not much left for me now, and even the bar is starting to feel crowded..." Agatha flicked her gaze around us nervously. "Some weirdo keeps creeping around. I think he's been watching me."