by Molly Fitz
That just left me sitting on my own in our large, empty living room. I hated it. Octo-Cat should have been there, complaining about something, questioning my life choices, or telling tasteless jokes that no one else found funny.
While I worked hard not to let fear cloud my normally rational brain, Nan continued to sing loudly from the kitchen. Apparently, she’d already composed a ballad about our mighty victory over catnappers and arbitrations. I had no idea where she found the energy.
Could a catnapper really be to blame for Octo-Cat’s sudden disappearance? It was certainly a possibility, given how unlikely it would be for him to wander off on his own. But who would want to take my crabby tabby, and why?
Nan’s gray, curly head popped out of the kitchen. “Yoo-hoo, Angie dear!” she called, waving at me.
I lifted my head and attempted a smile that wouldn’t come.
“Why don’t you give our good friend Charles a call? May as well update him on the situation and see if he can help.” As soon as she’d said her piece, Nan disappeared from view and the singing started up again.
Charles. Would he know what to do? Nan seemed to think so, and the three of us had made a pretty good team more than once before. At the very least, he’d be able to walk me through this arbitration notice and help me formulate a plan for escaping unscathed.
The phone felt heavy in my hands. Placing this call meant admitting that something was wrong. That Octo-Cat was really missing. Could I maybe pretend for a few blessed minutes that everything was still okay? Would that be selfish of me? Stupid?
“Don’t dilly-dally, dear!” Nan trilled from her place in front of the stove, then switched to singing in a different language. I assumed Korean, given her newly discovered K-pop infatuation.
Not even the deepest breath I could muster filled my lungs with the strength I needed to make this call, to speak these dreaded words aloud. But I did it anyway. I did it for Octo-Cat.
“Angie, everything okay?” Charles answered after a couple rings. He was still at the firm, of course. He’d been putting in long hours ever since Bethany had put in her resignation notice. With her moving away to start a new life in Georgia any day now, that left Charles as the sole partner at a law office that had seen a veritable revolving door of attorneys these past several months.
Hearing his voice so full of concern, of kindness, set off the tears I’d already been struggling to hold back. “Charles, he’s gone!” I cried. “Octo-Cat is missing, and we can’t find him anywhere.”
Charles sucked in a deep breath, then said, “I’m sure he just found a great new napping spot and will wander home when his belly starts rumbling.”
The way he rushed through this explanation proved that Charles didn’t believe those words. And neither did I. We both knew my cat too well to believe he had willingly altered his routine.
“There’s also this arbitration thing,” I added, knowing I should probably re-open the letter and read the exact wording. But I was already far too tired, too emotionally spent to read that horrible thing again.
“What?” Charles’s voice came out low, hostile almost. “Who’s requested an arbitration with you?”
“Not me,” I corrected with another deep, weighty sigh. “Octo-Cat. And it’s the other recipients of Ethel’s will.”
He was silent for a few moments as he contemplated this newest development in the everyday traumas of Angie Russo. “Don’t let that add to your worry,” he said at last. “For now, just focus on finding Octo-Cat. He can’t be far. Besides, we both knew that the will would probably be contested eventually despite Richard’s best attempts to prevent that from happening. You’ll have a chance to contest the dispute before the arbitration goes ahead, too.”
“Yeah, but the deadline’s Friday,” I said glumly. So far, I’d managed to avoid going to court for any personal matters. The only reason I’d ever stepped foot in the county court before was to offer on-the-spot assistance for the lawyers from my firm. Usually, Charles.
He balked at this. “Friday? But that’s nowhere near enough time.”
“Yeah, I know.” I traced the intricate paisley pattern on the couch with my index finger, letting my vision go blurry but still refusing to let any tears fall. With a sniff, I informed Charles that, “The letter has a few different postmarks on it. Looks like it originally went to my old rental and then got turfed back as undeliverable until they finally found my forwarding address.”
“But they all know exactly where you and Octo-Cat are,” he protested. Charles had always been the sort to wear his heart right on his sleeve, and as such, I could tell that he’d become angry. Real angry.
I nodded, even though he wasn’t there to read my body language. “I know that, too.”
We both sighed in unison, and then I asked the question that had been plaguing me ever since the letter first arrived. “Do you think they sent it to the wrong place on purpose?”
“Of course I do,” he growled. I could hear something slam down on his end of the line. “It’s still okay. We’ll find Octo-Cat in no time at all. Meanwhile I’ll start putting together your grounds for contesting the arbitration, and we’ll show up on Friday ready to kick some serious complainant butt.”
“Thank you. You always make me feel better.” That was Charles for you. He never hesitated to offer his help when I needed it, and that was a big part of the reason why he’d become my closest friend since he relocated from his home state of California in favor of the scenic Blueberry Bay region of Maine.
“Want me to stop by after work to help you look for Octo-Cat?” he asked me after a brief pause. “I could finish up early and offer a second set of eyes. Or third, rather, since I’m sure Nan’s already on the case.”
I let out a weak laugh. He knew us too well. “Actually, I kind of could use a change of scenery. We’ve already been searching for hours, and he’s clearly nowhere nearby.”
“Want to come over to my place, then?” he asked without even the briefest hesitation.
“Yes, please,” I trilled.
Now that Charles was on the case, I knew everything would be okay. I had to believe that, because the alternative simply broke my heart.
If Octo-Cat were here, he’d no doubt yell at me to toughen up and do what needed to be done. And that’s exactly what I would do to bring him back home—and to make sure we kept him here, right where he belonged.
Chapter Three
Charles invited me to come over for a quick dinner and epic brainstorming session at six thirty that evening. When I showed up at six thirty-three, however, the house stood dark and empty. Assuming he’d gotten delayed at work, I decided to let myself in using the key he kept stashed in the garden around back. At least it was a better hiding place than Nan’s preferred placement under the front door mat. It’s a wonder she never got burgled even once in all her seventy-ish years of life.
“Hello!” I called as I pushed my way inside, just in case Charles was in the shower or something and hadn’t heard me knock.
Nothing.
I shrugged, then made my way to the kitchen. The least I could do is set the table, since I assumed he’d be bringing takeout home with him. Neither of us were great cooks, but thankfully I had my newly awakened culinary genius Nan to make sure I always had something yummy on my plate. It was both a blessing and a curse, considering I’d grown at least one pants size in the months since she’d discovered this new passion of hers.
I marched through the house, turning on some lights as I went, knowing Charles preferred to keep the curtains drawn for some odd reason. It still felt incredibly odd, though—seeing the house that I’d grown up in now set with all of Charles’s sparse, manly decorations. Nan had decided to sell her former home and move in with me when I came in possession of the big manor house we both resided in now, which meant putting this one on the market.
It all worked out kind of perfect in the end, considering Charles needed something a bit more permanent than the Cliffside Apartm
ents, where he used to live. Cliffside was also host to a vast percentage of Glendale’s criminals—or, at least the ones that got caught. Based on my own unique experience as of late, the more money a person had, the more likely they were to kill somebody to protect it.
Some people were just never happy, and I vowed never to let myself become one of them.
Feeling a bit more at home now, I grabbed a pair of plates from the cupboard by the stove, then turned to head back out to the dining room and almost jumped right out of my skin at the horrifying sight before me.
“Oh my gosh,” I cried, fumbling the plates in my shock, but thankfully not dropping them. “You scared me!”
Yes, it seemed I was no longer alone. Charles still hadn’t put in an appearance, but his two Sphynx cats had appeared in the doorway and stood contemplating me with twin sets of glowing eyes. How had I forgotten about them?
“Hello, Jacques and Jillianne,” I said with a friendly smile. Hopefully, they couldn’t see that I was internally screaming at that moment. J and J, as Charles had taken to calling them whenever discussing the cats as a pair, had no hair but lots of wrinkles on their exposed skin. If you try to picture what a brain might look like if it grew four legs, a tail, and a pair of glowing eyes, then you’d have a pretty good idea why I was so startled at the initial sighting of these two.
The larger of the animals—Jillianne—stepped toward me. “A prince, a princess, and a paralegal walk into a kitchen. Which didn’t belong?” she said, allowing me to hear one of the famous Sphynx cat riddles firsthand for the very first time. After all, it was only very recently I’d gained the ability to talk to anyone of fur or feather other than Octo-Cat.
Jillianne flicked her tail and narrowed her eyes when I didn’t immediately answer. “Oh,” I sputtered, suddenly feeling as if I were a contestant in the final round of Jeopardy—and that I’d just bid all my money without having the slightest idea what the answer might be. “Is the answer the paralegal? Um, because I’m here by Charles’s invitation, I swear!”
I raised my hand and crossed my heart, hoping it would reassure the suspicious felines. It did not. Little Jacques arched his back and let out a dry, hacking hiss.
I took two giant steps back and put out my hands before me. “Don’t you remember me? I took care of you, when…” Probably best not to bring up their recent trauma involving the untimely murder of their first owner. “I helped solve the case and get justice for the Senator. Remember?”
“Angie?” Charles’s voice sounded from the other room followed by fast approaching footfalls. “Are you talking to J and J?” he asked when he’d made it to the kitchen. “I thought you couldn’t do that.”
Oh, crud.
I crossed my arms and scowled at him. “How is it that you are always the one to randomly discover all my secrets? Seriously, how?”
“Lucky timing?” he offered, lifting Jillianne into his arms and giving her a kiss on her forehead. And let me tell you, that cat went from threatening my life to contentedly purring within a matter of seconds.
I let out a giant, happy sigh. Well, at least I was safe now. I was also never going to let myself into Charles’s house with the spare key ever again.
“So…” Charles said, drawing the single syllable into several long beats. His green eyes bore into me, and I found myself trapped in his gaze. “You can talk to all animals now? Because this development would have come in handy when we were working the Calhoun case.”
“Shut up,” I grumbled, trying and failing to look away. Even when he was irritated with me, Charles’s expression still held so much kindness. “You still won. And yes. I can talk to other animals now. I have no idea what changed or why, and I’d prefer to keep it hush-hush for now, please.”
“Do you hear that?” he asked the black hairless cat in his arms using an adorable baby voice. “She thinks we’re going to share her secret. Yes, she does.”
It was strange how hot I found it watching Charles baby and dote on his creepy cat. Obviously, my crush was never going away, no matter how many times I accidentally walked in on him kissing his horrible girlfriend, Breanne. Regardless of his bad taste in… well, many things but especially girlfriends… Charles was the best guy I knew. Bar none.
He proved that further by coming in close and rubbing a calming hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to find Octo-Cat, and we’re going to dismiss this arbitration. Everything is going to be just fine.”
The friction from his touch gave me a little thrill that I quickly worked to stuff down. He was my friend, my boss, the most inappropriate choice possible. Not for me, at least not right now.
I let out a weary sigh. It had been such a long day already.
Charles set Jillianne back onto the floor and searched my face for a moment. “You do believe me. Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. Even though I didn’t know what the future might one day hold for the two of us, I knew Charles would take care of everything going wrong in the present. I also knew that one way or another we would all be okay. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what it might cost us in the meantime.
“What’s the real pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?” the smaller spotted cat Jacques asked me from his spot on the kitchen floor. Apparently, he wasn’t as good at riddles as his companion, which is why he typically let her speak for the both of them.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what the answer to this one might be. Was it important? Would it somehow help me find my missing cat?
“Do you know what the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow really is?” I asked Charles as I rolled one of my hangnails beneath my thumb—a disgusting nervous habit I’d given up on trying to overcome.
He blinked at me a few times, then burst out laughing. “I don’t know. A bowl of cereal. Weird question.”
I looked back toward Jacques, but he’d retreated back into the bowels of the house. Was he just messing with me, or had he tried to share something important?
Perhaps I’d never know.
Chapter Four
“I hope you’re in the mood for some fried chicken,” Charles said at the same moment I spotted the red-and-white containers stacked in the center of the table. “It seemed comfort food-y,” he added with a grin as the two of us moved into the dining room.
“It smells so good,” I cooed. Then I remembered the one time I’d attempted to bring fast food chicken into the house while living with Octo-Cat. He’d claimed the greasy smell bothered him so much that he’d swatted the still-full bucket off the edge of the table, sending wings, thighs, and drumsticks cascading across the dusty floor and rendering my dinner plans obsolete.
That guy. He always did love making a scene.
Charles studied me carefully as he scooped a giant heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “What’s up?” he asked softly.
“Just thinking about him,” I admitted, returning to that sad, anxiety-filled place inside of me. “Do you really think he’s okay?”
“Angie, look at me,” Charles demanded, his stern expression brooking no argument. “That cat of yours could probably survive a nuclear holocaust if he wanted to. You know, he’s kind of like a cockroach in that way. Nothing stands in the way of him and what he wants, and I guarantee he wants to get home to you. And he will. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumbled. Should I be offended that he basically just called my cat a cockroach? Octo-Cat certainly wouldn’t like that comparison if he were here. But he wasn’t here, and I was beginning to worry we’d never find him—especially not in time to make his court date.
Charles gave me a few minutes alone with my thoughts, but the whole time his gaze didn’t waver from my face. “Tell me you believe me,” he said at last.
“Yes, yes, I believe you,” I hurried to assure him. In some ways I did, but in others? It was hard to keep the faith when I had no idea what we were dealing with. “It’s still hard, though,” I added, unable to hide the emotional turmoil that raged on the insid
e. Had I somehow caused this? If so, I would never forgive myself.
“Eat,” Charles commanded, motioning to my plate, where the salty pile of comfort food still sat untouched.
Even though I knew Charles was just trying to help, my stomach churned at the sight of it. I twisted my face into a grimace and leaned away from the table, trying to gain at least a little distance from the nauseating aroma before me.
My thoughts immediately turned back to Octo-Cat. “Do you think he has access to Evian and Fancy Feast wherever he is? What if he’s starving or dying of thirst? What if—?”
“Okay, that’s it,” Charles said firmly as he set his fork down and pushed his plate to the side. “You’re officially not allowed to talk until you get something in your stomach.”
“But—“ I argued, unsure of how I wanted to finish this particular sentence. Luckily, I didn’t have to.
“But nothing,” Charles huffed, folding his arms in front of him. “While you eat, I’ll do the talking. Got it?”
I sat, staring at him with a furrowed brow, which elicited a deep sigh from Charles.
Both his voice and expression softened then. “C’mon. I’m trying to be a good friend here.”
Even though my gut still roiled with anxiety, I obediently picked up a chicken leg and smiled at Charles with wide eyes before taking a large, juicy bite. Instead of feeling worse like I’d feared, something like relief settled over me. Maybe I really was hungry, after all.
“Thank you,” he said with a quick nod in my direction. “Now, we have a couple of big issues to address. Let’s start with the arbitration, because I’m assuming it will be easier for you to focus on your dinner while I’m yammering on about the boring stuff.”
I gave him a thumbs up and waited to see what he’d say next.
“Like I said before, we should have Octo-Cat back by then, which means it probably won’t be a problem for us.” He held up his hand to silence me before I could even begin to offer another argument.