by Lisa Lickel
“Has anyone seen Adelaide, Mrs. Morgenstern’s cat? Let’s all take a look around ourselves. Think of the last time you might have seen her. And let’s offer up a prayer of safety, shall we?”
“Oh, I should have thought of that right away,” Pfannie whispered at me. She raised her hand to toss in her two cents. “She’s a precious Siamese, quite young. I’m worried she hasn’t had a chance to get to get comfortable with anyone yet and may have gone into hiding. Don’t worry, people. No cause to call the authorities. I’m quite certain this isn’t a case of bullying.”
I choked again on snorts of glee at her posturing and felt the warmth of someone behind me. “Like Memnet and Isis,” someone said dryly.
“Hey!” I hissed at Isis’s “companion,” my need to apologize for the cat fight at last spring’s convention lost. “Mem was provoked.”
Adam held up his hands. His slow grin curled my toes. “Maybe.”
Two issues struck me at the same time. In the few months since Stanley had left me not-quite-at-the-altar-but-too-close-for-comfort, I had managed to thaw toward men. Not only thaw, but be attracted to a man. I was not dead.
But I’d also agreed to move a hundred miles away from what might have been the start of a beautiful relationship.
“Ah, good.” Donald rubbed his hands together as he joined us. “I’ve been working toward getting the three of us together all night. Adam and I have been talking.”
2
A shriek interrupted Donald’s intriguing statement about talking to Adam. I heaved out a frustrated sigh and joined the general head swivel of the crowd toward the screamer in the rear corner. Pfannie. Of course. She’d managed to migrate to the coat rack near the exit to the parking lot during Donald, Adam, and my almost-summit.
“Someone left the side door cracked open! Who knows if my Adelaide got out?” She wrung her hands for good measure. But, ever-charitable, she added to the chaos. “Is anyone else’s friend missing?”
Good pet owners know to look down, so it was a very odd sight indeed of a gaggle of sixty-odd partygoers checking their feet and hopping around tails and the occasional harness collar of a particularly snooty cat. I backed with Donald and Adam toward the sideline and watched the dance. I probably should film it for the internet. Maybe put it on our association website. Animal lovers gone wild. It could go viral and start a whole new craze.
Did I mention I was in charge of the website and social media promotion? That’s because part of my company, McTeague’s Technical Services, dealt with small businesses web and information systems. I was also happy to be private people’s personal help desk and set up home computer systems. I enjoyed hosting a special unique side service as a clearing house for online mail and message inboxes. Quite handy for vacations, business trips, and various other discretionary issues. The service also made me one of the loneliest people in Maplewood, as no one was sure what I knew about whom, and so they feared talking to me or meeting me in public. Not that I’d ever tell.
Needless to say, starting over at Donald’s invitation to help revitalize Apple Grove was a win-win prospect. I glanced at Adam out of the corner of my eye.
“So, Adam,” I said slowly to get his attention.
He smiled down on me.
“I wanted to follow up on our last email exchange with a personal apology. Memnet is ageing, as you know. He has some foibles, but he’s really very much a gentleman. He didn’t mean to swat Isis like that and get her all riled up. Right before her spotlight showing.”
He rocked on his heels and scanned the calming crowd before answering. “Isis is high-spirited,” he admitted. “She deserved it.” His molten silvery grey eyes, the color of Isis’s pelt, met mine. “I think we’ve done enough apologizing, don’t you?”
“Sure, yes.” How could a man’s lips be so beautiful? Stanley’s lips were uneven, without that angelic bow…I shook myself and forcibly removed my gaze.
Unfortunately, toward that of Almanzo Benteen, who shared not only my birth year but my height. We stared, eye-to-eye. Or glared, to be more accurate. His shoulders were damp with snow and a whiff of cold air swirled around him. He must have been outside. Checking the bushes around the parking lot for a lost cat, maybe? Or letting one out? Almanzo raised a bristly black brow and practically growled at Adam and Donald. “I don’t believe anything like this has happened in the past at our gatherings,” he said. “A valuable pet gone missing?”
“Not at a holiday gathering I can recall,” Donald agreed smoothly. “There was the case of the forgotten Persian three years ago,” he said, “at your first convention, I believe. And the calico sisters who escaped—”
“At least the weather is more tolerable in the spring,” Almanzo cut in. “It’s barely above freezing. Adelaide could die.”
“Her pelt is thick for a reason,” I reminded him. “We’ll find her. I doubt she went far, if she did make it outside. Who would leave a door open?”
“I’ve notified the authorities,” Almanzo said.
Donald’s face stiffened. “I am certain Doctor Hooper will be helpful. This is, after all, his venue which he volunteered at no cost for this gathering. He must know every hiding spot.”
He was too kind of a man to show his irritation. I thought calling the police was overkill meant to make Donald look bad, but it was going to backfire big time if we lost the Hoopers as sponsors. I decided to leave the men to it and rejoined Pfannie. Several people had retrieved their coats in preparation to leave. I understood, but wondered what the police would say. I doubted this was a crime scene, but the way the nice party was breaking up after only an hour sure seemed a crime. I’d hardly caught up with the few people I knew well. I stopped to say good bye to Matt Jones and Barbara Inglewood who were clutching their tabbies. Babs had introduced me to Egyptian Mau cats when she worked at the rural animal shelter just outside of Maplewood.
“We should get together before you move,” Babs said. “Since I can’t make the March convention this year.”
“Thank you, I’d love that,” I replied during our hug. “Merry Christmas. You enjoy that cruise.”
There were a few people I was going to miss from Maplewood, like Babs. Stanley hadn’t wanted to socialize much, though when he was on the road I managed to see my friends and go to church. He didn’t keep me from going out—nothing like that. We just got lazy, I guess. It became easier not to work at friendships.
I needed to work at exercising my friendship muscle. Starting with supporting Pfannie. Others avoided her, as if she were a pet black hole. Memnet was too comfortable with Ginger to want to move. She’d been taking turns in the pet-sitting room at conventions since she was eleven, and I trusted her.
“Pfannie.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “Almanzo said he called the police.”
She sniffed. “I asked him to find Rolf. To let him know somebody kidnapped my baby.”
I doubted that, but patted her back anyway. I hoped Adelaide hadn’t gotten out and lost. She had to be hiding inside somewhere. “Has Rolf come back yet? He’ll want to know about Adelaide.”
Her eyes hardened. “That’s why Almanzo called his buddies at the department. They should know about Rolf’s lapse.”
That bit of information got away from me. I was more focused on cats. “So, Rolf is a police officer?”
“State trooper.” A hint of pride crept in under her irritation.
“So that’s where you met?” I knew Pfannie worked at the State Police Headquarters here in Springfield. She’d made sure everyone who attended the last conference on rescue animals heard that. Her former husband, a veterinarian, sent out regular updates on adoptable animals. Too many creatures had to go into crowded shelters. Far too few were taken home by a loving family.
“Yes, we met when he went through training. He should be here with me in my moment of crisis.”
Having been part of a couple with an often-absent partner, I understood her unhappiness. “Did he say what he was going out for?” M
aybe he could shed some light on the situation if we could locate him.
“Something about a call,” Pfannie muttered.
“Official business?”
David Hooper, one of the owners of Hooper’s Animal Haven, approached Pfannie before she could make any more comments. Middle-aged and paunchy, Dr. Hooper set one of his freckled hands gently on Pfannie’s. “Mrs. Morgenstern, we’ll find Adelaide. The girls are beside themselves with worry.”
His three daughters were the pet-sitters that night. “Abby doesn’t have your name on the sign-in sheet,” he went on. “Where did you check in?”
Hmm. I narrowed my eyes in thought. I usually arrived plenty early at these functions, especially when I had to drive longer than an hour and might get lost. I didn’t remember Pfannie’s arrival, but I wasn’t an official greeter and was probably settling Mem, or playing with other cats.
“Adelaide is new to me,” Pfannie said. “I planned to carry her until she got used to things. I didn’t want a replay of that disturbing incident between Memnet and Isis.” She sent a sly glance my direction.
Ouch. Considering I was her only friend at the moment, and I was beginning to wonder why, I decided to take a mental step back and review the situation. Rolf and Junior’s arrival, I remembered quite well. Junior and Mem were pals and I’d been glad to see them nose each other. Then Isis pranced in, and I’d moved to get Mem settled with Ginger while losing track of Isis’s owner. Hortense Phillips, the CAT secretary, had called me over to her laptop to look at updates for the website. I’d greeted some other acquaintances, had some punch, and sucked up enough courage to walk over and talk to Adam Thompson since he was with Donald.
Then Pfannie’s dramatics.
Dr. Hooper went to meet the new uniformed arrivals who were local Springfield officers, not State Patrol. I wondered if Pfannie realized that when she wanted to take a dig at Rolf by calling in his comrades. By her frown, probably not.
One police officer was very young; the other was a hardened, narrow-faced Hispanic woman who took the lead. She raked Pfannie with a look that said she didn’t much appreciate this waste of time, but the quicker they got to it, the quicker they could get back to the criminals. “Ma’am, I understand your cat is missing?”
The tone of her voice—G. Gonzalez, by the metal plate on the front of her coat—made the situation not-funny. More people went to the coat racks.
“She’s been kidnapped,” Pfannie whispered. Her face went pale. I pushed a nearby chair under her just in time.
“What evidence do you have?” Gonzalez demanded.
Her partner, Davidson, scanned the remaining guests who were looking back nervously. Dr. Hooper, Donald, and Almanzo had gathered in a loose circle behind us. Adam stood back, holding Isis in his arms. His eyes were wide, his gentle smile, sympathetic. I couldn’t help but notice how the man and his cat complemented each other in looks. Both were well-groomed and sleek. Adam wore a scarf, as he always did, under the collar of his long-sleeved white shirt and leather vest. Today’s scarf was shiny green—in honor of Christmas, I imagined. Isis curled around his neck. Her pelt brought out the wings of silver threaded at his temples. Stanley’s hair was thin and mousy colored over his round face.
I pinched myself brutally enough to leave a mark on the inner skin of my arm. I was moving far southwest from Adam and had no right or business to mourn a potential relationship that would never be more than a sigh. I returned my focus to Pfannie in time to hear her say, “And my boyfriend, Rolf Dean Roykirk of the Illinois State Patrol, is also missing.”
Oh boy. That brought out the action.
“How long has he been missing?” Gonzalez asked.
Pfannie explained in a choked voice that he had taken a mystery call and said he was stepping out for a few minutes and would be right back. He never returned.
Gonzalez signaled Davidson before twisting away to start barking on her shoulder mic. Davidson held up both arms. “Folks! Listen up! We need everyone to remain on the premises until we tell you that you’ve been cleared. Remain on site. I repeat, no one is to leave until given permission by me or Officer Gonzalez.”
I exchanged moues with Donald. His first holiday gathering, and last function as Illinois Regional CAT president, was going to be memorable.
“Can we go to our pets?” Deena Major asked. She owned a lovely long-haired Maine Coon, a gentle giant I’d photographed last year for the website.
“Do not leave this room,” Davidson repeated.
I wound my way over to Deena who looked shell-shocked. “You can still stand in the doorway and check on Porky,” I whispered. “That wouldn’t count as leaving this room.”
“Oh! Right.” She headed for the middle pet-sitting room.
“That was exceedingly kind of you,” Adam said, making me jump.
Had he followed me? Why? Didn’t he know I needed to stay away from him? To stall, I held my fingers toward Isis. She dipped her nose, giving me permission to scratch her ears. “Thanks?” I said, making it a question.
“I’ve noticed how you naturally reach out to others,” he said. “Especially Pfannie.”
I took a breath. “I know what it’s like to be the odd one out.” I rubbed under Isis’s chin. She closed her eyes in a long blink and flicked her tail. “What it’s like to want to count on someone and not be able to.”
“Names?” Young Officer Davidson thrust a clipboard between us. I spelled Ivy and Preston for him without so much as a smirk while Adam gave out his equally common name letter by letter. We intoned our addresses and other pertinent information until I worried Davidson would ask for blood type.
“How long have you been here?” He asked. He smelled of nerves and cheap deodorant. Maybe it was his first day—or night—on the job.
“I arrived about five thirty,” I told him.
“I was late,” Adam said solemnly. “Six oh five.”
Davidson jotted notes. “How long have you been members of the organization?”
We continued to answer his comments until his well ran dry and he moved on to his next interrogation.
“Do you remember seeing Adelaide?” I asked Adam.
He shifted Isis in his arms, exposing more of the scarred skin under his chin. I looked away and back. He tightened his lips briefly. “No, but then I’m not sure I would know her since Pfannie said she was new.”
“I met Adelaide at the animal shelter after she was turned in. She was on the plump side already.” It was a lame attempt at keeping the conversation moving, but other than swill the punch, there wasn’t much else to do. Even the buffet table had been ravaged, much to my dismay. Those chocolate cannoli had made me drool, but only powdered sugar outlines remained. I’d suggest a different venue or twice the food for our next holiday party. If we ever had another. Not likely. Almanzo stood, arms folded and legs wide, guarding the door to the parking area.
“What did she have before Adelaide?” Adam asked.
“A bicolor tan-and-white—very pretty but neurotic. Mr. Bibb.”
At his raised brow I added more.
“It seemed that Mr. Bibb self-destructed when Jake started coming around. Pfannie couldn’t stop him from marking his territory all over her house.”
He chuckled.
“We’re on the CAT forum a lot. I need to monitor it.”
Adam sucked in his cheeks and looked aside. He coughed. “I understand males are quite territorial.”
“Yeah, well, that gets annoying,” I said sourly, watching Almanzo abandon his post and head our way.
“Glad to see Isis handling the crisis so well,” Almanzo barked.
Adam didn’t show any reaction, other than replying smoothly, “She’s not having a crisis.”
“Pfannie said you were helping her search for Adelaide,” Almanzo said to me.
I leaned over to stroke Isis. This time she wasn’t having it and sent her ears back.
“If I recall, she had a problem with your cat, too, not like my Bojang
les. Memnet and Ms. Bojangles were getting on pre-etty well, last time they were together,” Almanzo said, a lewd smile finishing his comment.
“Mr. Benteen!” Gonzalez called. “Your attention over here. Now. Please.”
“As if.” I glared at his back.
Adam chuckled.
I watched Almanzo strut toward the group of officials near the door. Isis took our moment of distraction to jump down and skitter toward the pet-setting rooms. We followed. I groaned when I saw which room she wanted to visit. It was not Laurie’s or Abby Hooper’s rooms where Adam had registered Isis, but their sister, Ginger’s, room, where Memnet thought he was safe.
Like a bat with radar pinging, Isis wove through the remaining thirty or so partyers. The music was back on, low and nostalgic. Isis leapt the barrier into Ginger’s room. Three people milling nearby laughed and pointed. Adam came to a halt outside, with a backward glance toward Davidson. My phone rang at that moment, programmed with my mother’s ringtone of the season, “I’ll Be Seeing You”
I wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a wishful thought. I halted the noise with one finger, chagrinned I had forgotten to set the ringer on silent. I stopped next to Adam, who touched my arm and pointed. Tut, a smoke, sat between Memnet and Isis, making the perfect picture of the trifecta of the purebred color of Egyptian Maus. Donald must have handed Tut back. Instead of answering Mom’s call, I held up my phone and snapped several pictures. BFFs forever. Except one of them, Isis, lived over a hundred miles in the wrong direction. Memnet yawned, which apparently sent Isis into a rage. Before poor Ginger could react, Isis reached across Tut to slash at Mem’s cheek.
Then again, distance had a way of sorting things out.
Adam had one leg over the barrier when Isis launched herself back out and zipped across the party room.
He looked ruefully at me. I snapped a picture of him straddling the pet fence. What else could I do?
Ginger appeared next to him, holding Memnet who looked more soulfully than physically wounded. “I don’t think she actually got him. He’s OK, Ivy.” A sideways eyelash flutter at Adam, she amended, “Miss Preston. Do you need any help, Mr. Thompson?”