I meowed again and batted at the phone. Shaking his head as if in in disbelief, he set the phone down and stepped back. I quickly opened the text messaging app and tapped the cat emoji. Aiden sucked in a whistling breath and picked up his phone. “Well, I’ll be…”
He obviously expected me to jump in the car beside him, but I refused to get in, running agitatedly around the car and the fountain. He still didn’t get my meaning, but when I ran farther up the square, he got in his car and followed.
I turned into a side street and up the drive of number 21. Aiden parked in the driveway of the white weatherboard house and followed me up to the back door.
He knocked whilst I stood beside him meowing loudly. Mrs. Beachcroft opened the door and recognized him immediately.
“Why, Deputy Sheriff, what are you doing here?” She looked down as I brushed past her in my hurry to the laundry room, then said softly, “Ah, I see. Tammy Lynn must have sent you. But how did she know about the kittens?”
“Kittens? But he can’t…” He looked at me again and closed his mouth.
I knew what he was saying. I am, after all, no fool. But Priscilla and her kittens were my family in every way that counted.
The two of them followed me into the laundry, where I proudly showed off my lovely paramour and our kittens. While Mrs. Beachcroft introduced herself and explained about her sister’s injury, I picked up one of the kittens and gently carried it out the door. Priscilla made moves to follow me with a second kitten, so Aiden and Agnes followed us outside, where I stood beside Aiden’s car waiting for the door to be opened.
“He wants me to take them back to Wetumpka,” Aiden said slowly. “So that’s what this was all about. Mrs. Beachcroft, would you mind if I took the cats back to Tammy Lynn’s until you’re able to go home?”
Teary-eyed, Mrs. Beachcroft gave Priscilla a gentle hug. “I…I suppose that would be best, if you’re sure she won’t mind. They wouldn’t have to be cooped up in the laundry room, and Elsie wouldn’t have to worry about her allergies. But—” Her voice broke. “Oh, I will miss her.”
Priscilla gave her human an extra rub on the ankles. Then Aiden put the kittens in a box and secured it in the back seat, and we were off. Priscilla and I stood up and watched out the rear window until Mrs. Beachcroft was a tiny speck, still waving frantically and drying her eyes with a dish towel.
* * *
The drive to Wetumpka took only a short time, and so we arrived there by mid-afternoon. Tammy was still in the bookstore but since it was almost closing time, Aiden parked at her house and took us all inside to get comfortable. Then he unloaded his trunk and brought in Valentine’s gifts for Tammy: some exotic champagne, a box of gourmet chocolates, ingredients for a great fresh dinner, candles, a card, a lovely heart pendant, decorations, and flowers.
He had just enough time to put the bottle of champagne in the fridge, decorate the table with the gifts underneath, put some music on, and put the ingredients for dinner away when he heard her key in the door.
“Well, Trouble,” he said, drawing in a deep breath, “wish me luck.”
* * *
Tammy had obviously seen his car in the driveway. When she saw the Valentine’s display Aiden had made, a tentative smile replaced her look of apprehension. “Aiden, what is all this? It’s still three days ‘til Valentine’s.”
“It’s a preview,” he said, as I wound around her feet, purring. “I remembered a few weeks ago you said you’d love to get away for a week in the Smokies, so I’ve been scouting places that might fit the bill. Completely isolated, you said. Hot tub. Incredible view.” He ticked off the requirements on his fingers. “Not even any cell service. I didn’t quite manage that one, but I did find a place where the signal is barely strong enough for texts.”
“So that’s where you’ve been?” I could tell from her voice that she was sorry for distrusting him. “I was afraid…” She let the thought trail off. It was clear enough what she’d been afraid of.
He nodded. “Sorry to be so mysterious about it, but I wanted it to be a surprise. And you did say you wanted a place with no cell service.”
“A total getaway,” she said. “I remember. But Aiden, I can’t leave the bookstore for a week.”
“I already have it covered.” Her eyes welled as he told her he’d hired someone to cover the store while she was gone. Then, with a little grin, he added, “But I hope you don’t want to be completely isolated. Because I know a certain Deputy Sheriff who needs to use up some vacation days.”
The kiss she gave him seemed to leave no doubt. Finally, flushed and breathless, he stepped away and held her at arm’s length. “I have one more surprise for you,” he said.
He led her towards the bedroom, where Tammy gently pushed the door further open to see Priscilla and five gorgeous, delicious kittens squirming to get closer to her.
Tammy fell to her knees, crying with happiness. I proudly stood beside her as Tammy carefully stroked Priscilla and each kitten, marvelling at their perfection. “Aiden,” she said at last, “how did you find them?”
With a sheepish grin, he pulled out his cell phone. “You aren’t going to believe this…”
When he’d told his tale and shown her the cat emoji, she looked up with a mischievous smirk. “I told you he needed his own smart phone.”
You know the old adage: all’s well that ends well. After a sumptuous dinner, Tammy Lynn and Aiden snuggled in to make their plans for Valentine’s Day and for the rest of their lives, while I curled up with my beloved and our kittens, dreaming of the apps I planned to download on my new smart phone.
About the Author
This is Eve Osborne’s first published short story, but she has been writing fiction since she was a kid. Her background in general management has given her elevated sensitivity and consciousness, a heart for cooperation, and a great insight into human behavior. An empathetic animal lover of all creatures big and small, she lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, son and pets.
Tidbit From Trouble #8
I realize I have been extremely fortunate to have a biped as enlightened and compassionate as Tammy Lynn. Some might call her and Aiden “humanitarian,” but I prefer “felinitarian.” After all, while we cats might scrap a bit, we never kidnap, murder, or enslave each other. Humans, on the other hand, as you shall see, are often anything but humane.
The Rescue
By Nancy Sartor
My biped, dear Tammy Lynn, recently hired a new male to help around the Book Basket. Jerry Servais is quite restrained, private and, perhaps because of those things, mysterious.
Bipeds have several rituals during a normal year. My exhaustive study has revealed their symbols. The upcoming one, Valentine’s Day is represented by a red ivy leaf. Celebrations of this particular ritual are conducted in restaurants where paid bipeds cook for paying ones. These establishments are filled with such a plethora of food smells, I often find myself dizzy. Tammy suffered a failed romance once and doesn’t usually engage in this ritual. However, she and sheriff’s deputy Aiden Waters have quite an obvious interest in one another, which I believe could flower given a tiny nudge in the right direction. I plan to encourage Aiden to invite her to the festival, but I must hurry. It begins in two days’ time.
* * *
Tammy Lynn watched Trouble groom himself in his meticulous manner, tiny pink tongue covering every hair. His black coat fairly glowed with health, but Trouble still cleaned it often. He was an unpredictable companion with a strong will and an even stronger ability to communicate. Tammy absently rubbed the back of her leg where his claws had sunk more than once as he tried to pull her away from danger.
Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts.
“Tammy, could you join me at the river? I don’t think it will take long.” Aiden’s voice was full of strain.
She eyed and dismissed the big cardboard box full of books she’d meant to organize today. “Sure. I’ll be right there.” She stepped to the back ro
om where Jerry was unloading the second carton. He looked up as she entered, a question on his long face.
“Something’s going on down at the river,” she said. “Shouldn’t take long. Can you stay here until I return?
He nodded and went back to his box.
Trouble dropped to the floor as she grabbed her purse and jacket. He was on the sidewalk before she could get the door closed.
* * *
The mid-February day was warm even by Wetumpka, Alabama standards. The sun was bright, but February’s landscape provided only dead grass and evergreen trees. “At the river,” meant the Coosa River bank beside the towering river bridge off Front Street.
Three sheriff’s cars were parked on the grass. A tarpaulin covered a human-sized lump near the front bumper of the first car. Tammy steeled herself. She was no stranger to dead bodies, but nobody enjoyed seeing them.
A large black dog stood stiff-legged at the edge of the riverbank, barking repetitively, the sound shrill and miserable.
Before Tammy could stop him, Trouble ran toward the dog, who growled, lowered his head and raised his hackles. Tammy steeled herself for the fight that was so obviously coming. Trouble slowed to a near stop, head and tail up. The dog watched the cat for a long moment, ears twitching, hackles lowering. Trouble took another step.
Tammy held her breath.
The dog raised his head. His hackles dropped. Trouble trotted toward him. Noses touched. The dog stretched out and laid his head on his forelegs, a pose so sad, Tammy had to wipe tears from her eyes.
Trouble watched him for a long moment before he turned toward the tarp and nosed his way under. The deputy beside Aiden reached to drag him back. Aiden said something Tammy couldn’t hear. The deputy stepped back. Aiden came to her, long legs eating the ground, massive shoulders swaying. Tammy watched him with a flutter in her stomach.
Seconds later, he fixed his dark gaze on her and said, “He won’t touch the body, will he?”
“Trouble?” She shook her head. “No. He’s got this sixth sense about crime scenes. What happened?”
“Man and his dog out for a walk, looks like. Somebody shot him from the highway.” He turned back to gaze at the dog. “I thought we would have to restrain the dog, but it looks like Trouble calmed him down.”
She lifted her gaze to the tall bank that lead up to the bridge. It would take one heck of a marksman to hit a person from that height.
“Who is he?”
“Name’s George Lantana, but that’s all we know.” He glanced at a large plastic bag in his hand and said, “We found this beside his body. I thought you might know something about it.” He turned the bag over. “It’s got a strange stain on the back cover.”
Tammy took the zippered plastic bag from him.
* * *
The canine seemed a nice enough chap. He couldn’t be expected to understand human death, and indeed he did not. A simple statement that the men around his fellow there on the ground meant no harm had calmed him. I assured him I would check on his fellow, to which he readily agreed. But I don’t need to poke my nose under the covering to know the man is dead. The odor of death filled my nose before we left the sidewalk. I do, however, need to see how he died. As I peer at the wound in his head, I hear Deputy Aiden tell Tammy he was “shot.”
Biped communication is incredibly crude. They require actual speech and enormous gestures to get across the simplest ideas whereas we felines can speak volumes with the simple twitch of a whisker. Their written communication requires so many symbols, I wonder how any of them has managed to learn them. Tammy has a device she calls a tee vee. From it, I learned a lot about biped weaponry. The dead man was struck by a projectile speeding from a metal instrument alternatively called a “gun” or “rifle,” depending on its length.
* * *
Tammy gazed at Classified as Murder by Miranda James with a chill sliding down her spine. When she received the novel with its strange stain, she’d called the publisher who denied any knowledge of the novel or its author. When she discovered that the ISBN was fake, she shoved the thing under her counter at the Book Basket and forgot about it.
She turned to Aiden, trying to get her thoughts together. “You found this beside him?”
“Yes,” Aiden said.
Tammy smoothed the plastic over the book. Aiden stepped closer, and the smell of Aramis cologne filled her head, sidetracking her thoughts for a moment. She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. “Aiden, this isn’t possible. The book is a fake.” She explained about the ISBN and the publisher. “The one and only copy of this novel is under my counter.” She stopped. “Or I think it is.”
Aiden raised his eyebrows. “Let’s go see.” He turned and said to the deputy standing beside the bodies, “I’m going to Tammy’s store to check something out. You guys be okay ‘til I get back?”
“Sure.”
* * *
Eavesdropping is a rude way to gather information, but sadly necessary. From what I’ve surmised, the book is an important clue. Clues please me greatly, but what pleases me more is that Aiden is following Tammy back to the store.
She keeps a counter display for each of the yearly rituals. The biggest is always around Christmas when they drag trees inside, but the others are also represented. I manage to scoot through the door before either Tammy or Aiden does, and so, have a bit of time to plot my strategy.
* * *
Tammy rounded the counter just as Trouble leapt onto it. If he’d been an ordinary cat, she would have chastised him, but in the past few months, she’d come to trust him implicitly. Besides, he was a sure-footed cat and unlikely to disturb anything.
The shelves were filled with a myriad of items, including a couple of old candy wrappers. When business was brisk, she sometimes substituted a candy bar for lunch. She saw a paperback she’d meant to read and subsequently forgotten, but Classified as Murder wasn’t there. She stood up to tell Aiden just as her Valentine’s Day counter display toppled to the floor.
“Trouble!” Surprise made her voice sharper than she’d meant. The cat scooted from the room like he expected her to whap him with a broom. “I don’t know what got into him,” she said to Aiden who was staring after the cat with a puzzled look. “He usually walks through all that stuff without touching a thing.”
The clear plastic holder was halfway across the room. The flyers advertising a specific book as the very thing to give your Valentine on February 14 were scattered across the floor. Before she could stop him, Aiden began picking them up.
* * *
I irritated Tammy badly enough so she raised her voice, a rarity for her, but my plan is working. I dart back into the room and rub my scent along Aiden’s leg, but while he tosses me a smile, he seems impervious to my meaning. Deciding more aggressive action might be in order, I duck between his feet, snatch one of the flyers with my paw and bat it halfway across the room. By the time he retrieves that one, I’ve batted two more, each in a different direction.
Poor Aiden will be picking up flyers for a few moments. I hope that’s sufficient to remind him that the day of the red ivy leaf will soon be upon us.
* * *
Tammy hurried after Trouble, collecting the flyers he seemed bent on scooting across the floor and trying to keep her face from blooming scarlet. “I am so sorry, Aiden,” she said as she bent and snatched. “I don’t know what’s gotten into that cat.”
Aiden picked up the final flyer, put them all back in the plastic holder and turned to Tammy. A dark red flush showed above his stiff beige collar.
“I know it’s terribly late to be asking. Every time I got a minute to call you, something fell apart.” He shrugged. “And I’m sure you already have plans, but if you don’t, would you consider going out with me?”
Tammy couldn’t stop her eyes from flying wide, but she managed to add a smile. “I don’t have plans, Aiden, and I would love to go out with you.” She put a hand on her neck trying in vain to stop the heat that was r
ising toward her face.
“That’s great,” Aiden said with a grin that tried to swallow his face. “I’m so sorry to ask so late.” He turned to the cat. “I guess I should thank Trouble for reminding me.”
Tammy narrowed her gaze at the cat. He’d been particularly obnoxious in the last few minutes, totally intent on keeping those flyers moving. He was now licking one paw in a pose that said he was as contented as if he’d just finished a bowl of cream.
Could he have deliberately set out to remind Aiden? She shook her head at herself. Trouble was an enormously intelligent cat with a knack for crime solving, it was true. But he was still a cat. It was hard to imagine he’d concern himself with affairs of the human heart.
She turned back to Aiden just in time to catch a look on his face that sent a thrill through her. It was warm and approving as if she’d done something clever instead of chasing holiday flyers across the room. Then she realized he wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at Trouble.
“So,” Aiden said, shaking himself as if he’d momentarily lost his train of thought. “The book is missing?”
“Yes.”
He turned the plastic bag with the novel over in his hands. “How do you imagine he got it?”
Tammy shrugged. “He must have been here. Do you have a picture of him?”
Aiden lifted his phone. “No. . . Wait! Glen just sent me the URL for his Facebook page.” Aiden touched the screen a couple of times, then handed her his cell phone. George Lantana had lived in Huntsville. He was a ginger with dark blue eyes.
The Trouble with Cupid Page 19