The Cat's Paw Cozy Mysteries

by Fiona Snyckers

  “That would be a hard no. I told the Doc I’d pick him up in the Volvo. Then we can go together.”

  “Good luck. I can’t say I’m sorry that I’m not coming with you. I’ll be Skyping with my boys, catching up on my TV shows, and getting an early night.”

  “Sounds perfect. Remind your sons that we hope to have them to stay soon.”

  “Summer vacation is coming up. I’m sure they’ll come then.”

  Morwen’s sons were both in college – one at the University of Exeter and one at the University of Essex. Morwen looked down at the sleeping kittens.

  “Looks like their time outside wiped them out. Where are Olive and Smudge?”

  “They went for a prowl outside after dinner. They’ll come back later and spend the night here. They have more free time now that the kittens are so independent.”

  “Just like human moms,” said Morwen. “Well, goodnight. I hope you find out what you need to. And I hope the car doesn’t let you down.”

  Fay’s heart sank. She had been meaning to take the car in for a service. It was backfiring and making peculiar noises. There were lights on the dashboard that she was sure were not meant to be there. The trouble was that she kept forgetting. She would have to keep her fingers crossed that it would be all right tonight.

  She closed her bedroom door and walked down the stairs to take her grandmother’s car keys off a hook behind the reception desk. Then she went to the garage.

  It was a great relief when the car started first time and pulled out into the road. Fay smiled to herself. David had threatened her with all sorts of dire consequences if she didn’t take the car in to be serviced. He had made her feel irresponsible for not having done it sooner. But the joke was on him. The car was just fine.

  It was only as she pointed it down the steep road that led to the village that she had misgivings. The car shook and shuddered in a way that was not reassuring. The road that ran past the surgery was too narrow to admit cars and had been declared a pedestrian-only zone. Fay had to bypass it and stop at the bottom of the road. The shuddering was getting worse and was now accompanied by a high, wining sound.

  Just as she brought it to a stop, it backfired spectacularly. The sound was like an explosion, shattering the twilight silence. Fay cringed in her seat, hoping it hadn’t been audible from the surgery. The neighbors would think someone was setting off fireworks again.

  She started in surprise when she opened her car door and found David and Doc Dyer standing side by side, watching her.

  “What are you doing here?” she said. “I told you I’d come up to the surgery to fetch you.”

  “My father wanted to save you the walk, seeing as you were kind enough to pick him up this evening,” said David. “I thought I’d wait with him. It’s a lovely night, after all.”

  “I don’t know about lovely,” mumbled Fay. “Didn’t you hear that crack of thunder a moment ago?”

  Doc Dyer laughed but David didn’t so much as smile.

  “That was no crack of thunder. That was this horrible car of yours backfiring again. You still haven’t taken it in for a service, have you?”

  Fay was tempted to hang her head. Instead, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve been busy.”

  “You know what inconveniences a busy person? Breaking down at the side of the road and having to wait for a tow. I gave you the name of a good mechanic. If you need someone to drive you back from dropping your car off, I’d be happy to go with you. In the meantime, I really can’t recommend that my father get in this car with you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He turned to his father. “It’s not safe, Dad. You saw how it was shaking. You heard that backfire. I must insist that you come back to the surgery with me.”

  Doc Dyer laughed. “Stand aside, son. I told Fay I would take her to the Rotary Club meeting tonight and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. This car is a classic. Fine Swedish engineering. I have great faith in both the car and its driver.”

  Fay pulled a face. She hadn’t been driving stick-shift all that long and knew she was very far from being an expert at it. But the vote of confidence was nice.

  David shook his head. “I wish you’d reconsider. It’s not safe.”

  “Fiddlesticks, my boy.” He got into the passenger seat with a flourish. “Enjoy your evening. We’re off to the Rotary Club.”

  The effect of this grand exit was somewhat spoiled by the fact that Fay stalled three times before she managed to start the car and continue down the hill.

  The Rotary Club met in a community hall near the beach. It was used by several clubs and societies, but on the second Tuesday of each month it belonged to the Rotarians.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me,” said Fay. “But David’s right. I should have taken it in for a service months ago.”

  “David is right far too often for his own good. That’s why I sometimes pretend he is wrong. It builds character.”

  Bluebell Village was so small that several of the Rotarians would have walked from their respective homes. But there were some cars parked outside the hall when they got there. One had just pulled in ahead of them. The driver’s door swung open and a man got out.

  Fay groaned. It was absolutely the last person she wanted to see.

  Chapter 10

  “What’s wrong?” asked Doc Dyer.

  “It’s the vet - Dr. Trenowyth. I didn’t know he was a member of the Rotary Club.”

  “Martin? He’s been a member for about five years. Don’t you like him? I always thought he seemed harmless enough.”

  “That’s because you’re not a woman that he wants to date. He seems to believe I owe him something.”

  Doc Dyer gave her a concerned look. “Has he been pushy? If he has crossed a line, you should report him.”

  Fay wriggled her shoulders. “It’s so difficult. Who decides what constitutes crossing a line? Yes, he’s pushy. He won’t take no for an answer and he once curb-crawled me. I’m uncomfortable if I have to be alone with him.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “But it’s so nebulous. You can’t report someone for asking you out on a date and making you feel uncomfortable. He’s not breaking any laws. I know what it’s like to be a cop who has to deal with nuisance complaints. I don’t want to be that person who makes a policeman’s life difficult.”

  “You could never be a nuisance, Fay. Do you want us to wait in the car until he has gone in?”

  It was tempting, but Fay had never been one to avoid confrontations.

  “No, it’s fine. We can walk in with him. You’ll see how creepy his manner is when he talks to me.”

  They got out of the car. Fay tried to switch off the engine but realized it had already stalled. Martin Trenowyth reached into the back of the car and pulled out his jacket. He was just shrugging himself into it when Fay and Doc Dyer walked past him.

  “Evening, Martin.”

  “Evening, Doc. And… er… it’s Miss Penrose, isn’t it? Good evening to you too. Will you be joining us tonight?”

  “That’s right. Doc Dyer persuaded me to come along and see what the Rotary Club was all about.”

  “Good, good.” He gave an absent nod. “We always need new blood.”

  He walked with them towards the hall.

  “Your kittens must be nearly ready to be homed,” said Doc Dyer to Fay. “I was just saying to David the other day that the surgery could do with a cat. Or two.”

  “They still have a few more weeks to go before they’re due for their shots.”

  “You can bring them through any time,” said Martin. “If I’m not there, my assistant can do the shots for you. Please excuse me. I promised I would help the club secretary get the hot-water urn working. It can be a bit tricky.”

  He hurried into the hall.

  “That was weird,” said Fay. “He acted as if he hardly knew me - as if he had to struggle to remember my name. Just a few weeks ago he drove behind me while I was walking to th
e village and shouted insults at me because I didn’t want to go out with him.” She rubbed her forehead. “You must think I’m crazy – that I was making things up.”

  Doc stopped and turned to face Fay. He looked her straight in the eye. “Fay… I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “I believe you. I don’t think you’re a fantasist. I don’t think you’re hysterical or attention-seeking, or any of the other things they call women who have been made uncomfortable by the behavior of men. I believe you. I think the question you should be asking yourself is why Martin Trenowyth has suddenly changed his behavior towards you.”

  They walked into the hall and he introduced Fay to members of the club. She smiled and shook hands, but her mind was far away. Was Martin embarrassed about the way he had behaved towards her? Had he realized that it wasn’t acceptable and decided to do better? Or was there some other reason for this sudden change?

  She already knew most of the people at the meeting. Morwen was right. They were the local worthies – the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker. There were a few professionals like Martin and Doc Dyer, but the rest were local business owners.

  The club secretary was the owner of Bluebell Island’s Bluebells, the local florist. Her name was Laurie Tennith and she was a friend of Fay’s. Fay watched Martin helping her with the hot-water urn. She noticed how Laurie leaned away from him and moved her hands out of the way before he could touch them.

  It seemed Fay wasn’t the only one who was made uncomfortable by him.

  The meeting got underway soon after. It was just as dull as she had feared. It started off with a detailed reading of the minutes of the previous meeting, which then had to be proposed and seconded before they could be accepted.

  It was clear that the club did important charitable work and raised funds for several causes, but there was so much red tape involved, and endless discussion over every tiny point of order, that Fay felt her eyes glazing over. It was a relief when the formal part of the evening came to an end and people clustered around the tea table.

  Laurie made a beeline for Fay.

  “I never thought I’d see you at one of these meetings. Even your grandmother didn’t join until she was in her fifties.”

  “You’re not in your fifties,” Fay pointed out.

  “I know. But belonging to the club has been good for my business.” She nodded at the tea table where local business owners were gathered. “Whenever one of these guys needs flowers for some function or other, I’m the first person they think of.”

  “I saw you struggling with the urn earlier when Martin Trenowyth was helping you. All fixed now?”

  Laurie pulled a face. “The urn’s fine, but I’m not crazy about that guy. He’s so handsy. Always touching and squeezing and stroking. Nothing that you could exactly slap his face for, but I must admit my palm has itched a few times.”

  “I knew it wasn’t just me,” said Fay. “Morwen thought I was crazy, but I told her if he was doing it to me, he was doing it to others too. She keeps telling me what a nice man he is.”

  “Save me from the nice ones. They’re the worst.”

  “The strange thing is that he didn’t try anything with me when I arrived this evening. I fully expected him to. Maybe it was because I was with Doc Dyer.”

  “It’s funny you should say that,” said Laurie. “He’s been keeping his distance with me too. I thought he might have realized he was being inappropriate and was trying to improve his behavior.”

  Fay thought there might have been more to it than that.

  “I wanted to ask how well you knew the late Mrs. Saville?” she asked. “She recently joined the Rotarians, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. Poor Mrs. Saville. It was a terrible thing that happened to her. I wish I could believe she had at least been happy during her time here on the island, but she never gave me that impression. Although lately, she had been better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She seemed cheerful recently. I only really got to know her when she joined the club, but she seemed more animated and smiley than I’d seen her before.”

  “There’s a rumor that she met someone here. I asked Doc Dyer who it was because he was at her first Rotary Club meeting, but he didn’t have a clue. Do you have any idea who it might have been?”

  Laurie shook her head. “Met someone? I don’t think so. I’m sure we would have noticed. I don’t see how she would even have had the opportunity. She spent most of the evening talking to Martin. When would she have had a chance to…?” Laurie broke off and looked at Fay. “You don’t think…?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think…?”

  “We’re talking about a twenty-year age difference.”

  “Which is perfectly believable when it’s a man who has his eye on a younger woman.”

  “That’s true,” said Laurie. “And it might explain why they kept it a secret. Perhaps they were embarrassed.”

  “You’re sure she didn’t speak to anyone else that night? Someone nearer her own age, perhaps?”

  “I’m very sure. The only members I can think of who are in their fifties and sixties are married. I know that doesn’t mean much, but she definitely wasn’t talking to any of them.”

  “Thanks, Laurie. You’ve been a huge help.”

  The Volvo groaned and whined its way up the hill. Fay put it into third gear but felt the momentum slow to a crawl. With a great crashing of gears, she took it down to second gear.

  “Sorry.”

  “Not a bother, Fay love.” Doc Dyer looked happily out the window at the sleeping village. It didn’t seem to bother him that he could have got out the car and walked and still have got up the hill faster. “Put it into first gear and take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

  His calm manner soothed her nerves.

  “David is right. I should have had it serviced by now.”

  Doc Dyer waved this away. “You mustn’t mind David when he gets impatient. His bark his worse than his bite. He doesn’t seem to realize that there are two kinds of people in this world. There’s the kind who takes the car in to be serviced once a year whether it needs it or not. And there’s the kind that forgets about it the moment the car is safely parked in the garage.”

  “Exactly! I only take the car out a couple of times a month. Why would I think about it in between?”

  “It’s a mystery to me. But I do suggest you have it done before you see David again or he’s liable to break into your garage and take it to be serviced himself.”

  “Car-napping!”

  Doc Dyer laughed and then sighed a little.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Fay.

  “I just remembered who’s arriving for a visit tomorrow. I’d forgotten all about it.”

  “Who?”

  “Laetitia Poynter.” Doc Dyer’s face was gloomy.

  “Oh, right. Is she staying with you?”

  “No, thank goodness. She’ll be at the Royal Hotel again. She seems to like it there.”

  “So, this long-distance relationship thing is working out for them?”

  “She’s determined to make it work, that’s all I can say. She comes to the island once a month and texts him incessantly the rest of the time.”

  “Well, if they’re happy…”

  “But that’s the thing,” said Doc. “They’re not. Or rather, David’s not. I see how he reacts when she says she’s coming to visit. There’s no joy there. His eyes don’t light up the way they do when you walk into a room, for instance.”

  Fay threw up her hands. Then she remembered she was driving a car and grabbed the steering wheel before she could go off the road.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no. We are not having this conversation. Your son is in a relationship with someone else. We have to respect that.”

  “That’s the other thing.” He sounded frustrated. “David is too honorable for his own good. For him, it’s like they’re already married. He seems to think he would be breaking a sole
mn vow if he said he wanted to stop seeing her.”

  “It’s his life and his choice,” said Fay. “It’s none of our business.”

  But she would be keeping a close eye on the situation nonetheless.

  Chapter 11

  Fay took the kittens out for their play-time in the Garden of Remembrance straight after breakfast.

  The moment the last dish had been put in the dishwasher, she loaded her furry cargo into the cat carrier. This time, the five adult cats followed her in, not wanting to miss out on the fun.

  After Smudge and Olive, came Whisky and Sprite. They were Fay’s original cats that she had brought with her from America. Whisky was a black-and-white tuxedo male while Sprite was a lilac-point Balinese female. She had got them both from a rescue center in Brooklyn, proving that pedigreed cats were just as liable to end up in rescue shelters as their ordinary counterparts.

  Fay bent to give them each a stroke as they walked into the garden. Whisky and Sprite had been indoor cats – apartment cats – in New York City, and the change of lifestyle suited them perfectly. They loved being free to wander the gardens of Penrose House.

  She was just about to close the gate when something heavy pushed against it.

  “Oh, there you are, Ivan,” she said, looking down at the large, shaggy body that had just joined them. “That’s five out of five.”

  Ivan was one of her grandmother’s rescues. He had been brought to Bluebell Island by a Russian family that had worked there on a one-year contract. He was a pure-bred Siberian. When the family went back to Russia, they left him behind. Fay’s mind boggled every time she thought of this.

  She couldn’t understand cruelty or neglect of animals, especially when people weren’t living poor and desperate lives but were comfortably middle class. Why would anyone go to all the trouble of bringing a cat to Bluebell Island from Russia (no easy job with the quarantine laws, as Fay well knew) and then leave it behind when they went back?

  Still, their loss was Fay’s gain. She adored every hair on Ivan’s shaggy head. It made her happy to give him the life he deserved. There was just enough snow and ice and rain on the island to remind him of his Siberian origins, but also some sun to enjoy on a beautiful day like this.