“I should teach you how to do this,” she remarked to Monkey who nuzzled at her hands for a moment before returning to his chief job of dozing. “Or you,” she said to Shadow as he trotted from his empty bowl in a direct line to her seat.
Halfway there, the chocolate Persian jumped to full alertness and sprang into his path, back arching and mouth hissing. With Monkey’s long hair standing on air, he was a terrifying sight to behold.
“Hey, now. Calm down.” Marjorie patted her ample stomach. “There’s more than enough of me to go around.”
But neither cat retreated. They circled each other like prizefighters, then Monkey Business struck the first blow, claws extended.
“Stop it!” Marjorie lifted the Persian up, his entire body as stiff as a board. For a moment, staring into his furious eyes, she thought Monkey would attack her as well but after a second he relaxed, nuzzling up to her neck as though nothing had happened.
Marjorie’s whole body shook as she put him into the playpen and caught hold of the Lykoi around the midriff. He seemed happy to be held and the wounds along his side weren’t deep enough to draw blood. The scratches would probably be noticeable for a few days, but they weren’t life threatening.
“You’re coming on a quick journey,” she said, popping Shadow into the cat carrier. “It’s not your fault but I can’t have disharmony in the ranks. If Monkey Business doesn’t want you to stay here, then you’ll need another home.”
She knocked on Esme’s door to say she’d be delayed for a few minutes, twenty at most, then drove down the hill while anxiety sent pins and needles along her arms.
“Just so you don’t think I’m a mean woman, I’ll get onto the breeder and scope out another likely owner for you, since it doesn’t appear the ex-Mrs Thorpe has any interest in inheriting you. How does that sound?”
Shadow gave a plaintive mew, identical to the sounds he’d been making when Barney first discovered him. The noise travelled in through Marjorie’s ears and tugged at her heart.
“If the breeder doesn’t have anyone on her waitlist, then I’ll put out a big advertisement, showcasing your many attractive features.” She cast a sidelong glance at the cat carrier, having to agree with Barney that between the moulting and the scarce hair coverage, it might take someone with a pure soul to see the kitten’s attractiveness.
“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll go out in person and press the flesh until we find you a good home. You’ve had a rough start in life, no mistake, but that won’t be your entire story. There’s a happy end waiting for you.”
Marjorie pulled to a halt outside a modest house with sturdy brick construction and a lawn that was masquerading as a field thanks to the early summer heat.
“You’ll like your new foster parent,” she assured Shadow after knocking on the door. “He’s a great man and very laid back. You’ll hit it off like a house on fire.”
When Braden opened the door, his mussed hair and messy clothing told her she’d interrupted a fuelled stretch of gaming. “Surprise,” Marjorie said, holding the cat carrier aloft. “You’re the lucky recipient of a foster kitten. Merry Christmas.”
Chapter Nine
“But I know nothing about taking care of a cat,” Braden protested while Marjorie settled Shadow into his living room. “What if I kill him from neglect?”
“You won’t. It’s not nearly so difficult as you seem to think. Food. Water. Litter tray. Comfort. Every time you eat or drink or go to the bathroom just think, has Shadow got the same opportunities? If the answer’s yes, you’re fine.”
“What about fresh air and sunshine?” Braden ran a hand through his hair, looking so adorably concerned that Marjorie couldn’t help but laugh. “I spend most of my time indoors.”
“So does he. Shadow is a full-time house cat. Set him up on a cushion next to you when you start gaming, and he’ll love it. And he sleeps even longer than you do.”
“But…”
Marjorie reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No buts. I’ll try my best to rehouse him as soon as possible but I can’t have him at home. You’re the next best thing.”
“Esme. Won’t she be better at kitten-sitting?”
“No.” Marjorie sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I’d have her place festooned with kittens already if she was that way inclined?”
“What if I’m a terrible owner?”
“Then you can take comfort in knowing it’s only for a short time. You can always reach me at the other end of a phone call if there’s a genuine emergency.”
“What counts as genuine?”
“Anything where the four things I mentioned won’t cut it. If he gets sick or doesn’t act like himself.”
“How am I meant to know how he should act?”
She stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “If you’re seriously not capable of caring for this kitten for a couple of days, then fine. I’ll find another home for him, even if I take half the night. Is that what you’re saying?”
Braden’s mouth opened, but he said nothing for a long time. “No,” he finally admitted with reluctance. “I’m sure I can manage. What am I meant to feed him?”
“I’ve left you two days’ worth of cans. If he goes through those, there are more at the supermarket.”
“Wait! He needs to be fed every day?”
Marjorie was about to explain, then caught the glint of amusement in Braden’s eyes. “Hilarious. I’ll email you a list of things he shouldn’t eat even though he’ll try.” She leaned in for a kiss then walked to the door. “And I’ll call you tonight to make sure you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Hm. Fancy a spot of zombie hunting?” Braden asked Shadow, lifting a controller in the air. “I’ve got one spare if you think you can add anything to the game.”
As Marjorie closed the door, she heard Braden settling his new charge in front of the oversized TV. She listened for a while longer, smiling, then got into the car.
Despite how she’d assured Braden the kitten wouldn’t come to any harm, Marjorie woke a few times during the night, her mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. A hairball might block Shadow’s airway. The scratch from Monkey Business could become infected.
At midnight, just as she convinced herself it was perfectly normal to call Braden to make sure everything was fine, he sent her a text message. A picture of him holding Shadow and giving her a thumbs-up sign. With a sigh of relief, Marjorie lay back and promptly fell asleep.
Sunday, being her shortest trading day of the week, offered her and Esme another good stint of selling door to door. Unfortunately, the farther away they strayed from the village centre, the fewer houses they found occupied. Or maybe they missing out because she’d left Monkey Business at home.
“Oh, smell the pine,” Esme enthused as they struck out at the tenth house in a row. “Perhaps we should give this up and walk back via the forest trails. I’m starting to think everybody’s absconded for the holiday.”
“I doubt the trolley would appreciate the dirt and pine needles but if you want to go that way, I’ll meet you back at home.”
“No way am I splitting up. I’ve seen too many horror movies to think that’s ever a good idea.”
“You think selling door to door is a horror movie?”
“It could be. All we need is a mad doctor lurking behind one of these doors and BOOM! We’re in trouble.”
A fantail landed on a large kowhai in front of them, its tail flashing and bobbing as it jerked around, trying to look in all directions at once. The two women came to a halt as they both watched the display. The bird launched itself towards a small cloud of midges: twisting, turning, stopping in mid-air then swooping back to regain its place on the branch.
As it darted off in search of a new target for its early evening meal, Marjorie sighed and gave the trolley a push. It stuck on a small divot in the footpath and when she shoved it harder, the wheel buckled underneath.
; “Oh, no.” She bent over to examine the damage, giving it a cautious kick in case that put everything to rights. “I’ll need a wrench and a screwdriver to put it back in place.”
Esme patted her pockets. “Pity. I don’t have one on me. Can we just drag it home?”
“We’d need to lift it up.” Marjorie picked up the unwieldy object and managed a few steps. “I should’ve just brought a backpack.”
“It’s too late now for that kind of clever thinking.” Esme bent over to examine the wheel in closer focus. “Can you balance it on one side?”
“Not for long.” Marjorie took a step back and scanned the surrounding properties. They hadn’t had much luck with door knocking when they were trying to sell but perhaps some reticent homeowners were lurking, ready to come forth to do a good deed.
“I can jog home and get Jerry to come back with the car.”
“We can both do that,” Marjorie said with a smile. “I doubt any thieves operating in Hanmer Springs are about to steal a broken trolley.”
“But the biscuits?”
“Didn’t you just say we shouldn’t split up? Would you really leave me out here for the crazed doctor to attack?” Marjorie laughed to show she was joking, then headed across the road when she saw a curtain twitch. “I’ll just ask in here if they’ve got some spare tools. If we strike out, then we can abandon the biscuits along with the trolley. I can bet which one is more likely not to be here when we come back.”
When her first knock on the door failed to rouse anybody, Marjorie wondered if the curtain had been moved by a breeze or an open window. She tried again, this time hearing a shuffle of feet in response.
“Hey, there,” she said in greeting, then faltered to a stop. “Jon? I didn’t know you lived around here.”
The young man’s eyes widened at the sight of her. He closed the door an inch, then sighed and opened it back up. “I don’t. Not usually. I’m just spending the night with some friends.”
“I wondered if you had some tools. My trolley broke down across the road and I just need to get the wheel back into alignment.”
“The community centre van’s parked around the corner,” Jon said, pointing down the long driveway. “I don’t have tools here, but I can give you a lift home.”
“That’d be great. Are you allowed to have the van overnight?”
The young man blew out a breath. “I’m looking forward to the day when I can have a conversation without someone second-guessing everything.”
“Fair enough,” Marjorie said, holding her hands up. “I take it back. You can use the van for whatever you want.”
“Allie knows I’ve got it. Just a sec.”
Jon disappeared inside and, after a moment, the door swung further inward, revealing a long hallway with several rooms leading off either side. Right at the end, a startled face stared back at her—a man with a large gift box in his hands. After jerking back, he kicked the door shut.
Marjorie turned and stared hard at the ground behind her. There was nothing suspicious about the situation. Any house still occupied would probably have at least a couple of presents inside, waiting for Christmas morning.
She could always ask Jon about it, then shook her head. Yeah. If he didn’t like her asking about the van, he was hardly likely to volunteer information about the missing presents.
“It’s probably a coincidence,” she said firmly, rubbing at her eyebrow when it twitched.
“Talking to yourself, eh?” Jon said, coming outside and shutting the door. “It’s the first sign of madness.”
“It’s the only way I can be sure of a decent conversation,” Marjorie quipped back. “My friend’s just waiting across the road. I’ll go tell her you’ve offered us a lift.”
While walking alongside the house on her way back to Esme, she couldn’t resist a quick glance in the side windows. In the front room, the same man Marjorie had seen along the hallway was standing next to a large stack of boxes.
Boxes that could have held anything. Including the missing Christmas presents from the community centre.
Chapter Ten
“One, two, three, lift!” The trio swung the trolley up into the back of the van, nearly coming unstuck when the bent wheel caught on the floor.
“I’ve got it,” Jon shouted as they struggled to keep the momentum going. Although the trolley had been light and manoeuvrable on the ground, it turned unwieldy as soon as its wheels parted company with the footpath.
With a final grunt of effort, it was far enough inside for the young man to slam the door closed. Esme ran a hand through her hair, instantly transforming into her usual immaculate self. Marjorie put her fingers up to her own greying ginger frizz and decided to leave well enough alone.
“Thanks for doing this,” Esme said, jumping into the middle of the front bench seat and scrabbling for the lap belt. “It saves us a lot of trouble.”
“No problem.” Jon issued a wide grin. “Since I’ve got the loan of the community centre van, it’s just as well I use it for helping members of the community.”
Marjorie kept silent as she slid onto the seat. The stack of gifts she’d seen in the front room weighed heavily on her mind. Should she say something? Level an accusation? Or should she keep quiet and perhaps leave a worrisome crime undiscovered and unpunished?
She bit her lip and stared straight ahead, ignoring the worried sideways glance from her friend.
“Do you mind if we pop by the supermarket first?” Jon asked, clambering into the driver’s seat. “Only, I promised my mates I’d pick up dinner since they’re helping me out with something.”
“It’d be great,” Esme enthused with a bright smile, perhaps to make up for Marjorie’s silence. “There’s a lovely pile of fresh vegetables waiting at home to be turned into a salad whereas my stomach is insisting on something far less healthy.”
When Esme elbowed her in the side, Marjorie forced a smile. “It’d give me a chance to pick up a few cans of cat food. Braden looked terrified at the prospect of housing Shadow, so it’ll give me an excuse to check on him.”
“It’s my worst fear,” Esme said as her body relaxed into the seat. “You walking up to my door with a kitten who needs emergency housing.”
Marjorie laughed. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that once or twice. Why do you think I chose Braden?”
“Does that happen often?” Jon glanced across, then turned his eyes back to the road. “It sounds like a treat rather than a fear. I’d love a kitten to play with for a few days or weeks until he moves on to his forever home.”
“Take a note,” Esme said, giggling. “Quick! Before he takes it back.”
“Do you keep a list?” Jon glanced at her again. “Because if so, definitely add my name to it.”
“It’s a big responsibility,” Marjorie said, hedging. “And it almost never happens. If the kittens don’t agree with a new addition, they go to another home. This situation is different since the police expect him to be with me.”
Jon gave a gasp. “Why are the police involved with a kitten? What on earth did the little fellow do?”
His astonishment melted through Marjorie’s reserve until she giggled. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
There was no parking available in front of the supermarket, so Jon steered the vehicle around the corner. Just as they passed by the community centre, Marjorie caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see a man’s legs disappearing through a window. “Stop!”
Nervous driver that he was, Jon slammed on the brakes until the seatbelt cut into her shoulder. Once she got her breath back, Marjorie jumped out of the car and took off running. Although she didn’t waste time on explanations, Esme soon followed.
“Allie? Are you here?”
She tried the front door handle, but it was locked. Of course. Who would bother to break in through a window if they could just stroll through the front door?
“What did you see?”
Marjorie pointed at the open window w
hile she felt along the top of the doorframe for a spare key. Perhaps the burglary had taught Allie better because she struck out. Luckily, Jon jogged up to join them a moment later, jingling a keyring.
“Stand aside. I’ve got this.” He unlocked the door and ploughed inside without stopping to find out what ‘this’ was.
Marjorie followed hard on his heels. “Whoever’s in here, there’s three of us and I’m about to call the police!”
“Already on it,” Esme muttered, flashing her phone screen.
“Come out with your hands up,” Jon shouted, as though he’d never been on the wrong side of the law.
A figure emerged from the side room with his hands in the air and a sheepish smile on his face. Evan Westcott.
“You!” Jon’s hands clenched into fists. “Wasn’t it enough to vandalise the centre? You thought you’d come back for another go?”
“I just want to visit with my son,” the man called out, a tear dribbling down the side of his face. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Breaking and entering isn’t the way to gain custody.” Marjorie glanced at Esme, who mouthed, “They’re on their way.”
“Neither is being the best parent I can be or jumping through every hoop the department has slung in front of me.”
“Be quiet and lie on the floor,” Jon ordered. “I don’t want you darting off somewhere to cause more mischief. It took me six hours over two days to repair the last lot of damage you did.”
“Were you the one who stole the Christmas presents?” Esme asked, walking over as the man followed Jon’s instructions. “Did you think robbing the foster kids of a decent Christmas would be good fun?”
“What?” The puzzlement written on the man’s face had Marjorie half convinced he was innocent, then his lower lip pooched out like a spoiled brat. “I know nothing about that.”
Lykoi Larceny Page 6