Pawsitively Secretive

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  Amber locked up her shop and hurried to the truck idling on Russian Blue Avenue. As she let herself in, Betty slid to the middle of the brown leather bench seat.

  “Hey, sugar,” Betty said.

  “Hey, guys. Thanks for picking me up,” Amber said, shutting the door with a rattling clang.

  “Of course,” Bobby said, pulling out onto the street. As the truck bounced amiably down Russian Blue, he said, “How you doing? Terrible business, this situation with the mayor’s little girl.”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Worried like everyone else.”

  “Our niece ran off a few months ago,” Betty said. “Girl is fifteen. Got upset with her parents over something and just up and disappeared for three whole days. My sister was beside herself.”

  “Where had she been?” Amber asked, watching streetlights slowly click on as dusk approached.

  “An estranged cousin’s,” Betty said. “Oh, before I forget!” She hinged forward to pick up her monstrous purse off the ground. She plopped the thing in her lap, then rummaged around until she found what she’d been looking for: a small pink box.

  Amber took it and peered through the plastic window on top. Inside sat a single cupcake. The frosting was a perfect swirl of vanilla sprinkled with Oreo crumbles. “You angel.”

  Betty and Bobby both laughed.

  “Give it a try,” Betty said. “I tweaked the recipe recently. I’m thinking of using it as part of my entry for the Best of Edgehill competition at the Hair Ball.”

  Amber didn’t have to be told twice. She peeled off the little round sticker holding the box closed. The Purrfectly Scrumptious logo featured a cartoon rendering of Betty and Bobby’s Maine coon, Savannah. Her fur was thick and gray, her whiskers full, and the hint of a little pink tongue rested against an upper lip, her eyes closed in feline delight.

  The scent of sugar, chocolate, and cream filled Amber’s senses as she flipped open the lid, and she briefly closed her eyes in delight, too.

  Then she cut a playfully offended look at Betty. “You’re not trying to butter me up so I put in a good word with the committee, are you?”

  “Darn tootin’ she is!” said Bobby, laughing.

  Betty swatted at his arm. Then she wagged a finger at Amber. “It’s only fair since you’ve been fraternizing with my competition!”

  Amber snorted. “I am not fraternizing with anyone! Besides, your competition is not even talking to me right now, so you’re safe on that front.”

  “Oh, sugar,” said Betty, patting Amber’s knee. “I’m sorry I made fun. I didn’t realize …”

  “That’s okay. Now hush so I can try your cupcake.”

  Betty laughed again.

  Removing the chocolate cupcake from the box, Amber peeled down a portion of the paper wrapping and then took a giant bite of both cake and cream frosting. Once she’d bitten down, she realized the cake was a swirl of both chocolate and white cake, little pieces of Oreo mixed in. Amber groaned. “Betty. This is amazing.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, as if she didn’t know her cupcakes were so good they were nearly criminal.

  “I told her as much, but she doesn’t listen to her stuffy old husband,” Bobby said, but he was smiling to himself.

  “Yes, really,” Amber said. “Definitely bring this one to the gala.”

  Betty nodded, satisfied.

  They chatted easily about nothing in particular until they reached the Edgehill Community Center, which had only just been cleared of its “infestation” a week ago. Amber still had no idea what the chief had said to the mayor to convince him that what had attacked the people attending the junior fashion show last month had been insects, but Frank had bought it, closed the community center down, and had it fumigated.

  Only the chief, Amber, Willow, and Aunt Gretchen knew that the real culprit had been weaponized magic.

  The lot was half full when Bobby pulled his truck in, cruising slowly past the steady stream of people walking in the opposite direction to the center’s front door. Once he’d parked, Amber brushed off her shirt to make sure she wasn’t covered in chocolate crumbs. As the trio walked to the center, Betty looped her arm through Amber’s, a gentle hand patting Amber’s forearm.

  The front door’s peaked white awning, supported by four columns, had a banner hanging from it as it always did on nights like this. “Town Hall Meeting Tonight!” it said, swaying gently in the light breeze.

  The oval-shaped hedges dotting the small front lawn in intervals stood vigil amongst the patchy grass. While Amber and Jack had gone through the staff’s side door of the redbrick building on the day of the junior fashion show, today she strolled in through the propped open white doors with everyone else.

  The small auditorium was filled with folding chairs facing the stage across the room. An aisle was created between the two columns of chairs, and a good deal of the seats were already occupied. Edgehill had an active community; residents loved their feline-obsessed town and the meetings often had a healthy turnout, regardless of what was on the agenda. Today, though, Amber suspected the room would be at capacity.

  Amber, Betty, and Bobby were wandering down the middle aisle looking for a seat when someone called Amber’s name. It was Kim Jones, who stood next to a waving Henrietta Bishop. Amber saw Henrietta’s mass of curly red hair first. Amber waved back and led the Harrises toward her friends. Amber sat between Kim and Betty, Bobby taking the aisle seat. Henrietta leaned forward to see down the row and greeted Betty and Bobby.

  “Oh my God, Amber,” Kim said in a stage whisper. “How many people have been calling you?”

  “Nearly every person in town has shown up at my shop today. I called you at lunch to check on you, but you didn’t pick up,” Amber said.

  “Amber. Oh my God, I nearly chucked the thing in the river!” she whisper-hissed.

  Betty leaned forward to address Kim. “There were so many Nosy Nancys coming and going from Amber’s shop today, I almost put up a barricade so no one else could get in!”

  Henrietta winced. “I was totally one of those Nosy Nancys.”

  “Oh, I was too,” said Betty.

  “You actually bought something though, Hen,” said Amber. “And Betty brought me a cupcake, so all is forgiven.”

  Kim frowned. “I want a cupcake.”

  “You know where to find me, sugar,” Betty said. “And you usually do every Friday.”

  Kim gasp-laughed. “How dare you share my cupcake addiction with the world!”

  Betty just grinned at her.

  Within twenty minutes, the center, as Amber predicted, was full, with even more people standing in the back and along the outer walls once there were no more chairs available. When the mayor stepped out onto the stage, everyone gave him a warm round of applause. Amber wasn’t even sure why; she supposed everyone just wanted him to know that they cared about him and Chloe both.

  As the mayor approached the podium in the middle of the stage, he raised and lowered his hands, gesturing for the crowd to quiet down. Hundreds of chairs creaked as people settled in.

  “First, I just wanted to thank everyone for coming out tonight—and on a Friday night, no less.” The crowd clapped again. “As you all know by now, as of last night, just a little over twenty-four hours ago, my daughter Chloe snuck out of the house and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. In a town as small and close-knit as ours, you know how rare it is for someone to completely slip everyone’s radar. None of her friends have seen or heard from her. No one has seen her around town. I’m her only known living family, so it’s not as if she’s with a relative somewhere.”

  Betty placed her hand on Amber’s knee just long enough to give it a sympathetic squeeze.

  “Last night, after six in the evening, two residents found Chloe’s abandoned car. Her purse, coat, and umbrella were found inside. The only item missing is her cell phone. The phone appears to be off, as we have been unable to track its location so far.

  “A missing person report has bee
n filed. The chief and his officers are hard at work trying to find where Chloe might be.”

  There was a commotion off to the right. Chairs creaked under shifting bodies. Voices rose. Someone was loudly shushed. And then a man stood up on the right side of the room and stepped into the aisle a few rows back from where Amber sat, waving away the people around him trying to get him to sit back down. Amber recognized him instantly: Victor Newland.

  “How are we supposed to trust that you can keep our children safe, Mayor Deidrick, if you can’t even protect your own daughter?” Victor shouted into the silent auditorium.

  Frank froze, his features so rigid, they might as well have been carved into stone. “Please have a seat, Mr. Newland.”

  Victor did no such thing. “Melanie Cole is the first homicide Edgehill has had in decades. And only a year into your term. Less than a month ago, a maid was killed while having the audacity to think she was safe at work. And, in this very room, while friends and family cheered on their talented, creative children, a … swarm of exotic insects …” He looked around the room then, expression one of exaggerated disbelief, his arms out wide. He got a smattering of chuckles in response. “A swarm of insects sent dozens of people to the hospital. Two residents had their cars set on fire by a band of hooligan teenagers from Marbleglen. Even people from other towns see that things are falling apart here in Edgehill, Mayor Deidrick. Now we’re seen as an easy target. These are all problems that started when you took office.”

  Frank’s hands were balled into fists, but there wasn’t even a hint of a twitch to his stone-like features. His intense gaze was homed in on Victor like a laser. Perhaps he hoped if he glared at him long enough, it would incinerate the man where he stood.

  “And now,” Victor said, shrugging dramatically, his tone falsely concerned, “the mayor’s daughter is missing. Maybe she was kidnapped, maybe she ran away. Maybe he staged this whole thing to garner sympathy points because no one trusts him to keep us safe anymore.”

  “I would never hurt Chloe,” Frank finally snapped, a finger jabbed in Victor’s direction. His tone was so fierce and sharp, Amber heard several intakes of breath around her. Very few had seen the quick shift from a calm Frank Deidrick, to a furious one. “How dare you even imply that it’s a possibility. You lost a mayoral race. I lost my daughter. Sit. Down.”

  The room was so quiet now, Amber was sure she’d be able to hear Kim and Betty blink—but of course they were so startled, their eyes were stuck open.

  “I’m only saying what everyone else here is thinking,” Victor said, not needing to raise his voice. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the auditorium. A chorus of boos—much louder than the smattering of laughter he’d gotten earlier—followed him out the door.

  Creaking filled the room again as people turned back in their seats to face the now crestfallen mayor standing on the stage, his shoulders sagging just a bit, as if his display of anger had zapped what energy he had left.

  “We’re on your side, mayor!” someone called out.

  An upswell of agreement followed. It bolstered Frank a bit.

  “I called this meeting because I wanted to ask for your help,” Frank finally said. “At eight a.m. tomorrow morning, we’re going to conduct a search of the woods around Blue Point Lane. That’s where her car was found. We’re looking for anything that might give us an idea of where she is or what might … or what might have …” He cleared his throat. “What might have happened to her. It will be muddy out there, courtesy of the storm, so keep an eye out for anything that might have gotten buried in the mud. Things of interest might have been washed further out than we might anticipate since the rain was so heavy last night.

  “If you would like to participate—if I haven’t lost your trust—you can meet us on Korat Road. I know this is a lot to ask—to give up your Saturday morning—but I hope to see you there. We’ll be coordinating outside the Sippin’ Siamese; the folks there are supplying us with refreshments, too.”

  “We’ll find her, mayor!” someone called out.

  “I hope you’re right,” he said, bowed slightly, then walked off stage.

  Amber had been woken by one of her usual Kieran Penhallow nightmares and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. It was just a little after 3 a.m. This time, rather than reliving the way Kieran had lifted Amber by her throat, his magic a physical thing, Amber had watched from afar as Kieran did the same to Chloe. The girl kicked and thrashed in the air. Amber tried to run for her, but she was caught in sucking mud. Mud that turned to quicksand, pulling her under until it covered her head. She had woken with a gasp. It had startled Tom, who hissed, sprang off the bed, and then underneath it. Alley, who had been asleep with her head on Amber’s shoulder, had lightly pawed the side of Amber’s face as if to ask, “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Alley,” she’d said, her voice a little hoarse. “Just another nightmare.”

  Alley had seemed satisfied with that and had gone back to sleep.

  Every time Amber closed her eyes, she saw Chloe again, thrashing and scared.

  So around four, Amber got up and continued work on a series of cat toys she was tasked with making for the Hair Ball. They would be used as part of the centerpieces. The theme of the gala was “springtime,” in honor of the Here and Meow happening in May, so Amber’s creations were all playful kittens, most featuring a ball of yarn. Some lay on their backs with the yarn clutched in their paws. Some balanced on the yarn with all four paws, or just one or two. She called those her yoga cats. Some had yarn balanced on their heads, while others sat with yarn draped over heads and noses and pooled at their feet.

  She was keeping them small, no bigger than two inches, and was foregoing enchantments for now. If the Quirky Whisker had been nominated for a Best of Edgehill designation, she’d have been enchanting the daylights out of the things, but at the moment, her life and her magic were in such upheaval, all she could picture were rogue cats darting across tables, launching into the overly coifed hair of fancy ladies, and doing the backstroke in tomato bisque.

  When early morning sunlight crept in through her window, warm light spilling across her window bench seat, she decided to shower, get dressed, and walk to a coffee shop for a caffeine pick-me-up. She preferred Purrcolate’s coffee but seeing Jack Terrence right now would do nothing to help her already frayed nerves, so she’d need to come up with another plan.

  After she was ready, she fed the cats an early breakfast—to Tom’s great pleasure—and went downstairs into her shop. She pulled her closed sign down and took it with her behind the counter. Checking once over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t anyone wandering around Russian Blue Avenue on this chilly morning, she turned back to her small chalkboard, swiped a hand over it, and watched as the message changed.

  Her bespectacled cat logo now sported a detective’s cap and held a magnifying glass. The handwritten message said, “Participating in the canvas for Chloe Deidrick. Join us outside the Sippin’ Siamese. Shop closed today until further notice.” The sign’s wooden edges tapped lightly against the glass as she hung it back up.

  She left her purse upstairs, taking only her wallet, cell phone, and keys with her, and let herself out of her shop. She had just turned the key in the lock when she heard someone behind her.

  “You’re up early.”

  Yelping, she whirled around to find Connor Declan standing on the sidewalk. “Goodness, Connor! You have got to stop sneaking up on me.”

  He held up his free hand, the other wrapped around a steaming cup of what she guessed was coffee. It was from Purrcolate; she could see the pointy cat ears protruding from the top of the “o” from the space in between his fingers. “Sorry! I was just taking a walk to kill some time before the search this morning. I usually go for a run on Saturday mornings but I couldn’t get myself to go today. Guess I’m just full of nervous energy.”

  Amber narrowed her eyes. Connor’s house and Purrcolate were both west of her shop, and t
he spot where Chloe disappeared was decidedly closer to both of those locations than the Quirky Whisker. Why was he taking a walk on this side of town at six in the morning, and why had he appeared just as she was leaving? She mentally shook her head. She was being paranoid.

  Then she remembered her magicked blackboard and wondered if he’d seen anything. She involuntarily looked over at her sign, the cat on her logo now dressed like a feline version of Sherlock Holmes.

  “Plastic toys, elaborate chalk drawings …” Connor said. “You didn’t major in art in college, did you?”

  Amber hadn’t gone to college at all. She’d graduated high school and immediately started working. She pinched and scrounged and worked three jobs for a while—some in Edgehill, others in Belhaven. The job that changed her life was becoming assistant to the elderly Janice Salle. Back then, when Amber was an exhausted and still grieving twenty-two-year-old, Janice had been the owner of the Quirky Whisker, but under a different name. She sold curiosities as well, but hers had been decidedly lacking in magic. Janice didn’t have any living family left, and with her failing health needed all the help she could find. Amber did everything from stocking shelves and putting in orders to refilling their inventory, balancing the books, and cleaning the store at night. The upstairs had been nothing more than a glorified storage area then.

  As Amber had gotten more and more competent at the job, Janice gave her more responsibility. A little over a year after Amber started at the shop, Janice passed away in her sleep.

  The news was relayed to Amber by Janice’s lawyer that evening—though Amber had already suspected something had happened to the woman when she didn’t show up to the shop that day. What had been the true shock was the lawyer informing Amber that Janice had left her the shop in her will. The building was bought and paid for—Amber needed only to maintain the space, pay the necessary property taxes, and keep the business afloat.

  Life had been Amber’s teacher, not art professors at a university.