Murder Beach

by Rena Leith

  “Why didn’t you become a vet?”

  He shrugged. “My cousin has all the medical brains in the family. When my grandmother died, she left me this place and enough invested in stock that, if I stay single and am careful, I don’t have to work. It’s not enough to support a wife and kids on, though. So it’s the single life for me.” He grinned, not looking too unhappy at the prospect.

  “Have you ever thought that maybe your wife would be making more than you?” From his expression, clearly this had never occurred to him. “I certainly plan to be supporting myself as soon as possible.”

  Instead of answering, Dave pointed down the beach. Thor was stalking the seagulls.

  I groaned. “If anything happens to that cat, my brother will never speak to me again. He got out accidentally, and I have a sinking feeling I’ll never be able to get him back in the house again.”

  “Oh, he’ll come back when he’s hungry.”

  As we watched, the seagulls took revenge, swooping and pecking at Thor, who howled and ran back toward the cottage, every long black hair standing on end.

  “Wow! Nice diameter! He looks like a furry black beach ball.”

  “He has the personality of a beach ball.”

  “A little grumpy this morning, are we? He’s probably mad that he’s been cast off. All he needs is love.” Dave half-sang this last bit of an old Beatles song.

  I glared at Dave, who grinned at me. “You want him? He’s yours.”

  He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m the last one who should have a pet. Never home, you see.” He nodded toward my bungalow. “By the way, the cat came back.”

  “Dave, didn’t you mention that you knew a vet?”

  “Sure. Marcy. I’ll get you her number.” He disappeared into his house and was back a moment later with a Post-It. “Here you go. Tell her I sent you.”

  “Thanks.” I walked back over to my place to let Thor in.

  He shot past me and sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor. Lifting a paw, he began to groom his ruffled fur back into place.

  Then I saw the blood on the floor and bent over to examine Thor’s head. As he licked his paw and rubbed his head, he smeared the blood in glistening burgundy streaks across the crown of his head. When he switched paws, he left a bloody footprint on my floor.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” I felt guilty for maligning him to Dave. I knew I should have him checked out, particularly that paw. “You’re going to the vet.”

  I stripped the top sheet off my telephone pad, crumpled my doodles, and tossed the sheet into the trash. Then I quickly wrote a note, including the vet’s phone number. If Jack and Gillian were really worried, they had my cell number and could call.

  When I got through to the vet’s office, she was sympathetic. “Look, the morning’s slow. Why don’t you just go ahead and bring him on in?”

  “Thanks. We’ll be right there.”

  Jack and Gillian walked in just as I was hanging up.

  “Thor got out and was attacked and pecked by seagulls.” I pointed at the blood. “The vet can see him right away. I was just leaving you a note. Can you watch him while I throw on some clothes?” I headed for the bedroom.

  Jack crouched next to Thor. “This looks bad.”

  Thor hissed.

  Jack stood. “I’ll go with you.”

  “It’s okay,” I called over my shoulder. “I don’t want to spoil your day.”

  I dressed quickly, no makeup, and returned to the kitchen. “I need to get used to being Thor’s owner. I’ll just get the carrier.”

  At the word “carrier,” Thor bolted, leaving little red droplets in his wake.

  Gillian sighed and said, “We spell that word. Apparently, cats can learn a small vocabulary. About eighty words. That’s one of his least favorite.”

  “I’ll bet.” Cats could learn language? That was a new one on me. I pulled the cat carrier out of the bottom of the coat closet, set it in the middle of the big oak table, and went to help Jack look for Thor.

  “He’s gone,” Gillian said.

  “Why am I not surprised? Look, Cat,” I said into the air. “You’re hurt, and you need to go to the vet.”

  Thor ran from under the table to my bedroom with Jack in hot pursuit.

  “Got you now.” I followed him into the bedroom and shut the door. A couple of beats later I realized that I didn’t have the cat carrier with me. “I’m going back out for the c-a-r-r-i-e-r,” I said to the half of Jack that was protruding from under the bed.

  When I returned, Jack was sucking on his bleeding thumb joint.

  I held the carrier open, and Jack shoved Thor, who moaned piteously, inside.

  “Close the door behind me,” I said as I carried Thor to my green Subaru, setting him gently in the passenger seat.

  Thor moaned again.

  A dead body, a haunted house, and a deranged cat. Things could hardly get worse.

  Chapter 4

  The vet’s office was the first floor of an old Craftman style house complete with a covered wraparound porch, low pitched roof, and dormer windows. I hit the bell on the counter just inside the door of the vet’s office and called out, “Hello!” I set the carrier on the counter .

  Marcy Chesley, DVM, or so the sign on the counter claimed, descended the dark wood stairs from the second floor, and I guessed that she lived up there. The garden was well kept, and the furniture was comfortable. The waiting area looked like a living room complete with a beamed ceiling, two stained glass windows, a TV. It gave new meaning to the phrase “taking your work home with you.”

  “You must be Cass.” She smiled and held out a hand. “Is this my patient?”

  “This is Thor.”

  She moved behind the counter, peered in through the netting of the Sherpa bag, and said to Thor, “Well, hello, Thor. How’re you doing?”

  “Thor had a serious run in with a few seagulls. Thor lost.” I looked around. “Are you here alone?”

  “My intern Angela’s mom is sick, so I gave her the day off. Here, let’s go into an examining room and have a look at your new friend.” She picked up the carrier and led me to a small, sterile room. She set her bundle on a stainless steel examination table, unzipped it, and lifted Thor out, talking to him. “Nice kitty. Good kitty.” As the case cleared his ruffled black fur, she said, “Well, hello there.”

  Thor meowed in protest at her. Even I could hear the complaint in his voice.

  “Oh, so you feel mistreated, do you? Let’s have a look.” She set him down gently and started feeling along his sides.

  The vet gave him a thorough exam that included taking his temperature and checking his glands. Thor was an angel for her, even licking her fingers at one point.

  Marcy appeared to collect animal kitsch. Her examining rooms were loaded with pictures of adorable baby animals of all species. One wall of the waiting room contained a large corkboard full of pictures of her patients.

  I caught a glimpse of a large tabby wandering up the stairs. “Do you have cats wandering lose in here?”

  “Only two right now: Mister Peepers and Fuzzybutt. And no, I didn’t name them. Peepers belonged to an elderly woman who passed. He’d been a patient of mine for years. He’s an elderly white Persian, probably sleeping somewhere. Fuzzybutt is a younger tabby with diabetes and other health problems. His owner wanted him put down, but there was something about him, so I agreed to keep him. Both are highly socialized. And speaking of lovely cats, Thor’s a real sweetie.”

  “I just acquired him. He’s my brother’s cat, but the landlord objected. He’s a big boy.”

  “I’m surprised your brother was willing to give him up. You really lucked out.” She cooed and scratched Thor’s ears while he purred.

  Then her gaze shifted to me. “I hear you bought the old bootlegger’s cottage?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.” I braced myself.

  “You know it’s haunted?”

  “So I’ve been told. Repeatedly. Everyone in to
wn seems to know about it, and I can’t get a pizza delivered.”

  She laughed. “We have a local pizza place that’ll deliver once you convince them that you’re solid and pay with real money. Clem’s Clam Shack.”

  “Clam Shack?”

  “Not so much anymore. But he will put anything on pizza, including clams, if you ask.”

  My turn to laugh. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Seriously, drop by in person. Tell Clem I sent you. He and I used to…to attend parties at your place.”

  The séances. “I’ll do that.”

  “I’m going to give you some ointment for his right eye and some antibiotics. One of the cuts on his head is quite deep. You’ll need to watch him. He doesn’t appear to have a concussion, but if he has trouble with motor skills or seems unduly sleepy—more than just the usual catnaps, call me immediately. Also, let me know if he vomits anything other than a hairball. If he does throw up hairballs regularly, I’ve got some stuff you can dab on his nose. He’ll lick it off, and it’ll make it easier for him to pass the hair. But you’ll be doing both of you a big favor if you brush him at least once a day. It’ll help you bond.” She smiled.

  “Shouldn’t you keep him here? Just in case he does have a concussion?”

  She shook her head gently. “I could, but he really needs to be watched. He’d be in a cage down here all by himself in the dark at night. At your place, he’ll be with you, cage-free, and interacting with you. If anything happens, you’ll know right away and can call me.” She wrote a number on her business card and handed it to me. “This is my cell. Also, ask your brother to have his vet send me Thor’s records. My address is on the card.”

  I took the card and stuffed it in my jeans pocket. “Thanks.”

  She looked away. “I understand you had a bit of excitement near your house yesterday.”

  “Yes. There was some sort of accident on the beach. It looked like a drowning. A man.”

  “Alan Howland.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Oh, yes, I knew him,” she said so quietly I almost didn’t hear her answer. Then she was silent but recovered quickly. “Small town.” She cleared her throat and patted Thor. “You two will get used to each other. It just takes time. He hasn’t adjusted yet, but he will. You have to treat him with kindness and speak gently to him. He’s having his own traumatic experience.”

  I must have looked guilty because Marcy said, “You’ve let his attitude get to you. Have you been yelling at him?”

  “Sort of,” I said guiltily. “But as I said, there’s been a lot going on lately what with the…the body and all. Things haven’t been exactly normal since he arrived.”

  Marcy tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “No kidding, but try commiserating with him. Speak gently and touch him often. Give him treats while he’s adjusting. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to bond with him while you’re caring for him and his wound.”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. I had visions of myself crawling around under the furniture to find Thor. That cottage had a million nooks and crannies.

  She lifted Thor into the carrier. “We still need to weigh him. He may need to go on a diet.”

  “Oh, that’ll be fun. He seems to be motivated by his stomach. So far, it’s the only sure way I’ve found to lure him out of hiding. As far as a diet for Thor, you and I need to talk, anyway. He needs some sort of special food that you can only get from vets.”

  “No problem about the food. Just let me know what kind. If I don’t have it, I can order it. But you poor thing! Alan died on your beach? Ghastly.” She looked away. “Have you met his wife?”

  “No. The only people on the beach were the police, EMTs, medical examiner, and some cosplayers.”

  “Cosplayers. That’s intriguing.” She seemed to mull that over before continuing. “I’m sure you’ll meet his wife Sara at some point. She’s an interesting case, always a bit distracted. I remember the night Sara and I last talked at any length. It started with a knock at the back door that distracted me from making tea. I flipped on the porch light and spotlighted a shivering Sara. You’ll find that it gets cold along the Northern California coast at Christmastime, and she wasn’t dressed for the weather. I invited her in for a cup of tea. She and I sat down at the table in the back.” Marcy pointed toward the back of the house. “I know you haven’t met her, but she has a fragile, china doll look. She’s a slightly built blonde with a round face and large blue eyes. She sipped her tea and said, ‘If I denounce someone as a witch, would they still burn her at the stake?’”

  “Seriously?” I said, a little put off and yet fascinated by Marcy’s confidences. “What did you say?”

  “Yes, dead serious. You’ll see when you meet her.” Marcy laughed lightly. “I’m used to Sara’s odd comments and went with the flow. I told her that went out a few centuries ago. Turns out that Sara was referring to a group of vampire gamers. I wonder if they were the ones you saw on the beach? She was concerned about one female player in particular.”

  “Vampires,” I said. “I was expecting surfers when I moved in.”

  “Hey, California is home to the Comic-Con known for cosplay. The cosplayers at Clouston College include a lot of steampunkers, but also others into anime and manga. I have to admit, though, that I sometimes have a bit of trouble telling the vamps from the steampunks—both groups wear a lot of lace and velvet and blood red lipstick and nails. Sometimes the gears give it away. Occasionally, one of the vamps wears his dental appliances, smiles, and startles a shopkeeper with his pointy teeth.”

  “Interesting town,” I said, beginning to understand what Ricardo had been talking about.

  “Oh, it gets better. Sara asked me if I knew that ‘chit Mia Jamison?’ I said, ‘Chit? Have you been reading Regency romances again?’ Then Sara said, ‘I think she’s having an affair with my husband.’”

  That stopped me cold. A cheating husband meant a wife with a motive to kill him, and I’d just met Mia Jamison. I shook myself. Who said anything about murder? I’d been reading too many mysteries, and Marcy’s story had my imagination racing.

  “And now Alan’s dead,” Marcy said. “I wonder if Sara finally had enough?”

  I must have looked shocked at the confluence of our thoughts because she laughed.

  “Don’t mind me. Wild imagination.” She waved a hand at me as if to say forget what I said.

  She set the carrier and cat on the large scale pad and peered at the readout. “Twenty-five pounds. He needs to go on a diet. He also needs exercise. I wonder if he’d take to a harness? I felt some fatty pads on his belly. He looks like he has some Maine Coon heritage—the bushy tail, fur between the paws, and the hair at the tips of his ears like a bobcat, but he could still stand to lose some. Nice musculature though. I think he’s just been overfed. No plaque on the teeth.” She lifted the carrier off the scale. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a bit upset. I’ve seen dead bodies in class. Not pleasant.” She added up my bill and showed me the total. “Cash or check? I don’t take credit cards yet.”

  “Check then. I barely write any these days.” I took out my checkbook.

  “Sorry about that. I’m slowly moving into the twenty-first century. I’ve ordered the Square. You know.”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s that little square thing that reads credit cards. It’s free. Plugs into smart phones, tablets. You pay a percentage like other credit card payment companies, but it’s a lot easier to use, and individuals can use it. That’s why I decided to finally start taking credit cards.”

  The light dawned. “I did see vendors using them at the craft fairs.”

  She waved a hand at the files behind her. “You’ll notice that my records aren’t computerized, either. Look at it this way. Your records aren’t online, so at least one part of your life isn’t accessible to hacking.”

  I had noticed all the files in the wall-to-wall cubbies. “Good point.” I wrote the check.

 
; In the lull, Marcy continued. “Alan’s death has been on the news with a nice photo of the beach with your house in the background.”

  “I didn’t see any reporters.”

  “You will,” she said matter-of-factly. The late afternoon sun slanted in through the skylight above her, highlighting her shiny, dark hair. Marcy clipped the check to my bill, dumped it on a desk, and handed me a receipt.

  I absentmindedly stuck my fingers through the holes in the side of the carrier and jumped when Thor licked them. I wiggled my fingers again, but he didn’t come back. Uncomfortable now, I picked up the carrier in a hurry to get out of there.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” Marcy held the door for me and walked me down to the curb. “Take care of that sweet little ball of fur.”

  I unlocked my car. “I really do appreciate your seeing Thor without an appointment.”

  “No problem. He really is a neat cat. You’ll find out. Give him time and space.” She handed me the bag containing Thor’s medicine.

  I put the carrier in the back seat, strapped it in, and got in.

  “Come by anytime.”

  I waved as I pulled away from the curb. Not anytime soon.

  Thor’s low moan spurred me on toward home. I parked close to the front door, shortening the distance I had to lug the furball. He protested every time his carrier hit my leg, but finally I got it into the living room, locked the door, and set him free. He vanished under the table.

  “Hi, guys. He’s going to be hard to catch when we have to medicate him.” I zipped up the cat carrier and stowed it in the front closet.

  Jack said, “He’ll come out when he’s ready. What’d the vet say?”

  I joined them in the living room. “We have to watch him in case he throws up or acts strange, but he’ll be fine. She gave me some ointment for his eye and antibiotics in case of infection. It may take two of us to dose him.” I set the bag with the meds on the coffee table. “Oh, and she wants you to have his vet records sent to her.” I dug the card out of my pocket and handed it to him.