Purrs and Peril

by Jinty James

  “Brrt!” Annie prodded it with a large paw. The mouse lay still. Annie hooked her paw underneath the fabric stuffed body and flipped it in the air. “Brrt!”

  The cat pounced on the toy, then lay on her back with the mouse between her paws, moving her legs back and forth as if trying to disembowel the plaything.

  “Hello,” an elderly voice called out.

  “Hi, Mrs. Finch.” Lauren smiled and came to greet her, forgetting for a moment her suspicions of yesterday. “Annie is playing with a toy I bought her last night – I used your tip money from the other day.”

  “Oh, look at the darling.” The senior beamed as she watched Annie play with the stuffed mouse.

  “Brrt.” Annie picked up the mouse in her mouth and jumped up to the bed. She placed the toy on the fleece lined base, then hopped down and trotted toward Mrs. Finch.

  “Where should I sit today, dear?” Mrs. Finch asked the silver tabby.

  “Brrt.” Annie slowly led the way to the table closest to her bed. Lauren wondered if she was going to play with the toy with Mrs. Finch.

  After taking her order of a pot of tea and a chocolate croissant, Lauren poked her head into the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Finch is here,” she told her cousin, who was washing up baking tins.

  “Cool!” Zoe peeled off her rubber gloves and pushed open the swinging doors. She made a beeline toward the elderly lady’s table.

  Lauren watched them chat for a few minutes. Annie must have fetched her toy mouse, because she batted it across the table to Mrs. Finch while she and Zoe spoke. The elderly lady pushed the toy back to the cat, who immediately batted it forward again.

  “Mrs. Finch said yes!” Zoe grinned as she joined Lauren at the counter. “She said we can come over after work today and she’ll show us the basics.”

  “Good.” Lauren smiled before remembering that Mrs. Finch might be a suspect. She lowered her voice. “You do still want to learn how to knit, don’t you?”

  “Of course.” Zoe looked puzzled for a moment, then recognition dawned. “Oh, I see what you mean. No worries. I’ll tell Ed what we’re doing tonight, and then if we’re reported missing next week, they’ll know where to look!”

  Lauren wished she could brush off thoughts of suspects and murder so easily.

  You’re being silly. Mrs. Finch is a sweet old lady who loves Annie. And Annie seems to love her. If she was a murderer, surely Annie could sense it in some way?

  She looked across to Mrs. Finch’s table. She was still batting the toy mouse to and fro with Annie. How could such a person be a killer?

  The day passed quickly. After a slow start they were inundated with customers at lunchtime. At one stage, Lauren wondered if they’d even be able to close on time. But just as suddenly, their patrons left in the late afternoon, giving Lauren and Zoe plenty of time to close up by five.

  “Phew!” Zoe wiped her brow dramatically. “I’m almost too tired to try knitting tonight – almost. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  “Good,” Lauren replied automatically. “I’ll take Annie home and give her some dinner, then we can visit Mrs. Finch.”

  “We’ve got two caramel cupcakes left,” Zoe said. “We could give those to Mrs. Finch – as a thank you for teaching us.”

  “Nice idea.”

  Zoe put the cupcakes in a cardboard box. “I can lock up and then I’ll grab our knitting stuff. I think I left the bag in the living room.”

  “Okay.” Lauren called Annie, and the silver tabby jumped down from her bed and ran toward her, the pink mouse in her mouth. “You like that toy, don’t you?” she murmured.

  A muffled, “Brrp.”

  Lauren fed Annie, and grabbed a glass of water.

  “Found it!” Zoe entered the cottage kitchen brandishing the paper bag with the knitting accoutrements.

  “Let’s go.” Lauren had been too busy that day to think any more about Mrs. Finch possibly being the killer. She decided to try and enjoy the knitting lesson – Zoe’s enthusiasm would help.

  They walked around the block to Mrs. Finch’s house. Lauren carried the cupcake box while Zoe carried the bag of yarn and needles. The senior opened the door as soon as they knocked.

  “Come in, come in.” Mrs. Finch ushered them inside, her face alight with expectation. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  “That makes two of us.” Zoe grinned.

  Mrs. Finch directed them to the living room. The interior seemed more modern than her time warp of a kitchen, with beige carpeting and a fawn sofa with matching armchairs upholstered in a soft fabric.

  “What would you like to knit?” she asked.

  “I want to make a little blanket for Annie,” Zoe took charge. “And Lauren wants to rustle up a scarf.”

  “Do you have the patterns?” the elderly lady asked.

  Lauren and Zoe looked at each other.

  “No,” they chorused.

  Lauren didn’t think the magazine on her coffee table at home contained a pattern for the scarf on the cover.

  “Never mind. I’ll show you a basic stitch, called the knit stitch. This is the first stitch everyone learns. You can use this to make your blanket and scarf, or I can teach you stocking stitch, which some people call stockinette stitch, but that will involve learning the pearl stitch.”

  Zoe’s expression fell.

  “I’m sure Annie would love a blanket made just with the knit stitch,” Mrs. Finch said hastily.

  Zoe’s face brightened.

  Mrs. Finch showed them how to cast on several stitches, then encouraged them to try it for themselves. Lauren concentrated, feeling herself relax, even while her fingers fumbled with the strand of yarn she looped around the needles.

  The tip of Zoe’s tongue poked out as she followed Mrs. Finch’s instructions – or tried to.

  “Oh no,” she muttered, as her knitting needles clashed together.

  “Nearly there,” Mrs. Finch said kindly, taking the metal needles from her and rectifying Zoe’s error. “Try again.”

  Finally, Mrs. Finch deemed they both had enough stiches cast to start learning the knit stitch.

  Another half hour later, they actually had a row of knitted wool on their needles.

  “Now, just keep going along like that,” Mrs. Finch advised them.

  “I think I’ve got a hole already,” Zoe groaned.

  Lauren glanced over at her cousin’s efforts. She thought there were two holes. Then she glanced down at her red knitted row. She definitely had a hole.

  “Never mind, Zoe. Practice makes perfect,” their teacher encouraged. “I’m sure Annie won’t mind a few gaps. She’ll be thrilled that you made a nice cozy blanket for her. Won’t she, Lauren?”

  “Yes,” Lauren replied. She’d been so intent on mastering casting on and the knit stitch that her thoughts hadn’t had time to stray to the subject of the elderly lady possibly being a murder suspect.

  “If you’re not happy having holes for your first attempt, you can always unravel and start again,” Mrs. Finch continued.

  “Start again?” Zoe looked horrified. Then she squared her shoulders. “I’m determined to learn knitting, Mrs. Finch.”

  “Wonderful!” The elderly lady smiled at her. “Why don’t you come back next Friday and show me how far you’ve gotten?”

  “Deal. It will be our second knitting club meeting.” Zoe blew a strand of hair that had fallen over her eye.

  They left Mrs. Finch’s house shortly after.

  “I’m determined to get tons of knitting done tonight,” Zoe said. “But I hope I don’t get any more holes.”

  “Me too,” Lauren replied.

  “See? I knew Mrs. Finch couldn’t be the killer,” Zoe continued as they entered the cottage and greeted Annie, who was curled up on the living room sofa, cuddling the toy mouse. “How could a murderer be totally normal like that while teaching us the knit stitch?”

  “I don’t know,” Lauren replied. Annie had plenty of toys
strewn around the house, but right now seemed fascinated with only this one. Was there a reason for that? Or was it one of the innocent mysteries that came with having a cat?

  “I’m starving.” Zoe put down the paper bag containing their knitted efforts and headed toward the kitchen. “What should we have for dinner?”

  THREE HOURS LATER, Zoe flung down her knitting.

  “Ugh,” she moaned. “I don’t think my fingers will work again.”

  Lauren glanced at her cousin’s efforts. Three more rows, all of them with at least one hole.

  “Why is yours better than mine?” Zoe snatched Lauren’s handiwork and peered at it. Then she compared it to hers. “You’ve got less holes than me!”

  “But your rows are longer,” Lauren pointed out. “Maybe that has something to do with it.” She wondered if she’d cast on enough stitches at Mrs. Finch’s house. It might turn out to be a very skinny scarf.

  “Maybe,” Zoe considered. She yawned. “I don’t think I can do any more tonight, though. But I’m going to knit some more tomorrow afternoon.” She looked at her hands doubtfully. “If my fingers will let me.”

  “I’m sure they will,” Lauren replied. “And I’m sure Annie will be happy with her blanket.”

  “Look, Annie.” Zoe brightened and waved her knitting toward the silver tabby. “I’m making you a blanket!”

  “Brrp?” Annie lifted her head. She sat on the armchair opposite the couch. Lauren thought it was a wise choice – no fear of enthusiastically brandished knitting needles coming anywhere near her.

  The cat studied Zoe’s efforts. “Brrp.” Lauren thought it was an encouraging sound.

  “Annie likes it.” Zoe grinned. “Now I just have to finish it.”

  “I’M SO SICK OF KNITTING.” Zoe tossed her knitting down on the sofa. It was Saturday evening and they’d industriously worked on their knitting for the last four hours, the sounds of click, clack, clash! filling the living room.

  “You’ve done a lot, though,” Lauren remarked.

  “But it’s full of holes.” Zoe scowled at her handiwork. “This blanket is going to have more gaps than actual stiches.”

  “You could always start again, like Mrs. Finch suggested,” Lauren remarked. She’d thought of doing that herself. Would she actually wear this skinny scarf with its several holes and uneven garter stitch? It didn’t look like the one the magazine model wore, that was for sure.

  “Arggh!” Zoe hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Why did I want to learn knitting in the first place?”

  “To keep your mind off guys – or the lack thereof of suitable ones.”

  “That’s right!” Zoe jumped up, a determined look on her face. “And I’m going to do it, too – both things. No more online dating and become a knitting master.” She blew out a breath. “I just need a break, that’s all.”

  “I’m going to unravel mine.” Lauren tugged the end of the wool and a whole line of garter stitch disappeared.

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “But what if you undo too much of it and lose your casting on stitches?”

  “Then I’ll try casting on again,” Lauren replied calmly.

  Zoe picked up her smushed blanket and scrutinized it. Then she let out a sigh.

  “Yeah.” She tugged out the metal needle and jerked on the pink yarn. “Goodbye, holes.”

  “Brrt?” Annie watched, fascinated, at the two piles of yarn. She hopped up on the sofa next to Lauren and patted at the dangling wool.

  “Want to play?” Zoe held out a pink strand and suspended it in front of the cat. “Wheee!” She swung it in front of Annie.

  “Brrt!” Annie jumped up and batted the yarn with her paw. She hopped over Lauren’s lap and swung at Lauren’s strand of wool. “Brrt!”

  After a few minutes of playing, Annie yawned, hopped off the couch and curled up in the armchair, a sweet ball of silver-gray fur.

  “Now I’ve got to start again.” Zoe stared glumly at the knitting needle holding only the casting on stitches.

  “At least you don’t have to cast on,” Lauren pointed out. She hadn’t been so lucky.

  “I’ll do one more row,” Zoe said. “And then we should talk about our plans for the weekend.”

  “What plans?” Lauren frowned. “We don’t have any.”

  “Exactly.”

  Zoe’s tongue poked out as she wound the wool around her finger, then clicked the needles together.

  “I think we should do something fun.” She paused between stitches.

  “Like what?”

  “Like going to a casino!”

  “A casino? Really?” Lauren stared at her cousin.

  “Yes! I’ve just read about a housewife the other day – I was waiting in line at the grocery store and picked up a magazine – and she won five thousand dollars at her local casino while on a girls’ night out!”

  “What did she win it on?” Lauren asked, interested despite herself.

  “Slots.”

  “She was very lucky,” Lauren remarked.

  “Yep.” Zoe nodded. “And we could be lucky, too!”

  “Oh Zoe, I don’t know. I don’t have a lot of spare money at the moment.”

  “It won’t cost much,” Zoe said. “I’ll pay for gas and we can visit the coffee shop or buffet there – a meal there shouldn’t be expensive. And we could use some mad money to play with!”

  “You’ve got mad money?”

  “A little. I put a portion of my tips away into a fun money envelope. I’ll use that.”

  “Hmm.” Why hadn’t Lauren thought of doing that for herself? She put her earnings away in a bills account and a savings account.

  “We could go tomorrow,” Zoe wheedled.

  Lauren wrinkled her brow. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “And the casino’s open.”

  “Which one are you talking about?”

  “There’s a casino just outside Sacramento.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw an ad when I was checking my email yesterday,” Zoe said. “And I thought, that’s got to mean something – first I read about that woman winning money at the casino and then I see an ad for a local casino.”

  Lauren glanced at her knitting – or what remained of it – a few stitches she’d managed to cast on.

  “O-kay,” she said slowly. “But not tomorrow. I already feel guilty about not going to church regularly – I’d feel extra guilty going to a casino instead of a church service.”

  “We can go to the casino on Monday,” Zoe said quickly.

  “And tomorrow we can go to church,” Lauren said just as quickly.

  There was a pause.

  “Deal.” Zoe grinned.

  “YOU’RE RIGHT, THE BUILDING does need painting,” Lauren whispered to her cousin the next morning.

  They’d put on some of their best church-going clothes for the ten o’clock service.

  The wooden Victorian church had a steeple on one side, stained glass windows, and was covered in chipped, flaking ivory paint.

  “I wonder who’s going to audit the church accounts?” Zoe murmured as they walked along the paved path to the entrance. “Now that Steve’s ...” her voice trailed off.

  “I know.” Lauren nodded.

  They said hello to acquaintances who were already seated, then took a pew in the middle. Lauren glanced around, counting approximately thirty people.

  Pastor Mike took the service, and preached about helping your neighbor.

  “That’s what we do,” Zoe whispered to Lauren. “We help Mrs. Finch.”

  Lauren nodded, thinking Annie helped people, too. She’d noticed a lot of her customers’ expressions light up when the Norwegian Forest Cat showed them to their table and spent some time with them at the café.

  What did Lauren do to help her friends and neighbors? Maybe she could do more. But she wasn’t quite sure where to start. She had two and a half days off per week, which was more than some people had, but she worked long hours as well. S
he baked before the café opened every morning, and by the time she closed at five in the afternoon, she often didn’t feel like doing much apart from playing with Annie, reading a book, or watching TV.

  Maybe Zoe was right – maybe a fun day out was just what they both needed.

  You could organize a working bee to repaint the church.

  Yes! And if the church didn’t have enough money to buy the paint, they could arrange a bake sale!

  “And we’re going to help Pastor Mike,” Lauren whispered to Zoe.

  When the collection plate came around, Lauren put in a decent amount, guiltily thinking of all the time she hadn’t attended church lately. Zoe’s eyebrow lifted as she saw her cousin’s donation, then dug in her purse for a little more to add.

  After the service, they said goodbye to Pastor Mike, who stood outside the church, shaking everyone’s hand.

  “I’d be happy to organize the repainting of the church,” Lauren told him. “We could have a lot of volunteers to help us.”

  “Yes,” Zoe smiled. “It could be a really fun day.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Pastor Mike beamed at them. “Why don’t I visit the café one day and we can talk about it then?”

  “Great idea,” Zoe said. “Hey! If you come in before we open, we won’t be disturbed.”

  “Good thinking,” Lauren remarked. “What about Tuesday, Pastor Mike? 8.30 a.m.?”

  “I can make it.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

  “WE DID OUR GOOD DEED yesterday,” Zoe told Lauren as they drove to the casino the next morning. “We went to church and we’re going to help repaint it.”

  “Pastor Mike is a good man,” Lauren said as she drove along the highway. “He was very kind when Gramms died, and dropped by to check on me when I moved into her house afterward.”

  “I’m glad we’re helping him.” Zoe let out a whoosh of air. “And now we can enjoy ourselves today!”

  About an hour later they arrived at the casino, a two-story brick building consisting of hotel rooms and a large gambling area.

  After parking, Zoe grabbed Lauren’s hand. “I can’t wait to try everything!”