“Is that it? You said in your message that you weren’t asking for a reward, but I thought that was too good to be true. How much do you want for her? We probably can’t afford to pay what she’s really worth, but . . .”
This exchange was becoming almost as emotionally draining for me as is seemed to be for Doris Meacham. “Ma’am, I’m not holding your cat for ransom. It’s just that I can tell, from the way you answered some of the questions, that this isn’t Xena. This Bengal did have a microchip until recently, she’s fine with being bathed, and she walks on a leash. Does that sound like your cat?”
I heard silence for a moment. Then Doris came back in a defeated tone, “No . . . I guess it doesn’t.”
“I’m very sorry. If, while I’m networking, I hear of anyone in New Jersey who may have found your cat, I’ll be sure to let them know. In the meantime, you might try contacting this Bengal rescue group. . . .” By the time I got off the phone, I’d left the woman a bit calmer and armed with information that might help her track down Xena.
The movie I’d planned to watch was almost over, and anyhow, all I could think of was hitting the sack. But frustration over the latest phone call even dogged me in my sleep: I dreamed of a certain warrior princess, dressed in a leopard skin, war-whooping and swinging a sword as she chased me through the dark, tangled woods of Rattlesnake Ridge.
* * *
“Got just the thing for you, I think!” Nick Janos announced Thursday morning when he arrived at my back door. In one hand, he toted his enormous, battle-scarred red toolbox. In the other, he proudly brandished some tightly-rolled black mesh.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Some wonder product?”
“It’s fiberglass. They also use it for safety window screening. Y’know, so little kids don’t fall out. Supposedly you can’t bite or scratch through it.”
“Maybe I can’t and you can’t,” I warned him, “but you haven’t met Ayesha.”
“No, really. This stuff’s guaranteed.”
We made our way from the back door to the condo area. The sturdy little man with the thinning gray hair hadn’t been out to do work at my shop in a while, and I asked how he’d been. “No more trouble with the ticker, I hope?”
He thumped his chest. “Keepin’ good time, these days. Probably since I haven’t had any more worries about my boy.”
When his son Dion was accused of murder a few months ago it had stressed Nick badly. “I guess he’s doing great now, huh? Since Encyte bought that cybersecurity program he invented?” A big California firm recently had paid major bucks for software that Dion had developed while working as a video game tester and freelance programmer.
Nick chuckled. “I guess so, though you’d never know it. Still sleeps in the same room he had as a kid, works in his office in the basement and sees clients there. Pays me a little rent. You’d think he’d want his own place, now that he can afford it, but I ’spose he likes having the company. Tell the truth, since my wife passed, I do, too.”
“Well, that makes sense. And especially after your health scare, he probably wants to keep an eye on you.”
“I just worry that he doesn’t get out enough. I’d like him to meet a nice girl, have a family of his own. You can’t live all the time in a make-believe world of video games. But it’s his life.” The handyman shrugged. “Anyway, where is this crazy cat you told me about?”
I showed him to Ayesha’s condo, and after murmuring appreciation for her athletic physique and slightly muted spots, he agreed that she’d really done a number on the door of her enclosure. Still, he sounded confident that he could fix the problem. I removed Ayesha to the playroom so Nick could work his magic.
Unscrewing the door from its hinges, he asked me, “Where did you say you got this cat?”
Since it wasn’t a secret anymore, I told him the whole story of how a man going by the name of Rudy Pierson had brought her to my shop, and was later found dead of an apparent hit-and-run. Nick froze with the door suspended in his hands.
“Jeez, you’re kidding.” He stared at me. “It had to be the same guy.”
“Same as who?”
“I think I sent him your way. About a week ago, I stopped in the convenience store at the big Gulf station up on Carter Road. While I was waiting in line, the young guy in front of me asked the owner if she knew any place nearby that would keep a cat for him, just for a couple of days. Said he’d had a house fire and was desperate. I could tell the shop owner didn’t want to be bothered. Finally she told him that an old lady up the road had a lot of animals and maybe would take another. But I knew the place she meant, and I figured that wouldn’t work out, so I chimed in and told the guy about your shop.”
Another mystery cleared up. I’d been wondering if Pierson /Reardon could have somehow found me online, but it had seemed unlikely. “They ran his picture in the Courier when he was killed, asking if anyone knew who he was. I guess you didn’t see it.”
Nick’s mouth twisted beneath his trimmed gray mustache. “I don’t always read the paper, and if I watch TV news, it’s usually the national stuff. Tell you the truth, I completely forgot about meeting and talking to him until now.” He went back to his work, using a hammer to pop off the staples that held the old, damaged mesh to the door frame. “I thought I was just throwing a little business your way. I sure didn’t mean to get you mixed up in anything crooked. They think somebody might’ve killed him on purpose?”
“The cops are looking into it, anyway. And I’m trying to help, by contacting any breeders who might be missing a cat.” A sudden connection occurred to me. “This old lady, the one the store owner mentioned. Do you know anything about her? Where she lives?”
Nick rolled up the ruined mesh and tossed it aside. “I used to do a little work for her, years ago, but then I started to make up excuses not to go back. Her place is a holy mess, just overrun. Cats, dogs. I think she’s also got a coupla birds flying around. It’s not even healthy to breathe in there.”
“Sounds bad. Does she breed any cats like Ayesha? Could Rudy have gotten her from there?”
The handyman reflected for only a second before shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Her cats breed, all right, but they’re just mutts and strays. None of ’em look like your fancy cat. Hold this in place for me?”
I held the edge of the new screening against the inside of the door frame while he secured it with a staple gun. Between shots, I told him, “A shame, when people let a situation get out of control like that.”
“Gotta feel sorry for her,” Nick agreed. “She can’t be right in the head. I worry sometimes about Dion being obsessed with his computers. Then I see a case like her, and tell myself, hey, it could always be worse.”
Chapter 12
Nick finished the repair job in about half an hour. I returned Ayesha to her condo, and from what we could see, the new mesh did hold up much better, even when she climbed on it with her full weight.
After Nick had gone, I left Sarah comfortably settled behind the shop’s counter and headed off on some more errands.
I stopped by Alpha Printing to collect my table runner, which had turned out nicely. The shop’s name in a cheery purple font attracted attention, and Keith’s cartoon of the long-haired cat smiled proudly beneath. Dave, the printer, had also made me a foot-tall, stand-up sign that read, HAVE A FELINE-RELATED PROBLEM? ASK THE CAT LADY!
He bagged both of these products for me. We chatted for a minute about how his store had been in town for more than twenty years. With his wife and grown daughter as helpers, he’d so far managed to survive competition from the highway office supply stores. I also told him a little more about my business. Dave wished me luck on Chadwick Day and then I hit the sidewalk again.
En route back to work, I dropped by Nature’s Way and showed the runner and the sign to Dawn, who approved.
“I just hope I didn’t waste my money.” I explained why I might have to skip Chadwick Day. “Of course, I suppose there’ll be other events
where I can use these to promote my business.”
Meanwhile, Rick, from the organic farm, had come in the store’s rear entrance. I smiled and said hello to the guy, but he just grunted back. That surprised me, because Teri had been so friendly. Not the first time, though, that I’d come across a couple where one was pleasant and outgoing and the other standoffish or even a real jerk. At least, I assumed Rick and Teri were a couple. His trimmed beard, olive-green T-shirt, and guerrilla-style pants also made an odd contrast with what I remembered of her disheveled, farm girl style.
He hovered a few feet away from us, holding some paper that he probably needed to discuss with Dawn. Tigger made a playful attempt to climb his leg, but when Rick felt the tiny claws pierce his camo pants, he shook the kitten off.
“Well, at least your mother volunteered to help this weekend,” Dawn reminded me. “I know she’s not the world’s greatest cat lover, but maybe that will solve your problem.”
“If it doesn’t, I might have to pay a professional pet sitter,” I told her. “I need someone reliable. Sarah’s going to help me at my table with Harpo, and even if I close up the shop, I don’t want to leave it unstaffed.”
My friend stepped away then, to settle up her bill with Rick. Meanwhile, I picked up another case of Ayesha’s food, which drew Rick’s attention when I brought it up front. Maybe he’d noticed the price and wondered how I could afford it? I was starting to wonder that myself. Another reason why I wanted to find the Bengal’s owner soon—the slim hope that I might get reimbursed for feeding Her Voracious Majesty for a whole month.
Rick had another brief conversation with Dawn and then the two of them approached me with smiles. Common for her, unexpected in his case.
“Cassie, Rick just had a suggestion that might help you out,” Dawn said.
“You met my partner Teri, right?” he asked me. “She loves cats, had ’em all her life. If you really need somebody to watch your shop for you on Saturday, she’d probably be glad to do it.”
It took me aback just a little to realize that the guy had been eavesdropping on us. Then again, Dawn and I hadn’t made any effort to keep our voices down. His offer kind of blindsided me, too. It was nice to have another option, but I knew very little about Teri or Rick except that they ran a fairly successful organic farm. I felt I needed more credentials than that, but I had to be tactful.
“Well, thanks,” I said. “Dawn may have told you that my mother has volunteered. She’s coming by tonight, in fact, to learn the routine. But if you want, give me your number, and I’ll keep Teri in mind.”
“Here’s one of their cards,” Dawn said, and passed it to me. Rick shook my hand with another of what I suspected were his rare smiles.
After he went back out to his truck, I expressed my misgivings to Dawn. “I really don’t know Teri well enough to leave her in charge all day. Especially with all the drama going on around Ayesha.”
My friend shrugged. “I thought you might feel that way, but, hey, he offered. Guess you still haven’t tracked down the real owner of your mystery cat, eh?”
“Unfortunately not. Last night, I had a caller who sounded promising at first.” I sat across from Dawn, in one of the paisley-draped chairs near her dormant cast-iron stove, and explained about the woman who’d refused to believe that I didn’t have her cat. “She was so desperate, I might even have been able to sell her Ayesha as a replacement, but I couldn’t do that. Not if there’s any chance the real owner is still out there looking.”
Tigger, bored again, attacked Dawn’s sandaled feet where they peeked out from beneath her long sundress. With a groan, she scooped the kitten into her arms. “Call that lady back and tell her she can have an eight-month-old tabby, for nothing!”
“Aw, you know you’d never give away this little guy.” I scratched the top of his striped head until he slitted his eyes and purred like a miniature lawnmower.
Dawn offered me some organic iced tea, and when I accepted, she retrieved two bottles from a big, glass-fronted refrigerator at the back of her store.
“So, did you and Mark ever make up after Saturday?” she asked.
“We finally did, thank goodness. He also helped me out with an urgent problem last night.” I told her about the after-hours trip to the clinic with Ayesha. “While I was there, I had a brief conversation with Jennifer. She confided in me that she’s doing all she can to help the clinic run more efficiently because she finds Mark so ‘inspiring.’ ”
Dawn’s mouth dropped open. “She didn’t!”
“I’m telling you, either the girl is totally clueless—which I doubt—or she’s an expert at this game. Just in case, I’m keeping my eye on her.”
My friend shook her head and took another swallow of her tea. “Speaking of banes of your existence, did you hear that Todd Gillis has disappeared? Keith was at the garage yesterday, getting a part for his motorbike, and old man Gillis is doing all the repairs himself. He’s really upset, and asking everyone who comes in if they’ve seen or heard from Todd.”
“I know. He even called me on Sunday.” I told her, then, about my session with Bonelli and Naughton. “They were speculating that Todd might have gone out looking for the wildcat and gotten lost or hurt.”
“Never thought of that. It’d be a nutty thing to do, especially by himself, but who knows?” She rolled the frosty bottle thoughtfully between her palms. “If Todd might have gone up to the ridge, I should ask Rick or Teri if they’ve seen him.”
“Maybe Todd found their ‘tomato plants,’ ” I suggested, with an evil grin. “He smoked a lot of ganja and just forgot to come home.”
Dawn laughed and wagged a finger at me. “Cassie, don’t you say anything. . . .”
“If the cops don’t ask, I won’t tell. Anyway, if nothing worse than that has happened to Todd, his folks will be lucky.”
* * *
Back at the shop, I parked the case of cat food on my sales counter and asked Sarah if anything had happened while I was out.
“You had a call from Madame Bonelli,” she told me. “No emergency, but she’s got some new information on the guy who dropped off Ayesha.”
“No kidding!” Mentally, I reviewed my schedule for the afternoon. Latte’s owner was picking him up at two, but that left me plenty of time to give the Abyssinian a final brushing before then. I returned the detective’s call.
Bonelli told me, “The photo Motor Vehicles has on file for Peter Reardon matches our sketch of the hit-and-run victim. He was registered at a Harrisburg address and we located a sister in the same area. She was upset, of course, to hear about his death. She said her brother had been going through a rough time and working at a string of part-time jobs. The last was helping out at ‘a cat place’ in Grantville, which is maybe twenty miles away. Since it’s a small town, we didn’t have too much trouble finding out if anyone there bred cats.”
“And?” I urged her.
“We came up with Brewster’s Bengals, which is probably just run out of somebody’s house. I talked to a Don Brewster, who said he’s all but shut the business down. His wife mostly ran it, and now she’s seriously ill. Reardon was working for them until recently, but Brewster let him go, along with a couple of other staffers. He was shocked to hear that Pete might have been killed and offered to cooperate fully with our investigation.”
Then Brewster probably isn’t a suspect in the hit-and-run, I reflected, though you could never be sure. “That’s good progress. Did you ask him about Ayesha?”
“I just told him a woman here in Chadwick might have one of his cats, brought to her by Pete, which is why we ended up looking for a breeder in Pennsylvania. I figure you’ll want to take it from there, since you’ve got your own methods for screening out people who make false claims.”
“Thanks, Angela, this is great. We finally got a real break, eh?” I remembered something else. “Did you ever get a chance to check out that guy with the van, the one I saw arguing with Todd?”
“I tried. Didn’t
sound familiar to Bob Gillis, but he said Todd handles some customers while he handles others. If the guy paid in cash, they might not even have his name on record.” Before signing off, Bonelli assured me, “We’re still looking into it.”
* * *
I brushed Latte’s short coat and had him ready when his rather elfin-looking male owner arrived at a little after two. Luckily, Ayesha had piped down considerably since Mark gave her the shot, and no longer wailed at a volume that reached customers all the way out by the sales counter.
After that, I put in a call to Don Brewster, but got his voice mail. Nevertheless, I felt I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I would kind of miss Ayesha, but she was high-maintenance and took time and attention away from my paying customers’ cats, not to mention my own. Returning her to her rightful master should be a win for all concerned.
Around four thirty I told Sarah, “I’m ordering a pizza, since Mom will be coming here without supper. You’re welcome to join us, if you don’t have plans.”
She hesitated. “Well, I’m supposed to help out with a game night at my church. But that doesn’t start until seven, and they only serve desserts . . . so I guess I can have a slice with you before I go.”
“Please do.” I pulled out my phone. “Half mushroom and half plain?”
“Okay by me.”
The pizza arrived at about the same time my mother did, and Sarah let the delivery guy in the front door while I unlocked the back for Mom. She commented on this new element of caution, but I brushed it off. “Sometimes cats are loose in the playroom, so I have to make sure no one accidentally lets them out.”
When Mom saw and smelled the pizza, she tried unsuccessfully to pay for it.
“Not necessary,” I said. Then I surveyed her cream tailored slacks, yellow knit shell, and linen blazer. She was dressed impeccably for a law office in early August, but not so appropriately for eating gooey cheese and tomato sauce.
“Guess I should have warned you.” I got out some paper plates and napkins to mitigate the damage, and Mom hung up her blazer in a safe spot.
The Bengal Identity Page 12