The Whole Cat and Caboodle: Second Chance Cat Mystery

by Ryan, Sofie

Charlotte pushed her glasses up her nose. “Let me guess,” she said. “Isabel taught him how to drive that old truck, too.”

  I nodded. “You know Gram. She’s big on being fair.”

  Gram was my dad’s mother. She had no biological connection to Liam, but she’d always considered him to be her grandchild, too.

  I put on my blinker and turned onto Charlotte’s street.

  “That’s Maddie’s car,” she said, pointing through the windshield.

  “Maybe she’s here, then,” I said. I pulled up to the curb in front of the little stone house. It looked just the way I remembered it, like it belonged on a winding lane in the English countryside, not on an East Coast, small-town street.

  Maddie’s wasn’t the only house in town with a beautiful garden. Even though the growing season was short in Maine, there seemed to be flowers everywhere in the late spring and summer; in window boxes and planters in front of the shops and in backyards like Maddie’s.

  I’d seen Maddie only twice, briefly both times, since I’d been back in North Harbor. She’d been visiting her son, Christopher, in Seattle when I arrived and since she’d gotten back we hadn’t had much of a chance to spend time together. Probably because of her new romance, I realized now.

  “Stay here,” I told Elvis. He meowed what I hoped was agreement.

  Charlotte and I got out and walked up to the front door. She turned the antique crank doorbell and we waited.

  “I don’t think she’s here,” she said after a minute or so.

  I knocked on the yellow-paneled door with the heel of my hand. There was no response to that, either. “Maybe she went somewhere with her friend,” I said. I tried to keep the little twist of anxiety spinning in my chest out of my voice.

  “That’s probably it.” Charlotte pressed her lips together, and I knew she wasn’t completely convinced.

  I looked around. A stone walkway led around the side of the house to the backyard. “Or maybe Maddie was working in the garden and just lost track of time. Why don’t we go take a look?”

  Charlotte exhaled slowly. “I’m acting like an old busybody, I know, but this is just not like her.”

  I gave her arm a squeeze. “You’re not a busybody; you’re just worried about a friend. Let’s take a look. Maybe we’ll find her in the backyard, attacking the weeds.” I was trying to convince myself as much as Charlotte, because the Maddie I remembered wouldn’t have not shown up without calling—unless something was wrong.

  Maddie was in the backyard. We found her sitting in a chair pulled up to a round teak table that looked as though it had been set for lunch. For a moment, until she wrapped one arm across her body, I wasn’t sure she was all right. I couldn’t say the same about the man in the chair beside her. It was pretty clear Arthur Fenety was dead.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “Maddie—oh, my word! What happened?” she asked, bending down and laying one hand on the other woman’s arm.

  Maddie turned her head at the sound of her friend’s voice. “Charlotte,” she said. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again I could see they were bright with unshed tears. “Arthur’s gone.”

  Charlotte looked at me. I pressed two fingers to Arthur Fenety’s wrist, even though I was already certain he was dead. There was an abrasion on the back of his left hand. It was red and raw but it wasn’t bleeding. His skin had an ashen pall that told me it was too late to do anything for him.

  There was no pulse.

  I shook my head. Had Maddie been sitting out here with a dead body? Clearly she was in shock.

  Maddie focused on me then. “Sarah.” She managed a tiny smile. “I missed your workshop. I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. But she obviously wasn’t.

  “I want you to go wait with Charlotte. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “I can’t leave Arthur alone,” she said. I noticed she avoided looking directly at the body, although she reached toward it.

  I caught her hand, sandwiching it between both of mine. It was icy-cold. “He won’t be alone. I’m going to stay with him. It’s okay.”

  I had a flash of memory—the night my father died—when Maddie had taken a bewildered five-year-old’s hand and told me to go with my grandmother. She’d promised to stay with my dad. Her hazel eyes locked on to mine and I wondered if she was having the same memory. “All right,” she said softly.

  “I’ll take her inside,” Charlotte said.

  I shook my head again. “Take her out to the truck. There’s a blanket behind the seat.”

  She frowned. “The truck?”

  “We shouldn’t touch anything. Out here or inside.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “You’re right.” I let go of Maddie’s hand and Charlotte helped her to her feet, putting one arm around her friend. I stepped into Maddie’s sight line so she couldn’t see the body anymore, just in case she decided to turn in that direction.

  Charlotte looked back over her shoulder as they started around the side of the house. “Sarah, call nine-one-one and then call Nicolas, please,” she said. She recited a phone number.

  I waited until the two of them were out of sight and then I pulled out my cell phone and called 911. After I’d hung up, I took a couple of steps closer to the body. It was slumped to the side in the teak chair, head sagging toward the right shoulder, eyes closed. There was a little foam at the right corner of the mouth, and the lips looked blue and waxy. I noticed that there was a ceramic bowl filled with fruit salad in the center of the table and a coffee cup, half-full, at Arthur Fenety’s place. I’d had a bad feeling about the man from the moment he’d brought the tea set into Second Chance, but I’d never expected things to end like this.

  I pulled a hand back over my hair and punched the number Charlotte had given me into the phone. Nick Elliot was Charlotte’s son and a former EMT. He’d know what to do for someone in shock. I got his voice mail. After a moment of awkward hesitation, I explained who I was and where I was, and hung up.

  Nick had been back in town only a few weeks after working for a couple of years in New Hampshire, and since North Harbor wasn’t a very big place, I was surprised I still hadn’t run into him.

  I heard the wail of sirens getting closer and followed the walkway to the side of the house. I could see Charlotte and Maddie in the front seat of the truck. Elvis had climbed onto Maddie’s lap and she was stroking his fur. All of a sudden I was glad Avery had brought the cat along.

  In a couple of minutes a black-and-white pulled in behind my truck and an officer got out. I raised my hand to catch his attention and he walked across the grass to me.

  “Ms. Grayson?” he asked. He wore the standard patrol-officer uniform and his hair was buzzed close to his scalp, so all I could see was dark stubble.

  I nodded.

  “You reported a body.”

  I pointed into the backyard. “At the table, just around the corner.”

  “Please wait here,” he said.

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and stood there while he went to have a look. In less than a minute he was back, just as an ambulance pulled in behind the police car. He held up a hand to me and walked across the lawn to meet the paramedics. I waited while he showed them the body and then came back to me again.

  “Ms. Grayson, what were you doing here?” he asked.

  I explained about Maddie not showing up and how Charlotte and I had come to check on her. “I think Mrs. Hamilton’s in shock,” I said, gesturing at the truck. “I thought it was better if she waited there instead of staying where the . . . body was.”

  “I’ll get one of the paramedics to check on her.”

  The officer, whose last name was Whalen, according to his name tag, asked more quest
ions and I answered them as best I could. He nodded after everything I said and made notes in a small spiral-bound pad. I couldn’t read anything in his face.

  “I’m going to need you to hang around for a little while, until I talk to the other two ladies,” he said finally, closing the notebook and tucking it into his shirt pocket.

  “That’s all right,” I said, thinking I should call Mac and tell him I was going to be a while, but maybe not why.

  I turned back to the street as a dark blue sedan squeezed in curbside in front of my truck. At the same time a black SUV parked at the end of the line of vehicles, and a man got out and started up the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he came level with the house that I realized I was looking at Nick Elliot.

  “Please wait here,” Officer Whalen said to me. He headed across the lawn toward the blue car, stopping for a moment to speak to Nick. It was obvious the two men knew each other.

  Nick had always been tall, but he was well over six feet now. He was wearing a navy Windbreaker over a sky blue polo shirt and black pants with multiple pockets on the sides. Charlotte got out of the truck on the driver’s side and walked around to him. He said something to the police officer and then turned his attention to his mother, putting one hand on her shoulder.

  I felt a little silly just standing there next to what looked like a bed of daylilies, but I didn’t want to intrude on Nick and Charlotte’s conversation. Finally I saw Charlotte point in my direction and Nick turned my way for the first time. He said something to his mother, gave her shoulder a squeeze and started toward me.

  It had been years since I’d seen him and it looked as though those years had been good to him. The sandy hair was the same, only shorter. And he was still built like a big teddy bear—but now the bear seemed to have the shoulders of a defensive lineman. He wasn’t quite the shaggy-haired, wannabe musician I remembered from all the summers I’d spent in North Harbor when I was growing up. He definitely wasn’t the same guy I’d French-kissed at fifteen.

  Then he smiled at me and I caught a glimpse of the boy I remembered. “Sarah, hi,” he said.

  I smiled back. “Hi, Nick,” I said, taking a couple of steps forward to meet him. “You got my message.”

  “You left me a message?” He frowned and felt in his pocket for his cell phone, setting down the boxy silver case he was carrying. I wondered what had happened to the black nylon backpack full of first-aid supplies that he’d used to carry everywhere.

  I looked at him uncertainly. “If you didn’t get my message, then what are you doing here?”

  He gestured over his shoulder at the car angled at the curb in front of my truck. “I’m here because Michelle called me.”

  From the time I was twelve years old until I was fifteen, Michelle Andrews had been my best friend in North Harbor. Each summer we’d just pick up again where we’d left off. Then right after my fifteenth birthday, all of a sudden, she stopped talking to me. I still didn’t know why. I’d known Michelle had become a police officer, but somehow it felt different to see her as a police officer.

  “Michelle?” I said stupidly, even though I could see her getting out of the driver’s side of the car. She was wearing gray pants, an emerald green shirt and a black leather jacket. Her red hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail.

  Nick nodded. “She caught the case.”

  I’d known things were going to get complicated—just not this complicated. I’d realized that as soon as the first police officer saw the body, with its blue lips and blood-specked froth at the corner of the mouth, he’d call for a detective.

  I had no idea how Arthur Fenety had died, but I was certain it wasn’t from natural causes.

  Chapter 4

  I stared at Nick for a long moment—which wasn’t hard to do. “I don’t understand,” I said. “Michelle called you? Why?” I gave him a small smile to soften the words. “No offense.”

  He smoothed a hand over the back of his head and gave me a wry smile. “You haven’t heard.”

  I had no idea what he meant. “I guess not,” I said.

  “I’m working for the medical examiner.” He half turned and I saw the words State Medical Examiner’s Office on the back of his jacket.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Doing what?”

  Nick shrugged. “Death investigator.”

  “I thought you were taking a job teaching EMT classes in Standish.” For the past four-plus months I’d spent all my time either working at Second Chance or working on my house, so I was a little out of the loop as far as what was going on around North Harbor, but I hadn’t thought I was that out of it.

  He glanced over at my truck and then his gaze came back to me. “I turned it down,” he said quietly.

  Nick had a degree in biology and I knew that for a while he’d thought about going to med school. He’d worked as an EMT to put himself through college. I was about to ask him why the change in plans when Michelle joined us.

  “Hello, Sarah,” she said. Her smile was cool and professional.

  “Hi,” I said. It was the first time I’d seen Michelle face-to-face since I’d come home to North Harbor and I suddenly realized that she had to have been avoiding me for the past six months. Outside of tourist season the town was just too small not to bump into pretty much everyone.

  An awkward silence hung between us for a moment. At least it felt awkward to me.

  Michelle looked at Nick. “I know it’s not part of your job description, but before you look at the body would you mind checking on Mrs. Hamilton?” she asked. “See if she needs to go to the hospital?”

  “Of course.” He looked at me then. He didn’t smile exactly, but the warmth in his eyes was hard to miss. “Good to see you, Sarah,” he said, reaching down to pick up his case.

  I nodded. “You too, Nick.”

  He headed across the grass, and Michelle waited until he reached the curb before she turned her attention back to me. “How have you been?” she asked. Her tone was polite, almost formal.

  For a moment I thought about waving a hand in front of her face and reminding her that it was me, reminding her about the time Gram had taken us to Portland overnight and we’d snuck out to buy padded bras to enhance our boyish fourteen-year-old, pretty much nonexistent figures. Gram hadn’t been fooled by the old pillows-under-the-blankets trick. And I don’t think she’d really bought our story that Michelle had “forgotten” to pack any clean underwear, either. But then Michelle had pulled a pair of white cotton underpants—granny panties, really—out of her hot pink faux-fur-trimmed bag. Our alibi, she’d called the underwear when she’d dragged me into a dollar store to buy it on the way back to the hotel.

  But I didn’t. We’d already had a very melodramatic version of that conversation years ago and it hadn’t changed anything. So all I said was, “Things are going well.”

  She gave a slight nod and took a small notebook and a pen out of the pocket of her jacket. “What were you and Mrs. Elliot doing here?” she said.

  I told her about the workshop, how Maddie hadn’t shown up and Charlotte and I had decided to check on her. I explained how we’d found Maddie and how I’d sent her with Charlotte to wait in the truck while I called 911.

  Michelle nodded silently and made notes. “Did you see anyone else?” she asked, when I stopped talking.

  I shook my head.

  “Did Mrs. Hamilton say anything?”

  “No. Just that Arthur Fenety was dead. I could see that she was right, but I checked for a pulse just to be sure.”

  She frowned. “Did you know him?”

  “He came into the shop a couple of days ago. I bought a silver tea set from him. The next day he changed his mind and wanted to buy it back.”

  “I’ll send somebody over to get that.” She looked over my shoulder toward the backyard and then her gaze settled on my face again. “Is there anything else?”r />
  “I don’t think so,” I said, absently rubbing my hands together.

  Her expression softened a little. “I, uh, heard about your radio show,” she said. “I’m sorry. I used to listen to it.”

  For a moment I could see a glimpse of the fifteen-year-old who used to be my best friend. I gave her a wry smile. “Thank you. According the new station owner most of my listeners were over-the-hill hippies who wore Birkenstocks and ate tofu.”

  Michelle glanced down at her stylish black boots, then back at me. “Well, I do like the orange-ginger tofu stir-fry at McNamara’s,” she said, and a hint of a smile flashed across her face.

  I didn’t talk much about my former late-night syndicated radio show. When the radio station had changed hands I’d been replaced by a music feed from California and a nineteen-year-old with a tan and ombré hair who gave the temperature every hour. Or, as my brother Liam derisively called it, Malibu Ken and a computer.

  There was an awkward silence, and then Michelle fished in her pocket and held out a business card. “If you think of anything else, please call me.”

  “I will,” I said, taking the little card stock rectangle without even looking at it. I glanced toward the truck. “What about Charlotte and Maddie?”

  “They can go, as well,” she said. She turned toward the back of the house.

  “It was good to see you, Michelle,” I said.

  She stopped and looked back at me over her shoulder. “Yeah, it was good to see you, too.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked across the front lawn to my truck. Nick was standing by the curb, talking to his mother. Maddie was in the cab of the truck, talking to Elvis and stroking his ebony fur. Her color was better. Elvis was giving her his full attention and, knowing the cat, probably making little murps of acknowledgment from time to time. I figured that whomever the cat used to belong to had talked to him a lot. Somewhere Elvis had learned the art of listening, cocking his head to one side, focusing his green eyes on the speaker’s face and making encouraging sounds to keep the conversation going.