The Cats that Stopped the Magic (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 9)

by Karen Anne Golden

  Katherine explained, “I wasn’t really upset. I did get a little excited when I discovered Abra’s former owner was being charged with insurance fraud. I mentioned his name several times. Abra didn’t seem to react, but I had my back to her.”

  Jake added, “While I was holding her, she appeared to be listening to every word Katz said. It was almost like she remembered something bad that happened to her in the past—”

  “When she was in this person’s care,” Katherine finished. “That’s when she passed out.”

  Dr. Sonny shook his head. “I don’t believe a cat’s memory is sophisticated enough to recall past events. Don’t get me wrong. Abra is very smart. I’d say that if there was an IQ test for felines, she’d score very high. But, for her to recognize a name and associate that name with a past event, I don’t think that’s possible. Clearly, I haven’t read any studies on this. But, Katz and Jake, there’s a tendency to attribute human traits, emotions or intentions to animals. Let see . . . if I remember the word for it,” he said, thinking. “Oh, yes, anthropomorphism.”

  Jake replied. “In other words, humanizing animal behavior.”

  Dr. Sonny nodded.

  Katherine petted Abra on the head. “Okay, I got that, but can we conduct an experiment?”

  “What kind of experiment?” the vet asked.

  “I’ll say the previous owner’s name, and we’ll observe Abra’s reaction.”

  Jake touched Katherine on the shoulder. “Do you really think this is a good idea? What if she faints again?”

  “Jake, you know I wouldn’t do anything to harm one of our precious cats, but I want to rule out Abra having epilepsy.”

  “I’m not so sure about the scientific authenticity of this experiment,” Dr. Sonny began. “I’m banking that Abra has already sensed your emotion.”

  “I promise to remain calm,” Katherine said, taking a deep breath.

  “Go for it,” Jake said.

  Katherine picked up Abra and set her down in the middle of the table. Abra stretched up to full height, and sat back on her haunches.

  “Abra, Magic Harry! Harry DeSutter!” Katherine said.

  Recognizing the name, Abra flattened her ears against her head, bared her fangs, and cried a deep, throaty growl.

  Jake spoke up, “Well, Doc, I guess you can rule out seizures.”

  Katherine spoke to Abra in a soothing voice. “Sweet girl, I’m so sorry I had to do that.”

  The Siamese moved to Katherine and leaned against her. She began to purr.

  “That’s one for the veterinary quarterly journal,” Dr. Sonny remarked.

  Katherine said, “Can we take her home now?”

  The vet shook his head. “I’d like to keep her here for observation. I’ll give her the fluids she needs. We close at six. You can pick her up then.”

  Jake put his arm around Katherine. “I think it’s for the best.”

  Katherine answered in a low voice. “Scout’s not going to be happy when we don’t bring her sister home.”

  “She’s in safe hands,” Dr. Sonny assured. He wrapped the Siamese in the baby blanket, like a feline burrito, and carried her out of the room.

  “That’s our cue to leave,” Jake said. He took Katherine by the arm and led her out of the clinic. They didn’t speak until Jake drove his Jeep out of the parking lot.

  “Katz, let’s not mention Magic Harry’s name again.”

  “Trust me. I won’t ever,” she said with emphasis.

  “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop at the diner for breakfast?”

  “Is it okay if we just go home?”

  “Yes, of course, Sweet Pea. So far, today has been a bummed-out kind of day,” he said.

  “I don’t agree with Dr. Sonny’s comment that cats are not sophisticated enough to recall past events.”

  “I don’t, either.”

  “Remember when Scout and Abra were reunited?”

  “Yeah, in your hotel room in Chicago.”

  “When we put them together, they remembered each other. If they’d forgotten, there would have been a whole lot of hissing going on.”

  “Oh, I remember,” Jake agreed. “They instantly recognized each other.”

  “Geez, if they didn’t, Scout wouldn’t have started grooming Abra’s head.”

  They rode for several miles in silence, then Katherine said in a soft voice, “I wish we were back in the pink mansion.”

  “That’s not possible. The attic renovation isn’t finished yet,” Jake said, turning on to Alexander Street, and heading to the guest house.

  “I think our moving around from house-to-house has upset our cats. Do you think Abra is more stressed than the other cats?”

  Jake shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She’s always been hyperactive. However, I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I never want to see her faint again,” Jake answered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jake drove the Jeep in front of the guest house, braked, and complained, “Who’s parked in my spot?”

  “Looks like a new Lincoln SUV,” Katherine admired.

  “Katz, are you expecting anyone this morning?”

  Katherine shook her head. “No, not that I know of. Just pull into the lane by the side of the house and park behind my Subaru.”

  Jake turned into the gravel drive, stopped, and switched the engine off. He wore an annoyed look on his face.

  Katherine knew how much her husband coveted his parking space. She reassured, “It’s probably somebody visiting one of our neighbors. They’ll be gone soon, then you can re-park your Jeep.”

  Jake answered, getting out. “The street is empty. There are plenty of places to park.”

  A tall man with a military-style haircut climbed out of the Lincoln and stood by his SUV.

  When Jake walked around the Jeep to open Katherine’s door, the man approached and greeted, “Hello.”

  Jake asked, “May I help you?”

  Katherine slid off her seat and stood next to Jake.

  “My name is Sheldon Maddock. I’m a private investigator. Are you Katherine Kendall?” he asked, looking at Katherine.

  “Cokenberger,” Jake corrected. “Katherine is my wife. What’s this all about?”

  Katherine asked, “May I see your badge?”

  “Actually, Ma’am, I don’t carry a badge. I’m not affiliated with the police, but I do have identification.” He reached into his front breast pocket and removed a leather identification holder. He extracted his driver’s and PI licenses, and handed them to Katherine.

  Katherine studied them, handed them back, and asked, “Why would a PI from New York be interested in us?”

  “Actually, Ma’am, it’s you I need to speak to.”

  “Okay, but not here in the driveway. Would you like to come up to my porch, and the three of us can talk there? For Indiana, it’s unseasonably warm outside today. It will be nice to sit out in the fresh air,” she said, not wanting to invite the stranger into her house.

  “Yes, that would be fine. I’ll follow you.”

  “We’ll follow you,” Jake said. He nodded toward the porch. “After you.”

  The PI walked up the front steps. “Where do you want me to sit?”

  Katherine pointed, “How about that wicker chair in front of the window?”

  The PI sat down.

  Katherine and Jake sat down on the porch swing.

  Katherine jumped right in. “What’s this about?”

  The PI replaced his IDs in his pocket. He pulled out a photograph of a woman holding a Siamese. He passed it to Katherine. “Do you recognize this cat?”

  Katherine thought, Why does this man have a picture of Abra, then said, not answering the question, “I don’t recognize the woman, but the Siamese is gorgeous.” She handed the photo back to him.

  “My client is the husband of the woman in the photograph. Her name was Olivia Lincoln.”

  “Was? Is she deceased?” J
ake asked.

  The PI nodded. “She passed away in 2010. My client is her husband, Roland Lincoln, formerly of Oyster Bay, Long Island, New York.”

  “Formerly?” Jake inquired.

  “He lives in France now.”

  Katherine asked, “What does this have to do with us?”

  “In 2009, Mr. Lincoln bought the Siamese, pictured in the photo, as a gift for his wife. Unknown to Roland, he bought a stolen cat from a New York City cattery. He paid a great deal of money—”

  “Get to the point,” Jake interrupted. “Like my wife asked, what does that have to do with us?”

  Surprised by Jake’s abruptness, which wasn’t characteristic of him, Katherine reached over and squeezed his hand. “Let’s hear him out, okay?”

  Jake shifted on the swing. “Go on,” he said to the PI.

  “The Siamese, named Duchess, lived in Roland’s household until 2013. In May of that year, Roland’s wife’s nurse, Julia Jackson, suffered a fatal heart attack,” the PI paused, then backtracked. “After Mr. Lincoln’s wife died, Roland traveled abroad. He allowed the nurse to continue living in the guest’s quarters of his house, as long as she took care of his wife’s beloved cat.”

  “That was very generous of him,” Katherine commented, thinking about how she inherited her money by taking care of her great-aunt’s cat. “What happened to the Siamese when the nurse died?”

  “The cat disappeared. Roland never saw Duchess again.”

  “How did she disappear?” Katherine asked curiously.

  “When the ambulance arrived to assist Ms. Jackson, one of my client’s staff left the front door open. The Siamese ran out of the house.”

  “Aw, the poor cat,” Katherine said.

  “Recently, Roland learned Duchess had been found shortly after she escaped, and taken to a Long Island animal shelter.”

  “An animal shelter? What happened to the cat?” Katherine’s brows furrowed into an uneasy expression.

  “Bear with me, I’ll get to that part.”

  Katherine assumed her best poker face. She didn’t want the PI to know that she was aware that in late May of 2013, Abra was taken to a Long Island animal shelter. She wondered if Duchess, the cat in the picture, was indeed Abra. She asked, “Why wasn’t the Siamese taken back to your client’s house?”

  “You must understand, Ms. Jackson was the cat’s caretaker. When she died, no one in the household staff thought to look for the cat. Roland was overseas, so obviously he couldn’t.”

  Jake fidgeted impatiently on the swing. Katherine squeezed his arm.

  “Ms. Jackson filed a letter with her attorney to give to Roland in the event she died before he did,” the PI explained. “In the letter, she wrote that Roland had unwittingly purchased a stolen cat from a Manhattan cattery by the name of Specialty Top Cats. She said the cat’s real name was Abra and that she belonged to Harry DeSutter, also known as Magic Harry the Magician.”

  Katherine’s eyes grew big with astonishment. She didn’t want to tell the PI that Abra was now living with Jake and her. She saw movement in the window. Scout sat inside on the windowsill, and was drumming her paws on the glass directly behind the PI’s head. Katherine mouthed the words, “Get down,” and in a rare instance of Scout doing what her human asked, the Siamese jumped down.

  The PI was unaware of the cat behind him, and continued, “Ms. Jackson claimed that her ex-husband, Roy Jackson, planned the theft of the cat to pay off money he owed to a loan shark.”

  “Who was Roy Jackson?” Katherine asked.

  “For a number of years, he worked for Harry DeSutter. He was an animal trainer.”

  “What does Roy Jackson have to say about this?” Jake asked.

  “I’m sorry to say, Mr. Jackson was murdered in 2014.”

  “Wow, that’s terrible,” Katherine said.

  “I was able to track down the magician. He’s retired and lives in Boston now,” the PI stated, then accused, “When I contacted him, he said that in June of 2013, you, Katherine, took Abra without his permission.”

  “No way,” Katherine said, shocked.

  “That’s a lie,” Jake said angrily. “My wife and I went to Chicago to see Abra perform—”

  “And, why was that?” the PI asked.

  “Because Abra is the littermate of a Siamese my wife and I currently have.”

  Katherine added, “To make a long story short, in 2009, Harry DeSutter’s niece, Monica, gave me Abra’s sister, Cadabra. In the summer of 2013, months after I’d moved from Manhattan to Erie, Monica called and said Abra had been returned to her uncle and would be performing in Magic Harry’s show in Chicago. She said her uncle wanted me to see the show, and presumed I wouldn’t be coming alone, so he’d leave a couple of tickets at the front desk, plus backstage passes so we could meet him and my cat’s sister.”

  Katherine wanted to add that she’d just started dating Jake and it was their first road trip together. Jake had helped her bring Cadabra, AKA Scout, to Chicago with them. The plan was to meet Harry and ask if she could take Abra to her hotel room to see Cadabra, then later return the Siamese to Harry. She sensed the PI would think that was a ridiculous idea and only a crazy cat lady would have thought of it.

  “So, let me get this straight, you went to the show in Chicago to meet Abra because you had her littermate?” the PI asked dubiously.

  “Obviously you’re not a cat person,” Jake defended.

  “Yes, exactly,” Katherine said. “We wanted to see Abra perform in Harry’s magic show.”

  “Then you used your backstage pass and stole the cat?”

  “Absolutely not,” Jake said indignantly. “Katz and I went backstage because Harry was furious at Abra.”

  “Why was he mad at the cat?”

  “Because Abra didn’t do what she was trained to do.”

  “What was she supposed to do?”

  Katherine explained, “When Abra was performing on stage, she was distracted by a loud cell phone in the audience.”

  Jake interjected. “She leaped off the stage into the audience, and jumped from row-to-row until she found the person with the cell phone. Then she yanked the phone out of the user’s hand, clutched it in her jaw, then returned to the stage, dropping it in front of Harry.”

  The PI smirked.

  Katherine continued. “Abra’s ab lib infuriated Harry, but the audience went nuts over it. One woman sitting next to us said it was the best part of the show.”

  “I’ve never heard this story before,” the PI said. “What happened next?”

  “Jake and I went backstage—”

  “Why did you do that?” the PI cut her off. “Was the show over?”

  “No, it wasn’t over,” Katherine answered. “When Abra dropped the phone at Harry’s feet, he reached down and roughly picked her up. We didn’t like the way he did that. We thought he was going to hurt her, so we used our passes to check on Abra backstage to make sure she was okay.”

  “Harry DeSutter told my client that you came backstage deliberately to steal the cat. I’d like to hear your side of the story.”

  “I can tell you exactly what happened,” Katherine said. “When Jake and I went back there, a stagehand was holding an empty cat carrier. He set it on the floor. Harry was holding Abra, and from the looks of his red, contorted face, it looked like he was going to kill her.”

  “Why would he kill the star of his show?” the PI asked.

  Katherine put her hands up. “I don’t have a clue. When Harry threw Abra in the carrier, I told him I didn’t like the way he did that, and he started yelling at me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He asked if I was the woman who had Abra’s sister, Cadabra, and I said yes. He then said forcefully, ‘Just take her.’ Something like that. And, that’s what Jake and I did. We rescued our darling Siamese from that jerk.”

  “Listen, folks, Harry DeSutter is not my client. Roland Lincoln is. What you’ve said is news to me. I’ll definitely share it w
ith Roland.”

  Katherine said, “Mr. Maddock, I am not in the habit of stealing cats. There was a witness backstage — Harry’s manager — who can verify that Harry DeSutter told my husband and me to remove Abra from the premises. Jake and I felt that if we didn’t do so, Harry was going to physically harm her, so the rest is history — we saved her.”

  “So, getting back to the photo I showed you. Now, do you recognize the cat?” He passed the photo back to Katherine.

  Katherine glanced at the photo, then returned it to the PI. “The cat looks identical to Abra.”

  “My client wants justice.”

  “Justice, how?” she asked.

  “When Roland read Julia Jackson’s letter, he flew back to Oyster Bay, and went directly to the police station. He showed the police Ms. Jackson’s letter, as well as written evidence that in 2009, he’d purchased a Siamese from a cattery in Manhattan. He paid thirty-thousand dollars for the cat. He showed the police a copy of the wire transfer his bank made to the cattery. He stated that the true owner of the Siamese was the magician, Harry DeSutter. I don’t want to bore you with what happened next.”

  “No, please, continue,” Katherine prodded.

  “The police notified the NYPD in Manhattan. Detectives investigated the pet store and found other stolen pedigreed cats for sale.”

  “What happened to those cats?” Jake asked.

  “They were returned to their owners.”

  “What about the other cats? The ones not stolen?” Katherine asked.

  “They were taken to a legitimate cattery. Specialty Top Cats was shut down.”

  “What happened to the owner?” Jake asked.

  “She went to prison for a while. She’s out now, but banned from ever running a cattery again.”

  “Good,” Katherine commented. “I bought one of my Siamese from a cattery in Manhattan, but fortunately it wasn’t this pet store.”

  “Did Roland contact Harry and tell him he’d bought Abra?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, he’s spoke to the magician. It was during this call that Roland learned Duchess, also-known-as Abra, was still alive. For years, Roland didn’t know the fate of his cat.”