Nozy Cat 1

by Lyn Key

  “No,” Mrs. Spangler replied. She didn’t elaborate any further.

  Peggy Sue cued Hope with a quick glance to steer the conversation elsewhere. They skipped any mention of Hugo’s possible illicit sideline venture as a blackmailer.

  “What did you talk about with Hugo?” Hope asked.

  “We covered casual stuff like the weather, his odd jobs, and my birdwatching,” Mrs. Spangler replied. “Hugo was a lot closer to his dad Mr. Spangler before the accident. After it, Hugo was never the same.”

  “In what way did Hugo change?” Hope asked.

  “He turned moodier and remoter,” Mrs. Spangler replied. “I thought he’d outgrow it, and he did a little, but he was never the same boy.”

  “We’re sorry for the personal loss of both men in your life,” Hope said. “That’s a tough road.”

  “Thank you for your kind thoughts,” Mrs. Spangler said.

  “Did Hugo and Dan McCabe have a long-standing feud?” Hope asked.

  “They’d never gotten along since they scrapped as kids on the school playground,” Mrs. Spangler replied.

  “Mr. Bushrod stopped them while arguing in the post office,” Hope said.

  “So I heard through the town grapevine,” Mrs. Spangler said.

  “The things got heated between them,” Hope said. “Maybe they didn’t get it all settled then and took it up later with the tragic results.”

  “Are you suggesting the McCabe boy killed my son?” Mrs. Spangler’s lips tensed. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Danny packs a violent temper, and he’s sneaky as a ferret robbing the chicken coop. He’s sure no friend of mine.”

  “Have you got any idea why Hugo stopped seeing Cammie Jenkins?” Hope asked.

  Mrs. Spangler shook her head to mean no. “I’ve always liked Cammie who never speaks ill of anybody. She sent me a sympathy card, and she didn’t have to think of me. I assume she won’t be attending Hugo’s funeral, which is fine by me. They were no longer a couple, after all.”

  “Did they ever mention any plans to get married or start a family?” Hope asked.

  Mrs. Spangler shrugged. “Who knows? Hugo and I never discussed the topic while I rarely ever ran into Cammie. Have you spoken to her recently?”

  “We’ve been out to her house and asked her our questions,” Hope replied.

  “I take it she was no more help to you than I’ve been,” Mrs. Spangler said.

  Hope moved on. “Does the name Sarah Caldwell mean anything to you?”

  Gazing at the purple martins’ house, Mrs. Spangler mulled it over. “I can’t say it does,” she replied. “I don’t know any Sarah. Who is she?”

  “She wandered into our bookshop,” Hope replied. “We discussed the murder, and she mentioned she knew Hugo, but she didn’t have the time to go more in depth.”

  “Isn’t that curious?” Mrs. Spangler said. “Maybe you can talk to Sarah Caldwell when she has more time to spend with you.”

  “We’ll be sure to get with her again since she’s staying in town for a couple of days,” Hope said.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Mrs. Spangler put on the first trace of a smile. “You’re like my ladies’ private detective agency, and I can’t beat that with a stick.”

  Chapter 15

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news to share with you,” Hope said. “I’ve postponed saying it for as long as I can.” Peggy Sue and Nozy Cat looked at Hope driving them after they left Mrs. Spangler’s cottage.

  What’s preying on your thoughts?

  “There’s a better than fair chance we’re going to lose the Brontë Bookshop,” Hope replied. She swallowed hard and tried to clear away the hard lump from her throat. “I haven’t said anything until now, but we’re operating on a wing and prayer this month.”

  Peggy Sue’s eyes enlarged while Nozy Cat’s small mouth flapped open, showing his little pink ribbon of a tongue. Nozy Cat recovered his composure first.

  Say it isn’t so, Hope. Say you’re just messing around with us.

  “I only wish I were, but we’ve been running in the red for most of the year,” Hope said. “During the Christmas season, we cleared enough to show a slight—I mean slight—profit, and I hoped we’d turned the corner, but we’re still hanging by a strand of yarn.”

  Then what’s to become of me? If you have no money coming into the household, it’s back to the animal rescue shelter.

  “That won’t ever happen despite my grumbling,” Hope replied as she petted Nozy Cat on the head to reassure him.

  At least that’s heartening to hear.

  “Our goal is to make the bookshop into a profitable enterprise,” Hope said. “I’ll admit it’s a tall order, but there must be a way for used bookshops to make a little money in the twenty-first century. Surely, they haven’t grown obsolete. Right, Nozy Cat?”

  Books will be read until the end of time.

  A tear dribbled down from Peggy Sue’s eye and over her cheek. “I love our bookshop, and I’ve poured so much of my heart and soul into it. Pardon me, but I’m going to have me a good, old-fashioned bawling cry.”

  “You know if you cry, then I’ll begin cascading tears,” Hope said.

  Nozy Cat held up his forepaw. Halt right there before the waterworks gush away, and I drown in your flood of tears.

  “Crying is a healthy release of negative emotions,” Hope said.

  Crying flummoxes a tomcat like me. We can use our expertise and figure out a solution to save the bookshop. The floor is open for taking suggestions.

  “Rob a bank since that’s where the money is,” Hope said.

  That’s a logical suggestion. Which of the banks operating in Sweet Springs holds the most dough for us to knock over?

  “Hope was being facetious,” Peggy Sue said. “You’re not serious about pulling a bank heist, are you, Hope?”

  “I was making a sarcastic joke,” Hope said. “Only the Wall Street bankers can steal people’s money and get away with doing it.”

  “Let’s not throw in the towel just yet,” Peggy Sue said. “Something good might break our way and pull us back from the brink of financial collapse.”

  “Stranger things have been known to happen,” Hope said.

  “Our rescuing the floundering bookshop will have to wait,” Peggy Sue said. “Right now, we have to clear up this murder mystery because we can’t sell any books from inside our prison cells.”

  “I like your new priorities,” Hope said. “Let’s start by recapping. Who are our three murder suspects?”

  “Dan McCabe and Hugo held their rowdy quarrel in the post office,” Peggy Sue replied. “We discovered how the scheming Dan also has a short fuse, so I’d say he should top our murder suspects list.”

  “We know Hugo’s out-of-town lover Sarah Caldwell suddenly showed up in Sweet Springs,” Hope said. “She must be livid over his never having gotten in touch with her or bothering to return any of her phone calls. I’d like to probe deeper into their relationship and learn Sarah’s alibi so we can see if it checks out.”

  “Last but not least, we know Cammie Jenkins has the jilted lover’s motive,” Peggy Sue said. “Maybe her claims she’d completely cut him out of her life aren’t true.”

  “Now it feels as if we’re better organized and making some progress,” Hope said with a decisive nod. “How might we go about putting Cammie under our magnifying lens? Nozy Cat, you’re in the spotlight.”

  I’m not a spotlight cat but more effective as a behind-the-scenes adviser feline.

  Hope’s ring tone piped up with Michael Bublé singing a jazz number, and she looked at her handbag, but the ring tone didn’t stop beckoning her.

  “Can you grab that for me?” she asked Peggy Sue. “I must be the only person left on the planet who can’t drive while I take a call on my smart phone.”

  “I’m still numb from hearing the jarring news the bookshop might soon fold,” Peggy Sue replied. “I don’t trust myself to speak to anybody without breaking down in tear-jerking sobs
and wretched snuffles.”

  That just leaves me the talking cat. Should I still handle it?

  “This I’ve got to see,” Hope replied. “Handle it.”

  As Nozy Cat rooted out Hope’s smart phone from her handbag by deftly using his nose, forepaws, and teeth, she traded flabbergasted glances with Peggy Sue. What came next? Nozy Cat crouched down on the tuffet mounted over the center console and swiped at the screen. He coughed a little and spoke into the mouthpiece.

  Meow, meow.

  “Say that again, please,” the man’s voice said.

  Meow, meow.

  “Huh? I beg your pardon. Is there a cat on the line with me?” the man asked.

  Oh sorry, my bad. I should be speaking English.

  “I wish to reach the person who is in charge of the household finances,” the man said.

  Why? Are you trying to sell me something I can’t live without?

  “It’s only the best product that’s ever been invented,” the man replied.

  Is it a self-cleaning litter box or an automated backscratcher?

  “Not exactly, but you’re going to love it just the same,” the man replied.

  “Just say no thanks and hang up,” Hope said.

  What excuse shall I use?

  “You can try the patience of the pope and Job put together,” Hope replied.

  Well, I’m patiently waiting here to get your advice on how I should deal with this phone call.

  Peggy Sue reached over to the smart phone and ended the impasse. “There you go,” she said. “I took care of it for you.”

  “See how easy doing that was?” Hope said.

  The next time I get a telemarketer I’ll know what I should do.

  “Meantime, since we’re out this way, let’s go ask Cammie our same set of questions,” Peggy Sue said. “We’ll listen to what she tells us and compare it to what we got on our first visit. If her two sets of answers are inconsistent, we’ll know she’s lying to us for some reason.”

  “She should be waking up right about now,” Hope said.

  ***

  Only Cammie Jenkins wasn’t at home. Her dove gray-shingled house across from the cemetery stood as empty as a drum. Hope parked beside Cammie’s driveway entrance.

  Here’s a nifty opportunity to paw through her stuff inside the house.

  “Where’s a lock pick when you need one around?” Peggy Sue asked, staring at Nozy Cat.

  You have to be putting me on. I’m no more a lock pick than I am a podiatrist or cryptologist.

  “Can’t you take advantage of your sharp claws and scale your way to the roof and then lower yourself down through the chimney top?” Peggy Sue asked. “You should be compact enough to smoosh through the flue with ease. You’re already black so the soot and char won’t be noticeable on your fur.”

  “It should be a can of sardines, as you like to say,” Hope said.

  What happens if I’m not compact enough, and I get wedged down inside the chimney as a cork stuck in a champagne bottle?

  “If chubby Saint Nick and the lopsided Grinch can squeeze their way down a chimney flue, I see no reason why you can’t ace it,” Peggy Sue said.

  Look again at me. Do I look anything like Saint Nick or even the Grinch?

  “The fire department with ladders and grappling hooks will sweep in and rescue you,” Peggy Sue said.

  They’ll catch me red-handed at trying to break in, and I’ll be sent up river. With all the clanging and banging the other inmates do on the steel bars, I’ll never get another decent nap.

  “Don’t get your whiskers in a snarl, Nozy Cat,” Peggy Sue said. “We’re just batting around some ideas.”

  Then we’ll have to go on batting them around.

  “It’s early so Cammie hasn’t gotten ready for work yet,” Hope said. “Where might she have gone if she’s running errands?”

  “Main Street offers the closest shops and stores,” Peggy Sue replied. “We’ll comb them while keeping our eyes peeled for any sight of her.”

  “The grocery market is the most likely place she went shopping,” Hope said.

  Michael Bublé started crooning his jazz number again.

  Do you want me to also grab this call for you?

  “Thanks, but I can take care of it this time since I’m not driving,” Hope replied.

  It was Shirley Spangler.

  “The lady’s first name you asked me about rings a bell now,” she said.

  “Sarah Caldwell?” Hope said.

  “She’s the one I mean.”

  “What about her name jostles your memory?”

  “One Wednesday shortly before Hugo died, he and I were speaking on the phone. He sounded happier than he had in a long time and felt like opening up a little. He was telling me about this fabulous weekend trip he took, and I just assumed Cammie went along with him because they’d been dating for I don’t know how long.

  “Then he mentioned a Sarah before he realized his gaffe and told me that he meant to say Cammie. He claimed Sarah was a young lady he’d recently done some carpentry work for, and she happened to be on his mind. Now, I’m his mother, and I could see through his deception to know he was telling me a falsehood. I should’ve called him on it. Anyway, what else do you know about this Sarah Caldwell? She must be who he meant.”

  “Sarah said Hugo and she recently traveled to Baltimore for spending a romantic weekend,” Hope replied. “Hugo never called her after they returned to their respective homes. Then learning about his murder while she was online upset Sarah enough to make the drive out to Sweet Springs to see in person what the real story is. She’s staying at the Bootleggers’ Lair.”

  “Tell Sarah the line forms to the rear,” Mrs. Spangler said. “We’d all like to learn more of the details surrounding Hugo’s murder. I’ve hardly slept a wink since Sergeant Trogg gave me the death notification. He’s about as subtle as a sledge hammer.”

  “I’m sorry he wasn’t more sensitive with you,” Hope said.

  “I’d say you should get with Sarah again,” Mrs. Spangler said. “Hugo might’ve told her about the personal stuff going on in his life, and she might have something worthwhile to share. Just grab her before she blows town, and we never see her again.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” Hope said. “I’ll get in touch with you later.”

  She’d no sooner hung up than she got another ring. This time her caller was Stacey from school.

  “Is it okay with you if I go out on a date with Rudy?” she asked.

  Hope felt the electric spark inside her chest make her pulse go wobbly for a few heartbeats. She recognized it as her maternal protectiveness coming to bear over Stacey’s first date.

  “You just sprang this question on me, Stace,” Hope replied. “Let’s slow down a little. First off, who is this Rudy? What do you know about him?”

  “He’s the boy who sits behind me in my third period English class.”

  “I see. Does Rudy the boy who sits behind you in your third period English class have a last name?”

  “Smith. He’s Rudy Smith. However, I don’t know his rank or serial number.”

  “Tread carefully there, Miss Smarty Pants.”

  “Sorry, Mom. Well, can I, huh?”

  “Mr. Rudy Smith is a stranger to me. You’ve never mentioned him in any of our conversations. All the sudden he wants to go out on a date with my little girl. Can you see why that might raise a red flag?”

  “What else can I tell you? He’s crazy awesome.”

  “Crazy awesome. Yeah, knowing that about him is helpful to a concerned mother. Is he your age?”

  “I’m three months older than Rudy is.” Stacey laughed. “That means I’m the older woman.”

  Hope looked at Peggy Sue who just smiled while she shrugged as if to indicate she was glad she wasn’t the mother of a lively teenage girl.

  “We already discussed this issue, and I made it a rule you can’t date any boys until you turn sixteen,” Ho
pe said. “Did I miss a birthday? The last time I checked you’re only fifteen, and I’d remember it since I brought you into the world, which is something I won’t easily forget. Trust me.”

  “You said I’m a mature fifteen, which is the equivalent to my being sixteen.”

  “You’re mistaken because I never said any such thing to you.”

  “Then maybe it was Nozy Cat who did. He said I’m wise beyond my years, and I have to agree with him.”

  “Is that so?” Hope glared down at Nozy Cat. “Since when did Nozy Cat start making the decisions that count at our house?”

  Stace asked me for my opinion, and I simply stated I thought she’s mature enough now to date boys. Every cat, like every person, is entitled to his opinion.

  “However, you’re still the family pet and not the parent.”

  I already know where I stand in the Joneses’ household pecking order but thanks for the reminder.

  “Mom, you have to say yes because I already told Rudy I’d go out with him.”

  “That’s too bad, Stace. You’ll have to tell Rudy Smith that your tyrant of a mother said you can’t go out on a date because you’re still too young. Tell him to come back in a year, and we’ll discuss it again. If he really likes you, he’ll find a way to wait that long.”

  “Aw, Mom…come on…just this one be reasonable with me, please.”

  “Stace is a sensible, smart young lady, Hope,” Peggy Sue said. “Let her go out with Rudy and enjoy herself, which is a good thing given all the tension and pressure we’ve been under lately.”

  For what it’s worth, I agree. Don’t be so uptight and loosen up a little.

  “I feel like I’m being ganged up on here,” Hope said. “When is this date supposed to take place?”

  “It’s tonight,” Stacey replied.

  “You didn’t waste any time. What are the details?”

  “We’re going to the early evening movie—it’s a PG romantic comedy—since it’s a school night. You have to drive us there and pick us up afterward. Ruby’s baby blue Mercedes is in the shop. Just kidding.”

  “So, I have to be your taxicab driver, too,” Hope said.

  “It’s the perfect way to keep a mother’s watchful eye on the kiddies,” Peggy Sue said in a confidential tone.