Depawsit Slip (Vanessa Abbot Cat Protection League Cozy Mystery Series Book 1)

by Nancy C. Davis

  Vanessa sighed. “And I hope you never went near Alfred Botchweather again after that.”

  Ollie nodded. “It took me over a year to pay that money back, but I got it done, and I learned the hard way about gambling with my children’s future. Nowadays, if I want to splash out, I take my kids to Disneyland. That’s expensive enough.”

  Vanessa laughed. “I guess everyone in this town has a horror story to tell about Alfred.”

  “What about you, Vanessa?” Ollie asked. “Did you have a motive to kill him?”

  “Why, Ollie!” she exclaimed. “I never said you had a motive to kill him.”

  “No, you didn’t say it,” he replied. “But you were thinking it. You wanted to know if I was up to my eyeballs with Alfred, and that’s why I killed him. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t. Now it’s your turn. What’s your Botchweather horror story?”

  “Me?” she asked. “I don’t have one. I stayed away from Alfred and his gambling den.”

  “You did,” Ollie countered, “but what about your son Tom?”

  “Tom?” she asked. “What about him?”

  “He went to school with Alfred,” Ollie pointed out. “Maybe he had a bad experience with Alfred that made you hate him.”

  “He did,” Vanessa replied.

  Ollie’s eyes flew open. “He did?”

  Vanessa nodded. “I don't like to admit it, but you're right. Tom wanted to borrow money to enter a project of his in some science competition. He asked me for the money, but I didn’t have it. I would have had to dip into the Cat Protection League bank account to come up with that kind of money. I said I’m sorry but you’ll just have to let this competition go. I never gave it another thought.”

  “So he went to Alfred,” Ollie added.

  Vanessa nodded again. “Then next thing I know, Tom is telling me he borrowed three thousand dollars from Alfred to pay the entrance fees and the shipping cost and everything else. Well, I hit the roof, I can tell you. I asked Tom where he planned to get the money to pay Alfred back.”

  “What did he say?” Ollie asked.

  “He just stared at me like I was speaking Chinese,” Vanessa replied. “He never even thought about how he was going to pay the money back. The next day, he went to talk to Alfred, and Alfred told him he was applying ten percent interest to the debt, compounded daily.”

  Ollie whistled and shook his head.

  “That’s nothing,” Vanessa went on. “Tom was in a panic. He didn’t know what to do. He got so anxious about it and he was afraid to go to school. A few days later, three huge beefcakes showed up on our doorstep asking for Tom. I asked what they wanted. Tom hid under his bed, and I was sweating bullets. I was so scared. They said they worked for Alfred, and they’d come to collect the money Tom owed him. They said if Alfred didn’t get his money, they would come back and break both Tom’s legs. They said they would keep coming back until they got the money.”

  “Did you go to the police?” Ollie asked.

  Vanessa’s head shot up. “Why do you ask that?”

  Ollie shrugged. “I’m just asking.”

  Vanessa wilted. “I know I should have. If I had, if anybody had gone to the police about Alfred’s dealings, they would have a record of it now. As it is, they have nothing. Alfred has no criminal record at all. He was a model citizen.”

  “So what happened in the end?” Ollie asked. “How did you get Alfred off your backs?”

  “I had no choice,” Vanessa replied. “I took the money out of the League bank account and paid him off. Then I packed Tom off to a boy’s school in Montreal, where he’d be good and safe from the likes of Alfred Botchweather.”

  “You must have been really upset about that,” Ollie remarked.

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes at him. “I was mad, all right, but I didn’t kill him. That was almost ten years ago. It took me almost five to pay the money back, but I did it, and now I’m all-square with the League. My conscience is clear. I’m angrier at myself for letting it happen. I should have made sure Tom knew better than to borrow money from Alfred.”

  Ollie nodded. “For what it’s worth, I believe you. I don’t suppose you told Detective Wheeler the same story, though.”

  Vanessa blushed and lowered her eyes. “No, I didn’t.”

  “So we’re all in the same boat,” he remarked. “It just makes you wonder what Walter and Penny have to hide.”

  The change in the conversation cheered Vanessa right up. “I can’t think of Penny having anything to do with Alfred.”

  “Maybe she didn’t,” Ollie replied. “Maybe it was someone else, kind of like your boy Tom.”

  Vanessa tilted her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you know?” he asked. “I thought everyone in Caspar Crossing knew, but then again, you don't get out much, Vanessa. Penny Cartwright was married. Sure, the marriage only lasted a year and a half before the fella ran off with somebody else. But Penny was married. Cartwright is her married name.”

  Vanessa frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

  Ollie smiled and shook his head. “Dear Vanessa, you’ll never make detective if you can’t put the pieces together. Cartwright is Penny’s married name. Her maiden name is Braithwaite.”

  Vanessa’s eyes popped out of her head. “Braithwaite? But that means.....”

  “That’s right,” Ollie replied. “Penny Braithwaite. Alan Braithwaite, the man who told me not to ask Alfred for an extension, is Penny’s brother. He could only know about Alfred’s business practices if he suffered from them in his own way. Maybe Penny was paying Alfred back for something he did to her brother.”

  “What could that be?” Vanessa asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ollie replied. “But one thing I do know. Alan Braithwaite walks with a limp. You could almost believe he broke his leg sometime in his life.”

  Chapter 6

  Mandy O’Leary, the vet, squatted in the corner of the Opportunity Shop. Latex gloves covered her hands, and her medical bag lay open at her side. Vanessa watched over her shoulder. Mandy rubbed a tabby kitten all over.

  “I don’t feel any broken bones,” she said. “She’s probably just very dehydrated.”

  “And traumatized,” Vanessa added.

  Mandy nodded. “And there’s no treatment I can give her that’s as good as your tender loving care, Vanessa.” She stood up and pulled off her gloves. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll leave her here.”

  “You know it’s all right with me,” Vanessa replied. “I’m always happy to take another cat, just as long as you’re certain no one else will claim her as her owner.”

  Mandy grimaced. “Not likely. You know that parking place along the highway is a notorious dumping ground for unwanted animals. I can’t tell you how many kittens, chickens and puppies I’ve found there. I even found a dead parrot there.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “I don’t understand people at all.”

  Mandy packed up her medical bag. “You understand them a lot better than most, I’d say. Anyway, she’s yours now. Do what you usually do with them, and she’ll be fine. You’re the best medicine she can get right now.”

  Vanessa nodded and showed Mandy out. Then she went back to the bundle of blankets in the corner. The kitten glared at her.

  “That’s okay,” Vanessa told her. “I know you’re upset right now, but you’ll settle in here and we’ll be best friends. You’ll see. If you don’t believe me, you can ask AngelPie, or Foxle. They went through the same thing when they were your age, and look at them now.”

  “I suppose you want to eat breakfast,” she muttered. “What would you like? Eggs on toast? What about oatmeal? No, I know. You’d like a nice big stack of blueberry pancakes. Well, I think we can fix you up.” She was joking of course.

  She bent down and took a can out of the cupboard. Flossy jumped up on the counter and meowed loudly.

  “This isn’t for you, Flossy,” Vanessa told her. “Don’t be a pig. You get your lunch w
ith the rest of the cats at eleven o’clock. This is for our new friend, so you keep your paws off of it. Now, what will we call you?”

  The kitten wrinkled her nose, but she never took her green eyes off Vanessa.

  “How about Galapagos?” Vanessa asked. “Or what about Galilee? No, that’s too serious. You want a happy name, something you can grow into. I’ve got it. How about Aurora? Yes, that’s perfect, I think. Aurora. It’s a little too grown-up for you right now, but that will change and you’ll be happy you don’t have a silly little name like Fluffy or Frisky.”

  She ambled over to the blankets and bent down. She extended her hand toward the kitten, but the little creature bared her fangs and hissed. She didn’t move any other part of her body. Vanessa pulled her hand back.

  “That’s all right,” she went on. “I understand how you feel. I won’t try again until you’re feeling better.”

  She went back to the counter and opened the can. She emptied it into a dish and poured some water into a separate bowl. She set them down in front of the kitten. Aurora hissed and spat again. Vanessa backed away.

  “I’ll just leave them there,” she told Aurora. “When you get hungry enough, I’ll move them close enough for you to reach. You won’t be able to get to them there. You’ll have to let me come close enough to feed you.”

  Aurora sniffed the food, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off Vanessa. Vanessa nodded and headed back toward the front counter. AngelPie observed the scene from her shelf.

  “Just leave her alone,” Vanessa told her. “She’ll come around pretty soon. Once she’s had something to eat and something to drink, she’ll be just fine.”

  As soon as Vanessa started to walk away, Henry jumped up from his romances and leapt down to the floor. He walked over to Aurora’s blanket bed. He sniffed the food, but didn’t touch it. Then, with great care, he coiled his speckled body around Aurora.

  The moment his body came in contact with her, her eyes narrowed and she started to purr. She nestled into Henry’s embrace, and the two settled down together in the nest of blankets. Vanessa smiled over her shoulder but pretended not to notice. She strolled down the aisle to the front of the Shop.

  To her surprise, she found someone waiting for her.

  “Hello, Walter. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Walter cocked his head to one side. “Who were you talking to back there, Vanessa?”

  Vanessa waved her hand. “Just the cats. You know how I am. I talk to the cats all the time.”

  Walter laughed. “Just as long as they don’t talk back, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Vanessa frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If you thought they talked back,” Walter explained, “you might need to have your head examined.”

  Vanessa turned away.

  “Oh, I understand. What can I do for you, Walter? I don’t suppose you’re here to talk about the Botchweather case.”

  Walter stiffened. “Why would I want to talk about that?”

  “Everyone else does.” Vanessa slipped behind the counter. “Everyone keeps coming in to talk to me about it.” She picked up a pile of receipts and started sorting them by date.

  “Well, I didn’t,” he told her. “I’ve got enough on my mind. Alfred deserved to die, and I’m glad to be rid of him. But I didn’t come here to talk to you about it.”

  “What did you come here for?” she asked.

  Walter glanced around. “I came here to find a cake dish. My sister is getting married, and I’m providing a cake for the bride’s lunch the day before.”

  Vanessa’s head spun around. “You what?”

  Walter laughed again. “You’re not getting deaf in your old age, are you, Vanessa? I said my sister is getting married and I’m providing a cake. I need a cake dish to serve it on.” He examined the glassware on the table. He smiled when he spotted Flossy in her usual place between the vases. “You and your cats, Vanessa.”

  “Don’t mind Flossy,” Vanessa replied. “She always keeps track of the glassware.”

  “I don’t mind.” He put out his hand to pet Flossy, but the cat flipped over, jumped to her feet, and hissed at him. She bared the claws of one front paw and caught Walter in the skin of his thumb. She yanked her paw back and ripped the skin open.

  Walter let out an ear-splitting yell and clutched his hand. “Hey!”

  Vanessa suppressed a smile. “Are you all right, Walter? Do you need a Band-Aid?”

  “I don’t need a Band-Aid,” he grumbled. “What do you keep an attack cat around for? How’s anybody supposed to buy anything in this shop with these crazy cats around?”

  Vanessa went over to the glassware and gathered Flossy into her arms. “She had never done that before. I don’t know what came over her. None of the cats ever attack anybody in the shop. They’re here to help and make people feel better.”

  “Help!” he screamed. “That’s a fine way to help.”

  “I told you, Walter,” she replied. “None of the cats ever attacked anyone before. I don’t know why Flossy attacked you now. Maybe she just doesn’t like you.”

  “Obviously,” he muttered.

  “Anyway, let me help you pick out your cake dish.” She set Flossy down on the front counter next to the cash register, well away from Walter. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  He shook his hand out and turned back to the glassware. “Well, I don’t know. I’m no good at all this wedding stuff. Every suggestion I make seems to make everybody mad.”

  Vanessa pricked up her ears. “You’re the bride’s brother. What are you doing making suggestions? You shouldn't even be involved.”

  “I’m not involved,” he insisted. “I’m just making suggestions. It seems like they’re going about this all the wrong way.”

  “You might think that,” Vanessa countered, “but it’s their wedding. How they do it is up to them.”

  “Them and their wedding planner,” he corrected. “Maybe they wouldn’t be doing half the stupid things they’re doing if it wasn’t for her.”

  Vanessa straightened up. “You wouldn’t be talking about Penny Cartwright, would you?”

  Walter threw up both hands. “I’m not naming any names. I’m just saying you can’t trust someone who doesn’t even know you to plan a wedding for you. She might come up with the most outrageous ideas you can imagine. She might plan a wedding that was completely unsuited to the couple involved.”

  “Or,” Vanessa suggested, “She might plan a wedding that is completely unsuited for the bride’s brother, but well suited to the couple involved. There’s a difference.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” he snapped. “All I said was it could happen.”

  Vanessa turned away. “I’m sure it happens all the time. What matters, though, is that you get a cake dish that suits the lunch you’re going to serve. Now, tell me. What sort of event is this bride’s lunch?”

  “It’s a picnic in the park,” he replied. “Everyone is going to be sitting on blankets under the trees and eating hotdogs and hamburgers on paper plates.”

  “Oh!” Vanessa exclaimed. “Then you don’t want a fancy glass cake stand. You want something sturdy and casual.”

  “No, no,” he returned. “I want something impressive. I want to show everyone what style really is.”

  “Walter,” Vanessa chided. “Come on. This is not about you impressing everybody. This lunch is a casual get-together in an outdoor setting. Stylish crystal has no place at this lunch. Come over here to the crockery, and we’ll pick out something better.”

  Walter frowned and dug in his heels. “No. I’m taking glass and that’s final. What about this one?” He picked up an elevated cake stand in cut lead crystal. “This is perfect. It will take everyone’s breath away.”

  Vanessa snorted. “It will topple over the very first time anyone breathes on it. Where are you going to put it—on the grass? Your cake is going to end up as worm food and no one will have a chance to be impresse
d by it. Here. Take a look at this.”

  She picked up a large blue platter from the crockery shelf. Buttercups and dandelions decorated the rim, and a dainty green and white spiral graced the center where the cake would sit.

  “This is what you want,” Vanessa told him. “This will never tip over. Feel how solid and durable it is. It’s big enough and rounded enough so your cake will be safe from any accident, and it’s beautiful. This is what you want to impress your guests.”

  Walter kept his eyes fixed on his lead crystal cake stand. “This is the one I want. How much is it?”

  Vanessa didn’t check the price tag. “Eighty dollars.”

  Walter didn’t flinch. “Good.” He set it down on the counter and fished his wallet out of his pocket.

  Vanessa put the platter away with a sniff and returned to the cash register. She searched under the counter for some paper and a bag to wrap the cake stand. But before she could find anything, Flossy jumped up onto the counter again and sent the cake stand crashing to the floor. It shattered into a million tiny shards of sparkling glass.

  Vanessa gasped. Walter yelled out, “Hey!”

  Vanessa stared at the confetti of glass on the floor. Then she smiled. “See what I mean? Now, how about that platter after all?”

  Walter narrowed his eyes at Flossy. “Don’t think I’m paying for that.”

  “Of course not,” Vanessa replied. “I saw the whole thing.” Vanessa tapped Flossy on the back, just next to her tail. “Bad girl, Flossy. You’re supposed to be helping in the shop, not destroying the merchandise.” Then she burst out laughing.

  “This isn’t funny,” Walter bellowed. “Now what am I going to put my cake on?”

  Vanessa stopped laughing. “If you really don’t want that platter, and if you really have to have a fancy cake stand, why don’t you drive into the city and get something at one of those expensive department stores? We’re a secondhand shop, not an events center.”