by Sofie Kelly
I slid behind the wheel and started the truck. I felt unsettled. I was acutely aware of the promise I’d made to Rebecca. Both cats were watching me, I realized, two sets of eyes locked unblinkingly on me. “I know,” I said. “I’m just not sure where to start.”
I decided to stop at Eric’s on the way home on the theory that if chocolate didn’t help, it wouldn’t hurt, either.
I found a parking spot just up the street from the café, behind an unfamiliar older Subaru.
“I won’t be long,” I said.
Owen looked at me and licked his whiskers. Translation: “I want whatever you’re having.”
The restaurant was busier than usual for a Wednesday night. I ordered a hot chocolate and Eric’s chocolate pudding cake to go.
Nic raised an eyebrow. “Long day?” he asked. Nicolas Sutton was built like a hockey goalie, with a shaved head and smooth, dark skin. In reality he was a found-metal-and-paper artist who created incredible artwork. His latest piece was an eight-foot-long sturgeon made entirely from garbage found in the river.
“Kind of,” I said. “How’s the fish coming?”
He grinned as he reached for a take-out container. “Good. The only thing is I’m probably going to have more stuff than I can use and I hate the fact that all of it came from the water. What the heck are people thinking? Do they actually think when they throw something in the river that it’s really gone?”
Before I could answer, Nic threw up his hands. “Sorry, Kathleen. I’m getting preachy again. I’ll be right back with your order.”
He was back in less than a minute with my food. He gestured to the domed cover of my hot chocolate. “I stuck a couple of marshmallows on top,” he said. “They’re like chocolate. They’ll fix pretty much anything.”
I thanked him and paid for my order. As I was approaching the door, I glanced out the big front window and to my surprise saw the bearded man I’d seen arguing with Emme Finley in the library parking lot hurrying up the street. He was wearing the same faded black ball cap. Could he be her mysterious ex? I couldn’t see his forehead to tell if he had the scar that Ruby had mentioned Derrick Clifton had.
I hurried to get outside, but as I stepped onto the sidewalk I could see that the man was already at his car—the Subaru that was parked ahead of my truck. He slammed the lid of the trunk, used his hip to close the rear driver’s-side door and then slid behind the wheel. At the same time I saw Hercules standing on his back legs, looking out the passenger window, seeming to watch the man as well, as though he’d recognized him from my description—which I knew was impossible.
The cat turned and put one paw on the dashboard, and a feeling of dread washed over me. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered.
Hercules jumped onto the dash and walked through the windshield.
I called to him as I half ran, half walked up the sidewalk, but he ignored me. He walked down the hood of the truck and paused at the end, just above the grill, as if he was judging the distance. He glanced back over his shoulder, and then he launched himself across the space between the two vehicles and through the back window of the car just as the driver pulled away from the curb, clearly unaware that he had a stowaway.
I awkwardly ran the last few steps to the truck, slopping hot chocolate on my hand. I climbed in, jamming the take-out cup into the cup holder and wiping my hand on my shorts.
Owen looked at me as I dropped the container of chocolate pudding cake on the seat. “I’m going to buy those harnesses Roma has been talking about,” I said. Roma had been after me to restrain Owen and Hercules for safety reasons when they were in the truck. Owen suddenly noticed something on the passenger floor mat that needed all his attention.
The Subaru was heading down the street. I yanked on my seat belt and pulled away from the curb. “We’ll follow the guy at a distance, and when he stops again and gets out of the car we’ll get your brother,” I said to Owen.
The cat made a murp of what sounded like skepticism to me.
I looked over at him. “Do you have a better plan?” I asked.
He ducked his head and suddenly became very engrossed in the floor mat again. I gestured at the street ahead of us. “Whoever that is, he’s not a bad guy. He has a Save the Bees sticker on his bumper. A violent person wouldn’t be an environmentalist, would they?” I had a feeling Marcus wouldn’t think much of my logic.
I glanced at my gas gauge. I really hoped the Subaru driver’s next stop was somewhere closer than Minneapolis.
Luckily for me it was. After what were probably a couple of wrong turns the Subaru turned in at the marina. The driver parked on the far side of the building. I pulled in four spaces beyond him, hoping he hadn’t paid much attention to my truck outside of Eric’s.
“Mrr?” Owen asked. He had turned his head to look at me.
“We wait until he heads inside or wherever he’s going, and then I’ll go get your brother.” And hope no one we know happens to walk by, I added silently.
From the corner of my eye I saw the driver slide out from behind the wheel of his car. Wherever Hercules had hidden himself, the man appeared not to have seen him. I sent Maggie a quick text telling her what was going on and giving her the license plate number of the car, just in case. I waited until the door to the building closed behind him, then I got out of the truck, trying not to think about how crazy this was. I went over to the car and peered through the side window. I couldn’t see any sign of a small black-and-white cat.
I looked around. There was no one else around. “Hercules,” I said sharply. “Get out here right now.” I didn’t see so much as a flick of a tail or a twitch of an ear.
I wrapped both arms up over my head and closed my eyes for a moment in frustration. This was bad. Very, very bad.
Then from behind me a gravelly male voice said, “Hey, what are you doing?” And I realized I’d been wrong before: This was bad.
chapter 8
I straightened up and turned around. The Subaru driver was holding a large brown envelope in one hand and his car keys in the other. He looked annoyed. I couldn’t blame him for that. He was an inch or two under six feet, with salt-and-pepper hair poking out from under his ball cap, and a wiry build. I couldn’t see any sign of a scar on his forehead. This was not Derrick Clifton.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But my cat’s in your car.” I didn’t see any point in making up some elaborate story. My mother likes to say, “Tell the truth. It’s a lot easier to remember.”
The man frowned at me and his gaze darted to the car for a moment. “I didn’t see any cat in my car.” He looked skeptical.
How was I going to explain this? I had a feeling he wouldn’t buy it if I told him Hercules had walked through the back window for some reason only the little cat knew.
“You were just parked downtown on Main Street,” I said.
He nodded slowly.
“I don’t know whether you spend much time online, but there’s an ad campaign for the town—‘The Cat’s out of the Bag.’”
He gestured at his car. “Hang on a sec. You’re saying one of those cats is in my car?”
I brushed my hair back off my face. “Hercules. Yes.” I leaned sideways and pointed at the truck. “Owen, the other one, is in my truck.” The little tabby’s front paws were on the passenger door, and he was watching out the side window.
The man half turned to take a look at the truck. When he turned back to me he looked a little less annoyed. “Really, I don’t think your cat’s in my car. I would have noticed it.”
I swiped a hand over my neck. A certain black-and-white feline was going to lose his sardine-cracker privileges when I finally got hold of him. I shot a glance at the car again. Where the heck was he hiding?
“Hercules is, well, pretty sneaky,” I said. “We’d actually been at a photo shoot and I stopped at Eric’s Place downtown. You were parked a
head of me. Hercules got out of the truck.” I held out both hands. “He’s fast when he wants to be.”
“I did leave the back door on the driver’s side open for a minute while I got something out of the trunk,” the man said.
I nodded. “That’s all it would take. Could I just check your backseat to put my mind at ease? Please?”
He studied me for a moment, and I tried to look normal and nonthreatening and not at all like the owner of a cat that could walk through the back windshield of someone’s car. “Oh, what the hell,” he muttered. He pointed the key fob at the car. It beeped several times and I heard the door unlock. The man moved around me and opened the back door on the driver’s side.
I leaned around the door and scanned the backseat. A black hard-shell guitar case leaned against the seat on the other side of the car. A furry nose and a pair of deep green eyes peered around the curve of the case.
I blew out a noisy breath, and my bangs, brushed to the side, lifted from my face. I leaned into the car. “Hercules, get over here right now,” I said.
He hesitated for a moment, his black-and-white face the picture of innocence. This was more the kind of thing Owen would pull.
“Now,” I said. Cat or not, the annoyance in my voice was pretty obvious. Hercules squeezed around the guitar case, jumped up to the backseat and walked across it to the open door, eyes downcast as though he were walking a tightrope and had to watch each step.
“There will be repercussions,” I whispered as I picked him up. I backed out of the car and turned to face its owner. “This is Hercules,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Merow,” the cat said.
The man actually smiled. “Hello, Hercules,” he said. He looked at me. “Is it okay to pet him?”
“Actually, no, it’s not,” I said. “Both cats were feral. They’re not good about being touched. I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ve done some work with a rescue group in Chicago. I know some cats don’t like to be handled by people they don’t know.” He shook his head again. “I can’t believe he got past me.”
“I think he might have been a ninja in one of his past nine lives,” I said lightly.
He smiled. “So how did you end up with a couple of feral cats, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind.” I gave Hercules a scratch behind his ear. He was still in the doghouse, so to speak, but I was glad to have him back. “It was when I first came to Mayville Heights. I was exploring this abandoned property. Hercules and Owen were just kittens. It’s probably where Hercules learned to be so stealthy.” I raised an eyebrow at the cat. He licked my chin in return. “When I started home they followed me. I really hadn’t been thinking about getting a cat, and suddenly I had two.”
I realized then that I hadn’t introduced myself. I held Hercules with one hand, wiped the other on my shorts and held it out. “I’m Kathleen Paulson.”
“Jack Spector,” the man said as he shook my hand. He frowned. “I think I saw you at the library.” His grip was strong without being crushing.
I nodded. “You probably did. I’m the head librarian.”
“It’s a beautiful building.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It was restored a couple of years ago for its centennial.” I glanced back at the guitar case in the backseat of his car. “Are you here for the music festival?”
“Kind of,” he said. “A friend of mine is taking part.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “At least she was.”
“Not Emme Finley?”
He nodded and the smile faded from his face.
“You must have known Miranda,” I said. “I’m sorry. What happened was horrible. I only met her a couple of times but I liked her.”
“Everyone did,” Jack said. “The word ‘nice’ is overused, but it applies . . . applied to Miranda.” He ran his fingers over his bearded chin. “I couldn’t believe it. I was sitting in with some buddies playing in a bar in St. Paul when I got a text with the news about Miranda. I left right away. I wanted to be here for Emme but she was already gone.”
“I’m sorry Emme felt she couldn’t stay,” I said. “She has a wonderful voice, and I hate to think that what happened to Miranda is going to stop her from going after her dreams.”
“Yeah, Miranda was kind of her biggest supporter. I don’t want her to give up but she might. I know she was having second thoughts even before Miranda died.” He gestured at the guitar in the backseat. “I’m actually part of her backup band.” He gave his head a shake. “Ironically, Emme and I had had an argument about going after your dreams in the parking lot at your library. I was in Minneapolis and I’d come to bring her some music.”
The argument I’d seen.
Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I hate the thought that she’s using what happened as an excuse because she’s scared, you know?”
I nodded. I did know. I glanced down at Hercules. His attention was fixed on Jack’s face. He seemed to be listening intently, and I had no doubt he was in fact following the conversation.
“She said that she was thinking about giving up the idea of going back to school. She thought maybe she should go back to cabaret work. It was what she knew and she was good at it.” A frown creased his forehead. “She said Miranda was trying to talk her out of it.”
“Wouldn’t that have been good for you?” I asked. “I mean, didn’t you lose your job when Emme decided she was going to study music?”
Jack raked a hand back over his hair. “Hell no,” he said. “It was the kick in the pants I needed.”
The confusion I felt must have shown on my face. “I’ve been writing songs for years,” he said. “I’m embarrassed to say how many because I haven’t done a damn thing with any of them. I don’t know if they’re any good or if they’re crap.” He shrugged. “When Emme decided to change her life I realized it was my chance to try to change mine. I showed her some of my stuff. She said some of it was good.” He laughed. “Some of it. She also told me I wasn’t too old and it wasn’t too late. And that’s what I told her. Emme inspired me to go after my dream. I didn’t want to see her bail on her own.”
There was no way this man had had anything to do with Miranda’s death, even without the alibi—the bar—that he’d mentioned. “You’re a good friend,” I said.
“I hope things work out for Emme,” he said.
“Me too.” Hercules shifted in my arms. He was getting restless. “Thanks for letting me retrieve Hercules,” I said. “I’m sorry he stowed away in your car.”
Jack grinned. “Best hitchhiker I ever picked up. He didn’t put his bare feet up on the dashboard or sing ‘Me and Bobby McGee’ around a mouthful of popcorn.”
I laughed. “It was good to meet you, Jack,” I said.
He nodded. “You too, Kathleen.”
I walked over to the truck, fished my keys out of my pocket and got in, setting Hercules down on the seat. He and Owen eyed each other for a long, silent moment. “You’re in big trouble, mister,” I said as I pulled out my phone to let Maggie know all was well.
Hercules craned his neck in the direction of Jack Spector’s car. The man was just pulling out of his parking spot, and he raised a hand in acknowledgment before he drove away. “Big trouble,” I repeated.
The cat looked over his shoulder at me and then turned and began to wash his face. It was clear he didn’t think he was in trouble—big or small—at all.
chapter 9
Marcus picked me up early the next morning. We were going out to Wisteria Hill to feed the cats. I leaned over to kiss him and then straightened up and fastened my seat belt.
“Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept well until a certain furball decided it was time to get up a good twenty minutes before my alarm was set to go off and poked me in the eye with a paw.”
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He laughed.
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t take Owen’s side.”
“He just wanted to have breakfast with you.”
“No, he wanted to have my breakfast instead of his own. I was at the table, I got up to get another cup of coffee and he jumped onto my chair.”
Marcus was still grinning. “In Owen’s defense, I’ve had your scrambled eggs. They’re very good.”
“I was having blueberry pancakes.”
“Even better!”
Exasperated, I shook my head at him.
“Why are we feeding the cats this morning?” he asked as he backed out of the driveway. “Not that I mind getting a chance to spend time with you.”
“Roma and Eddie have gone to get Sydney.”
Right before I’d moved to Mayville Heights, Roma had discovered that there was a feral cat colony on the old estate. She’d put together a group of volunteers to help her take care of them and over time had caught and neutered all of the cats and taken them back out to the old carriage house they considered home.
Roma had recruited me to join her helpers and then played matchmaker and paired me with Marcus.
He started up Mountain Road. “I can’t believe those two are actually getting married. I was starting to think it wouldn’t happen, especially after that whole thing with the band.”
That “whole thing with the band” was a very public marriage proposal Eddie had planned at a high school band concert with some help from Marcus and Brady Chapman. Instead of an engagement it had led to Roma ending their relationship because she believed Eddie would come to regret their age difference.
“I’m glad it worked out for them.”