by Harper Lin
“I should hope so.” I slipped my arm through Bea’s and pulled her to my side. “This is about as affectionate as I’ll get in public. So, tell me, why did you ask if I saw Mrs. Kitt?”
“She was out in her yard last night. Peanut Butter was meowing at the window. I didn’t know what his problem was.” She gestured with her free hand. “I thought maybe there was a cricket or a moth on the window driving him nuts. So when I looked, I saw Mrs. Kitt standing outside.”
“What was she doing?”
“Staring at the house?” Bea looked at me.
“Whose house?”
“My house.” She frowned. “What do you think that is all about? She wasn’t acting crazy or anything.”
“No, she was just standing in her yard in the middle of the night, staring at your front door. That’s not acting crazy.”
“Oh, come on, Cath. Don’t freak me out. She’s been acting strange, and I’m worried about her. Like you said, she’s just a nice old widow. If she’s losing her marbles, we should help.”
I started to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Bea asked.
“You said ‘if she’s losing her marbles.’” I started to laugh harder. “That’s the kind of socially unacceptable thing I’d say.”
“You’re a bad influence, Cath Greenstone.”
“Me? I’m not the one suggesting she be sized for a straitjacket.” I laughed even harder.
“I didn’t say that. That’s not funny.” The fact that Bea was trying not to laugh made me laugh even harder. Sure, it was inappropriate and perhaps a smidge juvenile to talk this way, but I couldn’t help it. It made me feel like a kid when saying something we weren’t supposed to was so deliciously fun.
“Has your mom noticed anything about the house or Mrs. Kitt?” I asked once I regained my composure.
“I don’t know. But Mrs. Kitt isn’t herself.” Bea sighed.
“I concur.” I looked down at Treacle, who was glancing over his shoulder, back at the house.
“What’s the matter?” I asked Treacle without moving my lips.
“I think I hear something.”
“Why don’t you go explore and see if the babe couple’s cats have seen anything? Have you ever talked with them before?”
“No,” Treacle said, reminding me that they were indoor cats. “But I’ll go peek in the windows and see what I can. I’ll let you know.”
“Be careful, and make sure you are home before dark.” I got a hearty meow in return.
I turned back to Bea. “Treacle will do a little snooping for us.”
“Mom is going to wonder why we are so late,” Bea said. “We better hurry.”
“I’ll tell her it was your fault.” I let go of Bea’s arm so we could quicken our pace. “If you weren’t making fun of people with mental issues, we would have been there sooner.”
“Oh, just wait. Wait until Tom comes into the café. It will take you three days to recover from the embarrassment I’m going to cause.”
“Good luck getting him in the café. His mother isn’t going to let him anywhere near the place.”
I couldn’t help but think if anyone really did need to be fitted for a straitjacket, it was Patience. She was dangerous. I didn’t know how, and I certainly didn’t know why. But my gut said it. And Blake always told me to trust my gut.
7
Animal Rescue
The day went by without any real excitement until the noontime rush. Mrs. Kitt showed up again. I never wore stretch pants or yoga pants. To me, they were just a little too revealing, and I was already in my thirties. Mrs. Kitt was twice my age, and let me just say, I would be sticking to my initial opinion on stretch pants.
Even if Mrs. Kitt was working out and dieting like she said, she had a long way to go. This was not a good look for her. She looked cheap and beat-up, like she’d had a hard night on the corner in the red-light district.
“Hello, Bea,” she said as if she were about to pick a fight.
“Hi, Mrs. Kitt,” Bea said, attempting to touch the woman’s hand and get a reading from her. “How are you doing today?”
“I think you better just cut out the small talk,” Mrs. Kitt said.
I watched my aunt get up and slowly walk to Bea’s side. “Is there a problem, Dorothy?” Aunt Astrid asked.
“Yeah. There is a problem. That hussy of a daughter of yours. What does she think she’s doing looking out her window in the middle of the night, wearing a negligee?”
“Negligee? I was wearing Jake’s XXL Wonder Falls PD shirt.” She wrinkled her face. “And, Mrs. Kitt, what are you doing looking in my windows?”
Good point, I thought.
“Don’t think for a second I don’t know what you are up to. You aren’t half the woman you think you are. I’ll have that husband of yours, and I’ll have this café too. Just wait. And when I do, I’ll burn them both.”
“What?” Bea exploded. “What are you talking about?”
“Dorothy, something is obviously bothering you. Come with me.” My aunt tried to lead her to the back of the café, where she did her psychic readings, but Mrs. Kitt yanked her arm away.
“All right, folks,” I said to the gawkers sitting in their seats. “Don’t stare, now. This isn’t the Friday-night fights. Come on.”
But no one was going to look away when Mrs. Kitt was making a spectacle of herself and Bea.
“I’ll burn them both.” She looked Bea up and down, and all I could think of was Darla Castellano.
“Oh my gosh!” I gasped as soon as Mrs. Kitt left.
I hurried to Bea, who was near tears. She was the nicest one of all of us Greenstones. It was her gift that people talked to her, opened up to her. Rarely did she ever have anyone attack her personally like Mrs. Kitt just did. It obviously had her rattled.
“Go on in the back, Bea. I’ll handle things up here,” I said as I slipped behind the counter. “Okay, folks. The only thing more surprising at the Brew-Ha-Ha Café than the food is some of our customers. Okay, everyone, enjoy your food and coffee, and what can I get for you, sir?” I asked the next person in line.
Bea and her mom were in the back for a little over ten minutes. When she finally came back out, I could tell that Bea had been crying.
“It’s okay.” I rubbed her arm. “Mrs. Kitt’s obviously suffering from something. Maybe I’ll stop by her house and see if there is someone who I can get in touch with who can help her.”
“Why would she say those things about Jake and me?” Bea asked, looking embarrassed.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “But rest assured, you’ve had worse things said about you by better people than her.”
Bea started to chuckle and bumped me with her hip.
“Leave it to you, Cath.”
“I’m just putting things in perspective.” I pinched her behind.
“You did. You always know just what to say.”
The rest of the day went by without a hitch. There was no crazed Mrs. Kitt cruising the place, and I also didn’t hear any news about Tom. No news was good news.
“I’ll call Jake if you want me to and see if he’s heard anything,” Bea offered.
“No.” I focused on stuffing the napkin dispensers. “I’m sure if anything went south, he’d call. Besides, Tom needs to rest if he’s going to get out of there in another day or two.”
As the sun started to set, Treacle came in through the open back door. Kevin Baker often left it open when he had all three ovens going. Treacle would slink in and out as he pleased. But this time he was running and screaming my name.
“What? What’s the matter?” I asked as he hopped up on the counter to look directly at me.
“I went to the house on the other side of Mrs. Kitt’s place.”
“What happened?”
“The cats are starving. They said they haven’t been fed in a week. Maybe more.”
“Oh no!” I looked at Bea and Aunt Astrid. Quickly, I repeated what Treacle said and wen
t to the phone. “I’ll call Old Murray and tell him to meet us there.”
Old Murray Willis ran the animal rescue in town. He was a sweet old fellow who had brought Treacle and me together when Treacle was a kitten barely able to see straight. There were many times I’d stop by the shelter with extra dog and cat food if I saw it on sale, and they were always in need of rags and towels. I liked to help because of the fact I found that I liked animals a lot more than most people.
Within just a few minutes, Murray was at the house with Bea and me.
“Should we break it down?” I asked, clenching my fists and taking a Bruce Lee stance as if I were ready to kick in the door.
“Maybe we should try knocking first?” Bea suggested.
“Yeah. Okay. If you want to play it safe.” I shrugged.
“I do,” she replied as she pounded on the door. There was no answer but the pitiful cries of the cats inside pacing back and forth in front of the door.
“Oh no. Don’t cry!” I used my mind to try and get through to them. “We’re here to help. We’ll help you. Just hold on a little longer.”
“Ain’t no one home? That’s typical,” Old Murray growled. “I ain’t waitin’ for no police. I’ll call Blake. He won’t mind if I crack a window or two.”
“Just because he volunteers at the shelter doesn’t mean that you can bust into a house, Murray.” I patted him on the arm. “Just hold on a few more minutes.”
I waved Bea over and jerked my head toward Mrs. Kitt’s house. “How about it? Want to knock on her door?”
“We have no choice.” Bea pinched her lips together.
“Okay, I’ll stand in front. You wait off to the side. That way she’ll have to go through me to get to you. That ought to give three solid seconds’ lead time to run away.”
“You’re such a help, Cath.”
“I do what I can.” We walked across the yard to Mrs. Kitt’s front door. Even with her weird new sense of style and her nasty disposition, Mrs. Kitt’s front porch was clean and welcoming. So welcoming that when I went to knock on the door, it opened right up.
“That’s not good,” Bea said, leaning back slightly.
I gave the door a push, and it opened all the way.
“Hello? Mrs. Kitt? It’s Cath Greenstone from next door! Are you home?” I listened but didn’t hear anything. “I’m coming in, Mrs. Kitt! It’s just me and my cousin.” I nodded, pleased with myself for not revealing right off the bat that Bea was with me.
“I don’t hear anything,” Bea said. We stepped inside the house. It was dark and stuffy. Before my eyes could adjust, I stepped on something crunchy. Freezing like I was on a tightrope, I looked down to see shards of broken mirror.
“Uh oh,” I muttered. “Don’t come in any farther, Bea. This looks like trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” she asked.
“The bad kind? How do I know what kind of trouble? Trouble is trouble, right?”
I looked around without moving and saw a set of keys on the table next to the door. It had a huge key ring of two hearts with a gaudy ribbon through them. There was only one key on the chain. It had to be for the babe couple’s house. I snatched it up and tossed it to Bea as she stood on the porch.
“See if that opens the front door of the Lourdeses’ house,” I said. “Did you see that? I didn’t call them the babe couple?”
Quickly, after rolling her eyes, Bea went next door, and I heard her and Old Murray get the door open. I took just a few steps farther inside, staying on tiptoe so as not to contaminate the crime scene.
Of course, I didn’t know if it was a crime scene. But a door left open, a shattered mirror, and then the body of Mrs. Kitt lying in the bathroom…
“Oh no!” I cried and dashed over to her. The mirrors in the bathroom had been smashed too. “Mrs. Kitt? Mrs. Kitt? Can you hear me?” I called before I got to her. But I soon realized that she didn’t hear me. Her eyes stared straight up, with a look of terror on her face. But if that wasn’t weird enough, she was wearing the strangest clothes. An exercise outfit about three sizes too small. Her makeup was garish and all over her face. What had she been doing? Or thinking?
“Bea! You better call 911!” I shouted.
I backtracked carefully to the front door and jumped onto the porch. I was pretty sure that I didn’t touch anything but the keys. Bea was hurrying back across the lawn with the keys in her hand.
“Old Murray’s got the cats, the poor things. He said they are very weak and dehydrated.”
“Oh no. Well, if anyone can fix them up, it’ll be Old Murray.” I pointed into the dark house. “Mrs. Kitt’s in there.”
Bea squared her shoulders like she was ready for a confrontation.
“She’s dead.” I grimaced.
“Dead? We just saw her today. She was alive and kicking.” Bea’s eyes bulged from their sockets.
“I’d guess maybe a heart attack. But what do I know? Usually people who have heart attacks don’t shatter all the mirrors in their house first.” I looked around for a phone. “And they don’t dress up like they are in some nineteen eighties rock video.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Bea asked.
“Go take a look before they wheel her out of here,” I said. “But I don’t think we better walk around too much. Let’s call from my house.”
The 911 operator had just hung up when we heard the sirens getting closer.
“I can’t believe this. She was just in the café ranting and raving, and now she’s…” Bea slid her finger across her neck.
“Before the fuzz shows up, let’s go look in the babe couple’s house,” I suggested, bouncing my eyebrows up and down.
“What in the world for?”
“I’d like to see what the inside of their house looks like,” I admitted. But something had me wondering if maybe there wasn’t something else going on in Turk and Renee Lourdes’s home.
8
Smashing Mirrors
“It’s just a normal house,” Bea said as she followed behind me. “What do you think you are going to find in there?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “They’re just so weird in public I’d like to know what their house looks like.”
“They don’t act any different than Jake and me.” Bea lifted her chin.
“Right, and look at the house of oddities you call home.” I chuckled.
“You are off your rocker. There isn’t anything wrong with my house.”
“I didn’t say there was. Especially if you like hearts and ‘I love you’ plaques and kissing angels and basset hounds and sea anemones. It’s like the house where St. Valentine is embarrassed to go.”
“It’s not that bad, and you know it.” She smiled.
“No. Your house is lovely. It’s like my home away from home,” I replied as we carefully pushed the door open to the Lourdeses’ estate. We stepped inside and listened. There was no sound at all. The smell of cat litter that hadn’t been changed in a while was in the air. That made me feel bad. Those poor cats.
“Did Old Murray check the house for any other animals?”
“No. He scooped up the two that were at the door and left,” Bea said, looking around. “This place isn’t what I expected. It looks like a showroom floor display of furniture and pictures.”
“Yeah, and it’s absolutely spotless. Wait.” I gasped. “Would you look at this?”
“What is it?”
“Their wedding picture.” I clapped my hand over my mouth and started to laugh. “Can you get any sappier than this?” I held up the picture of the babe couple. Renee was in her white dress looking adoringly into Turk’s eyes. She had her hand on his cheek, and he had his chin up but his eyes down. “It looks like the cover of a Harlequin Romance.”
“You really are too much, Cath. Put that down. I thought we were looking for sick or wounded animals.” Bea walked into the living room ahead of me.
“You’re right. I’m going to go upstairs, and you can co
ver this floor, and together we’ll check the basement.” I didn’t wait for a reply and quickly ran up the steps to the second level. There were four photos of the couple on the walls. They were pretty but just a little too sweet for my taste. I was sad to report back to Bea that there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary upstairs except an overwhelming number of mirrors around. It wasn’t like some swinger’s pad. But the place was big enough. The illusion of space was unnecessary.
“Did you find anything?” I asked Bea, who was looking at one of the mirrors in the living room. It was a pretty, full-length looking glass with an elegant rolling scroll around the edges. It matched the swirls in the fabric of their furniture.
When Bea didn’t reply, I asked her again, startling her.
“What? Oh, no. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary in here.”
“Let’s check the basement. The police will be at Mrs. Kitt’s house any minute.” We both hurried through the kitchen and down some steps to a door that led to the basement.
“Unbelievable.” I sighed. “A home gym? How corny.”
“They just want to stay in shape,” Bea defended.
“Yeah, gross.” I took her hand as we went back up the steps to the kitchen. “Looks like there were only two cats. That’s a relief. I’ll go to Old Murray’s later to check on them.”
“That’s a good idea,” Bea said absently.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, Cath. Why don’t you go greet the police? I’ll close things up here.” She looked toward the living room.
“Um, okay. Don’t stay in here too long. This place is creepy in its normalcy.” I walked out of the house just as the police were getting out of the car in Mrs. Kitt’s driveway.
It was seconds before a black-and-white car followed by a familiar sedan pulled up with an ambulance in the driveway. I waved to Jake and Blake, who strolled up to me. No one was in a hurry. Mrs. Kitt’s condition wasn’t going to change.
“How did you know something was wrong?” Jake asked. I was about to tell him that Treacle told me but caught myself before sounding like a total loon.