Magical Cool Cats Mysteries Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1, 2 & 3 & A Christmas Feral)

by Mary Matthews

  “He’s a sweet horse. And I haven’t had time to ride him very much lately. I think you’ll be good friends.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Hotel del Coronado manager burst into the stables.

  “Miss Wentworth, I’ve been looking all over for you,” He said.

  Grace’s stomach flipped. She never expected good news these days.

  The hotel manager asked Grace if she’d substitute teach the long term hotel guests’ kids for one day of summer school since the regular teacher became ill when a new Navy ship came into port and took a couple days off. Since they hadn’t found a clue yet, Grace decided to take the day job. Especially since it was only for a day.

  As promised, Grace took the kids to the beach to look for seashells after lunch. They looked up and Jack was flying by, with a banner that said, “For Grace”.

  “I think he likes you, Miss Grace.” Ten year old Joan let her know.

  “Maybe.” Grace smiled, lightly touching Joan’s blonde curls.

  Jack dipped a wing to them. Then he turned and flew further out over the ocean. Grace felt a surging desire to be with him. Flying away in that plane. Mercy, she loved him. He executed a turn towards his beloved North Island, where he stored his plane in a Navy hangar.

  “Are you two going to get married?” Joan asked.

  “It’s a secret,” Grace said.

  When the kids’ parents returned to fetch them from school, she walked to Jack’s cottage looking for Tatania. She saw the beautiful white cat on top of a thatched roof next to Jack’s place, looking out at the blue sky, as if she’d been enjoying the view of Jack flying by too.

  “Tatania,” Grace called and then felt silly for calling a deaf cat. But Tatania seemed to know she was near, and turned towards her, acknowledging Grace’s presence.

  Grace held up the plate of sole prepared by the hotel’s best chef that day. Tatania jumped down from the cottage roof, looking even happier to see her.

  Grace watched the cat delicately eat the fish. She stroked the silky white fur, marveling that it never appeared dirty. Tatania had the most natural beauty.

  “Did you bring lunch for me too? Or just Tatania?”

  The cat looked at Jack reproachfully. She must have sensed reprobation in what he thought was a teasing manner.

  “I thought you were eating with your buddies at North Island. The kids loved you!”

  “How ‘bout you?”

  “Well, one little girl thought you liked me.”

  “Astute.”

  Finished with lunch, Tatania began grooming her paw, feline substitute for table water that sometimes accompanied finger food. Like a storybook cat, she looked mischievous and beautiful, and capable of anything.

  “She’s perfect.”

  “She’s deaf,” Jack said in mock protest.

  “You know she’s perfect.”

  “Definitely too good for the stupid bitch who tried to drown her. I wanted to drown that bitch.” Jack punched the cottage wall.

  “Pardon my language.”

  “Well said, Jack.”

  “In Dante’s Inferno, is there an inner circle of hell for people that harm animals?”

  “There should be. Maybe we can create one, Jack.”

  Grace and Jack walked along the beach with Tatania. Looking back, Grace saw that while she and Jack left footprints, Tatania didn’t leave paw prints. The magical white cat was filled with ethereal surprises.

  Grace never understood fully the instinct that compelled Tatania to meow since Tatania couldn’t hear herself.

  “Jack, why does Tatania meow? If she’s deaf, and can’t hear herself, why does she meow?”

  “Emotion. Desire to communicate. If a deaf cat puts her paw in the fire, she’ll cry out in pain. Emotion will make her meow. Or purr,” Jack said.

  Curious cats make perfect detectives. Tatania enjoyed her work. That much was obvious. Her astonishing beauty gained her entry to any home or business. The deafness provided protection against a cacophony of noise and focused her other senses more keenly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They spent the night at Jack’s cottage in Tent City. Grace woke to the sound of the first cable car clanging down Main Street from the Ferry Landing. Tatania blinked once from her sleeping place on Jack’s chest. With a swish of her tail, she reminded Grace again that she claimed Jack first.

  Then, she stretched a paw out languidly to say good morning. Grace touched the white fur that felt like running your fingers through inches of silk. Then she went outside to pick up the day’s San Diego Union newspaper.

  She put the paper on a chair and opened the ice box to find Tatania’s mackerel. The fishermen had a habit of sharing their catch of the day with her. They’d never offered Grace and Jack free fish. Jack and Grace weren’t nearly as glorious as the beautiful cat — even on their best days.

  Tatania lept on the chair and opened the paper. She rolled over and over, stretching each paw like a ballerina preparing her limbs for a day of dancing. Grace put Tatania’s breakfast in her bowl. Tatania stayed on the chair. So Grace served her breakfast on the chair.

  Tatania delicately ate her breakfast, keeping one paw on the paper. Grace considered it creepy that Phillip may have taken Helen’s jewelry just to stare at it and imagine Helen wearing it. Just for revenge for ending an affair.

  Grace carefully applied the Fletcher’s Bleach Paste she picked up at Central Drug Store so her nose didn’t turn red in the sun while Tatania watched, blinking with the natural cat eyeliner that makes cosmetics irrelevant.

  “Now you can call me pasty faced,” Grace said.

  Jack laughed. “You’re luminous. Never pasty faced.”

  “Jack, I don’t inhabit the same world as Emily now. I don’t know what to say to her.”

  “When we get the Finder’s Fee, you’ll have your own money.” Jack kissed her neck.

  “Why do you think Helen has a wall safe with a mirror in front of it instead of a painting like most people?”

  “She wants to look at the face and figure that got him to buy all the jewelry. Remind herself to keep it. No sweets. No ice cream,” Jack said.

  Grace spied Jack’s former Pinkerton Detective Agency’s uniform in the corner. She’d never seen him wear it. Even when he worked for Pinkerton. He preferred a white t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

  Tatania meowed from the chair. Grace and Jack looked at the San Diego Union newspaper. It was filled with stories of local politicians and judges accepting bribes and frequenting brothels and speakeasies.

  “Brothels and speakeasies go together,” Jack explained. “The greater the quality of the speakeasy’s drinks, the lower the quality of the brothel girls.”

  Tatania looked up and blinked first at Grace, and then at Jack. She kept her paw on the Tia Juana racing schedule.

  “Should we go to the races?” Grace asked.

  “Come with me. We can think on the Ferris Wheel. Or just enjoy the view, “ Jack suggested.

  They climbed on the Ferris Wheel at Tent City’s Amusement Park. They might as well think with a view. They watched the arcade games, the Rifle Range, the Butcher, the Palmist, the Ice Cream Shop, the Dance Pavilion, the Pier, and a sea of boats.

  Jack pulled Grace closer to him in the Ferris Wheel compartment.

  “Jack, I’m twenty years old. And everyone who comes near me seems to die or disappear. Do you think that hooking up with me is a good mortality risk?”

  “I made it through the Great War. I’ll take a chance on you.” He kissed her forehead.

  “You’re the most heroic man I ever met.”

  “You should get out more,” Jack said.

  Jack watched Grace pull handcuffs from his Pinkerton days out of his leather jacket’s pocket. She looked at them carefully and slipped them on her wrists, curious as a cat.

  “Now raise your hands above your head.” He told her when she’d slipped the handcuffs completely on her wrists.

  She li
fted her hands above her head.

  “You’ve never looked more attractive,” Jack said.

  “What will you think of next?”

  “I’ll show you later.”

  “Is this skirt too short?” Still uncomfortable with flapper boldness, Grace yearned sometimes for the long skirts of her youth.

  “Not for me.” Jack smiled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where’s your General?”

  “Excuse me?” Jack asked.

  “I meant Grace’s horse,” Emily said.

  “He’s here. At the stables.” Grace silently calculated the days of stable rent she would owe soon.

  “Why? Do you want to go riding?” Jack asked.

  “Do you have a side saddle?” Emily looked at Grace.

  “Are you kidding? I think someone’s Grandma may have left one. I’ve seen it hanging on the wall. So last century. I’ll ask the stable boys.” Grace sipped her cup of Joe.

  “You know it’s charming here. So rustic,” Emily said.

  “Bees Knees. I’m letting a little boy ride General now too. I’m afraid I haven’t been riding as much as I would like,” Grace replied.

  “Are you going to sell him?” Emily asked.

  “No. He’s my horse. I’ll never part with him.”

  “Coronado Tent City is rustic? Does rustic mean ill bred?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No.” Emily replied.

  “Jack seems to equate lineage societies to the breeder who tried to drown Tatania because she’s deaf.” Grace lightly touched Jack’s arm.

  “Darling, we’re not drowning anyone. And we don’t think people who don’t share our ancestral descent have a defect,” Grace said.

  It sounded like the orchestra in the boxes above the diners in the Hotel del Coronado’s Crown Room was syncing with the Dance Pavilion’s Orchestra.

  The stable boy looked amused by Emily, dressed in diamonds, Mary Jane ankle strapped pumps, and a beaded dress with matching beaded headband and purse.

  “Hold my purse, please. I’ll require the side saddle,” Emily said.

  “I’m letting her ride General,” Grace explained. Tatania wound around Grace’s leg as if she knew she wouldn’t want to miss this sight.

  The stable boy dusted off the side saddle, placed it on General, and lifted Emily up onto it. People gawked, mouths hanging open, as the debutante rode by the Amusement Park, with the sign announcing the Piccolo Midgets’ performance, the children’s bathing pool, and the Rifle Range.

  On the beach, Emily didn’t notice the families, drawing back from the sand flying up in the air as she galloped by, with General’s black mane shining under the Coronado sun. General galloped towards the ocean. Emily screamed. General seemed to be moving towards a southern island.

  Grace and Jack ran towards them. Tatania, deciding it looked like fun, chased General and Emily too. Tatania emitted a piercing meow. The Crowd scattered. General halted.

  “General,” Grace cooed softly. General walked back on the beach.

  Emily looked drenched. She chose that moment to disembark from General, caught her dress on the saddle horn, and slid down as the dress slipped over her head, revealing a silk garter and stockings.

  “I’ll switch to regular saddle,” Emily said.

  “Good idea. We’ll retire the side saddle to the wall again. Jack will let you have his jacket. “ Grace looked at Jack.

  “You know water will ruin my leather jacket, Grace.” Jack protested.

  “Yes, and I know you’ll be a gentleman to my friend,” Grace said.

  “Don’t get used to it.” Jack handed Emily his leather jacket.

  “Just act nonchalant.” Grace led Emily towards the Del. Jack and Tatania led General back to the stables.

  Emily’s suite contained at least fifteen trunks filled with clothes. Grace called the valet to get the fire in Emily’s suite going. Emily pulled dresses out of one trunk.

  “I should call Andrew,” she said, changing into dry clothes.

  “Who is Andrew?” Grace asked.

  “A broker I’ve been seeing in Manhattan.” Emily ran her fingers through her rapidly frizzing hair.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  Emily laughed and for an instant, Grace felt the rapport they’d shared at dances where they barely even remembered the names of the men lining up to meet them. They glanced at the names on their dance cards and took to calling them Mr. White Shirt or Mr. Blue Shirt. If colors of shirts became too ubiquitous, they’d switch to brands of shoes. Or class rings. New Haven, West Point, Cornell, Harvard.

  Their heroine was Lois Long, aka Lipstick, a reporter at The New Yorker who specialized in nightclubs and fashion. Of one club, Lipstick said, “The men were not handsome but they looked like good providers.”

  A knock on the door stopped Grace from asking more detailed questions. Grace let the valet in the room.

  “There were other cute girls around. Sometimes I think they wanted us because we were laughing so hard. They wanted in on the joke,” Grace said.

  “They didn’t know it was them,” Emily replied.

  “A wise suffragette once said, ‘No woman is justified in being supported in idleness by any man. The most womanly woman is the woman who works,’” Grace said, considering telling Emily everything.

  Some of their Round Robin letters lay open on Emily’s table:

  Dearest Grace,

  We’ve both bought mink and chinchilla coats for only $25,000. Want Emily to bring you one?

  Love,

  Ruth and Emily

  Dearest Ruth and Emily,

  The only one who really needs a mink coat is a mink. And the only one who really needs a chinchilla coat is a chinchilla. I think that answers the question.

  Love,

  Grace.

  P.S. Sorry for the delay in response. I have a job. Just for the novelty of it. Since it’s my own company, I recently promoted myself to partner. Wentworth and Brewster. Brewster — being Jack Brewster, whom I met on the 20th Century Limited. Bees Knees. And he has a white, fluffy cat, Tatania, whom I adore. More on that later.

  Love,

  Grace

  Dearest Grace and Ruth,

  What a hoot that you’re working Grace. I’ll come to Coronado to see that. I need a lark too. Mumsy and I are going to San Francisco. And I can jaunt to San Diego on my own. Can’t wait. We can go shopping again. I reserved a suite at the Del.

  Love,

  Emily

  Emily glanced at the open letters too.

  “LOVE the weather here, Darling. Of course you don’t need a mink or a chinchilla coat. It never gets too cold,” Emily said.

  “It never gets too hot either. Even Goldilocks could have found a bed that made her happy in Coronado.” Grace stared at the fire. The valet exited quietly.

  “I can’t believe you’re happy working as a detective.” Emily looked cynical.

  “Of course I’m happy. I’m a natural at asking questions. I’m a woman.”

  “I haven’t been asking questions, Grace. Mumsy told me about your pecuniary situation. Someone in her Women’s Temperance League saw your forner Aunt Alice in Paris. And heard the whole story,” Emily said.

  Grace opened her mouth to deny it. And changed her mind.

  “I don’t feel poor, Emily. I still feel like myself. Just without money.”

  “Mumsy will help you. She gave me this for you.” Emily held out a fifty dollar bill.

  Ulysses S. Grant was on it. Grace hadn’t seen him for awhile.

  “Would you like two? Mumsy asked if she should give you two when she gave me my allowance.”

  Grace knew that Emily’s mother meant to be kind. She took a deep breath and Ulysses S. Grant at the same time.

  Grace felt like an albatross had been lifted from her neck. She’d been worried that not having money would make Emily and Ruth treat her like a leper. Like not having money could be contagious.

  “You brave girl.
” Emily hugged Grace.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Oh my, that ice cream looks good,” Grace said, watching a couple with ice cream at Tent City’s Sweet Shop.

  “Remember what Madame Petit told us at Finishing School about staying away from sweets. Nothing tastes as good as a rich husband feels.”

  Tatania swatted at Emily’s leg.

  “I’m not sure this cat likes me,” Emily said.

  “She saved my life. A creep was stalking me. Harassing me. Tatania lept through the window of my room after he broke in and trapped me. Tatania lept up on his face and he toppled and fell out the window.”

  Grace watched Emily’s hand go to her chest. She looked stricken.

  “They have that kind of crime here?”

  “Dear, it was an aberration. He was actually Tent City’s Director of Amusements. He became obsessed with me. Targeted me. When Uncle Charles found out he was stealing money, he killed Uncle Charles.”

  “My heavens,” Emily said.

  Grace led Emily from her room to a bench next to the Merry Go Round. Kids rode the horses up and down while moms and nannies sat on the Merry Go Round’s benches.

  “It’s Tuesday. Ladies ride for free.”

  “What?”

  “On the Merry Go Round.”

  Tatania went back and forth between Grace and Emily on the bench, letting each pet her, as if she didn’t want to slight either one of them with a lack of attention. She jumped down, looked at Grace, and meowed.

  “I’ll be right back,” Grace said, following Tatania.

  The purring cat led Grace to the library. Miss Gabrielle Morton, the librarian, greeted Tatania first and then Grace.

  “Are all your copies of The Great Gatsby still on hold?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve read it before. I just loaned my copy to someone at Madam Petit’s who didn’t give it back. And I never tire of reading The Great Gatsby.”

  “Meow,” Tatania said, bumping a book off the shelf.

  “I’m so sorry. Sometimes she likes to redecorate.” Grace picked up the book.

  Tatania appeared irritated, swishing her tail from the top of the book shelves, glaring green eyes focused on Grace.