by Linda Reilly
Purrcival meandered into the room, assessed the seating arrangements, then leaped onto Lara’s chest. “Oomph. You’re getting heavy, baby boy. I think you’ve been eating too many of my Cat Nips.” She rubbed his head, triggering a sweet, guttural purr.
“Did you have any luck at the library?” Aunt Fran asked.
“I did. Not only did I find the obituary I think we’ve been looking for, but I also had a very informative chat with the high school principal.”
“Principal Casteel?” Aunt Fran looked surprised. “Do you know him?”
Lara tickled Purrcy under the chin. “I met him on Monday when Gid and I were having dinner at The Irish Stew. He was on his way out when he spotted Gideon, who just happens to be his attorney.”
“Ah, and then you bumped into him at the library.”
“My timing was perfect. I was paying for my microfiche copy just as he was checking out the Dean Koontz book I’ve been waiting an eternity to read. I brought up Miss Plouffe’s horrible death, you know, as kind of a conversation starter. Turned out he had quite a lot to say about her.” Lara didn’t want to relate the conversation. Andy had confided in her only because he’d had faith in her discretion. “Suffice it to say, he’d had his reasons for not getting her fired. But he did admit that most of the kids despised her, especially the boys who took her class.”
“I never taught at the high school, so I didn’t know her,” Aunt Fran said. “But she did have a reputation, and it wasn’t a glowing one. Did the principal offer any insights as to who might have wanted to poison Gladys?”
“No, but he’s sure Daisy had nothing to do with it. He’s not even convinced it was foul play. In his mind it was a tragic accident.”
“I see. Well, I hope he turns out to be right. That would be best for everyone involved. Tell me about the obituary you found.”
Holding Purrcy close, Lara swung her legs around and plunked them on the floor. “You’re not going to believe this, but the obit I found was for Mrs. Eugenia Thryce.”
Aunt Fran’s eyes flicked to Lara. “Old Mrs. Thryce? Holland Thryce’s widow?”
“Yup. She was eighty-two when she died.”
Aunt Fran reached up and cupped Snowball’s head. The cat closed her eyes and rubbed against her hair. “I’m curious, Lara. What made you go back and search for more obituaries? I thought you were going to investigate Sarah Nally first.”
Lara shifted her weight in the chair so that Purrcy could get more lap space. “Something told me she wasn’t the right one. It’s hard to explain. It was just a feeling I had. Anyway, the woman at the library suggested I research the newspapers beyond a few days after the date of death. And sure enough, Eugenia Thryce died on March second, but her obit wasn’t published until March nineteenth.”
“Seventeen days later,” her aunt murmured. “I still don’t get—”
“Aunt Fran, it doesn’t matter how I found it. The obit says she was a big supporter of cat charities. Her own cat, Angelica, had been her inspiration.”
Aunt Fran’s face paled. She closed her eyes and rested her head back. She remained that way for so long that Lara wondered if she’d dozed off. Then she sat up abruptly and stared at Lara.
“Lara, there’s something very wrong about all of this,” her aunt said, and ticked off points on her fingers. “A letter written in 1990, which by some serendipitous accident happens to fall into your hands, describes a murder, victim unknown, that took place on the day you were born.”
Lara nodded, her heart drumming her ribs.
Her aunt continued. “Nearly thirty years later, Gladys Plouffe dies from a tainted cookie at a competition sponsored by Todd Thryce’s company. And Todd’s grandmother, Eugenia Thryce, died on the day you were born.”
And she loved cats.
“I know,” Lara said in a shaky voice. “It’s Twilight Zone material, right?”
“No, it has nothing to do with the Twilight Zone. Something else is going on, Lara. Is there something you’re not telling me? Is there something else I should know?”
And so it all came down to it—a lie.
A big fat hairball of a lie Lara had no choice but to tell.
“If I could explain it better, I would,” Lara said. She tried to suppress the tremor in her voice, but she knew that it squeezed through. “Aunt Fran, sometimes I...sense things. That’s the best way I can describe it.”
“You mean you have premonitions?” her aunt asked, her eyebrows dipping toward her nose.
“No. A premonition is a feeling that something is about to happen. What I get is more like...a feeling that something has happened.”
Aunt Fran sat back and stared at her niece, her eyes brimming with worry. “How many times has this happened to you, Lara?”
She shrugged, her stomach churning with discomfort. “I don’t know. A few, I guess. I never really stopped to count.”
Aunt Fran looked as if someone had slapped her. “I’m sorry, Lara. I didn’t know. There were times when I wondered, but… In a way, it explains a few things. Like Hesty.”
Lara nodded. “Exactly,” she said quietly. “Like Hesty.”
Hesty was a kindly, local man who’d applied to adopt one of their cats, Frankie, at the beginning of the summer. Lara had sensed from the beginning that the adoption was doomed, but she couldn’t explain why to Aunt Fran. A certain blue-eyed Ragdoll had warned her against the match, but there was no way she could tell that to her aunt without sounding insane.
Blue had been right—the adoption wasn’t to be. Frankie ended up in a different home with a loving mom, where he’d been thriving ever since. It was another successful placement for the shelter.
“Lara, I really wish you’d told me all this before,” Aunt Fran said. “If we could have talked about it...”
Lara gave a slight shrug. “I know, and I understand your feelings. But there were times when I thought I was going crazy. It’s not the easiest thing to talk about, especially to someone who’s close to you.”
She was relieved when Valenteena sprang onto the arm of her chair. Lara deflected any further questions by turning her attention to the cat. “And you, miss lacy pants.” She tickled the black heart under the cat’s chin. “What kind of trouble are you getting into now?”
Valenteena plopped onto Lara’s lap and batted a paw at Purrcy. Instead of giving in to the demands of the princess and leaping down, he feigned sleep. After a few more swipes, Teena settled in beside him, licked his ear, and curled a paw around his neck.
Her aunt smiled at their antics, and they switched conversational gears. Lara was relieved that her aunt wasn’t going to dwell on the topic. It was hard enough to make sense of a ghost cat, let alone explain her to someone else.
After several more minutes, Lara remembered she hadn’t eaten a single bite for dinner. She went into the kitchen, dug out one of the leftover pizza slices from a few days ago, and popped it into the microwave.
Balancing the plate with her pizza slice in one hand and a glass of cola in the other, Lara poked her head into the large parlor. “I’m going to work in my studio for a while,” she told her aunt. “Yell if you need me.”
Aunt Fran turned to her niece, her eyes shiny. “Thank you, Lara, for confiding in me. I know that wasn’t easy to talk about.”
Inwardly, Lara winced. She hadn’t confided in her aunt, not really. She’d held back the biggest puzzle piece—the part about her spirit cat. She nodded, then ducked into her studio.
Someday, she told herself.
Lara set her meal down on one side of her worktable. She bit off a slab of pizza, then slugged it back with a swig of cola. Over the past few hours, the idea for the watercolor had taken shape in her head. Almost without realizing it, she’d been creating it in her mind’s eye.
She prepared her easel with a fresh sheet of paper, then set up her tools—water,
brushes, tiles for blending colors—and, of course, the paints themselves. The predominant shades would be brown, ivory, and sage. Touches of lilac, maroon, and gold would brighten the faces and add depth and texture to the setting.
Lara flexed her fingers, eager to begin.
Two hours later her pizza sat cold, but she had the basic shapes completed. Faces were formed, though the expressions were still bland. The eyes were the most challenging—they had to reflect the trappings of the heart. She needed time, and a decent night’s sleep, before she tackled the project again. If she could pull it off and complete the final touches by Christmas, it would be a miracle.
It would also be the best thing she’d ever painted.
Chapter 24
Friday was an adoption day, so Lara needed to be prepared. Daisy usually baked the cookies they served to prospective adopters, but only a half dozen remained in the freezer. Since they were never sure how many visitors would show up, Lara liked to be prepared with at least a dozen, with an extra dozen in reserve.
After performing her usual cat duties, she bundled up and headed down to the coffee shop. A pale sun struggled to break through the dense clouds. The sidewalks had been shoveled, but treacherous icy patches remained.
Lara hadn’t talked to Sherry since she’d heard about Daisy’s good news. She hoped the two had spent the prior evening celebrating with a bottle of bubbly. Lara intended to ask Daisy about supplying more cookies, but first she wanted to gauge her mood. After the horror of the past week, the poor woman might never bake cookies again.
She smelled them even before she opened the door. The aromas of vanilla and almond swirled around her—a mouthwatering hint that everything was back to normal. She hoped.
Relief swept through Lara when she spotted Daisy bouncing from table to table taking breakfast orders. She smiled and waved, and Daisy grinned and waggled her fingers in return.
“Oh my gosh, that smells good,” Lara said, dropping onto her usual stool.
Sherry looked especially nice today. Her raven-colored hair had been blown into soft curls, and her cheeks glowed with a rosy shade of blush. Her eyes had a sparkle that had been missing for several days. Lara was glad to see that her friend’s chipper personality had resurfaced.
“As you can see, we’re slammed today,” Sherry said, beaming like a newly discovered star. She poured coffee into a mug for Lara.
“I smelled the cookies from outside,” Lara said. “Any chance you can put a dozen aside for me?”
“Already done,” Sherry said. “Mom was in here at four thirty this morning, baking her tail off. Want a blueberry muffin?”
“Does a bear want salmon?”
Sherry returned a minute later with a warm muffin, two pats of butter melting beside it. “David and I are going to have ‘the talk’ tonight,” she said in a low voice. She made finger quotes around the words. “I’ve got my speech all prepared.”
“It’s good to be prepared,” Lara said. “But there’s also something to be said for spontaneity.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll probably forget my speech anyway and say something dopey.”
“If it’s sincere, then it’s not dopey.” Lara broke off a piece of her muffin and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm, heavenly.”
Daisy came up behind Lara and gave her a squishy hug. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. You should have brought Fran with you!”
Lara grinned. “I left her in charge of the cats. Tough job, but someone has to do it.”
“Speaking of cats, I baked you a fresh batch of cookies especially for adoption day. Gotta run!”
“Wait till you see them,” Sherry said with a sly look. “I’ll go get ’em.”
Sherry returned a half minute later with a foil pan protected by a snap-on plastic top. The feline-shaped cookies inside the pan made Lara gasp. Each cookie was frosted with a different whimsical design. “Oh...my gosh,” she squeaked. “These are unbelievable.”
“I know, right?” Sherry set them down carefully next to Lara’s plate. She pointed to a black-and-white one. “I told Mom about the heart under Teena’s chin. Didn’t she do it perfectly?”
“Oh, yes she did. And this one with the kaleidoscope design must be Purrcy!” Lara pressed the heel of her hand to one leaky eye. “If you guys don’t stop doing such nice things for us, I’ll have to buy stock in a tissue company.”
“Oh, just chill, will ya? We love you and Fran.” Sherry’s smile faltered, then flattened into a frown. “Mom should have won that competition, Lara. It’s not fair. She could’ve used that prize money.”
“I know, Sher, and I agree. But after what happened, there was no way they could judge the cookies fairly. It’s no one’s fault except—” She stopped and looked at Sherry.
“Except the killer’s,” Sherry finished, and shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer, but I am still seriously ticked about the whole freakin’ thing.”
Lara wasn’t exactly thrilled herself. If the cookies had been intentionally tainted, then it was a diabolical act. It meant someone had been determined to harm Gladys.
Harm her or kill her? Not that it mattered. The result had been the same.
She took a long sip of her coffee, her mind skittering over all the things she wanted to accomplish today. Adoptions would start around one—that is, if anyone showed up. And she was itching to get back to the painting. She’d even awakened during the night with ideas for how to improve it. Last of all, she hoped to find time to visit the nursing home where Eugenia Thryce had died. It wasn’t likely anyone would remember her, or her death, but she wouldn’t know until she tried.
Another thought nudged her. Wouldn’t Todd Thryce remember his grandmother’s death? By Lara’s estimation, he looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He’d have been a young man, perhaps even a college student, when she passed.
The problem was, what excuse could she use for asking him about her?
Sherry waved a hand in front of Lara’s face. “Earth to Lara,” she said.
“Sorry.” Lara laughed. “I was in outer space.”
“Yeah, no kidding. What I was saying is that Mom and I already decided we’re not going to use The Bakers Thryce flour anymore. Which is a shame, because it’s a quality product.” Sherry snatched up the coffeepot and topped off Lara’s mug. “Someone dropped the ball at that stupid event, Lara. I mean, who was supposed to be in charge? Did you see anyone who looked like they were running the show? No,” she sputtered. “It was a flippin’ free-for-all.”
Lara waited for her friend to finish her diatribe, then took another sip of hot coffee. She had to admit—there hadn’t seemed to be any one person in charge that day. Maybe the teacher who’d broken both her ankles was supposed to be the coordinator? The woman’s job as judge had been dumped, at the last minute, in poor Miss Plouffe’s lap. But who’d been initially selected to run the event?
“Hey, sorry,” Sherry said. “I didn’t mean to unload my anger on you. But you do make a good sounding board.”
“That’s my job. BFF and sounding board.” Lara polished off her muffin and wiped her lips with a napkin. “Sher, I’m going to run. Today’s an adoption day, so there’s lots to do.”
“Mom said not to let you pay for the cookies. Those are her gift to you for helping out in the kitchen. Your breakfast is on the house, too.”
Lara sighed. She knew it would be fruitless to argue. For today, she’d accept the cookies and the free breakfast.
Somehow, she’d make it up to them in the future.
* * * *
Back at the house, Lara scooped and freshened all the litter boxes and cleaned and replenished the cats’ water bowls. She was nearly finished when she got a call from Kayla.
“Hey, I’m in between classes, but I wanted to ask if I could work for a few hours this afternoon instead of tomorrow. I can come over
right after my twelve thirty chemistry exam.”
“Uh...sure,” Lara said. “Any reason for the switch?”
“My gram wants me to take her Christmas shopping tomorrow at the mall in Concord. I figured I’d better do it with her this weekend while the weather’s looking clear. We never know when the next blizzard might hit.”
“You got that right. I’ll be glad to have you. We can work on next Sunday’s reading day.”
“Oops. Good idea. I almost forgot about that.”
Reading day at the shelter was held on the third Sunday of every month. It was an event that ran from noon to four, in which kids came with a book—or borrowed one from the shelter—and read aloud to one of the cats. In the three months since they’d started the program, it had gained popularity so quickly they’d had to limit the reading times to half-hour segments. Munster, with his friendly persona, was a favorite of the kids, but Purrcy and Twinkles had also been willing participants. Each child was required to be accompanied by an adult. The only glitch so far? Space. With only the back porch available, only one child at a time could participate. It was a problem Lara had been wanting to discuss with her aunt, but she was putting it off until after the holidays.
She forced her thoughts back to the present. “Wait till you see the cookies Daisy made!” Lara told Kayla.
“Cookies?” Kayla gasped through the phone. “I’m surprised you even want to look at a cookie, let alone eat one. Speaking of which, how’s the investigation going?”
Lara told Kayla about Daisy being officially crossed off the suspect list.
“Oh, that’s such good news! Do the cops still think someone poisoned Gladys Plouffe?”
“I’m not sure,” Lara said carefully. “Either way, it’s not something I want to get involved in.” Been there, almost got killed through that.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you for that,” Kayla said. “Hey, I’ll try to get there by two or so. Let’s hope we get some possibles today.”