Crafts, Cat Burglars, and Murder

by Stacey Alabaster

  “Of course you are. Take care, Tom.”

  “I trust you will have a pleasant afternoon. Good luck with all that cat food you are carrying there. Make sure you don’t drop it on your way.”

  I turned and watched Tom until he was out of sight.

  What the heck was that guy hiding?

  At least that was one thing ticked off my list on my dry erase board. Well, sort of. I still didn’t know where Tom had been last Sunday, or what he was trying to hide. But the fact that he hadn’t been angry at me for taking the cats, and not telling him, made me think that Jasper had been wrong about his theory. Maybe he really had just been whimpering at his leash because he wanted to go for a walk. Because if Tom had killed Andrew as revenge for the cat-nabbing, then why hadn’t Tom come after me yet?

  Jasper was pulling at said leash right then. We were near the lake again, only a few blocks from my house, in Andrew’s neighborhood.

  But this time we weren’t there to knock on Andrew’s door. We were there to find this neighbor of his, the one whose cat Andrew had stolen. I didn’t even have a name for the young woman. All I had to go on was a very poor description from a drunken musician. I only new that she lived on Andrew’s street, and that she owned a cat.

  So my first plan was to just walk up and down the street until I saw a house with a cat sitting in front. Only problem was, after my adoption day success, every second house in Pottsville seemed to have a new cat. I spotted one familiar fluffy face, our old ragdoll friend, now freshly groomed and with a shiny new silver collar, in front of a cute little cabin, looking content and happy, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Well, that’s not our house then,” I said to Jasper. Though I supposed it could have been —the owner could have more than one cat. But I remembered checking with the owner before I allowed the ragdoll to be adopted and the young woman promised me he would be an only cat.

  The next house was eerily familiar and I had no interest in lingering, but my companion had different ideas. Suddenly he wasn’t pulling on his leash to leave, he was pulling on it to stay.

  The guitar was still laying against the wall of Andrew’s place. I wondered how long it would stay there, how long until anyone cleaned up or disturbed Andrew’s old life…how long until he just faded away.

  I remembered I still had his guitar pick in my coat pocket and reached in to check. I felt the smooth edges. Darn. I hadn’t intended to take it, nor to keep it for so long. The shock of that day had just made me take it without thinking.

  Jasper barked at the familiar door, wanting to go inside. Last time we’d found twelve cats and a dead body, so I didn’t know why he was so excited to go back in. Part of me thought I’d be better off placing the guitar pick back on the balcony out of respect, but I didn’t want to go back to the house, even to do the right thing.

  “Come on,” I said, gently guiding Jasper down the lane. It was a particularly leafy area of Pottsville and on that spring day, they were looking lush and green, with white and pink blossoms coming out. It would have been a pleasant stroll, if we weren’t investigating a murder.

  I didn’t know what else to do besides start knocking on doors. There were quite a few of them in that neighborhood, as it was home to a small, one-level apartment building and the other houses on the street were tiny, so there was a whole bunch of them crammed in next to each other like sardines. Very different from my area of town only a couple of blocks back. My large, two-story glass house was on three acres and I had to walk almost five minutes to even bump into one of my neighbors.

  I was glad too. I didn’t think I’d like being in spitting distance of my neighbors like that. I could see how it would be easy to get on each other’s nerves and could easily see how a feud could blow up and get out of hand. Especially if one had stolen a beloved pet from another. I still couldn’t conceive how Andrew could have done such a thing.

  The first door I knocked on revealed a grumpy old man who almost slammed the door on me before I even got a chance to speak. “No dogs on my property,” he said.

  I was surprised to see someone of his age on the street, as I had assumed it was full of younger, more hip types.

  “I’m sorry. We won’t take long. I just wanted to ask you a few questions…” I said, hoping that Jasper would behave himself. But the man was cooking something that smelt beefy and Jasper was straining so hard to get off the leash and run into the house that he almost broke his collar.

  “Sit, Jasper!” I commanded, and he finally did, although he was drooling on the floor. I apologized again and asked the man for his name.

  “Mr. Key,” he said flatly. “What was it you wanted to ask me?” He leaned one arm against the door frame, blocking the way to show that we were definitely not welcome inside. It was too bad. Whatever he was cooking smelled great and Jasper wasn’t the only one getting hungry.

  “I hear that you had a death in the neighborhood. Andrew Combs,” I said, waiting to see how Mr. Key would react to the name. His face, already grumpy at the sight of an unwelcome dog sitting on his porch, became even more irate.

  He shook his head. “I always thought this neighborhood—this whole town—was a safe place to live. But after what happened… Well, I’m considering packing up and moving.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Key. It’s a terrible thing to not feel safe in your own home.” With Jasper now behaving himself, I felt comfortable about prodding him with more questions. “I’m actually here because I’d like to find out what happened to Andrew. Hopefully that might make you feel a little safer. If his killer is caught, I mean.”

  Mr. Key looked at me skeptically. “And just how are you planning to do that? If the cops can’t figure it out, how are you supposed to?”

  I gave him my brightest smile. “Oh, I’ve got a bit of a knack for this kind of thing. Tell me, Mr. Key, did you know Andrew at all?”

  He scoffed and shook his head. “It was a little hard not to know Andrew, if you catch my drift. He was always lounging in front of his house with a guitar in his hands terrorizing the whole neighborhood.”

  Well, that was a little extreme. “So he was a noisy neighbor?”

  “Yes, that young man was always making a racket with those horrible instruments of his. I notified the council a dozen times, but they never did anything about it.”

  Not a fan, then. “I always found him quite talented.” It was a lie, considering I’d never actually heard Andrew play while he had been alive, but I felt the sudden need to defend him. After all, he was no longer around to defend himself.

  Mr. Key stared at me and sighed. “I suppose you need to be young to appreciate it, then.”

  I was a little thrilled at being called ‘young.’ I supposed that in Mr. Key’s eyes, I was. I also remembered I was supposed to be getting him on my side, not getting into an argument with him.

  “And I hear that Andrew had a lot of pets, as well?” I asked. “That must have been annoying as well. Pets can make a lot of noise.”

  He laughed bitterly. “‘A few pets’ is an understatement. He had a veritable menagerie in there at times. I called the council on him a few times for that too, but they never did anything. They didn’t care one bit.”

  That was interesting.

  “Mr. Key, do you know if Andrew ever upset any of the other neighbors?”

  He shrugged. “Of course he did. No one wants to live with a neighbor like that. Everyone wants their neighbors to be quiet and respectful, not loud and disruptive.”

  “Did you ever hear of Andrew stealing any pets off the neighbors?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’ve never owned any pets, so he certainly never stole any from me.”

  “What about others, though? Are there any young woman on this street who have a cat?”

  Mr. Key shrugged. “There was some young woman down the road…I can’t remember her name. Started with an N, I think, Natasha or something. She is just as irritating as Andrew was
, so I don’t to talk to her. Think she’s got a cat, though.”

  I was just about to ask Mr. Key for a specific house when Jasper, finally finding the smell of the beef too tempting to handle, broke free from his leash and stormed into the house.

  “Jasper!” I cried out, running after him. Oh, why did he always have to do this at the absolute worst moments?

  I tried to catch him but he was far quicker than I was and he already had his paws up against the stove top, clawing at the bubbling pot.

  “Oh, no!”

  I watched in slow motion as he jumped up, hooked his paws in, and knocked over the pot, spilling beef and red sauce all over the floor in a scene that resembled a massacre.

  I was absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry, Mr. Key. I can give you some money…you can buy a new lunch…”

  “Just get out of my house!”

  Jasper was just lucky he’d jumped out of the way in time and not burned himself. There were only a few splashes of red sauce on his black and white coat so I just shook my head and decided to give him a bath when we got home.

  But there were too many houses on the street and I had no idea which was N’s. I still didn’t even have a name for the woman.

  And after Jasper’s latest misadventure, I didn’t feel confident about knocking on any more doors. It had been a close call for him. Not only were we lucky Jasper hadn’t been scalded by boiling liquid, we were lucky Mr. Key hadn’t called the cops on us.

  “We’re still not getting anywhere, are we, boy?” I said to Jasper, who’d decided to take a seat on the ground and not budge. I couldn’t really blame him. My legs were getting tired as well.

  I decided to wander back into town and take a seat at my favorite cafe while I regrouped and thought up my next plan of attack. We took a table in the outdoor area, which was right near the front counter. My favorite waitress brought Jasper a bowl of water and placed it on the ground for him, which he lapped up quickly.

  The waitress had already brought my latte, with a complimentary small Easter egg on the side, and I’d already unpeeled the foil and popped it into my mouth when I spotted an old familiar face ordering coffee at the front counter.

  “Sian!” I called out, waving her over like we were old friends.

  I saw her roll her eyes a little. She possibly even muttered something to herself. But after a moment’s deliberation, she paid for her coffee and wandered over to my table.

  “Enjoy the show last night?” she asked. She was holding the paper coffee cup at such an angle that implied a vague threat that she might just decide to throw it in my face.

  Oh. So she had seen me there in the crowd then. Part of me had been hoping that the room had been so dark, I’d stood a chance of remaining incognito.

  “I thought it was great, yes! Had no idea you would be playing, so that was a happy coincidence.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Oh, I’m sure.”

  “I had a good chat with your friend Dylan,” I said.

  I saw the look of suspicion flash across her face. “What did you talk to him about?” she asked, looking me up and down. “Although, he does like older women, I suppose.”

  So I had heard.

  “He told me that Andrew was in a feud with one of his neighbors. Said he’d done something to rub her the wrong way. Stolen her cat.”

  Sian sat down at the table abruptly and stared at me. “I don’t know why on earth you are so obsessed with my ex-boyfriend, but you’d better butt out his business. And you’d better stop stalking me.” She stood up and with one more defiant glare, put her sunglasses back on and stormed out of the cafe and down the street.

  I sighed and looked down at a tired Jasper. “Looks like today just gets better and better. Maybe we’d better just cut our losses and head home, eh, boy?”

  His ears pricked up at the word ‘home.’ He always liked that and he stood up eagerly, wagging his tail, wanting to go. Home is where the food is, you see. And the comfy beds.

  As I was picking up my purse, I noticed that there was something stuck to the back of it.

  It was a flier from the coffee shop table, hot pink, advertising an at-home beauty service—nails, hair, and makeup. The young woman on the front, name of Natalie Conner, promised that she could come to your home, or you could go to hers.

  I was about to put it back down on the table when I noticed the address.

  Hazelwood Street.

  Five doors down from Andrew Combs’s house.

  “Looks like we’re taking a little detour, Jasper. I think I’m going to go and get my nails done.”

  “Brenda, I just need you to watch him for half an hour. Is that really so much to ask?”

  Yep, apparently it was.

  “Half an hour? And what appointment do you have that is just so very important?” Brenda asked.

  I tried to think of an amazing excuse that would elicit both approval and sympathy from her, but in the end, I just went with the truth. Mostly because I knew that Brenda would sniff it out anyway. Especially when I came back to the shop unable to touch anything because I had freshly painted nails.

  “I am getting my nails done.”

  Brenda scoffed in disbelief. “Of course. Sounds incredibly important. Especially in the middle of the work day.”

  I’d been expecting this reaction. “Brenda, please…wet nails and dog hair don’t mix.” That was one reason. Another reason was that I didn’t want Jasper chasing after Natalie’s cat. Or worse, her not even letting me through the door when she saw I had a dog with me. Or worse again, Jasper destroying everything in Natalie’s house. At least I could be sure that if she ran a beauty salon from home, she was probably not cooking beef stew in the middle of the day.

  Brenda shook her head firmly. “Nope. You can take your dog with you on your beauty mission. He doesn’t get along with the cats. You saw what happened last time. And I’m in no mood to break up a cat-dog fight.”

  I sighed and looked at the mostly empty shop. “Are you kidding me, Brenda? There’s only one cat left in the shop!”

  Carrot was poking a very grumpy face out from underneath one of the bottom shelves, watching Jasper like he was ready to go toe-to-toe with him if the dog dared to encroach on what Carrot clearly considered to be his territory now.

  “I am deadly serious,” Brenda said. “Those two do not like each other. They are pretty much sworn enemies at this stage.”

  As if on cue, Jasper spotted Carrot and before I could grab his collar and stop him, he took off like a bullet, charging at the shelf, knocking the entire thing over while Carrot fled with an ear-piercing ‘meow.’

  “Jasper!” I cried. I’d never seen him act so naughty. I supposed it was true what they said about cats and dogs not getting along. Even though I’d seen all the videos of them online, getting along like best friends. I guess the internet had lied to me.

  “See?” Brenda said, smug by the fact that she had been right. “How do you expect me to put up with that, even for half an hour? And you’ll be late anyway, just like you always are.”

  “Fine,” I said, “Jasper, you’re coming with me. I won’t leave you where you aren’t wanted.”

  “This isn’t a long-term solution,” Brenda called out just as I was headed out the door. “Those two are not getting along at all. They can’t co-exist in the same space. And I’m not going to put up with it for much longer. One of them is going to have to go.”

  I stopped. “What are you suggesting?” I asked.

  “Well, I know you won’t ever part with that mutt of yours. So I suggest we take Carrot back to the shelter where he came from.”

  My heart sank. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I still held out hope that someone would come along and fall in love with Carrot and welcome him into their home and hearts.

  But what if Brenda was right? So far we’d had no takers, and anyone who did come near him ended up getting clawed.

  But how much better was he going to fare at the shelter? If w
e couldn’t get him adopted in this cozy environment, what hope did the shelter have of finding him a home?

  “We’ll talk about this later, Brenda. But in the meantime, don’t take Carrot anywhere. You hear me? We’re not giving him back to the shelter until I decide it is the right thing to do.”

  Chapter 8

  Natalie was a young woman who looked like she had stepped straight out of a beauty catalogue with her thick, sculptured eyebrows and rosy cheeks. She was wearing a hot pink beautician’s uniform and had a face full of makeup that somehow made her look older, though I can only assume she thought it was doing the opposite.

  I’d called ahead from my cell phone to make the appointment and was surprised to find that she could fit me in right away. But she was a more than welcoming young woman, even when she saw that I had Jasper with me. I offered to tie him up on the front porch, but Natalie insisted that he was fine indoors, so I happily agreed.

  “Come on in,” she said, waving me inside. “I work from home using my makeup products so I’ve got the whole kit here, ready to go for walk-ins really!”

  The room smelled heavily of nail polish and acetone. It stung my eyes a little as I settled down onto a soft sofa, with Jasper behaving himself—for once—at my feet.

  “So, have a look through the colors and tell me what you want while I go and get you some refreshments! It’s all a part of the service around here.”

  “I’m glad to find at least one person on this street is friendly and welcoming,” I commented as she offered me a slice of cake. Then I realized my mistake—I’d just given away the fact that I’d been snooping. Or at least speaking to the neighbors. I hurried to try and clarify what I’d meant. “I mean, I had a little difficulty finding your house and I accidentally knocked on the door of one of your neighbors. An older gentleman.,”

  Natalie looked like she understood entirely.

  “Oh. You spoke to Mr. Key then.” She glanced down at Jasper and raised her eyebrows. “He’s not the biggest fan of animals. Always used to chase my cat, Banana, off his property by waving a broom at him.”