by Sofie Ryan
“There’s an apartment in Christine’s building I could have,” Debra said. “The building owner already offered.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but I knew it wasn’t my place to say so and I didn’t want Debra to feel ganged up on.
“Do you have to make a decision right now?” Mr. P. asked. “Is the building owner waiting for an answer?”
Debra shook her head. “No. She told me to take my time.”
“So why not do that?” Mr. P. said. “Nothing has to be decided right now, so don’t make a decision either way.” He smiled. “As my mother—may she rest in peace—used to say, sit and have a cup of tea with it.”
As usual, Alfred Peterson was the voice of reason. I saw a hint of a smile beginning on Debra’s face and the tension seemed to be slipping off her shoulders. I looked at Tim. All of his focus was on Debra and all at once I realized he had more than a crush on her. His feelings ran a lot deeper. I felt a pang of empathy for him because everything I’d seen and heard her say told me that Debra didn’t feel the same way.
“I like that idea, Alfred,” Debra said to Mr. P. “And if Christine were here, she would be telling us to knock it off.”
Tim nodded and I saw the first glimpse of a smile flit across his face even as the sadness couldn’t seem to leave his eyes.
Mr. P. and I started to gather our things. “Rose should be back in a couple of minutes,” I said. “She’s on a fact-finding mission.”
He smiled. He knew what that meant.
I got Elvis’s carrier bag from under the table and settled him inside. He yawned. “Being a show cat is an exhausting business,” I said. He murped his agreement.
Mr. P. touched my arm and I turned around. “There was something else you wanted to talk to me about.”
I nodded. “Is it all right if we wait until we’re out in the car, where there’s a bit more privacy? And I’d like to wait for Rose as well.”
“Of course,” he said. He pointed over my shoulder. “Here comes Rosie right now.”
“So, did you learn anything useful?” I asked her. She looked pleased about something.
“All information is useful, Sarah,” she said. “I think what you meant to ask is did I learn anything relevant?”
Once a teacher, always a teacher, as Liz liked to say. “I stand corrected,” I said. “Did you learn anything relevant?”
“Perhaps. According to Junie, one of the judges is having an affair with one of the owners.”
“That has to be against the rules.”
“It is.” Rose reached for her bag, which she’d stashed under the table. “The judges often know the owners—the cat show circuit is a small world, after all—but judging the cat of someone with whom you have a personal relationship is a no-no.”
“Which judge is it, do you know?” Mr. P. asked. He took the tote bag from her and began packing Elvis’s dishes.
“James Hanratty.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “He was Elvis’s judge in the first round in the Searsport show, wasn’t he? Midfifties, lots of white hair, glasses and a friendly smile. He said Elvis had a certain rakish charm.”
In the bag, Elvis lifted his head and looked around. It seemed he wasn’t too tired to hear a compliment.
Rose nodded. “Yes, that’s Hanratty.” She picked up one of the purple towels next to Elvis’s crate and gave it a shake.
“So which owner is he involved with?”
“Junie didn’t know,” she said. She rolled the towel in a tight cylinder and handed it to Mr. P.
“But you think this might be important,” I said. “Why?”
Rose reached for the other towel. “Maybe this is an innocent relationship. People do fall in love at the most unexpected times.”
I saw Mr. P. smile at her words.
“But sometimes relationships have a little more mercenary component to them. And if someone were willing to canoodle with a judge to affect the outcome of the show then perhaps they’d be willing to resort to vandalism . . . or worse.”
“So we may have a suspect to add to our list,” Mr. P. said.
“Junie is keeping an ear to the ground,” Rose said, handing him the second rolled towel.
“Jeffery Walker is off the list,” I said.
Rose’s eyes darted from me to Alfred. “It seems the two of you were busy while I was with Junie.”
“I’ll give you the details later,” he said.
I looked around to see if there was anything we’d forgotten. There was a paper bag with recycling under the crate. I reached for it, but Mr. P. beat me to it. “I’ll take this, Sarah,” he said. “You have Elvis.”
I smiled. “All right.”
We headed for the entrance. Easily half the competitors, maybe more, had already left. I knew that when the building was empty, Memphis and Cleveland would do another security sweep.
Just before we reached the doors, I noticed Jacqueline Beyer hurrying in our direction and waving one arm. I put a hand on Mr. P.’s shoulder. “I think Jacqueline wants to talk to you,” I said.
We stopped and waited for her to join us. She was wearing skinny black pants, leopard-print shoes and a black blazer over a jewel green blouse. Her hair was up in a bun, a few wisps framing her face.
“I’m glad I caught up with you before you left,” she said. She was a little out of breath. “I’ve been doing damage control all afternoon, but unfortunately news about the two mice has spread.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Mr. P. said.
“The vendor is still upset, of course,” Jacqueline continued. “Although you figuring out a better, more prominent location for their booth did help. I never would have thought of moving the booth with the visitor information closer to the door and getting one of the staff up on their feet to hand out maps and brochures so that Guardian could take that space.”
Guardian Pet Security was the company that had been in the booth where the mice had been discovered.
Jacqueline gave Alfred a tight smile. “You saved the day.” She seemed just a tiny bit jealous of his ability to solve the problem. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Mr. P. do something like that.
“I’m glad I could help.”
Elvis had poked his head out of the top of the open carrier bag and was trying valiantly to get Jacqueline’s attention.
“Stop,” I told him firmly. “You’ll make Jacqueline sneeze.”
Her eyes were already a little red. “I’m sorry, Elvis,” she said. “You’re very handsome, but I’m already late taking my allergy meds.” She self-consciously tugged at the sleeve of her blazer and sniffed a couple of times. “I know I should stay away from the cats, but they’re so cute.”
Elvis meowed his agreement and we all laughed.
“I’ve been trying on social media to defuse the story about the mice. Cleveland assured me they were pets and I’ve been using that, telling the show’s followers on Twitter and Instagram that the pet expo is for more than just cats. They have products no matter if your furry family member is a cat, a dog or a rodent.”
“Very creative,” I said.
“Let’s hope it helps.” She smiled and held up one hand, her middle and index fingers crossed over each other. Her sleeve slipped back and I caught a quick glimpse of hives on her wrist. She really was very allergic. “Cleveland did a check of the entire building and there’s no sign of any other mice or anything else. I think we weathered this pretty well.”
“Thank you for all your hard work,” Mr. P. said.
“It’s my job,” she said. “Have a good evening. You have my number if you need anything.”
We got out to the SUV and I let Elvis out of the bag. He walked across the seat and climbed onto Rose’s lap.
“Sarah has something to share about the Lilleys,” Mr. P. said from the backse
at.
I slid behind the wheel, turning sideways so I could see him and Rose. “I think this might be important, but I’m not sure.”
“What is it?” Rose asked.
“Do you remember what Junie said to you about the disguises Suzanne and Paul Lilley were wearing?”
Elvis had settled happily on Rose’s lap, his head on one paw. “She thought they were way too obvious.”
I nodded. “That’s right. And do you remember when we walked around the pet expo the other day and we saw the producer from last summer?”
A frown creased her forehead. “Are you trying to say those two things are connected?” she asked.
“I think they might be.” I explained what I had learned from Glenn.
“You’re thinking the Lilleys could be involved in this reality show idea,” Mr. P. said.
I brushed my hair back behind one ear and rested my hand on the steering wheel. “I am, but I don’t have any idea how to find out for sure.”
“Well I don’t see the Lilleys themselves being very forthcoming. I can see what rumors are circulating online.”
“There might be something on one of those entertainment blogs,” I said.
Rose had been sitting silently staring off into space, one hand absently stroking Elvis’s fur. She suddenly smiled. “Of course.”
I glanced at Mr. P., who looked as confused as I felt. “Of course what?” I asked.
“Peter,” she said as though that should make sense to me.
It didn’t.
“Dad?”
“Yes. Your father has to have some kind of connection somewhere that can help us, either from his newspaper days or through his students.”
I nodded. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“Well I do have my moments,” Rose said with a smile.
“I’ll wait to see what Peter comes up with before I start looking online,” Mr. P. said. “There’s no point in duplicating our efforts.”
I turned around in my seat and fastened my seat belt. “I’ll call Dad after supper.”
I started the car and pulled out of the parking spot.
“What are your plans for the evening?” Rose asked.
“I’m going to a concert with Jess,” I said. Elvis was sitting up now on Rose’s lap, green eyes fixed on the windshield. “It’s a group of British percussionists called Bangers and Smash. I have no idea what they’re going to be like, other than loud.” I sent a quick sideways glance Rose’s way. “And before you ask, Mac is going to a hockey game—University of Maine Black Bears—in Bangor with Glenn and a couple of guys he sails with. Do you and Mr. P. have plans?”
“We’re going out for dinner,” Mr. P. said.
Rose smiled. “I’m looking forward to it. We’re going to that little café with the dessert crepes.”
“What about Debra?” I asked.
“She’s joining Junie and some other people from the show for supper. I told her Socrates could have the full run of the apartment. He had a challenging day.”
I smiled at the way Rose talked about the cat like he was a person, the way she talked about and to Elvis.
We said good night at the door. Once we were inside our own apartment, I picked up Elvis and gave him a big hug. “I’m proud of you,” I said, acutely aware that I was talking to him like he was a person, too. “And I want you to have fun tomorrow, but if you happen to win, that would be okay, too.” I kissed his head and set him on the floor. If anyone other than the cat show people had heard me they’d think I was nuts. I was starting to like the cat show people.
Elvis and I had supper—cat food with an extra treat for him and Mac’s leftovers for me. I sent him a text to say how good it was.
I’m getting spoiled.
My phone buzzed less than a minute later.
Good. My plan to dazzle you with my cooking is working.
I laughed out loud.
Consider me dazzled. Have fun.
He sent a happy face back.
I decided I had time to call Dad before I left to get Jess. Gram answered the phone.
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said. “What’s going on?”
I tucked my legs up underneath me and leaned against the back of the sofa. “Rose convinced me to put Elvis in a cat show. It’s for a case and he’s in second place at the moment.”
“He is an exceptional cat,” Gram said. “I’m not the slightest bit surprised. I want all the details when I get home.”
“I miss you,” I said, suddenly realizing how true that was. John and Gram had gone on a very extended honeymoon after they got married and now that they were back in North Harbor, I’d gotten used to having her close by.
“I miss you too, sweet girl.”
One of the things I loved the most about my grandmother was her huge heart. When Mom fell in love with Peter Kennelly and married him, Gram welcomed both him and Liam into her family. She was as much Liam’s grandmother as she was mine and since Liam had no living biological grandparents Gram was especially important to him. She was the only one who had enough patience to teach both of us to drive, which probably explained why we both had a bit of a lead foot.
“What have you and John been doing?”
“Your mother and I have been haunting old bookstores, and Peter’s teaching John how to make a mortise and tenon joint. They’re building a little table.”
“How’s that going?” Dad was a good carpenter but not so good at breaking down how he did things. John, on the other hand, was the kind of person who liked an ordered list of steps before he started a project.
“The table has four legs and everyone has their fingers so far.”
I laughed. “Is Dad around?” I asked. “I need to talk to him.”
“He is,” Gram said. “I love you and I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, too,” I said.
“How’s my favorite daughter?” The sound of Dad’s voice made me smile, the way it always did.
“I’m your only daughter,” I said.
“Isn’t that great the way things worked out?” he said. “I talked to your brother about half an hour ago.” I wondered if my dad was in the kitchen, elbows propped on the counter.
“How’s the trade show going?”
“It sounded like Liam was learning a lot.”
I checked the time. I needed to get to the point. “Dad, I need a favor.”
“Sure,” he said. “What is it?”
I explained what I’d learned from Glenn and that I wanted to know more. “Do you have any contacts through your writing or your teaching who could help?”
“My Dad Spidey Sense says this has something to do with one of the Angels’ cases.”
“There’s no such thing as Dad Spidey Sense.”
He laughed. “See? My Dad Spidey Sense told me you would say that.”
I’m sure he knew I was making a face. “Okay,” I said. “Can your Spidey Sense think of any way to help?”
His voice became serious then. “I have a former student who works for one of the networks. He’s involved in developing reality programming. There’s a good chance he’d know what’s going on. I can give him a call. Is there anything specific you want to know?”
One foot had gone to sleep. I stuck out my leg and gave it a shake. “The main thing I’m trying to find out is whether Suzanne and Paul Lilley are connected to the project.”
“Y or E-Y?” he asked.
“E-Y,” I said, “and two Ls.”
“What kind of case have Rose and the others taken on now?”
“It involves some vandalism at a cat show. I don’t want to see any cats get hurt.” I wasn’t saying anything about Christine’s death. Technically it was a separate case. “Elvis has become a show cat, at least temporarily.”
Dad laughed. “Good for Elvis. How’s he doing?”
“He’s holding steady in second place. Final judging is tomorrow.”
“I’m crossing everything.”
“I’m sure Elvis will appreciate that,” I said.
“I’ll make some calls first thing in the morning and see what I can find out.”
I suddenly realized how happy I’d be to see them at Thanksgiving. “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I have to go. Give Mom a hug from me.”
“I will,” he said. “I love you, sweetiebug.”
“Love you, too. Good night.”
I ended the call and set my phone on the coffee table. “Dad says he’s crossing everything for you,” I said to Elvis. His response was to wave one paw in the air.
* * *
* * *
I’d texted Jess before I left and she was waiting at the curb when I pulled up. She fastened her seat belt, flipped her hair over one shoulder and grinned at me. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“This is going to be so much loud,” I said.
She made a face. “What are you, eighty?” Before I could answer she waved a hand in the air. “No, wait; it can’t be an age thing since Alfred Peterson is almost eighty and he was the one who told me about this group.”
“Mr. P. suggested this concert?” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jess nod. “He did. He’s a fascinating little man. He knows a ton about music.”
“I know a ton about music,” I said. I realized I sounded a little defensive, but I had worked in radio for several years.
“You know a ton about old rock and roll. Alfred knows about a lot of different musical genres and he says this concert is going to be great.” She adjusted the multicolored scarf at her neck. “So how did the furball do today?”
The subject had been changed. “He’s sitting very comfortably in second place. His main competition is a cute little calico cat that Rose insists is wearing mascara on her whiskers.”
“Is that actually a thing?” Jess asked. “I wouldn’t think it would be good for the cat.”
“Me neither,” I said. “But I can tell you that some show people are very competitive.”