A Case of Cat and Mouse

by Sofie Kelly

  “And no one gave me a Funky Chicken,” he said solemnly. There was a glint in his blue eyes. He was up to something.

  “Merow,” Owen exclaimed. He was not very patient.

  Marcus set the paper bag on the chair seat. Owen eyed it with as much suspicion as I had. Then he stuck a paw inside and pulled out something small and green that smelled unmistakably like catnip. “Mrr,” he said happily. He picked up the small green critter and disappeared toward the living room. Disappeared as in vanished. All I could see was the catnip toy bobbing along, seemingly floating in midair.

  “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to seeing him do that,” Marcus said.

  I slugged him on the arm. “You said you didn’t bring him a catnip chicken.”

  “First of all, oww! And second, that’s not a catnip chicken. Didn’t you notice that it was green?”

  “What is it, then?” I asked.

  He grinned. “It’s a catnip frog. To be specific, it’s Ferdinand the Funky Frog, cousin to Fred.”

  I leaned against him laughing. “You’re making that up.”

  He folded his arms around me. “I swear I’m not. That’s how they’re being marketed. How could I not buy it for Owen?”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “How can Fred have a cousin that’s a frog? Chickens and frogs are very different species.”

  “What? You’ve never heard of adoption?”

  That started me laughing all over again. The idea of Fred the Funky Chicken having an adopted frog cousin was, to use one of Eugenie’s favorite words, marvelous.

  I was still holding the gift-wrapped box in one hand.

  “Are you going to open your present?” Marcus asked.

  “It’s not a catnip frog, is it?” I said.

  He shook his head. “It’s not a catnip frog—or a catnip chicken.”

  I took Owen’s seat, undid the pretty ribbons and carefully took off the wrapping paper before opening the box. It held a white ceramic mug with the words, Cats, Books & Coffee, Yes Please! in black script.

  “It’s perfect!” I exclaimed. I reached up, grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. “Thank you.”

  “I got something for Hercules, too.” He held up one hand. “Not treats because I know how Roma feels.” He pulled another bag out of his pocket. “It’s a mechanical mouse. You shake it and when you set it down it just runs randomly across the floor. I have to say it was a big hit at dinner tonight.”

  “Hercules will love that,” I said. “He used to have a little purple mouse just like that. It came to an unfortunate end in Owen’s water dish.”

  Marcus dropped into the chair across from me. “So did you miss me?” he asked with a teasing smile.

  I set my mug on the table. “I missed you a lot. All I did was work while you were gone.”

  He groaned. “I have lots of that waiting for me tomorrow morning. I don’t suppose you happened to hear anything that will prove Elias is guilty or that someone else is. All I have at the moment is people giving me the runaround or, in the case of Mr. Kent, avoiding my questions all together.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Aside from learning that Charles has an alibi—which you already knew—the only other thing I discovered is that Ray and Kassie knew each other when they were kids.” His expression didn’t change. “And you knew that, too.”

  He nodded. “What I don’t know is where the lorazepam Kassie had in her system came from.”

  “You’re positive she didn’t have a prescription and she didn’t have any pills with her things or in her apartment?”

  “I’m positive. And before you ask, Elias doesn’t have a prescription for that or any other similar drug. I might as well tell you. I figure either he or Ruby will.”

  He looked tired all of a sudden. “I’m guessing no one else in the cast or crew does, either.”

  “That wouldn’t be a bad guess,” Marcus said. He stood up, grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. “I’m sorry. I need to get going. I have to see how Micah is and I need to check in at the station for a minute.” Eddie had kept an eye on Marcus’s cat. She’d probably come away from the weekend more than a little spoiled.

  Marcus glanced around the kitchen. “Any chance I left a memory stick behind the last time I was here?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen one.”

  He exhaled loudly. “That means I must have lost it at the rink.”

  “What was on it?” I asked.

  “The tentative summer workout schedule for the girls’ hockey team. At least Brady has a copy. I can get it from him.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

  “That helps,” he said with a smile. He left with three more kisses and a promise we’d have lunch or supper or something in the next couple of days.

  Owen wandered in from the living room. He didn’t have his Funky Frog, but he did have the blissful expression that told me he’d been chewing it. He made his way a little unsteadily to his water dish and noisily had a drink.

  My phone rang and Owen started. A little water splashed on his paw. He made a cranky face.

  It was Keith King calling. He was one of the newest additions to the library board and he ran a storage business up on the highway. “Hey, Kathleen,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you at home.”

  “That’s not a problem,” I said. “What can I do for you?” Owen had started to gingerly lick the water off his paw.

  “I’m cleaning out a unit for nonpayment and I came across a box of what are clearly library books. Some are from our library but some of them aren’t. What do I do with them?”

  One of my pet peeves—no surprise—was people not returning their books. I would happily waive the fine just to get a book back on our shelves. To me, keeping a book was almost as bad as defacing one, and no, not all of the culprits were children using a piece of gum as a bookmark.

  “Are you going to be there for a while?” I asked.

  “Based on the contents of this storage space at least a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll come get them. I can track down where the other books belong.”

  “That would be great,” Keith said.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said.

  I looked over at Owen, who looked back at me, although his golden eyes seemed a little unfocused. “I have to drive out to Keith’s to get a box of books. Why don’t we skip the whole you-sneak-into-the-truck-and-I-catch-you thing and you just come along for the ride?”

  He seemed to consider my offer for a moment and then he headed for the door walking more or less in a straight line. I stepped into my shoes, grabbed my purse and my keys and followed.

  There was no sign of Hercules in the porch or the backyard. “Do you know where your brother is?” I asked Owen. I didn’t get an answer. Then I remembered that Everett should be home from his latest business trip and I had a pretty good idea where Hercules was.

  There was more traffic than I had expected on the way out to Keith’s business. The box of books that was waiting for me when I got there was a lot bigger than I expected as well. “We should be able to figure out where the other libraries are and get their books back to them,” I said to Keith.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I would hate to see them end up at the recycling center or worse.”

  I smiled. “Not on my watch.” I lifted a flap and peeked inside the carton. There had to be at least a dozen hardcover books inside.

  “I was talking to Lita a couple of days ago and she mentioned the library is going to need some new computers,” Keith said as he carried the box out to my truck.

  I nodded. “She came in when I was trying to fix one of the monitors.”

  “You know how to repair a computer? I’m impressed.”

  “Only if you consider whacking
the side with my hand to be repairing.”

  Keith laughed. “I think we took the same repair class.” His expression became serious again. “Look, Kathleen, I know there are some manufacturers that provide public access computers at cost to places like libraries and schools. I’ll see what I can find out before the next library board meeting.”

  “That could help a lot,” I said. “Thank you.”

  He put the box in the truck, setting it on floor of the passenger side, and we said good night. Owen leaned down and tried to poke his head inside the cardboard carton, sneezing twice in succession.

  “Get out of there,” I said, lifting him away from the box. “That box has been in a storage unit for who knows how long. It’s full of dust and probably a spider or two.”

  Owen shook his head and moved a little closer to me.

  I fastened my seatbelt and started the truck. Traffic was backed up and stopped in front of the business’s driveway. I craned my neck to look down the street. I caught sight of a huge RV, as big as a bus, waiting to make a left turn. Owen meowed impatiently.

  I reached over and put my hand on his head. “Relax,” I said. “It’s just a little backed-up traffic. Thing’s will get moving again in a minute.”

  That didn’t seem to satisfy him. He stood on his hind feet and put his paws on the dashboard, eyeing the vehicles that were blocking the street in front of us.

  “Glaring at the other drivers isn’t going to make things move any faster,” I said.

  Owen ignored me. He seemed fixated on a small red car that was three vehicles past the entrance to Keith’s storage business. He looked at me and then looked back at the road again. “Merow,” he said. When I didn’t immediately lean forward to see what had caught his attention he meowed again, louder and more insistently.

  I hooked my thumb around my seatbelt and pulled it a little looser so I could shift sideways just a bit and get a better view of the red car. There was only one person inside, a man. All I could see was part of the back of his head, but something about him was familiar. As I continued to stare, the driver turned and glanced at something on the seat beside him.

  It was Richard Kent. No, it couldn’t be, I told myself. It was someone who looked like Richard. I just thought I was seeing him because I had just been talking about the man. Then I noticed the driver’s right arm, propped on top of the steering wheel. He was wearing a black watch. A distinctive black watch. I was willing to bet it had a black rubber strap and a sapphire crystal.

  “That is Richard,” I said to Owen.

  He gave me a look that could best be described as, “Well, duh!” and then he sat down again and began to wash his face.

  I leaned back against the seat. The traffic was starting to move. “What’s he doing up here?” I asked. The cat didn’t seem to know.

  I had my turn signal on to make a left turn, down the hill toward home. I looked at the red car moving away down the street. “This is crazy,” I said, more to myself than to Owen.

  The final car in the line passed by in front of me. There were no vehicles coming in the opposite direction. I started to pull out and at the last second went right instead of left. We were far enough back that I didn’t think Richard would notice us, but even if he did, I figured the last thing he would be expecting was for someone to be following him.

  Owen finished washing his face and moved along the seat so he could look out of the passenger window. Even when the traffic thinned out a little it wasn’t hard to stay back and still keep the red car in sight.

  It wasn’t until Richard flipped on his left turn signal that I realized where he was going. I kept two cars between us and crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t use the drive-thru.

  Luck was with me. He didn’t. Richard pulled into a parking spot, and I found one that was out of his direct line of sight but still gave me a pretty good view of the inside of the McDonald’s we were at. I watched Richard go inside. I watched him order. I watched him take a seat and devour not one but two hot apple pies. He wasn’t famous enough yet that anyone recognized him.

  What had my mother said? “He makes fantastic food and he also has a secret passion for McDonald’s apple pies.” I used my phone to take a couple of photos.

  Owen moved across the seat and leaned against me. I looked down at him. “There’s no point in doing your cute face. We’re not getting anything.”

  He made an annoyed sound and his tail flicked against the seat. Then he disappeared. It was his version of the silent treatment.

  I backed out of the parking spot, pulled onto the street and started for home. There was nothing else I needed to see. I hadn’t taken Mom seriously when she’d mentioned Richard’s penchant for fast food. I could see how from his perspective it wouldn’t look good for a celebrity baker to have a secret love for that kind of food even though millions of people did. It probably wouldn’t be the kind of thing that he would want to get around.

  Marcus had said that Richard was avoiding his questions. “Maybe that’s because he was here,” I said.

  Owen still wasn’t talking or showing himself, so I didn’t get a response. “Maybe that’s why he keeps avoiding Marcus’s questions.” Still no furry response.

  It wasn’t the strangest idea I had ever come up with.

  As soon as I pulled into the driveway I got my phone out and called Marcus. “You said Richard has been avoiding your questions.”

  “And I shouldn’t have,” he said.

  Owen winked into sight. He walked across the seat and climbed onto my lap. Apparently all was forgiven, plus he probably wanted to be carried to the back door.

  “This is going to sound, well, crazy, but I think I might know where he was the night that Kassie was killed.”

  “I’m listening,” Marcus said.

  I explained what Mom had told me on the phone and how I hadn’t taken it seriously. I told him how Owen had spotted Richard’s car and how we’d followed him. “There he was, sitting in the dining area wearing sunglasses and his five-thousand-dollar watch eating two hot apple pies. I have a couple of photos if you want them.”

  “Send them to me. I think I’ll have another conversation with Mr. Kent. Maybe even tonight.”

  “That’s it?” I said. I knew my theory was a little far-fetched.

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. The whole case is just weird enough for this to be true.” He told me he’d call me in the morning and let me know what he found out.

  If I was right, we had just eliminated a suspect.

  chapter 14

  Marcus called while I was eating breakfast the next morning. My guess had been a good one. Richard had an alibi. He had been indulging in his love for fast-food pie at the time of the murder. Marcus had the time-stamped security video from the restaurant to confirm it.

  “And I found my pen,” he said.

  “Where was it?” I asked as I added just a tiny bit more brown sugar to my oatmeal.

  “At the back of one of my desk drawers. But I still can’t find that missing thumb drive and I think Brady swiped the lighter I keep in the car.” Marcus was tidy in every aspect of his life except for his desk at the police station. I had a feeling the missing lighter and the missing thumb drive were either on the desk or in one of the drawers.

  Mary Lowe was waiting for me at the bottom of the library steps. She was carrying a quilted bag that I fervently hoped held a container of her cinnamon rolls. She wore a bright yellow sweater with red tulips on the pockets and a giant bouquet of tulips on the back. Mary had a cardigan for every season and for every holiday. She had one for National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Turns out it’s a real thing. Happens every August. And who was I to quibble about a day that celebrated one of my favorite cookies?

  “There are fifteen bales of hay in the gazebo,” she said as I came up the walkway.

  “Please tell me that’s t
he title of Abigail’s new book,” I said.

  Mary shook her head. “No such luck, kiddo.”

  I blew out a breath and shook my head. “First the grader tire, now this. Do you think it’s the same people who are vandalizing the book drop?”

  “I don’t,” she said. “The stuff with the book drop smacks of a group of kids egging each other on. Gum, slime, popcorn, it’s all been childish stuff. The gazebo on the other hand, that’s taken planning. You’ll see when you go take a look. Those hay bales are stacked precisely on top of each other: five, four, three, two, one.”

  I let Mary into the building and then walked around to the back to see the gazebo for myself. Just as she’d described, the bales of hay were stacked neatly with five on the bottom all the way to one on the top. She was right. This had taken planning. And it was going to take planning to catch the culprit. I headed back inside to call Harry.

  Harry came and collected the hay and we talked about what to do next. He suggested a security camera for the back of the building. “We are probably going to have to go that route,” I said. “But I hate to spend money on cameras that could be spent on books.”

  “Let me check prices,” Harry said. “Maybe a little more information will help you make a decision.”

  “Where would someone get all those hay bales this time of year?” I asked.

  “Whoever it was probably swiped the hay from different places a bale at a time. It’s what I’d do.” He gave a slight shrug. “Not that I’m saying I’ve ever done something like that.”

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Marcus brought wonton soup and egg rolls for supper. He was determined to master chopsticks and refused to use a fork. Owen and Hercules happily sat on either side of him and dealt with the fallout.

  After Marcus left for a hockey training session I washed the kitchen floor and swept the porch while it dried. I was at the table going over the latest notes for Eugenie, when there was a knock at my door. I was surprised to discover Russell, of all people, standing on my back step.

  “Hey, Kathleen,” he said. “I hope it’s okay that I stopped by without calling. I wanted to see your cats.” He held out a foil pan. “I brought food to make up for my gaucheness.”