“I don’t need a refund or anything,” she explained. “It’s just that I can’t look after a cat. Not when it makes me sneeze, and my eyes water worse than pollen season. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Not here.” The woman and her daughter folded their arms across their chests in unison. “You could maybe take her to the shelter? They’re always open to cats.”
“The pound?” Willow’s face creased in concern.
The woman shrugged. “Sure. They might have trouble moving cats, but a kitten should be adopted within a day or two. That’s what everyone is looking for. Something cute and small.”
She reached out a hand and chucked the kitten under its chin. The tiny cat closed its eyes and purred, and Willow felt a pang of betrayal stab her in the stomach.
How dare you enjoy this woman’s touch more than mine!
What a stupid thought. Willow wrinkled her nose against another sneeze. Given the circumstances, it was no surprise her head would be full of silliness today.
“Okay.” Willow sighed deeply and picked the box containing the kitten up into her arms. “I’ll try the animal shelter, then. Thanks for your help.”
Given the smile with which the woman accepted the compliment, Willow must be losing her touch with sarcasm.
The animal shelter wasn’t far from the center of town. Willow thought one advantage to living in such a small place was that nothing was far from anything, even when you were on foot. When you were trying to keep something secret, it was a nightmare, but most of the time the closeness was reassuring rather than suffocating.
It only took a few minutes until Willow walked through the door of the shelter. This time, the woman behind the counter looked genuinely happy to see someone, although her face fell when she spied the kitten inside the box in Willow’s arms.
“Are you looking for a companion to your pet?” the woman asked hopefully, replacing her initial smile with something far more hesitant. “Lots of people find that their pets aren’t happy until they have another animal for company.”
“Sorry,” Willow said, placing the kitten down on the countertop. “This isn’t mine. The owner just died, and the pet store that sold it to him won’t take this little cutie back.”
Even though the itching sensation spreading on her forearms was probably a precursor to hives, Willow couldn’t resist giving the kitten another quick pat.
“Have you tried a private sale?” the woman asked. “It’s a much more assured way of getting your pet into their forever home. I can help you with a listing if you’d like to do that.”
“How long would it take?”
“Oh, just a few minutes.” The woman’s face brightened, and she pulled the keyboard and computer closer to her. “I can set up an account for you online, and then it’s just a matter of filling in a few details.”
Willow shook her head. “No, I meant how long would it take for someone to respond to an ad?” She held out her wrists, where a rash of red bumps was now growing. “I’m afraid I’m allergic to cats, so I can’t really keep it in my home.”
“Her,” the woman replied, puffing her lips out as she looked at Willow’s arm. “Your cat’s female.”
“It’s not my—”
“Yeah.” The woman held up a hand. “Sorry. I’ll try to remember. I’ll just go out the back and get a few forms. We require them for the state when we’re not collecting the animals directly off the street.”
Willow turned to look at the row of cages near the entrance as the woman dragged her feet out to the back. A few dozen faces stared back at her. Despite the assurance of the Fowler’s Pet Shop owner, half of them were kittens. Not as cute as hers, of course, but if there was a market for quick adoption, Willow thought there shouldn’t be quite so many.
The kitten mewed and batted at Willow’s hand, who immediately sneezed again, staring at the ball of fluff through her increasingly watery eyes. If it stayed in the conservatory, then perhaps her allergies would clear up and they’d both be happier.
Not it. Her.
Mavis. That was what the kitten looked like to Willow. Her Auntie Mavis, who’d always been a barrel of laughs. Where Mom was strict—probably because she needed to be, Willow wasn’t under any illusions that she’d been a perfect child—her aunt Mavis had been overflowing with generosity and love. When Willow went to stay with her—a more frequent occurrence the older she got—there was always a new game to be played or a fun prank to try out.
You’re not really going to leave Mavis here, are you?
Willow sighed and shook her head. Of course, she wasn’t. That would be an unfathomable act of cruelty. She looked again at the caged animals, their sad eyes pleading for rescue.
In a flash, she scooped Mavis’s box up under her arm and stalked across to the door. The kitten’s head poked up immediately, paws on the cardboard edge as she balanced herself, ready for the adventures ahead.
As Willow walked out of the door, setting the bell tinkling, she sneezed again and pulled a tissue out of her handbag. Since it appeared the kitten was staying with her, perhaps the drug store should be her next port of call.
Chapter Five
“Okay, I’m coming,” Willow called out as the knocking started on her front door again. She’d been out the back in the conservatory, attempting to teach Mavis it was now her home when a fist started pounding to be let in.
“Honey, are you okay?” Harmony said, enveloping Willow in a hug as soon as she got the door open. “I heard the news down in the library and just had to come and see you as soon as I could.”
“I’m fine.” Willow returned the hug as best she could, then pushed Harmony away as she heard the distinctive bell from Mavis’s new collar. “Get back in there, little miss!” She shooed the kitten back toward its room.
“Who on Earth is this?”
“Quick, close the door behind you,” Willow said as Mavis easily evaded her outstretched hands to run over and greet the new arrival.
Harmony shut the door just as the kitten seemed to realize there was a chance at escape. The cat pawed at the door and turned with an indignant stare, shaking her head until the bell dinged again.
“It’s Roger’s kitten,” Willow said. “I tried to give it back to the pet shop, but they wouldn’t take it, and I couldn’t bear to leave her at the pound.”
Her voice was rough, half from a quiet weep she’d had over Roger and half from the bouts of sneezing that had continued, despite the application of copious antihistamines.
“What’s her name?” Harmony bent over, clicking her fingers. Willow experienced a small thrill of joy to see that Mavis ignored her friend to the same extent that the kitten had been steadfastly ignoring her.
“This is Mavis, and she’s refusing to stay in her room, even though I’ve given her the run of the whole conservatory.”
Harmony laughed. “I’m not surprised. She seems to have become quite attached to you already.”
Willow turned with raised eyebrows and saw that the kitten was following in her footsteps. She pursed her lips as she considered the animal. “Hm. She certainly hasn’t shown me that same obedience when I’ve tried to get her to do anything.”
Harmony laid her handbag—about the size of a decent piece of luggage—down on the bench in the kitchen and put on the kettle. “How are you coping, aside from keeping a new cat?”
“I’m fine,” Willow lied. “Right now, I’m more worried I’ll die from allergies than about the fact that a dead man was lying in my garden.”
Her voice cracked on the last part of that sentence, and she pressed her forefinger to her upper lip to keep back the sobs threatening to erupt.
“I’m not worried about the fact that it was a dead body,” Harmony said. “I’m worried about you losing your new boyfriend. Reg and I were so happy that you’d finally found someone. I can only imagine how devastating it’s been.”
“Roger wasn’t my boyfriend,” Willow said, using mock indignation to hide her tears.
“Sure. However, you like to phrase it.” Harmony offered her friend a one-armed hug as she brought the kettle over to the table. “It was a delight to see you so happy.” For a moment, she looked utterly bereft. “I don’t know what to say.”
Willow stared at her friend for a second, dumbfounded. Harmony was never short of words. It was as though they stuffed her head full to overflowing, so she talked about anything unless distracted with a book. Half of the novels and manuals lying around the house were there just in case Willow needed a quick respite from her friend’s constant conversation.
“I’ll be all right,” Willow said, pausing for thought between each word. Although she’d hidden her relationship from the sheriff’s office, she couldn’t keep up the façade with her best friend. Especially since it seemed Harmony and Reg had already seen straight through her. “Although I miss Roger already.”
Tears started to flow down Willow’s cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“Don’t do that,” Harmony remonstrated, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her into another hug. “Have a good cry and let it out. Sometimes it’s the only thing that can go any way toward making you feel better.”
Willow followed her friend’s advice and cried until she felt empty.
“Now, how are you going to keep this bundle of mischief in the room where she belongs?” Harmony had turned around after Willow’s bout of weeping to find Mavis investigating the contents of her handbag. “Since you’re obviously allergic to the thing, you can’t have it roaming around your house. At the very least, you need to keep one room completely clear of cat hair so you have a sanctuary if things get really bad.”
Considering how swollen her eyes were—even before her bout of crying—Willow didn’t like to think of what might constitute ‘really bad.’
“If I knew how to control Mavis, she’d be locked away in there already. Given the fun she seemed to have making a mess this morning, I’m surprised she hasn’t settled right back in.”
“Have you fed her?”
“I’ve put food out in a bowl if that’s what you mean. I got a whole range of stuff from the market because I didn’t know what she’d like. Whether or not Mavis has eaten any, I don’t really know.” Willow frowned. “When I was watching her, it seemed more like she just stuck her face in there and licked all the lumps into a different position, then sat back to stare at them.”
“Ah,” Harmony said, nodding sagely, “an artist.”
Willow stared at her, head tilted to one side until she saw the ghost of a smile dancing at the edge of her friend’s lips.
“Oh, you,” Willow said, flapping her hand at Harmony. “You had me going for a minute there.” She sighed heavily and placed her hands on her hips. “Can you tell I’m out of my depth?”
Harmony laughed. “Did you remember to prepare her a litter box?” she asked, then when Willow nodded, she continued, “In that case, how about you come at Mavis from your side, and I’ll stand guard over here. If you drive her toward me, I’ll try to catch her, then we can lock her into the conservatory. As a plus, I’ll be the bad guy.”
“The bad guy?”
“If we’re trapping your kitten in a room she doesn’t want to stay in, it’ll be better if she associates her jailer as being me rather than you.”
“Fair enough. One. Two. Three.”
Willow had almost counted herself out of numbers by the time they finally managed to lock little Mavis up.
Chapter Six
“You know what?” Harmony said, sitting down at the kitchen table and encouraging Willow to ignore the plaintive mewling coming from the next room over. “We both need a good meal to face the day on. I bet you haven’t had a chance to eat yet, and I’m starving. I’ll buy you lunch at the new café in town.”
“Really?” Willow wiped away her tears, depositing a few cat hairs near her eyes that started a different type of weeping. She removed herself to the bathroom to get cleaned up properly.
Harmony was on the same fixed income as Willow. Being a retired woman didn’t leave much left over each week for splurging on something special. To suggest a meal out rather than cobbling one together meant Harmony was serious about cheering them both up.
For a second, Willow stared at her puffy eyes and red cheeks and almost let her dead mother’s stern warnings about only looking your best in public sway her. Then she fought those old lectures away. Let people see her in distress. It might help flush out the real murderer.
“We should go Dutch,” Willow said, grabbing her handbag off the counter and tapping lightly on the door of the conservatory. Mavis stopped trying to eat the corner of a broken earthenware pot long enough to stare at her with melting eyes.
“That one’s a heartbreaker for sure,” Harmony said, steering Willow away from the small window. “And it’s my treat. I worked out a new system for bingo, and I’ve been taking the retirement home women for everything they’ve got!”
Willow laughed as they got into Harmony’s car for the short drive. “I can imagine they’ll ban you if you win too often. They’re very strict.”
“As they should be. Those poor old dears, cooped up all day without access to the underhanded wheelings and dealings of an ex-con. They need protection.”
Willow looked over at her friend with interest. The only ex-con she knew in town was Gruff Billy. So-called because of his surname Goat. And so far as she could remember, his incarceration had a lot more to do with petty theft than casinos.
“What’s this new system, then? Are you allowed to share?”
Harmony mimicked a zipper closing on her lips, then nosed her vehicle around the corner into the center of town. There was nowhere handy to park—many of the interior roads sported double yellow lines—so Willow pulled out a parking lot ticket from her purse and slapped it on the dashboard.
“Roger gave me that in case I was ever in need.”
“Sweet.” Harmony maneuvered the vehicle into the underground parking lot and pushed the ticket into the machine. A whirr, a buzz, and a spat-out stub later, they were inside and parking right by the door.
“These are meant to be for disabled people, aren’t they?” Willow looked around her for the signs she vaguely recalled being there.
“Honey, we are part of the disabled now. Look.” Harmony pointed at a black and white sign. “Mothers with children, disabled, old people.”
“That says over sixty-five,” Willow scolded. “Find another park at once.”
“Don’t you want people finding out your true age?” Harmony said with a teasing lilt.
“I’ve got a good eleven years until I qualify, even if you’re a bit closer.” Willow pulled the passenger door closed and refused to move until Harmony got back into the driver’s seat and moved them one row back. “That’s more like it.”
“There’s the brand-new café right in the central square if you want to take a chance on it.”
“Let’s give it a shot,” Willow said. “If they’ve got too long of a waiting list, we can always scoot around the corner to Bellini’s. I’m sure they’ll have a spot for us.”
“I think these days they have as many spots as are needed.” Harmony had an edge in her voice. Once, over a year ago now, she’d lost half her tooth to an item baked into a Bellini muffin that shouldn’t have been there. No surprise she’d never expressed an interest in eating there since.
“Or if they don’t want our business, we can go right back home, and I’ll make you a nice salad.” Willow didn’t keep much stored in her fridge, but her garden meant she always had an excellent selection of greens, no matter the time of year.
As they walked out of the parking lot, turning onto Main Street, their path took them straight past Roger’s business. As a wealthy real estate agent, he’d not been backward in coming forward. The most prominent shop on the most significant block, right in the center of their town.
Jimmy Niko was parading up and down in front of the entra
nce as usual. The man felt he’d been cheated by Roger Randall in a house deal gone bad nearly two years before. In the months afterward, the man had taken to dressing in a sandwich board decrying the services of a ‘cheat’ and a ‘scoundrel’ who would ‘take your money and leave you homeless’ just to ‘skim profit from the bones of our town.’
“Morning, Jimmy,” Willow called out to the man.
Despite Jimmy Niko’s mission in life being to oppose Roger’s business, Willow held a soft spot for the man. To have such dogged determination despite years of not having an effect made him a comic figure to most of the town. That he bore this low-level ridicule with mild dignity made her fond of him in some odd way.
“Heya.”
Jimmy waved to her, then turned his back and started the march back down the other side of the pavement. The weight of the sign had an effect on him. While Willow felt mildly cool, Jimmy kept pulling out his green silk handkerchief to mop the beads of sweat from his brow.
When Roger had protested Jimmy very-public protest at the local council a year before, they’d voted against him, leaving Jimmy free to march outside as long as he didn’t interfere with anyone directly. Willow did think that decision had more to do with the council’s opinion of Roger than it did with the issue of Jimmy and his sandwich board.
“Haven’t you heard the news?” Willow called out again. Her throat caught on the last word, but she swallowed quickly to disguise it. “There’s no use in your protesting outside any longer.”
When Jimmy turned, his eyebrows raised in an expression of pure puzzlement, Willow couldn’t make herself say anything further.
With a squeeze of her friend’s arm, Harmony stepped forward. “Roger Randall was found dead this morning. There’s no one left to protest, hon.”
Jimmy looked from one woman to the other, a worried frown on his face. “What’s that, now?”
“Roger’s dead,” Willow said, stepping forward to rest her hand on Jimmy’s arm. “He was murdered last night.”
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