The Secret in the Whiskers

by Patricia Fry

  “What?” Jeannie asked, joining the others in the living room.

  “Look,” Pam said, holding her phone in front of Jeannie’s face.

  “Oh my gosh, where is it? Is that a current photo?” Jeannie asked.

  “Yes, Chad just took it. It’s across town in Boyd Grant’s law office.” She cheered and danced around with her sister for a moment. “Jeannie, this means we can get the police involved! We have proof. I’m going to call them right now and get the ball rolling.” She shimmied. “We just might have the painting bolted to the wall in time for tomorrow’s open house.”

  “Wouldn’t that be great?” Savannah said.

  ****

  “They’re bringing it to the shop this morning,” Pam said the following day as they ate breakfast.

  “Yay!” Jeannie cheered. “Can’t wait to see it again.” She cringed. “Although I was never particularly fond of the painting, personally. Mama had some really nice cat art.” She glanced around at their guests. “Well, you’ve seen some of the paintings and sketches around here and at the shop. There are some beauties. To me, her favorite was a bit pale in comparison.”

  Pam wrinkled her nose. “I agree. It’s a nice piece of art, I guess, but rather ordinary in contrast to some of the others.” She picked up her glass of orange juice. “Well, let’s finish eating and get to work.”

  “Work?” Michael said. “I thought you invited us to a party.”

  Pam laughed. “Yeah, a work party. Ever hear of a work party?”

  “Sure have,” Michael said. “Not my favorite kind of party.”

  Savannah patted his arm. “He’s joking. He loves to putter.”

  ****

  “It’s here!” Pam exclaimed later that morning as the group scurried around the spacious shop dusting, arranging and rearranging, and taking care of a few minor repairs.

  “The painting?” Chris asked, following the others to the entrance.

  “Everyone,” Pam said, “this is Chad. Chad, our dear friends from California.”

  “Howdy,” he said, nodding. He held out a package wrapped in newspaper. “Here are your cats. Where do you want me to put it?”

  Giddily, Jeannie said, “Let me see it! Let me see it!”

  Pam took the package from Chad, looked around, then laid it on a desktop and began removing the paper.

  Savannah took the paper from Pam and wadded it up.

  “Yes,” Pam said. “This is it.” She held it up. “See the sort of menacing spirit in the cats and what about those whiskers?”

  The others stood back and eyed the painting. Finally Savannah said, “Yep. Those are cats. Look at their eyes.”

  “I like it,” Chris asserted. She explained, “But I’m a real fan of black cats.”

  “Really?” Savannah questioned. “I guess I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, my first few cats, when I was a child, were black.” Chris faced Savannah. “You know, they’re usually the last to be adopted.”

  “I know,” Savannah agreed. She studied the painting again. “This really is an interesting piece of art. I can see a story emerging from this painting.”

  Chris laughed. “Of course you can. You’re a writer.”

  Jeannie shimmied. “I’m so happy to have it back.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sure Mama’s happy, too.”

  “Where are you going to hang it?” Michael asked. “I want to secure it so it won’t be walking out of here behind our backs today.” As an afterthought, he added, “Or any other day.”

  “Need help with that?” Chad offered.

  “So you’re a putterer, too?” Michael asked. “Yeah, let’s see if we can secure the thing. I picked up a few bolts and this metal plate.”

  “Cool,” Chad said. “Where do you want it, Pam?”

  She looked at her sister and pointed. “Here? Over Mom’s favorite boudoir chair?”

  Jeannie nodded. “Perfect.”

  “Purr-fect,” Michael mimicked, chuckling.

  “That’s quite a project,” Chris said, as everyone watched the two men prepare to hang the painting.

  “I think that will do it,” Michael said, pushing against the picture. “It’s not going anywhere.”

  “Nope,” Chad agreed, “not unless someone cuts that section of the wall out.”

  “Oh no,” Jeannie whimpered.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Chad assured her.

  “Shall we celebrate?” Pam called, entering the room with a tray of beverages. “Mimosas for all!” she announced, holding the tray toward the two men.

  “Yes,” Jeannie concurred. “Let’s toast our new venture and the recovery of Mama’s cats.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Pam cheered.

  “To your success,” Chris said, holding up her glass.

  “And may you enjoy the process,” Savannah added.

  “Good luck, ladies,” Michael said.

  Chad took out his phone and snapped a picture. “Look at the cats,” he said. “They want to meet those in the picture. Do you suppose they think they’re real or something? Look how interested they are.”

  “No Rags!” Savannah shouted, quickly picking him up. “Michael, did you see that? He was clawing at that picture. Oh, my gosh, I wonder why?”

  “Why?” Chad repeated chuckling. “Why does a cat do any of the things a cat does?” He pointed. “That fluffy cat is interested too.”

  “No, Angel,” Jeannie said, scooping the Ragdoll up into her arms.

  Savannah moved closer to the picture. “That’s strange. I’ve never seen him so interested in a painting before.”

  “I think it’s the eyes,” Jeannie said. “It seemed like Angel made eye contact with that one cat. Do you think that’s it? They think those are real cats coming through a window or something.”

  Savannah shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Chad finished his drink and waved. “Gotta get back to work. Good luck with your opening and all.”

  “Thanks again, Chad,” Pam called out. She looked at her watch. “Hey, we open in fifteen minutes. Let’s finish getting ready, shall we?”

  “How about if I take the cats into the playroom with the children while you gals put the finishing touches on things?” Michael said, taking Rags from Savannah.

  “Thanks, hon,” Savannah said.

  “Oh, the caterer’s here,” Jeannie announced. “Let’s clear off that table.”

  ****

  The grand opening of Pam-Jean’s Vintage and Antiques was a success. They hosted more than a hundred people, sold several pieces, and made connections with a dozen antique collectors, brokers, and individuals with items they wanted to sell on consignment. The last customer had just left and the women were getting ready to close up when Savannah shouted, “No, Rags! Angel, no!”

  “What are they doing?” Michael asked, walking into the room with Teddy in his arms. When he saw the two cats clawing at the painting again, he nudged them off the chair and onto the floor, then moved closer to the painting and muttered, “Oh, no.”

  “What?” Jeannie asked, approaching him. “Have they scratched it? Darn it. I wonder what they think they’re after.” She looked more closely at the painting. “It’s not bad; we can probably get someone to touch it up. Hey, I think I have the name of the artist in here someplace, but I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  “Might be a good idea to put that thing behind glass,” Chris suggested.

  Jeannie nodded.

  When Teddy squirmed to get down, Michael eased the toddler to the floor, then moved closer to the painting. He pointed and stepped aside. “Hey, check this out.”

  “What?” Jeannie and Chris asked.

  Michael looked around on the chair seat, then on the floor, and mumbled, “It looks like they’ve dug something out of the whiskers there. See that?”

  “Yeah,” Jeannie said. “There are some bumps on these other whiskers. I feel them. What is that?”

  Michael scrutinized the painting aga
in. “Well, that’s just weird.”

  “What?” Savannah asked, joining them.

  “Look at this, hon,” he said. “I think the cats may have discovered a secret.”

  “A secret?” she questioned.

  “See those little bumps in the paint? You can feel them.”

  Savannah ran her finger over the painting. “Yeah. It is lumpy. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  “And look here,” he said, pointing. “See those little holes in the paint? I think those furry scoundrels did some damage. Dang.”

  Savannah looked down at Rags and Angel, saying quietly, “I wonder why?”

  “Why?” he asked. “Our cat may have damaged a valuable painting and you want to question his thought process?”

  “Look what I found, Daddy,” Lily chirped.

  “What?” he asked, still examining the painting.

  “Pretty rocks,” she said. “See, Daddy, a red rock and a blue one.”

  “Lily!” Savannah screeched. “Lily, let me see those. Where did you get them?”

  “On the floor right there,” the child said quietly.

  “What does she have?” Michael asked, now focusing on Lily.

  “Well,” Savannah said, wide-eyed, “they look like precious gemstones to me. Look at those, Michael.” When Pam walked into the room, Savannah said, “Pam, take a look at what Lily just found. They look like gems.” She glanced around. “But where did they come from?”

  After examining Lily’s treasures, Pam said, “I have no idea.” She asked, “Where did you find them, Lily?”

  “On the floor. Rags and Angel had them,” Lily said.

  “Do you know where they got them, honey?” Pam asked.

  Lily shook her head.

  Michael stared down at Lily’s hand, then at the painting. “Wait, let me see one of those, punkin.” He took a tiny gem from the child and examined it, asking, “Pam do you have a magnifier?”

  “Sure do,” she said, walking away. She returned promptly, and handed Michael the glass.

  “Black paint,” he muttered, studying the stone. He looked at the painting again. “Good Lord,” he said more loudly. “Gals, I do believe your mother was right.”

  “About what?” Pam asked, joining the others.

  He faced them and said slowly, “There’s a secret in the whiskers.” When the others looked puzzled, he explained, “It appears the cats have discovered the true value of this piece of art. See this stone Lily found? I believe it came from this painting. It has black paint on it and, as you can see, there’s a tiny hole here where the cats were clawing. I think this stone was embedded in the painting somehow—maybe glued on and painted over.” He rubbed his hand over the painting and said, “There are more of them.”

  “What?” Pam squealed.

  “Do you have an envelope?” he asked.

  “Um…yeah…sure…” Jeannie said. She handed him a velvet pouch. “How about this?”

  Michael nodded. “Thanks.” He turned to Lily. “Let me see what else you have in your hand there, punkin.”

  “Three pretty rocks,” Lily said, opening her hand to reveal the colorful stones.

  “Wow!” Jeannie said. “Hey, Sis, where’s the jeweler’s loupe?”

  “I’ll get it,” Pam said excitedly. When she returned, she carefully poured the stones onto a piece of dark velvet and began examining them.

  “Can you identify gemstones?” Chris asked.

  Jeannie answered for her sister. “She took a course a couple of years ago, didn’t you?”

  Pam nodded. She looked up at the others and announced, “They’re real, guys, and they’re exquisite.” She quickly dropped onto her hands and knees and began searching for more gemstones. “Do you see any more, Lily?” she asked.

  “I’ll look,” Lily offered, crawling under the chair.

  Savannah suggested, “Turn the cats loose. Rags is good at finding things like that.”

  “He won’t eat them, will he?” Chris asked.

  “No,” Savannah insisted. “Why would he do that?”

  Chris shrugged. “I don’t know, because he thinks it’s a tasty morsel of some kind, maybe.”

  Savannah picked up Rags and placed him near Lily on the floor. “Find the pretty stones, Rags,” she said. “Do you see any more pretty stones?”

  Rags wasn’t interested in what might be on the floor; he was currently intrigued with the painting itself.

  “No you don’t,” Michael said when the cat jumped up into the chair again. He returned Rags to the floor, saying, “I think we can find the rest of the gems from here, buddy.” He asked, “Pam, want me to remove this thing from the wall so you can retrieve the rest of those gems?”

  “How many more are there?” Jeannie asked

  He ran his hand over the painting again. “There are actually quite a few little lumps here and there.”

  “Yes,” Pam said. “Take it down, will you?” She turned to her sister. “Can you believe this? I guess we weren’t left penniless after all. Mama secured our future.”

  Jeannie spoke more quietly. “I wonder if she knew about this.”

  Pam shook her head slowly. “Yeah, I wonder.”

  “So what do you think those are worth?” Chris asked.

  Pam looked at the painting, then at the gemstones. “Enough that neither of us will probably ever have to work again.” She smiled. “We can just have fun with our antique business for as long as it pleases us, then retire if we want.” She twirled around giddily. “Oh, this is so exciting.” She grabbed Jeannie and the two of them jumped up and down, giggling. She then hugged Savannah, Michael, and Chris, lavishing them with gratitude. She picked up Lily. “And thank you, sweet Lily, for finding the pretty rocks.” She kissed her on the cheek.

  Lily said, “Rags and Angel found them.”

  “That’s right,” Pam said, lifting Angel in the air and twirling around. She snuggled with the cat. “You are one valuable kitty-cat.” She lowered her to the floor and reached for Rags, who was under the chair pawing at something. “Come here, Rags, I want to give you a hug.” She got down on her hands and knees and peered under the chair at him. Everyone laughed when she asked, “Are you too busy for a hug?” She asked, “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “What’s he doing?” Savannah asked, joining her and the cat on the floor.

  “Pawing at something,” Pam said. “What is that, Rags?”

  Rags pushed something out into the open and pounced on it, causing the women to jump back. “It’s a mouse!” Jeannie said. “I think it’s a mouse!”

  “No,” Michael said, lifting the cat into his arms. He picked up something and began to examine it. All the while Rags squirmed and pawed at the thing in Michael’s hand.

  “What is it?” Savannah asked, moving closer. When she caught a glimpse of it, she said, “Oh my gosh!”

  “What?” Chris and Jeannie asked.

  Michael released Rags onto the floor and approached the painting. “This must have come from right here,” he said, pointing. “See that gaping hole?”

  “Holy shhh!” Chris hissed.

  “Unbelievable,” Pam muttered. “That’s the biggest darn sapphire I’ve ever seen. It was in the painting?”

  “Oh!” Jeannie yelped. When the others looked at her, she said, “It’s coming back to me. I remember Dad somehow coming into possession of some pretty stones. We were young at the time and didn’t have an appreciation for such things. He used to get them out and show them to us. Remember that, Pam?”

  “Yeah, vaguely,” she said. “So you think these are the same stones?”

  “Well, those stones seemed to disappear and many years later, he gave Mama that painting.” Jeannie studied the painting and looked down at the sapphire. “Wow! So he had the artist hide them in the painting?”

  “The cats were keeping them safe,” Savannah said, quietly.

  “And the cats revealed the secret,” Michael quipped.

  Pam smiled, then murmured
, “I wonder if Mama knew.”

  “I guess we’ll never know,” Jeannie said. “And it really doesn’t matter.” She looked at the painting and asked, “What shall we do with it?”

  “I say we finish digging the gemstones out of there, find a good gemologist, and sell the stones,” Pam said.

  “I’d like to keep a couple for a ring for me and for Shari,” Jeannie said.

  Pam nodded. “That’s a good idea. Then I’d like to have the painting restored and hung right back there, over Mama’s boudoir chair.”

  Jeannie nodded. “Agreed.” She raised her eyebrows. “And let’s have everyone here sign the back of the canvas, so this moment is forever preserved.”

  “Great idea,” Pam said, removing the painting from the frame. She laid it out on the desk and handed Savannah a Sharpie. “Write lightly,” she cautioned.

  Once everyone had signed, Michael asked, “What about the cats? They found the jewels for you.”

  “They sure did,” Pam said. “Does Rags know how to sign his name?”

  “Darn,” Savannah said, “I wish I’d brought the nontoxic inkpad we use for his paw-tographs when we do book signings.” Her face lit up. “Hey, there are water-color paints in the playroom. Let’s mix some for the cats to step in. It’ll wash off easily.”

  “Let’s do it,” Jeannie said, leading the way to the playroom. “Okay, she said minutes later, you go first, Rags. Show Angel how it’s done.”

  Savannah laughed as she picked up Rags. She placed one of his paws in the plate of orange paint, but when she moved him toward the canvas, he leaped from her arms, ran across the desk, and bounded onto the floor. He sat down and began licking his paw.

  “No, Rags,” Michael said, scooping him up. “Did he leave his mark?” he asked, looking at the canvas. He laughed. “Yes, he did. A couple of times.”

  “Oh, Rags,” Savannah complained. “You paw-tographed it twice, or is that three times? There’s an orange smudge across where Lily wrote her name.”

  “That’s okay,” Pam said. “No harm done. Where’s Angel?”

  “Right here,” Lily said, petting her.

  “Jeannie, want to do the honors for Angel?” Pam asked.

  “I’ll try,” Jeannie said. “Are you sure that washes off?”