When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  It was a clever lie to allow me to stay here, but it took Mrs. Daly a moment before she bought it.

  “Very well. Miss Park, do come into the drawing room. I’ll bring you some tea.” Mrs. Daly stepped down the remaining stairs and walked down the hall.

  Ewan caught my arm. “Do not drink the tea,” he warned in a whisper.

  I gave the barest hint of a nod back, understanding the danger before I followed Mrs. Daly into the lion’s den.

  Osiris

  My duty was clear: follow Pepper and keep her out of danger. Dougal could handle himself if it came to that, but I doubted his life was in jeopardy. I trailed behind the two women with my tail straight up in the air, which was a clear warning to anyone watching that I was on my guard. The tantalizing scent of a garden vole nearby would not distract me from my goal.

  “You may stay in here while you wait for Mr. Dougal to return,” Mrs. Daly said with open frostiness to Pepper.

  To her credit, my new human ally didn’t flinch beneath the glare the housekeeper shot her way. I made a mental note to sneak into Mrs. Daly’s room later and cough up a hairball in her favorite pair of shoes.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Daly.” Seemingly relaxed, Pepper sat down on the couch, but as a cat, I saw things humans do not. Things like the micromovements of a woman utterly rigid as she readied herself for a potential attack. Luckily, she had me to protect her.

  Once Mrs. Daly had left us, I jumped up on the couch beside Pepper and crawled into her lap. I purred loudly to reassure her.

  “You are such an attention mooch, aren’t you?” Her tone was full of affection as she scratched me behind the ears. I swiveled my head a few times, making sure her fingers covered my favorite spots on what Nicholas used to the call my scarab beetle markings.

  The door to the drawing room opened, and Mrs. Daly came in with a tea tray. She set it down and poured a cup for Pepper. With my body flat and sloth-like on her lap, it was hard for Pepper to reach over me to pick up her tea. I pretended not to notice she’d taken the cup and was starting to raise it toward her lips. With lightning fast reflexes, I struck, smacking the cup with one paw and sending it flying. Tea sprayed across the table and onto the carpet.

  “Oh you dreadful creature!” Mrs. Daly lunged at me and I hissed, swatting at her before I darted around the room to keep her wretched claw-like fingers from grasping me by the tail. She would probably swing me right into wall. Mrs. Daly was truly not a cat person.

  “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up.” Pepper reached for a napkin on the tea tray and started wiping the table down. I ducked under the couch and hid beneath the fabric flaps while I watched Mrs. Daly’s black button up boots as she marched around the room, cursing me and all my feline glory. My whiskers twitched with my triumph.

  “I’ll make you a fresh cup,” Mrs. Daly said.

  “Actually, I really need to use the restroom,” Pepper said. “Could you show me where one is?”

  “Er…yes, yes of course.” Mrs. Daly’s tone held such grumpiness that I narrowed my eyes as I tracked her movements. “The water closet is this way.”

  I waited until the two women were well away ahead of me before I slid out from under the couch and trotted after them. Pepper’s protective shadow was on duty.

  Pepper

  I had to give Osiris credit; the cat had saved me from having to fake drinking tea served by a possible murderer. If I’m being honest, I was a bit worried about tea-drinking performance. You see it all the time in movies, but what if the liquid accidentally touched my lips? And thanks to the cat, I was also provided an excuse to leave the room.

  Mrs. Daly showed me to “the water closet” before she walked away, leaving me and the cat standing in front of the door to the bathroom. I stepped inside, but held the door open a sliver so I could peer through it and check that the coast was clear before I crept back into the hall and hastily rushed toward the stairs. Without running into Mrs. Daly, I managed to make it all the way to the end of the hall where Ewan Dougal told me I’d find her room. The door was locked, but I quickly started going through each key on the keyring to figure out which one would gain me entrance to the housekeeper’s room. I was sure there had to be something inside to prove she murdered Nicholas.

  Once inside, I noted that the room was neat and orderly, just what you’d expect from a housekeeper. I pulled out the drawers of the small writing desk, so I could dig through the papers. Nothing.

  After a quick search of the closet, I searched under the mattress. My fingers brushed against something flat. With the item in my grip, I sat back on my heels to examine what turned out to be a set of photographs of a much younger Mrs. Daly holding a baby in arms. The next picture was of her and a young boy standing in a garden with bluebells up to their knees. The next picture was of a young man, but it was a face I could recognize at least marginally: Paul Littleton, the groundskeeper. I flipped back to the photo of the young man. The resemblance was clear; the boy was Paul.

  Was Paul Mrs. Daly’s son? Neither of them had mentioned being related, not that I’d talked much to Mrs. Daly about her personal life. Thinking back, I remembered Paul had mentioned taking flowers to his mother the day I’d met him.

  My heart suddenly, painfully skipped a beat as I thought of the flowers for his mother, the ones tucked in the front of his bike’s basket. The moment replayed in my head and with instant terror, I realized the pink bluebells I’d seen at the time weren’t bluebells at all.

  They were foxglove.

  Had Paul known that he was bringing the murder weapon to his own mother?

  The sudden sound of steps outside the door caught me off guard and I leapt to my feet just as a shadow fell into the small space. I expected to see Mrs. Daly scowling at me, but it wasn’t her.

  Paul stood silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes grew wide when he saw me clutching the photos to my chest.

  “Hey…Pepper. What are you doing in here?” he asked, clearly confused.

  “I umm…” My mind went blank for a moment. “Mrs. Daly asked me to retrieve something for her. I’m trying to help out while we wait for Mr. Dougal to come back.

  “Ewan’s gone?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he should be back at any moment.” I debated whether to tell Paul his mother might be a dangerous killer, but this wasn’t the place. “I should get back downstairs to Mrs. Daly.” I started for the door but Paul casually sidestepped to block my path.

  “What did she need you to fetch for her?” he asked, plucking the pictures from my hands before I could stop him. He stared at the snapshots, his eyes suddenly hardening. “Where did you get these?” He flipped the bundle of photos to face me.

  “I—they were on the floor.” When I pointed, he looked down and took a few steps toward the ground by his mother’s bed. Casually, I tried to slip past him into the hall, but Paul spun and grabbed my arm, jerking me to a halt.

  “Let go.” It was an order while spoken as calmly as I could manage.

  “I think we need to have a little talk…” The flint in his gaze coated my veins with ice.

  “I think you should let me go right now,” I countered.

  “You shouldn’t have come in here. Now I have to do something I wish I didn’t.” He shoved me hard and I flew back, hitting the wall opposite the door. The scream had barely left my mouth before he was on me with one hand closing around my throat.

  Chapter 7

  Osiris

  Paul came up the stairs and caught sight of me outside the room Pepper was in. His eyes narrowed and he nearly kicked me with his boot as he stepped into the doorway. I swatted in warning and caught a sudden scent wafting off of him. It was the same scent I’d detected in the kitchen when Nicholas had died. I bent closer to Paul’s feet while he spoke to Pepper.

  His boots were covered in garden soil and that specific scent: death, or as I’d since learned, the scent of foxglove.

  Paul moved suddenly toward Pepper, grabbing her arm and throwing her across the room.
I didn’t waste another second before I raced at him with claws out and climbed up his body, attacking him with the fury of an ancient Egyptian cat that would made have my ancestors proud.

  Pepper

  Hands contracted around my throat so hard that my vision tunneled, and I gasped. I clawed at his wrists, desperate to remember those self-defense classes.

  Raise my arm up…bring down…something…

  As the oxygen became more restricted to my brain, things became hazy. A second before I blacked out, I heard the strangest caterwauling, as though from deep underwater.

  What the…

  Suddenly I could breathe, and I coughed violently when I collapsed to my knees. Paul cursed and something hissed in anger as he tried frantically to pull whatever that something was off his back.

  Osiris.

  That little furball was attacking a full grown man. Without wasting another second, I kicked Paul right in the groin and watched him double over. Osiris slipped toward the floor and I grabbed the cat before he hit the ground then took off running down the hall.

  “Help!” I screamed, hoping someone could hear as I reached the top of the stairs.

  Mrs. Daly appeared below.

  “Help! Call the police, Mrs. Daly!” I shouted. Footsteps thundered behind me and I knew Paul was close.

  “Stop her mother!” Paul bellowed.

  At the sound of his words, I nearly tripped. Mrs. Daly reached for me when I got to the bottom of the stairs. I ducked under her arms and let go of Osiris. Terrified that neither I nor the cat would make it, we both sprinted for the door. The warmth of the sun from outside renewed my hope as we skipped down the porch steps toward a police car coming up the drive.

  Paul stopped short, his eyes taking in the site of the police car that would be within inches of us in moments. He turned to run. Something came over me and I suddenly felt confidant I could stop him, so I turned, sprinted, and tackled him to the ground. The sudden impact caught him off guard and we hit the ground just as the police car stopped a dozen feet away. Paul thrashed beneath me, throwing me off, but two police officers hauled him to his feet. From where I sat with dust coating my arms and legs and gravel digging into my palms, I watched the officers drag Paul toward the car, handcuff him, and shove him into the back seat.

  With a face drained of color, Mrs. Daly stood at the top of the stairs in the open doorway of the house. After dealing with her son, the officers advanced toward her, cuffs in hand. It became apparent that all fight had left her. Osiris tangled himself around my ankles as he rubbed his furry face against my shins. A second police car joined the first and when the door opened, Constable Fitzgibbons gave me a quick nod.

  “Miss Park!” Ewan Dougal exited of the other side of the second car. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” To hide my shaking hands, I shoved them into the pockets of my shorts then turned to Officer Fitzgibbons and said, “I think Paul is involved.”

  “We’ll take it from here.” He waved at his men.

  “You’ll want to look in Mrs. Daly’s room. She has some photos. Paul’s her son.”

  “What?” Ewan cut in at this. “She’s—then that means… She’s the one who was with Nicholas before Lucas was born.”

  I nodded. “When I first met Paul, he had foxglove in the basket on his bike. He said he was taking it to his mother, but I didn’t realize what foxglove was at the time.”

  Ewan stared at Paul, his face awash with horror. “They killed Mr. Havers?”

  I noticed Mrs. Daly was looking down at the ground as she stood next to the car. She looked stunned and defeated.

  “Wait—" I interjected. “Mrs. Daly, you didn’t do it, did you? You didn’t kill your boss.”

  Her eyes lifted to mine and for the first time, I saw no biting scorn, only deep regret. She shook her head.

  “I only wanted him to pay for Paul. He’d done so much for Lucas over the years, but now he was spending his entire fortune on those stupid Egyptian trinkets. He should have been paying us back for having to live a lie all these years. I was the woman who bore his first child. Lucretia may have had the legal heir, but I’d given him his first son. Not that he cared, but he should have.” The pain in her voice was so clear that it made me shift on my feet uncomfortably.

  “So you were blackmailing him?” I asked.

  “Yes, but that was all. I didn’t know that Paul…” She shuddered and glanced toward her son.

  “Mrs. Daly, you can tell it all to the police at the station. You don’t have to say anything, but it might harm your defense if you don’t mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you say may be used as evidence,” Fitzgibbons said as he helped her into the other side of the car next to her son.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Ewan said to me.

  “Wait, what about Lucas?” I asked, turning back to the constable.

  “He will be released immediately.”

  My legs shook a little as true relief flooded me for the first time in what felt like forever.

  “We can go in and wait for him to return.” The butler ushered me inside and we both watched from the doorway as the police cars drove away.

  It was another half hour before Lucas returned. I was seated on the bottom of the stairs in the grand entry way of the manor house, waiting. I’d felt responsible for everything that had happened to him and I needed to apologize. Osiris sat by my side, purring loudly as he gazed at the beams of sunlight streaming through a nearby window as if they were the most fascinating things in the world.

  The door opened and Lucas stepped in. His hair was mussed as though he’d run his hands through it and his face was carved with lines of weariness, yet, because he was free, he’d never looked more handsome to me than he did in that moment.

  “Pepper?” he said in surprise when he saw me stand from the steps.

  “Lucas,” I replied, a little breathless. This man had a serious effect on me.

  “I—I just wanted to say I’m sorry that I got you arrested. I didn’t mean for Fitzgibbons to think you’d killed your father.”

  He waved a hand. “It’s alright. Fitzgibbons isn’t the brightest fellow.”

  “Yeah.” I laughed weakly, still completely horrified that I’d caused the arrest of an innocent man.

  “Well, I should go. You probably need time to settle in and recover from everything.” I started to go, but Lucas caught my hand, pulling me to a stop. I turned back to face him, completely off guard by the expression I saw in his face. Desire burned in his eyes. Desire for me.

  “Come for dinner tonight? It would be nice not to be alone.”

  I nodded even though I knew accepting a dinner date with this gorgeous man was a terrible idea.

  “Sure, what time?” I tried to act casual.

  “Half past seven?” He brushed his hand through his hair, taming the slightly wavy locks back into place and flashed me a charming smile that was tempered with an unexpected softness that melted me inside. It was such an effortless move that my lips parted on instinct and my brain short-circuited briefly.

  “Works for me.” I’d barely managed to get the words out before I rushed for the door, needing to escape.

  The fact that I was an absolute mess and a bit banged up from my struggle with Paul, meant that a shower was a necessity. I allowed the warm water to wash away the tension of the day as I drew in a few deep breaths. So much had happened in the last couple of days; it felt like hundreds of years had passed since I’d first shown up at the cottage with my suitcase clunking along behind me. I’d solved, or at least helped solve, a murder after getting an innocent man arrested and then getting him released. It was a lot to unpack.

  So much for my relaxing vacation…

  Dinner that night at Champsley was amazing. Lucas escorted me into the dining room and showed off the portraits of his ancestors. We talked about his father and I watched the sorrow momentarily fade from his eyes as he told a few stories from
his youth.

  “It’s not a bad life, to grow up here. I forget what it’s like when I’m London,” he said. “It’s so easy to bury myself in the financial world in the city. Now that I’m back at the manor, I realize how much I miss it. And with my father and most of the staff gone, someone has to look after it.” He rotated the stem of his wine glass.

  “Does that mean you’re leaving London?”

  Lucas was silent along moment before nodding. “Yes, I think so. I have plenty of money to take a few years off work and focus on the estate.” His eyes met mine. “What about you? You leave in a few weeks to go back to the states, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Just three weeks.” As the words left my lips, I realized I didn’t want to go home, not yet. I wanted to stay here.

  “Would it be terribly forward of me to ask to see you again while you’re here?” Lucas asked. His voice was softer and more alluring than ever before.

  “You mean…” I needed him to say it.

  “Yes. I’m rather fascinated by you, it seems. Getting arrested with your assistance was rather exhilarating.”

  I laughed. “I’m really not that exciting. Just a nobody from Oklahoma who practices one of the less glamorous types of law.”

  His eyes twinkled. “No one is no one,” he replied and pushed his chair back. “Join me for a drink in the study?”

  Once in the study, my eyes took in the way the electric lamplight illuminated the gold Egyptian artifacts. There on Nicholas’s desk was Osiris, lounging like a pharaoh on his throne and purring softly. With his eyes half-closed, his tail slowly curled up and down at the tip. I stroked the cat behind the ears while Lucas poured us each a glass of Scotch.

  “He saved my life, you know,” I told Lucas.