When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  “Thank you.” I sidestepped him, careful not to hit him in the head with the carrier. One assault was enough for the night.

  His description was spot-on. One brownstone remained between the high-rises, a skinny Victorian holdout from a bygone era. Galerie Bellamy was dark, and the closed sign was on the glass door. I hoped I wasn’t too late when I wrapped on the wooden door.

  “Did you know that man?” I looked to either side, making sure no one was close enough to hear me talking to a cat.

  “Yes. He comes to the gallery often.”

  “What does he smell like?”

  “Chemicals.”

  My heart was pounding when Margaret appeared from a shadowy hallway. Persephone smelled chemicals the night of the heist. I might have just come face to face with the thief! What should I tell her?

  She waved when she saw me, and her face lit up when she spotted the cat carrier in my hand. I liked her already. I’d seen her picture in the news stories, and she was a thin, stylish, older woman with thick gray hair down to her shoulders, where it flipped out a little, like she was still hanging onto her heyday style. Today she wore a black turtleneck with a statement necklace and wide-legged, patterned pants.

  Way cooler than I could ever manage to pull off.

  “You must be Addie. Please, come in,” she said as she opened the door. “And that’s my Purry Pants.”

  Persephone groaned from inside the carrier, but then meowed in response. Huh. I thought maybe she’d try to talk, but she was all cat in the presence of her person.

  I crouched and opened the door to the carrier. Persephone strutted out and stretched. She looked around, and I wished I could ask her what she was looking for. She pushed up against Margaret’s legs, and the older woman bent and scooped her up. “I’m so glad you made the time to meet with me.”

  “Of course. You have Purry Pants.” She kissed her cat on the head. “Thank you so much for coming all this way. It will be a lot easier to get through this now that she’s home.”

  “It’s always good when we can reunite a pet with their family.” I took a quick scan of the wall, looking for where the infamous painting might have been. But there weren’t any holes in the display. She’d either rearranged things to disguise the loss, or the painting was never on display to begin with. “Any leads on the painting yet?”

  “No, unfortunately. I haven’t been as helpful as I should be, I’m afraid. Losing the painting was devasting.”

  “No one expects you to find the painting yourself.” I wasn’t sure what to say about the handsome man that fit the scent of the thief, according to the cat she was snuggling against her chest. I had to go slow with that information.

  “Bellamy was my partner for many years. He considered me his muse.” She chuckled sadly and looked into the distance, like she was indulging herself in a memory, then shook her head. “It’s like losing him all over again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She leaned in close and whispered, “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I’m the subject of the painting that’s missing. I should’ve never made it available for sale.”

  “Who’s here?” A younger voice called from the hallway. A well put-together woman, the kind that always made me feel like a kid, even though I was in my thirties, appeared. Her face fell when she saw me standing there with Margaret. “Persephone’s back, I see.”

  “Addie brought him here from a shelter in New Hampshire. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “It certainly is. Now if we could have the same good fortune with the painting.” The woman stuck her hand out to me. “I’m Nicole, Margaret’s niece. I’ve been helping her with the exhibit, and now with the press in the aftermath of the theft.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I drew my hand away, aware it was probably still sweaty. “Do you have any leads on who could’ve stolen the painting?”

  Nicole drew back.

  “Sorry if that was too forward. I’ve been reading about the theft since I found out Persephone belonged here.”

  “We’re working closely with the police, but we haven’t been able to provide any credible suspects. It seems like my aunt left the door in the back unlocked.” She gave her aunt a role-reversing look. “Too many people in and out of here. Sully, the handyman, he never sticks to any schedule.”

  “He cares way more about his sports teams than he does about art,” Margaret interjected.

  “Maybe someone hired him to do it for that reason.”

  “He’s done everything I’ve asked him to. There’s no reason to suspect him of wrongdoing.” Margaret cuddled the cat closer to her.

  Nicole turned to me. “I always tell her she’s too trusting.”

  “Lies,” Persephone said. “She tries to make Margaret feel old.”

  So this was uncomfortable.

  “Whether the door was locked or not, nobody had any business helping themselves to a priceless work of art,” I said. “Is there any way they could resell the painting on the black market? I’ve read that it’s valued at a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “More than that.” Nicole waved her hand. “I don’t know anything about black markets. My business is real estate. That’s why we’re leaving the investigation to the experts.”

  Achievement unlocked: the first door slammed in my face in my fledging amateur investigator career.

  “Nicole, take Addie’s bag. She came a long way to bring Purry Pants back to me. The least we can do is offer her some tea and maybe some cake. I made a blueberry cake last night.”

  “Oh, I can’t—"

  “That sounds wonderful.” I shrugged my purse off my shoulder and handed it to a scowling Nicole. She looked eager for me to hit the road, but I hadn’t had anything since breakfast, and my stomach was rumbling.

  Plus, I wanted to talk to Margaret alone.

  “Would you show me around the gallery?” I asked when Nicole disappeared into a back room.

  “I’d love to. We were almost done setting up the new exhibit for next weekend’s party, but I may cancel it.”

  “Because of the theft?”

  She nodded.

  “No! That would be a shame.” The thief had already taken enough from this woman.

  Margaret gave Persephone a kiss on the head then set her down. “I’m not sure I want to share Bellamy’s work with the world anymore. If he’d lived to see this interest in his art, he would’ve hated it. His work was in response to the culture he wanted to get away from. He probably would’ve stolen his own painting.”

  I laughed. “I would’ve liked Bellamy a lot.”

  “Every day with him took my breath away. I never knew what to expect.” Her eyes shone with emotion. “My life isn’t the same without him.”

  “I’m really glad I was able to bring Persephone back to you. That must make things a little easier.”

  “It does. She’s good company.” Margaret furrowed her brow. “How did you know to bring her here if her tag was missing?”

  I stepped closer and waited for the telltale sounds of cabinets being opened to make sure Nicole was distracted. “Has your cat ever, uh, talked to you?”

  Margaret pursed her lips, blinking. “She’s quite a vocal cat. Especially around mealtime.”

  I shook my head. “I mean, actually spoken?” My heart pounded. Margaret seemed to have had an avant-garde past—but this was pretty farfetched. “I didn’t believe my ears at first either, but how else would I know she’s your cat?”

  “She was in the press—”

  “I said that because I was afraid to tell you that I can talk to your cat.” Another glance at the hallway to make sure the coast was still clear. “She followed the thieves. She knows who took your painting.”

  “There must be some explanation.”

  “Can I prove it to you? Maybe she can tell me which window she likes to nap in?”

  “The one near the door,” Persephone said. “It’s got enough room to get comfy.”

  I pointed to
it, and Margaret’s lips parted.

  The clicking of heels signaled Nicole was back, with a cup of tea in each hand. The younger woman looked like she was much more accustomed to people waiting on her than the other way around.

  “Maybe we should sit,” Margaret suggested and turned to Nicole. “Addie might know who took the painting,”

  Nicole narrowed her eyes at me.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I followed them into a room that had the kitchen essentials, but also a massive table in the middle, and a few sculptures positioned on it like someone was figuring out how to display them.

  “We’re reconsidering offering the reward money, if that’s what you’re after,” Nicole said as she took her seat. “Selling the Bournaise was supposed to fund my aunt’s retirement. She can’t afford to give money away if she doesn’t sell that painting.”

  “Certainly understandable.” Something about Nicole was rubbing me the wrong way. She reminded me of someone who would’ve turned up their nose at me at a cocktail party at the brokerage firm I used to work at.

  Persephone curled around my legs. “Two people took the painting,” she said. She’d told me that at the shelter, too.

  Which supported the Sully getting paid-off theory. I wondered if he was the guy I almost knocked over on the sidewalk. He did know Persephone, and according to her, he smelled the same…

  “Was there anyone especially interested in the exhibit?” I asked. “Maybe who hasn’t been around much since the theft?”

  “We’ve already spoken to the police,” Nicole reminded me, frowning from behind her teacup. “Perhaps you should contact them if you have information that could lead to an arrest?”

  Margaret shook her head, like her niece embarrassed her. “A lot of people are excited about the exhibit, since Bellamy’s other work has gained attention. I’ve had these paintings in my house since I moved back to the States, and I decided to make them available, with some encouragement.”

  “From the art teacher.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “He spends an awful lot of time in a tiny gallery.”

  Margaret’s face lit up. “Henry’s fascinating. He’s traveled to some of the same places that Bellamy and I did. Even studied with Bellamy’s protégé. We have a lot in common. I enjoy his company.”

  “Bet selling a Bournaise on the black market would pad his teacher’s salary.” Nicole waved off a piece of cake when Margaret offered. “You should’ve never given him the code to the gallery.”

  Oh. I hoped Henry had an alibi for the night. And that he wasn’t working with Sully.

  Poor Sully. I’d already totally framed him.

  Margaret shrugged. “He likes to work here. It’s impossible to sculpt in a tiny apartment.”

  I did not turn down Margaret’s offer of cake.

  “Henry’s very talented,” she said and motioned to the sculptures in progress on the table. “This is his work.”

  It didn’t look like much now—white plaster, maybe, with some carvings. I nodded because I had no idea what to say.

  “He may also be very opportunistic,” Nicole said. “Do you have any proof he really studied with Bellamy’s people? Like I said, my aunt is too trusting. Too bohemian.”

  “Too bad more people aren’t like that.” I popped a piece of blueberry cake into my mouth as Nicole glared at me. “Does anyone else have the code?”

  “Nicole does,” Persephone said. “She was meeting a man here. He stunk.”

  “No,” Margaret said. “Just Henry.”

  Interesting that Persephone thought to include Nicole but Margaret didn’t. Maybe because she was family, she felt it went without saying. But even though I lived above my sister’s garage, she didn’t give me a key to her house.

  “Is there anyone interested in this house? It seems to be an anomaly, a single-family house in the middle of so many high rises.” I turned to Nicole. “You said you were in real estate, correct?”

  “The house been in the family for generations,” Margaret said. “But I have had some offers to sell. Nicole thinks I’m crazy to hold onto it.”

  “They’re willing to pay well above market value, and market value is pretty impressive. The offer might not last forever.” Nicole gave me a knowing smile. It made me shudder. “You could have a nice gallery down the Cape, or maybe in Florida.”

  “With the old people.” Margaret groaned. “The minute I hand over the deed, they’ll tear the place down and put up a high rise in its place. As soon as I’m gone, I’m sure the family will sell. But there’s history here. I’d like to hold onto the legacy a little while longer.”

  Nicole put her hand over Margaret’s. “I’d love to stay and chat more, but I have dinner reservations. Addie, thank you so much for bringing my aunt’s cat back. It was a very kind thing to do.”

  She rose from the table and put her coat over her arm before walking out the back door.

  “I don’t like her,” Persephone said as she jumped into my lap. “She underestimates Margaret.”

  Margaret sighed when the door closed. “She always says I work too hard. Wants me to relax.” She laughed sharply. “I’m seventy, I’m not dead. Having the gallery in the city is my connection to the art community.”

  “When does the exhibit open? If you do it.”

  “We planned to have the opening party next Saturday night. I’m not ready to retire, but I wonder if Nicole is right. If it is time for me to sell this house. I miss France, and my community there.” With worry furrowing her brow, she did look older. Unsure. There was no doubt the theft had her rattled.

  “Even if you decide to sell, I think you should still have the party. Think of it as a way to celebrate Bellamy. If you sell any of his work, and it sounds like you will, you can spend it on your terms.”

  “True…”

  “I’d love to come, if that’s possible. Maybe I could work with Persephone, and she could scent the person who took the painting. The perp might show up as part of their cover, or they could be scoping out their next target.”

  Margaret gasped. “It would break my heart if more of Bellamy’s work was stolen.”

  “It won’t be.” Now I was making promises I couldn’t keep. “We might get information the police would overlook and help them with the investigation.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Her face brightened and she reached over and patted Persephone’s head. “Are you able to talk to other animals?”

  “No. Can’t lie, I questioned my sanity when it happened. But everything she told me led me to you. Your cat might be able to help you get your painting back.”

  Chapter Four

  “What do I wear to an art exhibit opening?” I’d donated all my old corporate clothes the minute I quit my soulless brokerage gig. Margaret was cool. I liked to think I was too, but I had a different aesthetic. “An animal has probably peed on every top I own.”

  “You should borrow Lucky. She’s never failed me,” Casey said.

  “That’s not the kind of luck I’m hoping for. Plus I’m…”—I motioned to the space between the top of my head and the top of hers, which I could barely reach—"shorter and…rounder than you.”

  “The dress has good mojo.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the party.”

  I groaned. “That’s not why I’m going.”

  “How are you going to pull this off?” Brooke asked. “It’s not like you can hang out in the corner with a cocktail and have a casual conversation with Persephone while the party goes on around you.”

  “I’m playing it by ear.” I shrugged. “I’m hoping that I’ll be able to talk to a few people and maybe compare notes with Persephone afterward.”

  “How did Margaret react when you told her you could talk to her cat?” The ladies still weren’t sold on the talking cat angle. Not that I could blame them.

  I chuckled. “Similar to you, until I told her where Persephone liked to take naps. But then her niece showed up, and we didn’t have a chance to ta
lk about it again.”

  Brooke waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve been reading about the theft since you told us who Persephone belonged to. It sounds like she had a sizzling hot affair with a European artist.”

  “It sounds like more than that. She said she was his muse.”

  Casey put her hand over her heart. “That’s so romantic. I would love it if someone called me their muse.”

  Brooke’s face brightened. “Maybe we should all go to the party. There have got to be some single artists there. Addie won’t take advantage.”

  Casey shook her head. “Those creative guys always break your heart in the worst way. It’s best to give them a wide berth.”

  “It’s an art opening, not speed dating.” I laughed and picked up the phone. “Helping Paws Animal Shelter.”

  “Hi, can I speak to Addie, please?” a deep male voice asked. Dare I say, a sexy voice.

  “Speaking.”

  “My name is Henry Becket. I’m a patron of Galerie Bellamy, and I think I might have run into you and Persephone on Saturday night.”

  My mouth dropped. I’d pictured Henry as older and maybe as smelling like pipe smoke. Not the hot guy from the sidewalk. Who smelled like the thief.

  “Hi,” I squeaked.

  * * *

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in talking about Bournaise? I’ve been studying his work for quite some time, and Margaret thinks you might have some information about the theft.”

  “What did she say?” I turned away from my curious audience before they could see that my cheeks pinked.

  “That you had some sharp investigative skills that helped you bring her cat home safely.”

  “I’ll be at the party on Saturday night.”

  “Would you be able to meet before then? You must be busy, but maybe we could go look at some art?”

  “At Margaret’s gallery?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of the ICA. They have a new exhibit I’ve been interested in checking out. One of Bellamy’s contemporaries. Not sure you’re familiar with his work, but there’s a reason people are finally paying attention.”