When the Cat's Away

by Molly Fitz

  Officer Duvall turned to me, arms crossed. “And how do you know what candy he was eating? You said you didn’t know him.”

  “He asked everyone at the back of the bus if he wanted a piece. I happened to have my own box, so I didn’t need them.”

  The doctor spoke up. “And you feel fine?”

  “I do, but I didn’t eat any of mine yet.”

  “Might I be able to see your box of candy?” She stepped toward me as if I had it in my hand.

  “Why do you need to see my candy?” After the look I received from the doctor that said I should have known why, I added, “I’m not going to get it back, am I.” It wasn’t a question.

  The doctor shook her head. “You two are on the same trip, and it stands to reason that you likely got the candy at the same place.” I knew we had. He’d told me as much. “It would be good to see if your box was tampered with at all and maybe bring it back to the lab to see if any of the candy was contaminated with something that could have caused this.”

  Trouble nuzzled my neck. I had to get him off the bus soon. “Is it possible he was allergic to almonds and not have known it?”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but preliminary findings show that likely wasn’t the case, so I should really take a look at that candy.”

  “So why are almonds a big deal? What do they have to do with cyanide?”

  Officer Duvall glared at the inspector who I’d heard say the word cyanide.

  The doctor sighed hard. “For some, cyanide’s presence can be determined by smell… a hint of bitter almonds.”

  I’d have to store that fact somewhere in the part of my mind that held on to random bits of knowledge for the next trivia night I went to.

  “So the candy,” the doctor prompted. “Can we have yours?”

  I sighed. “Sure. It’s right above you in the green and white striped paper shopping bag.” I’d have to order some online from the store directly, provided they hadn’t poisoned it somehow.

  The investigator slipped off the gloves he had been wearing and then put on a new pair. He grabbed my bag and then pulled out the candies.

  “Do I get to keep the others?” Although I knew I’d have to rebuy the coconut almond ones, I’d gotten four kinds from the store and didn’t want to have to reorder everything if only the one kind was the problem.

  The investigator gave me an incredulous look. “You’d be willing to risk eating these despite the conversation we’re having?”

  “I spent good money on those.” I might have won five hundred dollars on the trip, but that didn’t mean I was willing to part with something I’d bought. “Speaking of money, he’d won a lot of it. You should check to see if he still has it. Someone may have wanted to poison him for it.” What was I doing giving them a motive?

  “How much money?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Heard it from one of the other passengers.” I wasn’t going to tell them who and throw Mrs. Hopkins’ under the bus, pun completely intended.

  The investigator shook his head. “We knew about his winnings. I was asking about your candy.”

  “Oh. Thirty. It was a bundle deal. Saved me a few bucks. Besides, I doubt they’re poisoned. If you smelled almonds, and I’m telling you he ate almond candy, then it’s probably not cyanide.”

  The investigator looked at the doctor, who nodded. “We can compensate you so you can get replacements.”

  “Plus shipping?” I probably shouldn’t have pressed my luck, but what did I have to lose?

  “Sure. You’re helping us out after all,” the doctor said.

  “Deal. I’m going to go take care of the cat, but I will have the candy shop’s website open and ready for one of you to type in your details to purchase it for me. Oh, and test the soda too. He’d been drinking that as well.” There I was, telling them what to do again. Couldn’t I just butt out of it? I was already more involved in this than I wanted to be because of my photos.

  Officer Duvall let out a frustrated sigh.

  I didn’t let him respond beyond that, turning before he could, but I did catch the investigator nodding at my comment before they were fully out of sight.

  “Come on, Trubbs. I bet they’re wicked worried about you.”

  Trouble settled into my arms, purring away loudly, as I brought him off the bus.

  At the bottom of the steps, Gemma stood waiting, her arms crossed. She didn’t seem mad, though. More sad than anything.

  She sighed. “Oh, Trouble. You’re in trouble now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I followed Gemma back into the cat café. Rather than leading us into the catio, she crossed the café toward a door in the corner of the room. “Does he have some sort of kitty timeout that he has to go to?”

  “Worse, I’m afraid.”

  My breath hitched. “What do you mean worse?”

  She opened the door, revealing a back hallway. Once we stepped into it, she replied, “Well, sadly, he’s not going to be able to stay here anymore. We have a rule in agreement with the rescue that if any of the cats manage to escape, they have to go back to the rescue and stay in the cages there.”

  “Really? All he did was get outside, and you have to admit, today has not been a normal day for any of us.” I glanced down at the silver tabby. “You’re not gonna run out again, are you?”

  Trouble looked up at me, eyes wide open and innocent-looking, as if to say, who, me?

  “Sadly, it’s not for me to decide. Once they escape the first time, they are presumed to be a flight risk. Unfortunately, it’s just not safe anymore for him. We here would feel awful if something happened to him. And if one of our patrons happened to be the one to let him escape, oh, it would break their hearts.”

  “How did he get outside?” The last time I had looked inside the café, he’d still been sitting staring outside through the catio window.

  She led me further down the hallway. “You know? I have no idea. I didn’t see anybody go in, and no one came out. He was still in there after you left because I saw him in there.” She wrung her hands together. “This could be a much bigger problem than I thought. Oh, Trouble. What did you do?”

  I looked down at the purring cat in my arms. “Guess you really do live up to the name, Trubbs.”

  Gemma stopped at a door, then opened it and stepped inside. Once she’d flicked on the lights, I followed with Trouble. The room reminded me of an exam room at a veterinary office. A small metal table was attached to one wall. Kitty-corner to that was a counter with a sink and supplies I had seen on the many visits I’d made with my parents taking my orange tabby cat to the vet over the years. Things like cotton balls, cotton swabs, little gauze pads, and various tubes of ointments.

  “This is a neat setup you have back here.”

  “It definitely makes things easy. It allows us to come in here with the cat to trim their nails as needed, look them over if we’ve noticed any little scratches from one of the other cats, stuff like that. This all helps me with my studies as well, although we do have a vet come in every other week to give them all a once-over, but usually she just ends up with free coffee since we rarely have a problem. The rescue takes them to the full-service veterinary clinic a few blocks away for anything that can’t be done here.”

  I scratched under Trouble’s neck. “What happens next?”

  “Well, I’ll call the rescue. Trouble’s gonna wait in here until somebody comes by later to pick him up and take him back to the shelter.”

  “That will hurt his chances of getting adopted, won’t it?”

  “He’ll still be featured on the shelter’s website, but when anybody wants to see the cats, they come here. If they’re interested in one specifically, we bring them back to this room so they can have some one-on-one time, or if you’re just interested in a cat overall, they hang out in the catio like the café customers do. Trouble won’t have that now. Someone would have to be interested in him specifically and will have to make an appointment to go to the r
escue to meet him.”

  I tried putting Trouble down on the exam table, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead, he tightened his hold on me.

  “He really does seem to like you. I get why you can’t, but it’s a shame you can’t take him.”

  I nodded, a frown forming on my face. “Is it okay if I hang out with him here while we wait for the shelter to come get him?”

  “I bet he’d like that.”

  I stroked Trouble’s back. It was soft and silky. “All right, Trubbs. I need to go grab my things and let the officers know where I’ll be, but I’ll come right back. I need you to get down now.”

  He released his hold on me and slowly slinked onto the table, allowing me to step away.

  “And don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”

  Gemma opened the door, and the two of us quickly exited the room after making sure Trouble was still inside. We double-checked that we had closed the door behind us. And as we headed back into the café, we agreed there was no way he be able to get out of there.

  Chapter Twelve

  The demeanor inside the café had shifted in the several minutes we’d been in the back room with Trouble. No one was playing board games anymore. People spoke in hushed whispers. And now there was a greater police presence. A handful of officers sat amongst those who had been on the bus, taking statements and scrolling through cellphones, I assumed to look at photos. I had to wonder if this had been prompted by my earlier comment.

  “When did this happen?” Gemma asked Amy.

  “About two minutes after you went in with Trouble.”

  “Did you call the rescue?”

  Amy shook her head. “Doesn’t seem like the right time to have someone come get him right now. Cops probably wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  “Should probably give them the heads up at least,” Gemma said as she joined Amy behind the counter. “They can advise us what to do. I’m sure we can keep him overnight in there if we have to.”

  “Overnight? In that room?” I thought about my old cat’s reaction to the vet. He hated being in that room. Trouble hadn’t seemed to mind this one, but what about once the café closed and he was alone?

  Gemma shrugged. “It’s bigger than the cages at the rescue are. Quieter too. No dogs in the other room.”

  A pang of guilt twisted my stomach. Trouble would for sure hate a cage. Would he even have escaped today if the bus hadn’t pulled in front of the café? Or if I hadn’t been on it?

  Gemma quickly explained to Amy that I was going to sit in there with him while we waited for word on our next move.

  “Could I get another drink too, please?” I glanced at the drink menu. “A frozen toasted s’mores coffee this time?”

  “Sure thing.”

  As she got it ready, I headed outside to grab my computer.

  “There you are!” Grant exclaimed from where he stood next to the van as I approached the table where my laptop sat a few feet away.

  “Sorry. I had to go rescue a cat.”

  “Oh, I heard all about it.” He stifled a laugh. “Believe me.”

  I shrugged, drawing my lips to the side. “I kind of felt like I had to. The little guy and I have kind of developed a rapport while we’ve all been here.”

  Nodding, he replied, “I understand completely. I have three myself. I know how special they can be.”

  “Probably got him a lot faster than anyone else could have, besides one of the baristas. His name’s Trouble.”

  This time, Grant’s laughter escaped, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the van. “I’m sure if you stayed in the bus any longer, that’s exactly what you would have been in.”

  I quickly explained to him how Trouble was now in trouble, and Grant’s mood turned somber as he listened. “So now he’s in a tiny exam area all by himself, and I was hoping to get my things so I could go keep him company while I look at photos until someone at the rescue comes to pick some up. Will that be a problem? I see that there are a lot more officers here now.”

  “Yeah, we were rather understaffed for a moment there. They were all responding to another call a few blocks away. Now we can get all the witness statements and see if anybody else has photos that might help a whole lot faster than we had been. As for you, sure. Head on in and go through your photos. You’re not a suspect, no matter what Duvall said when he was trying to scare you.” He lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t make much sense to me to treat you any differently than the others who were on the bus.”

  “Thank you so much.” I scooped up my laptop and charger cord. During the hubbub with the cat, it hadn’t gotten plugged in. There had to be an outlet in the exam room.

  “If you do find anything, you need to find someone to let them know what’s going on. Preferably me.” Meeting my gaze, he gave me a small smile before looking away, then cleared his throat. “We still don’t quite know what happened to the deceased, and although we’re ruling things out, other possibilities are coming to light. As I said before, any information you have could be vitally important to the case.”

  I nodded and then hurried back into the café, stopping quickly at the counter to pick up my iced coffee on my way to the exam room. But when I opened the door and stepped inside, Trouble wasn’t there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Trubbs?” I didn’t see him anywhere.

  Immediately I stepped back into the hallway, not even taking the moment to put my things down, and searched left and right to see if he’d somehow snuck past me. All the other doors in the hallway were closed, so there was nowhere else for him to go. Nothing. I pulled the exam room door closed and hurried back into the main café, where I flagged down Gemma.

  She rushed toward me, a coffee cup and marker in hand, and a worried look on her face.

  “I can’t find him.”

  “What? He has to be in there.” She wiped her hands on her apron, then lifted the drawbridge spanning the gap in the counter.

  I led her back to the room so she could see for herself.

  “Trouble?” she called as she closed the door behind her.

  Nothing.

  “Okay, at least I’m not going crazy,” I said as I spun in a circle. “But where is he?”

  She opened the lower cabinets beneath the sink as I checked the capped trash can.

  Nothing in either of those places.

  “See? This is why he can’t stay here. Guess he will be going to the rescue tonight. No way can he escape the cage without—”

  She was interrupted by a scratching noise followed by a thump, and we both looked to the exam table. The silver tabby was scrambling to pull himself onto the smooth surface.

  “Trouble!” I rushed over to him, putting my laptop and drink on the table behind him. He stood up to greet me, completely nonplussed as if he’d been there all along, his front paws on my shoulder. I wiped cobwebs off his whiskers. “Where were you?”

  “Up there.” Gemma pointed to the ceiling.

  I looked up at the shifted tile. “Well, that’s certainly one way to get out.”

  “But how did he even reach that?”

  If she didn’t know, I certainly wasn’t going to. The ceiling tile was a good three feet above the exam table, and not directly over it either, which had to have been why he only caught the edge on his way down.

  Gemma turned around. “Oh, never mind. Found it.” She pointed once more, drawing my attention closer to the door where there was another loose ceiling tile.

  I stared at the cat in my arms. “So what, you jumped to that tiny basket hanging on the door, pushed your way out that tile, and came out the other when we called?”

  Trouble glanced up at me before climbing onto my shoulder.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warned him. “I’m not going to be your accomplice in another escape attempt.”

  Instead, he pressed his face against my head, and soon I felt telltale signs that he was licking my hair.

  Gemma snorted. “Hope you all get home somet
ime tonight so you can shower. Come here, Trouble. No eating her hair.” She held her arms out toward him, but he wouldn’t budge.

  I tucked my hair behind my ear, pulling the few strands away from Trouble’s mouth. “Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “Seriously such a shame that you can’t take him.” She sighed. “All right, well, now that he’s here, I need to get back to work, starting with calling the rescue.”

  With one last sad look at Trouble still on my shoulder, she left the room.

  Now that I wasn’t panicking over a missing cat that I felt way too much responsibility for, I gave the exam room another once over as Trouble hopped to the exam table and sniffed all around my laptop before moving to my drink. He ran his cheek along the top of my straw, bending it and sending droplets of coffee across the room as it snapped back into place.

  “Okay, that’s enough of that.” I grabbed the coffee and wiped the straw off before bringing it to my mouth to have a sip. “Not really a place for me to sit, is there? Guess I’ll take the floor.” Unlike a regular exam room at the vet, there were no seats to sit in. Guess they figured anyone interested in a cat would do most of their socializing in the catio.

  Once I’d settled on the floor against the wall, with my laptop plugged in and on my lap with my coffee in reach, Trouble came down to join me. But first he had to make his inspection of my workspace, nearly knocking over my coffee yet again as he tried to bite my straw.

  “How many coffee cups have you knocked over on unsuspecting café patrons?” I asked, tucking the cup closer to my side. “I guess a lot.”

  Ignoring my comment, he jumped onto my shoulder, sniffed my hair until I tucked it back behind my ear once more, then lay down between my head and the wall.

  I thought back to our time in the catio. The chair hadn’t had much of a back to help support him behind me, and one of the other cats would have gladly taken my lap if it hadn’t been occupied. “Not a lap cat when you don’t have to be, are you? Or do you not like to share?”