Cat Trick (18 page)

15

I
went upstairs to my office, put my things away and then sat in my desk chair, swinging
around to look out the window over the water. I didn’t really think that Burtis had
had anything to do with what had happened to Mike. He was an intimidating man, yes.
But kill someone? I just didn’t see Burtis doing that. I could picture his sinewy
hand tightening into a fist and making contact with Mike’s face, but I couldn’t see
it slowly and deliberately blocking his nose and mouth so he couldn’t breathe.

On the other hand, I didn’t really think Burtis had just been making friendly conversation
with me, either. He was deeply loyal to the town and its people and I’d just been
told to back off. That made it twice in one morning. In my mind I could see Marcus
standing by his SUV, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. I hated how his cases
always seemed to come between us.

I wondered what Burtis would do if I didn’t stop asking questions about Mike Glazer’s
death. I rocked back in the chair. I was going to find out because I wasn’t going
to back off. Burtis wasn’t the only one with a loyal streak. I’d given Harry Taylor
my word that I’d see what I could find out about how Mike Glazer had died, and I hadn’t
exhausted all the possibilities yet.

I twirled around in the chair and reached for the phone.

Lise Tremayne answered on the fifth ring. “Hi, Kath,” she said. “How are things in
the Hundred Acre Wood?”

“Beautiful,” I said. “The sky is blue. The sun is shining. And I think Pooh and Piglet
just walked by my window.”

Lise laughed. “No fair. It’s rainy and windy here.”

“You could always come for a visit.”

“I should do that,” she said. “Before you come home.”

Lise was my closest friend in Boston. She assumed I’d be heading back to the city
when my contract expired. So did Ethan and Sara. I knew my dad wanted me closer, but
he wouldn’t say it. And my mother, who had an opinion on everything, was for once
keeping her opinion to herself.

“Lise, I need a favor,” I said.

“Favors are my specialty,” she said. I pictured her in her office at the university,
her feet in some ridiculously high heels propped on the edge of her desk.

“I’m looking for some information. Do you have any contacts in Chicago?”

“Absolutely. What do you need?” Lise had contacts everywhere. She came from a big
family—eight brothers and sisters. Her husband was a very talented jazz guitarist
who had played all over the place. And she was warm and down-to-earth. She could talk
to anyone about anything.

“Anything you can find out about Alex and Christopher Scott. They own a tour company
in Chicago.”

“Wait a second. Are they both lawyers?”

“Yes,” I said, stretching one arm up over my head. “But as far as I know, they’re
not practicing. Why? What do you know?” Not only did Lise know people everywhere;
she also had a mind like the proverbial steel trap. I heard a squeak, which told me
she was leaning back in her desk chair.

“Do you remember about five or six years ago there was a story that went viral online?
This guy talked himself into a job with one of the top law firms in Chicago by paying
off the caddy of one of the managing partners and then somehow improving the man’s
golfing score so he won a bet with some other lawyer. The partner was impressed with
the would-be lawyer’s initiative.”

“The story sounds familiar,” I said. “Then didn’t it turn out that the guy failed
the bar exam?”

Lise gave a very unladylike snort of laughter. “Five times. Someone from his class
outed him online.”

“It was one of the Scott brothers.”

“Uh-huh. I’m pretty sure it was Alex. And even more embarrassing, his brother passed
the first time.”

“Ouch.”

“It gets better,” Lise said, “or worse, depending on your perspective. Their father
was a lawyer and his father and his father. And no Scott had ever not passed the bar
exam on the first try.”

I switched the phone from one hand to the other so I could stretch my other arm. “That’s
a lot of pressure.”

“It is. So what do you want to know?”

“Anything you can find out about their business, Legacy Tours. Rumors, gossip, anything
that’s not common knowledge.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lise said. “You notice I didn’t ask if this has anything
to do with a dead body.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, wishing I could somehow reach through the phone and hug
her.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said.

The parcel from Mom was sitting on my desk. I reached for it, wondering what she’d
sent me as I pulled the tape off the end flap.

It was a small picture of a tiny cottage, with two cats sitting on the front steps
and the caption
Home Is Anywhere You Are.
I felt the pinch of tears and had to swallow and blink a couple of times. I knew
this was my mother’s way of saying she’d support whatever decision I made. It made
me miss her even more.

I took a deep breath. Then I got up and set the picture in my briefcase. I took the
foil-wrapped package of brownies down to the staff room, where I put one on a plate
and left the rest in the middle of the table. I poured a cup of coffee and took it
and my brownie back to my office, where I ate lunch backward—brownie first, salad
last—and went over paperwork.

At twelve thirty I took over the circulation desk so Mary and Mia could have their
lunch. Later Abigail and I did a presentation on podcasts for one of the seniors’
book clubs. When I headed for the parking lot at quarter after five, I was glad I’d
left dinner in my slow cooker. I’d hoped that Marcus might stop by, but I reminded
myself that we’d disagreed about my getting involved in his cases before, and we’d
always worked it out.

Owen was sitting on the top step by the back door when I got home. As soon as I unlocked
the door, he followed his nose and went over to the counter to stare up at the slow
cooker. The kitchen smelled like tomatoes, onions and spices. Owen tipped his head
back and closed his eyes. If it smelled delicious to me, how good did it smell to
him?

“That’s not for you,” I said. “That’s for Maggie.” Immediately he leaned back to look
around me. “She won’t be here for another hour,” I said. “And Roma’s coming as well.”

The cat narrowed his eyes, whiskers twitching.

“Hey, I like Roma,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “And don’t forget Maggie likes her.”

Owen made a huffy noise that rumbled in his chest.

“Suit yourself,” I said, going over to peek through the glass lid of the cooker. “Roma
was hoping you or your brother would try some cat food samples she was sent, to see
if you liked them, but you don’t have to.”

There was a meow from the direction of the living room. Hercules was sitting in the
doorway. He came about halfway across the room and meowed again.

“Would you like to be Roma’s taste tester?” I asked.

He sat down, curled his tail around his back legs and licked his lips.

I smiled at him as I went to the sink to wash my hands. “Thank you. Roma will appreciate
that. I think there’s some kind of salmon-flavored bits and maybe chicken. I’m not
sure.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Owen’s head whip around at the word “salmon.” His
third favorite word after “sardines” and “funky chickens.” Fourth favorite if you
counted “Maggie.”

He galloped across the floor, legs high in the air, and then sat down next to his
brother, wiggling his backside and bumping Hercules with his hip, which got him a
withering look.

“Oh, so you are interested in helping Roma?” I said.

He licked his lips just the way Hercules had done.

“Your brother volunteered first,” I told him as I dried my hands. “But if Roma needs
a second opinion, you’ll be it.”

Owen glared at Hercules. Herc flicked the tip of his tail in return and came over
to rub against my leg.

I told the cats about seeing Burtis with Lita in the library parking lot as I peeled
the potatoes. “Do you think those two could actually be a couple?” I asked.

Hercules closed his eyes as though he were trying to imagine the two of them together.
Owen, who was still sulking under the table, didn’t even look in my direction.

Then I told them about my conversation inside the library with Burtis. “He is right
that the library is an important part of Mayville,” I told Hercules as I got the makings
for a salad out of the fridge. “The usage numbers have gone up and they’ve stayed
up.”

“Merow,” he said with enthusiasm.

“It wouldn’t have happened if Everett hadn’t paid for the renovations as a gift to
the town and if people like Oren hadn’t worked so hard to see the work get finished.
Everybody here cares about Mayville Heights. And so do I.”

I took down four tomatoes that had been ripening on the kitchen windowsill. “I’m thinking
that maybe, maybe if I can figure out what happened to Mike Glazer, it could do more
than put Old Harry’s mind at ease. Maybe it could somehow help save the tour proposal.”

Hercules put a paw over his face. Was that his very polite cat way of saying “Are
you out of your mind?”

“It might help,” I said a little defensively. All I could see around the paw was one
green eye looking at me.

I put the tomatoes on the cutting board and scooped the cat into my arms. He nuzzled
my chin. “I could do it,” I said. “I could figure out how Mike died, and Maggie and
Liam can convince his partners that basing a tour around Mayville Heights is a great
idea.” I scratched the spot above his nose where his black fur gave way to white.
“All I need is Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth and her bulletproof bracelets.”

He scrunched up his furry black-and-white face and tilted his head to stare at the
ceiling.

“And the invisible plane would be good, too,” I said with a laugh. I put him back
on the floor.

Maggie arrived about quarter after six. Owen was waiting for her by the back door.

“Hey, Fuzz Face,” she said, bending down to smile at him. As usual, he got all twitchy
and started to purr. “Mmmm, something smells good,” she continued, stepping into the
kitchen with the cat three steps behind her. “Is it that beef dish you made before
with onions and mushrooms and tomato sauce?”

I nodded. “It is.”

She looked down at Owen. “This is going to be good.” Then she looked at me. “What
can I do?”

Just then Roma knocked on the back door.

“You could put the knives and forks on the table,” I said as I went out into the porch
to let her in.

Roma was carrying a string grocery bag and a bottle of wine. “This is Ruby’s latest
vintage,” she said. “I’m driving and I see Maggie is, but I thought you could save
this to enjoy with . . . someone else.”

I took the bottle and mock-glared at her. I knew she meant Marcus. Then again, maybe
I could share the bottle with him as a peace offering.

I hung up Roma’s coat while she said hello to Maggie. I knew it was only a matter
of time before she outed me on kissing Marcus. For a moment I considered turning around,
flinging out my arms and announcing it, but that seemed a tad melodramatic.

When I did turn around, Hercules was sitting in front of Roma. She opened the top
of the string bag. “Hello, Hercules,” she said. “I need your opinion on these cat
food samples.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘bribe,’ not ‘samples,’” Maggie said. She
looked down at Owen and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. She’d pulled out a chair
and was sitting, one leg tucked underneath her, not unlike the way Owen was sitting
on the floor beside her, his tail curled around his feet. He was sneaking little looks
in Roma’s direction, I noticed.

Roma pulled a cardboard box stamped with paw prints out of the string bag and opened
the top flap. “This isn’t a bribe,” she said to Maggie. “I need an honest opinion.
Another vet I know is developing a line of all-natural, organic cat food. It’s not
as though I can try it and decide if it’s any good.”

Maggie leaned forward, snatched a piece of star-shaped kibble out of the box and popped
it in her mouth before Roma could react.

She chewed and then wrinkled her nose. “Needs salt,” she said.

Hercules’s head swiveled from Roma to Maggie and back again. Roma shook her head with
a wry smile. “Maggie Adams, I can’t believe you just ate cat food,” she said.

Mags pointed at the box. “It’s not like the stuff is made of bug parts,” she said.
“Which wouldn’t be so bad because I have eaten a bug once.”

Owen gave her a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. I had no idea how much of the
sentence he understood, but he definitely knew the word “bug.”

Hercules, who also knew the word, dropped his eyes. I think he would have blushed
if he could have. Hercules had eaten a bug once too—a very hairy caterpillar. It hadn’t
exactly lain well on his stomach.

The light on the slow cooker went from red to amber as the heat went from “cook” to
“warm.” I grabbed a spoon and lifted the lid for a taste. It was Lise’s recipe, and
as usual, it tasted as good as it smelled. The sauce was perfect. I didn’t even need
to adjust the seasonings.

“Roma, it’s in her hand,” I said, turning on the oven light so I could peek in to
see if the roasted potatoes looked done. They did.

“What’s in her hand?” Roma asked, frowning. Hercules was frowning too and sniffing
in Maggie’s direction. Unlike Roma, he knew what I meant.

“The cat kibble thing.”

Maggie laughed and looked at me. “How did you know?”

I gave my best impersonation of Mr. Spock from
Star Trek
, complete with one raised eyebrow. “No crunching,” I said. “You did a very good fake
chew, but I didn’t actually hear you eating.”

She looked down at Owen and nodded. “We have to remember that for next time,” she
said. She turned her gaze to Roma again. “And why is it okay for you to bring them
treats, but you give me a hard time when I do it?”