Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) (7 page)

He was prepared for him this
time. There’d be no going up that tree. As soon as he reached the driveway, he’d
grab him, even if it meant leaving the safety of the shadows.

Ah! There he was, strutting
across the lawn, tail in the air, just like before, but he wasn’t going to get
away this time.

Then, just as he was getting
close enough for him to grab him, the cat swerved and headed for the road.

Where’s he off to now? Damn!
Smack down the middle of the street, right in the open. But he had no choice.
He had to take the chance of being seen. That cat wasn’t getting away again!

Bent almost double, hands
outstretched, he took off, loping just behind the waving tail, the light from
the antique streetlamps making him glaringly visible to anyone who happened to
be looking, but never managing to get quite close enough to grasp it. The cat
seemed to know just how far ahead of those reaching hands he had to stay, while
still remaining tantalizingly close.

So close … Almost got him that
time … Just a few more inches … Damn! Missed again!

He’d had enough of this game.
Sprinting forward, he made one giant leap … and missed, landing with a splat
face down, spread-eagle on the pavement.
Shit, that hurt!

Cursing, he struggled to his
feet. His hands and face were scraped and raw. His jeans were torn and he could
feel blood trickling down his leg from his right knee. “*!#*!!&! animal!”

Where the hell’s he going now?
He turned and saw the waving tail flying along the sidewalk, heading right back
home.
Damn him!

He limped back the way he had
come until he stood facing the house.

Look at him, sitting on the
veranda, waving his tail and laughing. If he weren’t so damned valuable…

“I hate that cat!”

Alice Dunbar could move mountains
if she put her mind to it, of that Chris was certain. In the next few weeks the
house was bedlam. Marmalade reverted to his old habit of coming and going by
the third floor window to avoid the confusion. Alicia and he ate out or at his
place a great deal to take the pressure off Mrs. Stuart.

Their first date had been an
unqualified success. He had picked her up early, planning to have a quiet
dinner at Di Angelo’s and
to
tell her he had a surprise
planned for later.

When they arrived at the
restaurant, they were immediately shown to a table in a quiet corner.

“I realize this isn’t very
original. There isn’t much choice in this town.”

“Don’t worry. I love Italian
food.” She smiled, then asked, “So where are we going after dinner. What’s the
big surprise?”

“I’ll tell you later. Now what do
you feel like having?”

They both ordered the special,
Penne Primavera with grilled chicken and vegetables, and a bottle of wine,
and
sat back to wait for their salads. There was an awkward
silence as he realized how little he actually
knew
about this girl, but before he could think of something to ask her, as if she
had read his mind, she began to speak about her childhood.

“I know that this town lacks some
cultural things that someone from the city is used to.” He started to protest,
but she went on. “When I was growing up here, I couldn’t imagine living
anywhere else. My friends and I explored every inch of this town. We learned to
swim in the lake at the beach. We saved our allowances to go horseback riding
at the stable just outside of town. Saturday nights we followed the Pipe Band
down King Street and watched the concert in the band shell in the park. In the
winter we did cross-country skiing and skated on the outdoor rink. We were
never bored. There was always something to do. And we had a lot more freedom
than city kids have.”

He nodded emphatically. “You’re
absolutely right. My parents used to rent a cottage here for a month every
summer while I was growing up. It was wonderful.”

“Imagine that. What a small
world! We might have passed each other on the street or at the beach. Is that
why you decided to move here?”

“Yes. I had great memories of the
town, and when I’d decided to leave the city there was an ad for the firm here
and it seemed like fate.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “It
must have been hard to leave your home and family. I’ve wondered why you would
leave a big law firm to come to a small town practice.”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime.
Let’s just say, I didn’t much like the person I was becoming, the person I
would have to be to continue in that life. So I left and I haven’t regretted
it.” He smiled at her. “Especially not now.”

She blushed and smiled back. “It
was really hard to leave here and go away to school.”

“Where did you go?”

“Guelph. Waterloo and Western
were both closer, but I liked the college town atmosphere at Guelph.”

“One of my sisters is in her last
year at Guelph. She’s becoming a vet.”

“Good for her. She must be very
smart. It’s harder to get into Vets at Guelph than medical school.”

“She’s very smart. She can’t wait
to graduate. She’s going to be a horse vet and she’s dying to get her career
started. What did you want to do after graduation?”

She smiled ruefully. “Well, my
mother wanted me to be a debutante.” She made a face. “My grandmother wanted me
to have a career and I always planned to do that, eventually.” Her face lit up
with remembrance. “But what I really wanted was adventure. I wanted to sail
down the Nile and climb the pyramids, go on a photo safari in Africa, walk
along the
Champs-Elysées
in Paris, and watch the horses
dance at the Spanish Riding School in Vienna.” She saw the barely concealed
look of surprise on his face and the light went out of hers. “I didn’t quite
manage that.”

He cursed himself for that look
of surprise. “It’s not too late for adventure. We could all use a little
adventure in our lives.” He would remember those words later and wonder if
adventure was all it was cracked up to be.

The dinner was excellent and the
surprise was too - a little theat
er
production of ‘Kiss
Me, Kate’ at a nearby town. It was one of a series of productions in their
summer festival. The old courthouse had been converted into a theat
er
and every Friday and Saturday from June to September a
family-style supper was served by the local Women’s Group in the basement,
following which the curtain went up. Four different plays were staged over the
course of the four months - some old standards, and others new offerings by
local talent.

If the restaurant had been a good
choice, the play was unbeatable. It was well-done, for
a
little
theat
er
, but Alicia barely noticed. From the opening
moments she was enthralled, not by, as Chris had unexpectedly and mistakenly
thought, the calib
er
of the performance but rather by
the idea of it all. She left bubbling over with the possibilities of starting
something similar in Dunbarton. It was a natural for her, something that would
use her training and education.

“I’ve never been interested in
the acting side. I prefer behind the scenes,
y
ou know,
script preparation, staging - the production end. Comedy’s good, or even
musicals if we’re being really ambitious. Perhaps something like ‘The
Philadelphia Story’ or ‘The Pleasure of His Company’. They’re bright,
sophisticated and a lot of fun. We might even go for some Noel Coward, maybe ‘Blythe
Spirit’. It would be such fun!” She was bursting with enthusiasm. “Oh, Chris,
do you think I could?”

He’d parked the car in front of
her house. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to,” he said
truthfully.

“Poor Chris, I’ve really been
bending your ear about this, haven’t I? It has been such a lovely evening.
Thank you.”

He helped her out of the car and
they walked up to the front door. She didn’t resist when he took her his arms,
and when she finally pulled away it was with regret, not anger.

She was wonderful. Life was
wonderful. And his was wonderful because she was in it.

*  *  *

It wasn’t so wonderful a few days
later, though, when he opened his morning paper:

CAT INHERITS FURNITURE FORTUNE!

The cat, as it were, was out of
the bag.

“Okay, you little bugger,” he
whispered, “let’s see you get out of this!” The piece of fishing net he’d
picked up would do the trick. It had better, with everyone in town now knowing
that the old lady had left her money to the cat. He didn’t want any
competition.

There was a rustling in the
bushes a little ways up the driveway. He stayed in the shadows, avoiding the
light from the street lamps, as he crept towards the sound. Something was
moving just out of range. He tip-toed closer and threw the net. Whatever he had
caught was struggling frantically to get out. He grabbed the frenzied little
body.

“Ow! Stop biting you bloody
little … OW! … OW!” And then the barking started. He’d caught the yappy little
mutt from next door.

“Horatio? What’s wrong, Horatio?”

That’s torn it!
The old
lady was peering out the door. He dropped the dog and took off down the street,
the victorious terrier snapping at his heels as he ran.

They’d agreed at the beginning to
keep the details of the will and their household arrangement
s
under wraps to save the family from embarrassment. It had been unrealistic to
believe they could keep it quiet forever.

Chris didn’t bother going to the
office but went instead directly to the Dunbar home. Just as he feared, they
were under siege - reporters, camera-men from the local TV station and the
curious lined the sidewalk out front and he had to fight his way through to the
front door. Mrs. Stuart was doing a good job of keeping them away from the
family, and Chris’ threat to charge with trespass any who passed beyond the
gates sent those who were trying to find their way around the side scurrying
back to the road.

The family was closeted in the
library, as the rest of the downstairs was overrun with workmen.

“They arrived first thing this
morning, right after the morning paper came out. And the phone hasn’t stopped
ringing. We finally took it off the hook.” James stopped a moment to peer out
from behind the drapes. “There are more of them than ever. What are we going to
do?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have
to make a statement. If you’d like, I can make it for you.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Alice
said, smiling gratefully.

Just then Marmalade came padding
in and, spotting Chris, sprang onto his knee and curled up on his lap.

“Well, hello, old chap. That’s
your public out there. How would you like to meet them?” His answer was a
disinterested meow as Marmalade rubbed his head against the man’s chest. “That
mightn’t be a bad idea. We can let them get a few pictures, make a brief
statement and hopefully that will satisfy them. How did this get out? Does
anybody know?”

Alice nodded disgustedly. “We’re
not sure but I think one of the workmen over-heard something, drew his own
conclusions and spread the word. I know none of us has said anything.”

“This must be very embarrassing
for you.”

“It is, rather.” James said
ruefully, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. “But what I’m worried
about is what they’ll say about Mother. I want you to make it clear, Chris,
that she was perfectly competent when she made the will.”

“You can be sure I will. Just
stay calm and I’ll go out and see what I can do in the way of damage control.
Come on Marmalade, it’s time to meet your public.”

Picking up his orange friend, he
went out the front door and met the press at the foot of the front steps. As it
turned out, James’ worry was a very real one, and it took a lot of fast talking
to explain the, admittedly odd, terms of the will without revealing too much of
the family situation. Chris finally stretched the truth slightly and described
the set-up as a trust to ensure the care of the cat during his lifetime,
reverting to the family upon his death. He didn’t think it necessary to mention
the clause concerning foul play. The Animal Protection Society had been
notified of that stipulation and they had agreed not to reveal anything,
particularly as the chances of their benefiting were slim to non-existent.

Marmalade was a big hit with
everyone, reveling in the attention. He clowned for the cameras and said a few
choice words into the microphone to the delight of all. The press left,
satisfied, and by noon all but the most determined of the crowd had dispersed.

The papers had a field-day with
the story for a week or so, with names like ‘Millionaire Mouser’ and ‘Feline
Financier’ being bandied about.

They thought they were finally
over the worst, but then the national press picked it up and they had to go
through it all again with the large dailies and TV news shows. Finally,
however, it died down and life returned to normal. They’d passed the crisis
without it becoming one, due largely to the fact that all three Dunbars were
too involved with their own interests to pay much attention.

James was busy setting up the
apprenticeship program with Pete. As promised, Chris had contacted the
Department of Labor and discussed the apprenticeship plans with them, and they’d
been very interested. There was a good chance that they would be willing to
finance the program if it proved successful.

Alice was totally immersed in her
decorating and Alicia was in the throes of organizing a little theat
er
company in Dunbarton.

All predictions to the contrary,
Marmalade and his inheritance had ceased to be an issue.