Cat Trick

The cat wrinkled his nose and his whiskers twitched.

“That’s what I thought,” I said, flicking on my turn signal and heading up Mountain Road. “Did you see anything—or anyone?” I shot a quick glance to the right just in time to see him put a paw over his face and duck his head. I had no idea what he meant—or if he’d even understood the question. Between their unique, magical talents and their ability to listen intently, it was easy to forget that Hercules and Owen were still just cats.

On the other hand, every time I’d gotten mixed up in one of Marcus’s cases, they seemed to as well. Each time, the boys had found something that had helped me figure out the killer’s identity. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe.

There was no sign of Owen when we got home. I changed, grabbed the lunch I’d made earlier and drove down to the library. Susan was coming up the street as I pulled into the parking lot, and she waited for me at the bottom of the library steps. She was wearing her black cat’s-eye glasses, and her hair was in its usual Pebbles Flintstone updo, secured with a small cocktail fork. Sometimes I wondered if the twins did her hair every morning.

“Good morning,” she said, a huge smile lighting up her face.

I smiled back. “Good morning.” I went ahead of her up the stairs, opened the doors and disarmed the alarm system.

Susan moved past me to snap on the lights. “So how was your night?” Her knowing tone told me she already had the answer to the question.

I shook my head at her as I relocked the main door. “I know that you know I had dinner with Marcus Gordon last night.”

The smile turned into a grin. “Eric told me,” she said. She clasped her hands behind her back and pushed her glasses up her nose. “So, did he sweep you into those strong, manly arms for a good-night kiss? And when are you going to see him again?”

“Number one, none of your business. And number two, I’ve already seen Marcus this morning—and not because last night stretched into this morning.”

It took a moment, but then Susan’s face grew serious as she made the connection. She’d obviously already heard what had happened to Mike. “Don’t tell me you found Mike Glazer’s body.”

I shifted my leather briefcase from one hand to the other. “Technically, it was Hercules who found the body,” I said.

“Hercules?” Susan’s eyes darted from side to side in confusion. “What was your cat doing down on the Riverwalk?”

“We were at the studio building. Ruby wants to do another cat painting. Remember the one Maggie sold this summer?”

She nodded.

“We were a few minutes early. I didn’t have the zipper closed all the way on the carrier . . .” I gestured with my free hand.

“And the cat’s out of the bag.”

I nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Do you think Hercules sensed . . . something?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Cats have a much better sense of smell than we do.” I didn’t add that both Hercules and Owen had an uncanny ability for poking their furry noses into things they shouldn’t. Marcus would probably say the same thing about me.

“I guess this is the end of the pitch to Legacy Tours,” Susan said as we headed for the stairs to the second floor.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Well, not to speak ill of the dead, but from what I heard, Mike Glazer was pretty much impossible to please, so I don’t think the idea had much of a chance anyway. I’m sorry to hear he’s dead, though.”

Behind us, someone tapped on the front door. “That’ll be Mary,” I said.

“I’ll go,” Susan said. She hurried over to the entrance and let the older woman in.

“Hi, Kathleen,” Mary said, hustling into the library as though she were being pushed by a sudden gust of wind. “I’m sorry I’m running late.” She was a little out of breath, and I noticed that her jacket was buttoned wrong.

“How did swimming lessons go?” she asked Susan. The boys had gone for their first swim class in the pool at the St. James Hotel.

“Wet,” Susan said with a grimace. “Very, very wet. On the other hand, we haven’t been banned from the hotel property, so I take that as a positive sign.”

“I really didn’t mean to be late,” Mary said, turning to me.

“You’re not late,” I said. “We don’t open for another five minutes.”