Cat Trick

I am deeply grateful to everyone at my publisher, Penguin, for all the hard work they’ve put into each book in the Magical Cats series, especially my editor, Jessica Wade, and her assistant, Jesse Feldman, who can always find an answer to whatever question I’ve asked. Thank you as well to the staff at Bookends Literary Agency, especially my agent, Kim Lionetti, for her guidance and enthusiasm.

I’m indebted again to Police Chief Tim Sletten (Retired) of the Red Wing Minnesota Police Department for answering so many questions. Any errors in police procedure are because I’ve played with reality.

A big thank-you to fellow writers Laura Alden and Lynn Viehl for getting behind every story idea I have, no matter how outlandish it may be. And thanks to Judy Gorham and Susan Evans for being my cheering section.

Thank you to all the readers who have embraced Kathleen, Owen, Hercules, and everyone in Mayville Heights. I love hearing from you.

And lastly, thank you to Patrick and Lauren. I’m blessed every day to have you both.

1

For a second, I wasn’t sure that I was seeing what I seemed to be seeing, which was a small, round sesame water cracker topped with half a sardine in Louisiana hot sauce and a slice of black olive making its way across Marcus Gordon’s table seemingly under its own steam. I was tired. Was I just hallucinating? I pushed my bangs off my forehead, rubbed the space between my eyes with the heel of my hand and looked again. No, it was definitely moving, sliding across the speckled Formica tabletop like a slap shot from a hockey stick.

Or a swat from a cat’s paw. An invisible cat’s paw.

I leaned forward, snatching the cracker off the table as Marcus turned from the counter. It was too late to pretend I was just brushing away a few crumbs.

“I didn’t think you’d like those,” he said. There was a cute little furrow on the bridge of his nose, and a lock of dark wavy hair had fallen onto his forehead. I shook my head. This wasn’t a good time to get distracted by how Detective Marcus Gordon looked when he frowned . . . or smiled . . . or walked across a room. I’d stopped by so he could check out a chair I’d gotten from my neighbor Rebecca—Marcus was certain he could fix it—and accepted his offer of a glass of lemonade and what was looking like a rather unique take on crackers and cheese.

“They, uh, just looked so good I thought I’d try one,” I said. Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. I liked the sesame crackers and the black olives, but I wasn’t that crazy about the sardines in hot sauce. On the other hand, I couldn’t put the cracker back on the plate and let Marcus eat it after it had been batted all over the table by a small gray tabby cat, invisible or otherwise.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded, trying not to inhale the combination of fish, spices and olives. “Cheers,” I said, raising the cracker in a kind of toast. Then I stuffed the entire thing in my mouth, chewed rapidly and swallowed. And immediately began coughing.

Marcus started over to me, and I waved a hand to let him know I was all right. “I’m okay,” I rasped. “It was just . . . spicier than I expected.”

“Kinda sneaks up on you,” he agreed. There was a hint of a smile in his blue eyes. “Would you rather have cheese?” He’d been about to slice a block of mozzarella.

“Please,” I said, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail behind one ear. He turned back to the counter, and I reached for my glass of lemonade to rinse away some of the heat in my mouth. I glared in the general direction of where I figured my cat Owen was. I knew he was the culprit. He loved sardines. And he was the only cat I knew that could become, well, invisible. That cracker hadn’t hopped down from the plate and gone sliding across the table under its own steam.

I pulled the plate closer in case he got the idea to try for another treat. And since Marcus had his back turned, I leaned forward and felt around, hoping that even though I couldn’t see Owen, I could maybe get lucky and be able to grab him.