Cat Trick

I used my shoulder to nudge the tent flap out of the way, and then I ducked under the yellow tape and stood on the grass next to the sidewalk. Owen twisted in my arms.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, don’t,” I warned, but all he did was shift around until his paws were on my shoulder and he could watch the tent.

Marcus came out in a minute or two. He stood next to me, feet apart, hands in his pockets. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what happened.”

I did, starting from when I’d stepped out of the River Arts building. Marcus’s eyebrows rose when I explained how Owen had figured out how to slide the zipper pull from the inside of the bag. The cat, in turn, seemed to pull himself up a little straighter in my arms, as if he were proud of his ingenuity—which he probably was.

“You can go, Kathleen,” Marcus said when I finished. “If I need to know anything else, I’ll call you. You’ll be at the library?”

I glanced at my watch. There wasn’t time to take Owen home. “Yes,” I said.

He reached out and touched my arm as I started for the curb. “Thanks for calling me. You could have just gone in and grabbed Owen.”

I made a face and shook my head. “No, I couldn’t.”

I got a smile for that. “I’ll see you tonight, if I don’t talk to you before then,” he said.

A police van pulled in behind Marcus’s SUV.

“Okay,” I said. I made sure I had a secure grip on Owen, nodded to the two officers who had gotten out of the van and crossed the street.

The cat carrier was still sitting on the pavement by the back door of the studio building. I bent down and snagged the strap with one finger. Once we were next to the truck, I set it down again, got out my keys and unlocked the driver’s side. Then I put Owen on the seat. He walked across to the passenger side and sat, the picture of a well-behaved cat. I set the bag beside him and got in. “Why did you do that?” I asked

He meowed and scraped a paw on the seat cover.

“Yes, I know you might have found a clue,” I said. “You also trespassed on a crime scene.”

Two wide eyes stared blankly at me. Either he didn’t understand what I’d just said to him, or he didn’t care.

I was betting on the latter.

8

At the library, I took Owen straight up to my office. He climbed out of the bag onto my desk, shook himself and gave me a pointed look. I knew what he was looking for.

“Ruby already gave you a treat,” I said, trying to keep my tone stern. “And after what you did, you should be on bread and water.”

Defiantly, he pawed at the top of my desk. So he was going to try righteous indignation instead of cute and adorable.

“Just because you might, might have found some kind of clue doesn’t mean you weren’t wrong,” I said, lowering my voice because I didn’t want Mary or Susan to come in and hear me arguing with a cat.

Owen stared at me. I glared back at him. “You drive me crazy sometimes,” I said after a couple of minutes of the eyeball-to-eyeball routine. I sat on the edge of the desk, and he came and put his front paws on my lap. I stroked the top of his head. “I’m serious,” I said. “What if someone had seen you disappear? How would I have explained that to Marcus?”

Owen lifted a paw and swatted one of the buttons on my sweater.

“That did look like it could have been a button you dug up,” I said. “Doesn’t mean it was dropped by whoever killed Mike Glazer.”

Owen made a low murp. “I know,” I said, scratching behind his right ear. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t, either.” I leaned over so my face was inches from Owen’s soft gray one. “You’re making it really hard to stay out of Marcus’s case, you know.”

I gave Owen some water, a couple of sardine crackers and an emphatic warning not to leave my office. Then I locked the door for good measure. I was back downstairs just as Susan and Mary arrived. I let them in and followed them up to the staff room. “Oh, before I forget, Owen is in my office,” I said.

Susan pushed her glasses up her nose. “Because?” she prompted.

“Because he was over posing for Ruby. She’s going to paint him. It’s for the Cat People fund-raiser.”

“I thought she was painting Hercules,” Mary said, pouring water into the coffeemaker.

“She’s doing both of them.” I got the coffee out of the cupboard and handed it to her.

“That’s really nice,” Susan said, shrugging off her jacket and pulling on a cropped black cardigan. She stopped with one arm half in a sleeve. “I have chicken salad, if he’s hungry. He probably wouldn’t like the arugula or the black olives, but the chicken isn’t too spicy.”