Cat Trick

Elizabeth was Harry’s half sister, the product of a relationship Harrison had had while his wife was dying. They’d met for the first time just a few months ago.

“But the favor does kind of have something to do with him,” Harry said. He swiped a hand over his chin.

I put a hand on my chest. “You know how I feel about your dad. Anything I can do for him, I will.”

“Okay. See if you can figure out what happened to Mike Glazer—who killed him—because it’s pretty clear someone did.”

“The police are investigating that, Harry,” I said.

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his blue windbreaker and shifted from one foot to the other. “The police were investigating Agatha Shepherd’s death, but if it hadn’t been for you, the old man never would have gotten those papers that helped us find Elizabeth.”

I shook my head. “That was mostly just being in the right place at the right time,” I said.

“More like the wrong place, Kathleen. You almost got blown to pieces.”

“But I didn’t,” I said. “Harry, I’m not a cop. And why do you care so much about what happened to Mike Glazer? And why would your father?”

“Elizabeth.” He exhaled slowly. “Have you met Wren Magnusson?”

“At the library.”

“Boris had a run-in with a porcupine a while back. Elizabeth came with me when I took him down to Roma.”

I winced and shot Hercules a warning look not to make any editorial comment. He didn’t like Harrison’s German shepherd any more than Owen did, even though the big dog was gentle and even-tempered. Herc glared back at me and then became very interested in one of his feet.

“Wren was at the clinic. The two of them hit it off. They’re both crazy about animals. Thing is, Wren used to be close to the Glazers.”

“I heard.”

“She’s upset. So’s Elizabeth, and that makes the old man upset. There’s talk that Glazer’s death wasn’t an accident. Paper said it’s under investigation.”

“There’s always talk going around town about something,” I said.

“Kathleen, people tell you things,” Harry said. “You’re the one who figured out how Tom Karlsson ended up buried out at Wisteria Hill. You figured out who killed him.” He put one foot up on the bottom step. “Look, I’m not asking you to sneak around behind Marcus Gordon’s back. I know there’s something starting between the two of you. Just ask a few questions and tell him what you find out, whatever the heck that ends up to be. That’s all I’m asking. Please.”

It was a very bad idea. I wasn’t a police officer. I was a librarian with a couple of inquisitive cats that had questionable magical abilities. I’d told Marcus that I’d stay out of his investigation. I wasn’t sure he’d understand. And I really wanted to repeat that kiss from last night.

I knew I had to tell Harry no, but when I opened my mouth what came out was “Yes.”

The cats let the alarm clock wake me up on Monday morning. When I reached over to shut it off, there was Hercules, sitting by the door.

“I’m awake,” I told him, rolling over onto my back. I knew he was likely to stay there until I was actually out of the bed. “Where’s your brother?” I asked.

Herc looked over his shoulder toward the hallway. Owen was probably downstairs in the kitchen, not so patiently waiting for breakfast. I threw the blankets back and got up. I wasn’t going to find any insights staring at the ceiling.

I was right. Owen was in the kitchen, sitting right beside his dishes.

“I’m not late,” I told him as I put out food and water for both cats. “You’re up early.” He ignored me. Owen wasn’t really a morning person.

As I reached for the oatmeal in the refrigerator, it struck me that one of Eric’s breakfast sandwiches would taste pretty good. And if I was going to ask some questions about Mike Glazer’s death, the diner was a good place to start.

Claire was pouring coffee for a couple at a table by the window when I walked into the restaurant. “You can sit anywhere, Kathleen,” she said, smiling at me.

Eric was behind the counter, and I walked over to say hello. He had a cup of coffee poured before I even sat down on one of the shiny silver stools.

“Good morning,” he said, setting the heavy china mug in front of me. He was wearing his normally close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair a little longer and it suited him.

“Good morning and thank you,” I said, reaching for the cream and sugar.

Eric waited while I added both to my cup, stirred and took a long drink.

“Mmm, that’s good,” I said with a sigh of satisfaction.

“What can I get you?” he asked. “An omelet, maybe? I have some nice orange peppers.”