Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) (2 page)

He could see she was tiring and
so he said, “Mrs. Dunbar, you don’t need to tell me all this ...”

“Oh, yes, I do. You’ve got to
know all this if you’re going to be able to do what I want. Now, where was I?
Oh, yes, Alice and James. James was always a gentle man, and he really loved
that woman, so gradually she alienated him from me. While I was still able to
get around, I let them go their way and I went mine. But once I was confined to
this chair, I moved up here to be away from them. I put in that lift, though,
just to be able to keep an eye on what they were doing.”

She winked mischievously and was
about to go on when there was a scrabble of claws on the vine growing up the
side of the house and an enormous orange cat leapt in through the open window.
He darted across the floor and then, surprisingly, climbed very gently into the
old lady’s lap and made himself comfortable.

Seeing Chris’ expression, the
lady chuckled and announced, “Mr. Christopher Mallory, I’d like you to meet
Marmalade. Marmalade, say hello to Christopher.” The cat opened one large green
eye, looked at him for a moment, then, yawning, dismissed him as of no
consequence.

“Marmalade, I gather, is your
cat.”

“Well, actually, you might say
that I’m his person. He climbed in that window one day five years ago when he
was just a kitten and made himself at home.” She stroked the sleek head. “We
hit it off right from the start. I can’t say the same for the others, though.
He detested Alice from the moment he first laid eyes on her and he never sees
her now but that he spits. For James he has only contempt and he treats Alicia
with an affectionate tolerance. Since that is precisely how I feel about them,
we get along swimmingly. He’s the only friend I’ve got now and I’m glad to see
he doesn’t dislike you.”

“He doesn’t seem to have much use
for me either,” Chris remarked dubiously.

“I’m hoping that will change once
he gets to know you. It would be quite awkward otherwise because, you see, once
I’m gone, Marmalade will be your client.”

She waited for the impact of what
she’d said to sink in, watching him with impish eyes. Chris could see by her
satisfied, Cheshire cat grin that he hadn’t disappointed her.

“Do you mean to tell me that you’re
leaving part of your estate to that cat?” he asked, astonished, rapidly
reassessing his impressions of the old lady.

“Not part of it, Christopher, all
of it! And I want you to manage the estate for him. Act as his trustee.” She
was clearly enjoying his amazement.

“But ... why?”

“I’ve told you why. They’ve been waiting
like vultures for the day I die so they can get their hands on my money. Once
they have, they’re going to sell my house to a developer, shut down the
furniture factory and move to Toronto. It’s all that Alice’s idea and I won’t
have it! One of the reasons I’ve kept such a tight rein on the finances is
because I knew they’d squander it. I won’t see the things my husband spent a
lifetime building destroyed by that woman!”

Her angry excitement woke the cat
who mewed reproachfully, sprang to the floor and dashed off down the stairs.

In a calmer tone she went on. “I
know you’re thinking, I’m a vindictive old woman, and to a certain extent I
suppose I am. But I still can’t help feeling there’s some hope for my son and
grand-daughter, if not for my daughter-in-law, and giving them the money isn’t
going to help them. I know James’ company is in trouble, and has been for some
time, but I’ve refused to bail him out. I’ve been hoping and praying that he’d
find his own solution and save it himself, become the man his father and I knew
he could be. As for Alicia, somebody’s got to snap her out of that somnambulist
state she goes around in. She’s sleepwalking through life, living in some
imaginary world. Once she had dreams and ambition but then something happened that
last year of college - she never would say what. She just came home when her
mother called, a shadow of herself. And a shadow she’s remained. Plenty of
young men have tried to break down the wall she’s built around herself, but
none has succeeded. If I were to leave the money to her she’d simply use it as
a cocoon, except that pretty butterfly would never come out. I want my
grand-daughter to become the woman I saw her becoming before that last year at
school - a strong, confident, determined woman with a kind heart and an impish
sense of humor. So I’ve found a way to put all their noses out of joint and,
perhaps, help them at the same time. Now you know enough about us to get
started. You can make your own evaluation once you’ve met them. After all, as
Marmalade’s trustee, a great deal of what happens will be up to you. So you
see, you were wrong when you said you’d never decide the fate of people’s
lives. You’ll have to use your own judgment in many ways. My only stipulation,
other than what is in the will, is that you hold the reins firmly. And don’t be
bamboozled. Remember, things, and people, aren’t always what they appear to be.”

There was a stunned silence when
he finished the reading, and then all hell broke loose - hell in the person of
Alice Dunbar. She looked like a woman whose girdle had just shrunk two sizes. ‘Do
women still wear girdles?’ he wondered incongruously.

“The cat! She left it to that
damned cat! All those years of waiting on her, putting up with her temper, her
open contempt, and then she leaves it to the cat!” The Ice Queen had shattered.

Chris let her continue, knowing
it was futile to try and stop her before she’d run down. While she ranted on,
he took the opportunity to watch the others’ reactions. James looked quite
grey, probably thinking he’d just seen his last hope to save the company go up
in … kitty litter?

Chris smiled wryly at the thought
and turned to Alicia. If she was upset by the contents of the will, she didn’t
show it. She sat quietly, as before, just staring at Marmalade. Surprisingly,
there was laughter in her eyes, as if she were enjoying her grandmother’s final
joke.

If Chris had had doubts before
about accepting this job and the awkward position it put him in, he was just
beginning to realize exactly what he’d gotten himself into. Trustee to a cat!
Perhaps the joke was really on him.

“And we’re still tied to that
great, Victorian mausoleum.” Alice’s tirade broke in on his thoughts.

“There’s no clause in the will
that says you must stay, Mrs. Dunbar,” he said benignly. “That was merely an
option to ensure your financial security. Should you wish to leave the house, a
companion will be found for Marmalade. You realize, of course, that should you
leave, any allowance would cease.”

“And just what are we supposed to
live on?”

“I believe Mr. Dunbar draws a
salary from the company as well as a percentage of the profits,” he reminded
her.

“Salary, hmph!” She sniffed
scornfully. “He draws a subsistence salary, and there hasn’t been a profit in
years. No, she’s got us and she knew it. Well, we’ll just have to contest it. I’m
sure no judge in his right mind will uphold it. The old witch must have been completely
out of her mind when she made that will.”

Before Chris could reply, James
spoke up. “No, we won’t contest it,” he said gently but firmly. “It was hers to
give and she did, to perhaps the only one who never failed her,” he added
sadly. The grey look was gone, and in its place was a kind of hopeless
resignation.

“Not contest it? Don’t be a fool,
James, of course we’ll contest it.” She shook her head in exasperation.

“You’re free to try, of course,
but it will be a long, costly procedure and in the long run I’m afraid it will
do no good,” Chris told her. “The will is legal. I will testify to her
competence, as will her physician. Certainly the terms of the will are
eccentric but they are not without precedent, and as your husband has said, she
was free to leave her estate to whomever she pleased. She could have left it
directly to charity, but that would not have ensured the well-being of her pet.
This way, her pet’s taken care of for as long as he lives, after which the
estate reverts to a family member, intact and possibly, with careful
management, in even better financial shape than it’s in now. In the mean time,
you have been provided for and, I might say, generously provided for. You can
try to get the will overturned but I’m sure the court will uphold it.”

“Well, of course, you would say
that.” She looked at him contemptuously, then stood up and moved purposefully
towards the door. “Come, James, Alicia. Good-bye, Mr. Mallory. We’ll be seeing
you, in court.”

James hurried to open the door,
while Alicia followed behind, stopping briefly to scratch the cat behind the
ear and smile apologetically at Chris.

“Mrs. Dunbar, we have a great
deal more to discuss.”

She paused impatiently at the
door. 

“Arrangements must be made for
Marmalade, and a schedule set up for my visits.” He spoke with determination,
trying to keep the irritation he felt out of his voice. “Now, like it or not,
until a court rules otherwise, Marmalade is the legal heir and thus the owner
of the house in which you are living.” He could sense another tirade about to
begin and hurried on. “Unless arrangements for his care are made to my
satisfaction, I’m afraid that, as his trustee, I cannot permit you to remain in
the house.”

She stared at him furiously for a
moment, but said merely, “Very well.”

“Good. Now if the three of you
will sit down again, I have what I feel will be a workable routine.”

Basically, the arrangements
consisted of a regular weekly visit by Chris, for at least the first couple of
months, to see how things were going and to ensure Marmalade’s well-being. It
was decided these visits would take place Sunday evenings, making him a regular
dinner guest and putting the supervisory visit on a more friendly and informal
footing. As well, he would conduct unscheduled visits from time to time. He
would also be available any time the Dunbars needed him, should a problem
arise.

Marmalade was to have the run of
the house and its contents, placing restrictions on only those actions which
endangered items of value. At all times he was to be treated as the owner of
the house. Chris had a hard time getting Alice to swallow that one.

Chris would pay all household
bills, other than personal expenses, and any changes or capital expenditures
were to be approved by him in advance.

It was with a sense of great
relief that Chris watched Mrs. Dunbar finally flounce out of his office, her
husband and daughter following. He sank gratefully into his chair and turned to
regard his four-footed client. The large green eyes were watching him intently,
while the fluffy orange tail swished lazily back and forth across the desk.

“Well, my friend, what do you
think of all this?”

The cat yawned widely and looked
at Chris quizzically.

“It is a bit much to take in all
at once, I’ll admit, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it. And I don’t think you’ll
have much trouble with Alice Dunbar. She’s an intelligent woman. Once she
accepts the fact that there’s nothing she can do about the will, I’m sure she’ll
realize that her position is really quite a good one.”

Marmalade mewed quiet agreement.

“As for you, my fine feline
friend, if I may paraphrase, it will be days of cream and catnip for you, for
the rest of your nine lives!”

They had agreed that the first
thing to be done was a trip to the vet for a check-up and blood work. Another
precaution, suggested by his vet, was the insertion of a microchip under the
skin, between his shoulder-blades. This would enable him to be readily
identified should he ever be lost. Considering his new-found financial status, Chris
had agreed that this was an excellent suggestion and the chip was duly
registered and inserted. At the last minute, they also decided to have a DNA
sample taken and kept on file. It was a simple matter of taking a mouth swab
and sending it to the lab. He was to keep his four-legged client with him while
all this was done, taking him home the following Sunday.

Chris had never been a cat
person, always preferring the companionship of dogs. Cats walk alone. They
thank you prettily, in a condescending sort of way, for feeding and loving
them, but never seem to let you forget that they are purr-fectly capable of
looking after themselves if they must, and while it is easier for them to let
you do it, you are never allowed to assume any privileges by right of it. The
adage, ‘Dogs have masters. Cats have staff,’ sums it up pretty accurately.

Chris’ sisters always had cats.
The cat populations at his home had reached alarming levels at times, and just
when it would begin to decline, one or the other of his soft-hearted siblings
would rescue another one (or two) and the cycle would begin again. He never
thought that he would feel grateful for the years spent removing cat-hair from
every piece of clothing and furniture he owned, but you never know what
experiences in life are going to come in handy.

The days Marmalade spent in Chris’
apartment passed relatively uneventfully but Chris couldn’t help feeling that
those sea-green eyes had searched him and found him wanting. At any rate,
Marmalade’s usual response to conversation was a pronounced yawn, and since it
is rather unnerving to discover that a so-called ‘dumb’ animal finds you
somewhat less than interesting, Chris found himself performing an endless array
of tricks to try and provoke a different response. Only once did he succeed,
when in the midst of an acrobatic feat involving a stool and a catnip mouse on
a string, he lost his balance, fell off the stool and landed on top of the
unfortunate feline. The cat’s response was decidedly unprintable and it was two
days before he could look at Chris without spitting viciously and retreating
under the nearest piece of furniture. Eventually, though, he forgave him and it
was with a sense of mutual goodwill that they drove together to Marmalade’s
home on a pleasant Sunday afternoon in April.

Not that Marmalade showed much
interest in the journey. He spent the two-block drive playing with the keys
dangling from the ignition. When they pulled up in front of the house, however,
a spark of excitement seemed to flow through him, ruffling his hair from his
neck to the tip of his tail, and it was all Chris could do to pick him up and
carry him along the walk to the front door.

He had to press the bell twice
before anyone took notice and the delay seemed to make the animal even more
frenzied. When the door was finally opened, Marmalade squirmed free of his
arms, and without waiting for civilities, dashed across the foyer, up the
stairs and along the hall to the second staircase.

“Mr. Mallory, won’t you come in?”
James Dunbar invited him into the parlor. “My wife will be down directly. I don’t
know where my daughter is. Out in the garden reading, probably. Please sit down
and I’ll let Alice know you’re here.”

“If you don’t mind, before I do
so, I’d like to go and find out what Marmalade is up to, and then I have some
things to bring in from the car.”

“Of course. If you’ll follow me
we’ll go straight up to Mother’s suite. I’m sure that’s where he’s gone. He
rarely set foot down here when she was alive. He usually went up the vine and in
her window.”

James led him up the stairs he’d
climbed that time before. It seemed strange that the old lady wouldn’t be at
the top waiting for them.

The sitting room seemed curiously
empty. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the light, and dust sheets shrouded
all those treasured pieces of furniture. In the center of the room stood the
now unnecessary wheelchair and there, curled up on a small flat cushion, was a
very mournful little cat. Hearing them come in he turned large questioning eyes
to them and let out a plaintive mew.

Chris walked over and picked him
up. “Come on, little fellow. There’s no one here for you now.”

Marmalade snuggled unresistingly
into his shoulder and they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Alicia was waiting for them in
the parlor. The cat broke away from Chris and rushed towards her. She picked
him up, cuddling him against her cheek, then motioned Chris towards the sofa in
front of the bay window and they all sat down. “Thank you for bringing our boy
home to us, Mr. Mallory. The house has been quite empty without him.”

He could just imagine how empty
Alicia Dunbar had thought it. There was a twinkle in those turquoise eyes and
Chris knew something of what he was thinking must have shown in his face.

“You’ll be happy to know he’s in
excellent shape. The vet gave him a clean bill of health. I’ve got a list of
instructions from him. Most of them are merely common sense. Any of the good
quality cat foods is acceptable. Whatever he’s been eating seems to have been
fine. Just watch the table scraps. I’ve got a few things in the car that I
bought for him and I’ll get them for you later.”

He handed her the vet’s list and
she smiled. “My, you’ve certainly been thorough.” She laughed lightly - at him,
not with him, he thought derisively, and bristled. “It’s probably just as well,
though. Grandmother took care of most of these things herself. I fixed his
meals and took them upstairs, and took him to the vet for his shots, but she
did the rest. Mother couldn’t stand the sight of him, so he spent his time
either upstairs or outside.”

“You realize that he is to have
the run of the house from now on,” Chris said more firmly than necessary
because of that little laugh.

“Of course, Mr. Mallory,” James
anxiously assured him. “This is his home and I ...
we
all understand
that.” The emphasis on the ‘we’ was unmistakable and Chris wondered just how
sure he was of his wife’s intentions.

As they talked, Chris shifted
uncomfortably on the unyielding surface of the antique Victorian sofa. A
museum-quality piece, it was lovely to look at but lacking in comfort, and he
speculated as to whether this choice of seating was deliberate, intending him
to feel as uncomfortable physically as the situation was making him
psychologically. Looking around the room, though, he realized that it was
probably the most comfortable piece of furniture in it. The chairs and other
sofas were all just as delicately styled, straight of back and deficient in cushioning.

The tables, though, were
magnificent, a warm mahogany, superbly carved and finished, setting off the
pale rose of the walls and the rich wine of the drapes, and all bearing fine
china figurines and crystal vases full of flowers. Behind him, the bay window
was full of green plants, filtering the light and sending constantly changing
shapes flickering across the walls. A large marble-mantled fireplace on the
other outside wall was flanked on either side by French doors leading into a
glass-walled conservatory containing more plants and some white wicker
furniture with thick floral seat cushions. More French doors led out from there
to a flagstone patio. In the opposite corner from where they sat, beside the
doors that led to the dining room, sat a baby-grand piano covered by a
multi-colored oriental shawl and generations of family photos in antique silver
frames.

All in all, despite the
over-crowding and the bone-bruising seats, it was actually an attractive room,
he thought, in an old-world sort of way.

“Mother appreciated fine
furniture,” James said, as if reading his thoughts. “The tables were made by
the firm and many of the other pieces are family heirlooms dating back, in some
cases, 100 years or more. Some of them are collector’s items now. Alice tried
many times to persuade her to refurnish, as the local museum is interested in
acquiring some pieces, but it seemed to comfort Mother to have the house the
way it was when Father was alive.”

“I can understand that. The room
is charming,” he added diplomatically, with more ‘politesse’ than truthfulness.
“So is the rest of the house, from what I’ve seen of it.”

“Rather more of a museum than a
home,” Alicia declared. “I sometimes feel that I’m walking through Grandmother’s
memories of life. When I was little, I used to dress up in the old gowns that
were stored in the attic, climb up to the Widow’s Walk and pretend I was a
princess in a tower. This was my palace and at any moment a handsome prince
might come riding up to carry me away on his beautiful white horse.”

Chris remembered her Grandmother’s
comment about Sleeping Beauty and wondered again why no ‘handsome prince’ had
come to claim such a lovely girl.

“That was when she wasn’t up
there dropping water balloons on anyone who happened to be passing below.” Her
father broke the spell and they were all laughing companionably when Alice
Dunbar breezed into the room.

“Well, Mr. Mallory, how nice to
see you again.” Pointedly ignoring the presence of her four-footed landlord,
she offered him her hand. “Please forgive me for having kept you waiting, but
with such a large house to care for, without assistance I might add, as well as
all the meals to prepare, it doesn’t leave me a great deal of time to think of
my appearance.”

He smothered a smile and rose to
meet her. “No need to apologize. The results are more than worth the wait.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t an empty
gallantry. She was still a very attractive woman and must have been stunning
when James Dunbar first met her. He was regarding her now with a mixture of
pleasure and pride, and it was with a sense of shock that Chris realized that,
in spite of everything, James was still in love with her.

She was above average in height,
blonde and statuesque. Her skin was creamy and unlined, age showing only in the
fullness of jaw and throat. It was her eyes that held him, though. Large and
intensely blue, they should have been her best feature, but there was a
hardness in them, a brittleness, that belied the disciplined composure of the
rest of her face.

“Please sit down, Mr. Mallory.
Alicia dear, why haven’t you offered our guest a drink? I’ve prepared some iced
tea, if you would care for some.” Chris nodded and Alicia rose obediently to
fetch it, Marmalade trailing after her. “I think you should know, Mr. Mallory,
that I contacted another solicitor about contesting the will.” When he said
nothing, she went on a little more stiffly. “It seems that as … unusual ... as
the contents are, the will is legal. James’ mother had the right to leave her
estate to whomever she pleased. The only grounds on which to contest it would
be mental incompetence which the solicitor felt would be difficult with the
evidence of yourself and Dr. Harris to the contrary. He would, however, be
willing to try if James were willing.” She looked somewhat scornfully at her
husband whose mouth tightened in a determined line. “He, however, seems to have
taken leave of his senses and refuses to question his mother’s sanity, and
since I have no recourse under the law, we will, of necessity, abide by his
mother’s wishes and will continue to live here and,” she hesitated as if
swallowing a bitter pill, “take care of the cat.”

Chris smiled in relief. “I’m very
glad to hear that, Mrs. Dunbar. I’m sure that you’ll all get along just fine,
and once you get used to it, won’t find it as untenable a situation as you now
believe. I’ll give you as much financial freedom as I am able within the
dictates of the will and my judgement as trustee. All household expenses will,
of course, be met and I’m open to discussion on any major expenditures. I
realize that with a house of this age there are going to be maintenance
expenses, so feel free to approach me on anything that comes up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mallory. We
appreciate that and I hope it won’t be necessary for us to take up too much of
your time.”

James seemed as relieved as
Chris. Alice merely nodded and smiled a little stiffly.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll
see to dinner. Thank you , Alicia, you may put those down on the coffee table
and come and help me in the kitchen. I’m sorry we can’t stay and talk with you,
Mr. Mallory, but someone has to get things ready. When James’ father was
living, we had a cook, housekeeper, maid and gardener on full-time staff, but
after his death, his mother decided that we didn’t need as much help, and as
the servants retired or moved on, care of the house gradually fell to me.
Fortunately for me, she continued to employ a gardener, part-time, to look
after the grounds. Appearances must, after all, be maintained!” And on that
bitterly derisive note, she flounced out of the room.

The evening went surprisingly
well. Marmalade was still subdued and kept to himself, and Alice went out of
her way to be pleasant. It was with a feeling of great relief and well-being
that Chris returned home that evening. Despite all of his fears and
reservations, things were going to be just fine.

‘Lord, what fools these mortals
be.’