Curiosity Thrilled the Cat (11 page)

“I know some cats love it and others don’t,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

I rubbed a hand across my neck. Sometimes I missed the weight of my hair on my neck. “Have you seen those little yellow chickens stuffed with catnip that they sell at the Grainery?” I asked.

“You mean Fred the Funky Chicken?”

I nodded. “Uh-huh. Rebecca’s been buying them for my cats. Hercules isn’t interested, but Owen—”

“—is acting like a catnip freak,” Roma finished.

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. About fifty percent of cats like catnip. The rest don’t. It’s probably genetic, the way tongue rolling is in people.” She smiled. “It won’t hurt him.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know,” I said.

Roma twisted a wide silver ring around the index finger of her right hand. “You know, there’s catnip growing wild on the grounds of Wisteria Hill. Maybe that’s how Owen got a taste for it.”

“Do you know much about the cats out there?” I asked, tugging at the bottom of my T-shirt, which had bunched up when I’d tied the hoodie at my waist.

“I do,” Roma said. “Some of us have been taking care of them, making sure they have food and shelter. Over time we’ve managed to catch them all so they could be neutered and have their shots.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t easy.”

I remembered the last time Roma had given shots to Owen and Hercules. Both cats had been yowling, scratching dervishes. Roma had worn a long, heavy Kevlar glove. Hercules had left teeth marks on the thumb and two fingers, and Owen, scratch tracks down the entire arm.

“Would you be interested in coming with me next time I go out to the estate?” Roma asked, pulling her ring all the way off and sliding it back on. Her nails were short, without any polish. “You seem to have a rapport with those cats.”

I glanced over at the table again. “I would,” I said.

Roma’s smile grew wider. “I’ll call you,” she said.

We turned toward the others. Violet was asking a question about one of the movements, her hands in front of her body at about shoulder height. Maggie adjusted one arm and pointed down at Violet’s knees.

“Cloud hands,” Roma said with a sigh.

I wasn’t the only one who had trouble with that part of the form. I couldn’t coordinate my hands with each other, let alone the lower half of my body. I looked like I belonged in platform shoes and spandex in a bad disco revival show.

We all watched as Maggie demonstrated, moving slowly and fluidly through the movement. Rebecca tucked her arm across the front of her body. Her sleeve slid backward, uncovering her wrapped wrist.

Maggie stopped what she was doing. “Rebecca, are you hurt?” she asked.

Rebecca’s face went pale and she put a protective hand over her arm. “It’s just my arthritis acting up,” she said, rolling her wrist slowly from side to side under her hand. “I’m using a poultice. The bandage is just to keep it clean and in place.”

Maggie stepped in front of Rebecca, took her hand and ran her slender fingers gently over the bandage. “Can you bend it?” she asked.

“Yes.” She pulled her arm away from Maggie and held it out from her body, slowly bending her wrist back and forth. “It’s just a little stiff.”

Maggie examined the bandage again. “Do you make your own cotton strips?” she asked.

Rebecca nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“You have a very fine hand. What do you use in your poultice? Red cedar? Marshmallow?”

“I use my mother’s herbal remedies,” Rebecca said, holding her wrapped arm against her chest with her good arm. “They’re not like anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” Maggie said, discomfort showing on her face. She dropped her hand to her side. “Just take it easy. Stop if anything hurts.”

She took a step backward and a couple of slow, calming breaths. “Okay, everyone. Circle,” she called.

Roma moved to my right side, next to Rebecca. A look passed between the two of them. Would that be me someday, exchanging looks with Maggie when someone younger urged me to take it easy?

We made the circle a little bigger and started our warm-up exercises. Maggie looked across at me and grinned. I knew what was coming. “Bend your knees, Kathleen,” she called. I crossed my eyes at her from across the circle. Next to me I heard Roma laugh.

I was sweating by the end of class, even with the windows open and the fan running. I started for my bag and then remembered what else—who else—was in there. Instead I used the end of my T-shirt to wipe my face.

Ruby came up to me, her orange tank sweat stained. “I heard you found Easton’s body at the theater yesterday,” she said. “That true?”

I finger-combed my sweat-damp hair and refastened the clip. “Yes, it’s true,” I said.

Ruby held out her hand. “This is for you.”

A coil of black cord lay in her hand. I picked it up. A small purple crystal dangled from the cord. “What’s this for?” I asked.

Ruby touched the crystal and started it swinging. “Keep it with you. Or wear it. Whatever. It’ll keep negative energy out of your life.”

For a moment I didn’t know what to say. Between the problems with the library renovations and finding Gregor Easton’s body, I was pretty sure there was a lot of negative energy in my life. “It’s beautiful,” I finally managed. “Thank you.”

Ruby took the necklace from my hand and showed me how to slide the knotted ends along the cord to make it longer or shorter. I slipped the pendant over my head and tucked the crystal inside my shirt. I wasn’t sure it could keep negative energy out of my life, but it couldn’t hurt. I hugged Ruby. “This is so nice,” I said.

Maggie came up to us, holding a steaming cup that smelled like lemons. “What’s so nice?” she asked.

I pulled the necklace out from under my shirt so she could see Ruby’s gift.

“Ruby, that’s beautiful,” Maggie said. “It’s one of yours?”

Ruby nodded. “The crystal will help ward off negative energy.”

“Do you think there was a lot of negative energy around Gregor Easton?” I asked, pulling my sticky shirt away from my body.

“Oh, yeah,” Ruby said. “I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but from what I saw, the man was a lech. You put that kind of energy out into the world and who knows what will come back with it?”

I nodded, wondering what they’d all think if they knew Detective Gordon thought I’d been sleeping with the dead conductor.

Rebecca and Violet had come over to where we were standing. Rebecca was blotting the back of her neck with a towel. Violet didn’t sweat. She didn’t wrinkle or get windblown, either. She looked at Ruby. “What do you mean, ‘Who knows what will come back with it’?” she asked.

Ruby bent one arm behind her head and pushed down on the elbow with her other hand. “Whatever energy we put out into the universe—good or bad—stays connected to us, like there’s a tiny, invisible thread attached to it,” she said. “Eventually it comes back and there’s no way to know what else it will pick up along the way. No way to know what will get entangled in the string.” Ruby switched arms.

“My mother believed something like that,” Violet said.

“Your mother believed in karma?” Ruby asked.

“My mother believed what goes around comes around,” Violet said.

Ruby laughed. “That’s karma all right. It’s a bitch.”

Everyone laughed at that, but I couldn’t help shivering, for some reason. I felt a chill, as if someone had just drawn a finger up my spine.

Roma touched my shoulder. I jumped and sucked in a breath. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just, well”—she pointed across the room at the tea table—“your bag seems to be moving.”

C
rap on toast!
She was right. The bag was moving, rocking from side to side the way a kid might rock a rowboat to try and tip everyone into the water. Or the way a restless cat might rock a nylon bag because he was bored.

“Kathleen, dear, is there something in your bag?” Rebecca asked.

“It’s my phone,” Maggie blurted.

I stared at her. What the heck was she doing?

“Your phone?” Ruby said.

Maggie nodded her head vigorously. “Uh-huh.” She caught my eye. “Sorry, Kathleen. I didn’t want it to get broken so I tucked it in your bag.” She held up both hands. “Who knew vibrate could be that vigorous?”

“That’s okay,” I said. I cleared my throat. “I’ll, umm . . . I’ll get it for you.”

I scurried over to the table. Keeping my body between the tote and everyone else, I squatted down and looked through the top mesh panel. Two green eyes met mine.

“Cut. It. Out,” I whispered through clenched teeth.

Hercules made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a snort.

“Stay still and stay quiet. We’re leaving in a minute.” I straightened, bumping into Maggie. “‘Who knew vibrate could be so vigorous’?” I said.

“You’d rather be known as the librarian who carries her cat in her gym bag?” she retorted.

“Good point,” I said. I slid the bag onto my shoulder and kept it against my body with an elbow. “I’m going to get you-know-who out of here.”

“Okay,” Maggie said. “I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Violet and Roma were standing just outside the door. Roma pulled a water bottle out of her backpack as I slipped past them and grabbed my hoodie off the hook.

“Violet, what’s going to happen to the music festival now?” I asked as I tied the sweatshirt around my waist again.

Not a strand of Violet’s silver hair in its sleek French twist was out of place. “I don’t know,” she said. “The committee is meeting tomorrow to try to figure that out.”

“I’d hate to see the festival canceled,” Roma said. Her face was flushed.

“So would I,” Violet said. “But Gregor Easton was a last-minute replacement himself. I have no idea how we could get anyone of his caliber to take over at this point.”

“How did you get him to step in for the original music director?” I asked.

“Actually, he contacted us.”

Roma looked at her with surprise. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, yes,” Violet said, brushing invisible lint off of her T-shirt. “He’d heard about Zinia needing emergency surgery—apparently they’re close friends—and he’d had an unexpected cancellation in his own schedule. So he told Zinia he’d step up. He got in touch with us, and that was that.”

“That was convenient,” I said.

“Yes, it was,” Violet said. “Somehow I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky twice.”

I heard the street door below open and someone started up the stairs. After a moment Ami appeared, in denim shorts and a tank top, eating what had to be a container of Tubby’s frozen yogurt. She licked the stubby wooden spoon—at Tubby’s they didn’t use plastic spoons—and smiled at us. “Hi,” she said. “I’m here to get Rebecca.” Her voice went up at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question, like she wasn’t quite sure if she was at the right place at the right time.

“I’m ready,” Rebecca said from the doorway. I lifted her tote bag down and handed it to her.
Thank you,
she mouthed. She pulled her scarf out of the top of the bag and held it up. “I found my scarf,” she said to Ami. “I guess I left it here last time.”

“I told you it was probably here,” Violet said.

“Mmmm, good,” Ami said around a mouthful of yogurt and strawberries. “But I would’ve made you another one.”

“I like this one,” Rebecca said, tucking the length of fabric back in her tote. “It’s the first scarf you made.”

Ami smiled at her over the cardboard cup in her hand. “You’re such a mushball, Rebbie. You have everything I ever gave you—every present, every piece of paper.”

“She has every piece of paper everyone ever gave her,” Violet said tartly.

“Violet Cole, are you implying that I’m a pack rat?” Rebecca asked, hands on her hips in mock outrage, eyes twinkling.

“No,” Violet said. “I’m coming right out and saying it. Rebecca, you are a pack rat.”

Rebecca drew herself up to her full five-foot-threeinches. “I prefer to think of myself as an environmentalist and conservator of history.”

Violet shook her head slightly. “And I prefer to think of myself as twenty-five and hot as a two-dollar pistol. Doesn’t make it true.”

Everyone laughed. Hearing the elegant, composed Violet say “hot as a two-dollar pistol” was kind of like hearing a two-year-old repeat an off-color word. Maybe you shouldn’t laugh, but you couldn’t quite help it.

Ami came up the last couple of steps then and took Rebecca’s bag.

Rebecca turned to me, reached over and pushed back a few stray strands of hair that had fallen on my cheek. “I’ll get my scissors out this weekend and just give you a little more shape,” she said with a smile.

I smiled back at her. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Ami asked. She held up her cardboard cup. “I have one of these for you, packed in some ice down in the car.”

Rebecca’s smile got even bigger. “You are a darling girl,” she said, hooking her arm through the younger woman’s. She gave me a little wave with her free hand and they disappeared down the stairs.

I could feel Hercules wriggling inside the bag again. “I have to get going, too,” I said to Violet and Roma. “See you next time.” I started down the steps, holding my bag close to my hip. “Okay,” I whispered. “We’re going.”

I walked quickly to the library. There were a lot of people out in the downtown, but it was deserted at the library. Jason was at the checkout desk.

“Quiet night?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a lock of blond hair out of his eyes. “Nobody’s been in since suppertime.” He pointed to the book carts behind him. “All those new kids’ books are ready to go on the shelves.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s a big help.” Jason was my summer intern, and a real find. He looked like a teen-magazine heartthrob, with blond hair and an easy smile, but he lived and breathed books. He wanted to be a writer and he was working his way through the classics—Faulkner, Dostoyevsky, Hemingway.