Final Catcall: A Magical Cats Mystery (18 page)

“What would you like first?” I said. “A bath or a cup of tea?”

She straightened up and stretched. “Oh, sweetie, a cup of tea would be wonderful.”

I reached for the kettle.

“Is it all right if I look around?” she asked. “I do like your house.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

She headed to the living room with Owen and Hercules right beside her. I put tea bags in the little china pot I always kept for Maggie and set a couple of Rebecca’s blueberry muffins on a plate. By the time Mom came back to the kitchen the tea was ready and I’d made a cup of cocoa for myself.

She sank into the chair opposite me and reached for her cup. “Umm,” she said after taking a sip. “That’s lovely tea.”

“It’s Maggie’s favorite, so I keep some in the house,” I said.

“When do I get to meet Maggie?”

“Probably tomorrow. She’s in Minneapolis at a meeting.” I reached for one of the blueberry muffins. “What time are you meeting Ben in the morning?”

Mom pulled up one leg and tucked it underneath her. “Eight thirty. That’s almost civilized compared to the time I have been getting up.”

“We could ask Maggie to join us for breakfast,” I said.

“Yes,” Mom said, putting the other muffin on her plate.

I got up and went to the cupboard for the small bottle of orange marmalade I’d gotten for Mom from the Jam Lady. I gave her the jar and watched her unscrew the lid, put a dab on her plate with her knife and then take a tiny taste with one finger. She reminded me of Owen. He and his brother were sitting between my chair and Mom’s, probably hoping one of us would drop something.

Mom took another taste of the marmalade. “This is good,” she said. “Where did you get it?”

I sat back down. “There’s a woman who lives farther out this road called the Jam Lady. She made it.”

She smeared a thick layer of marmalade on half her muffin and took a bite. “Tell me about Hugh Davis. You didn’t say much and when I talked to Abigail on the phone, I noticed she very skillfully changed the subject. So did Ben, for that matter.”

I picked up my mug and threaded my fingers around it. “He was shot.”

“Shot? What happened? Was it some kind of robbery?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “He was shot down by the marina. There’s a lookout by the water.” I set my hot chocolate down on the table again. “There’s something I didn’t tell you on the phone.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “You found Hugh’s body.”

“Actually, I did,” I said. “But that wasn’t what I need to tell you.” I took a breath and let it out. “Andrew’s here.”

She frowned and put down the piece of muffin she’d been holding. “Andrew? Your Andrew?”

“He’s not my Andrew anymore, but yes.”

“Why?”

I folded my arms over my chest. “He wants me to come back to Boston when my contract here ends and give us another chance.”

“And you said?”

“I said no.” I glanced down at Hercules and Owen. The bag of sardine crackers was on the counter. I leaned sideways, snagged it with a couple of fingers and gave each of them two crackers. “I care about Andrew,” I said, straightening up and brushing off my fingers. “But I’m not getting back together with him. I’ve changed.”

“I know you have,” she said, adding a little more tea to her cup. “And Andrew’s not Detective Gordon.”

“What?” I said. I could feel my face getting red. I’d told Mom about feeding the cats with Marcus, but I hadn’t said anything else.

“Remember the pictures you brought when you came home?”

“I remember.” Ethan had teased me because I’d printed copies of the photos instead of just showing them on my phone.

“There was one of the detective. Whenever you were showing the pictures to someone, when you got to that one of him, you smiled. I don’t even think you know you did it, sweetie, but you did.” She leaned forward and smiled at me. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

I shook my head. “No, there isn’t. We had dinner a few times, but Marcus is a police officer.” I sighed. “And that just keeps getting in the way.”

She put her hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you can’t find a way around it?”

“I don’t think so. Marcus can be pretty black and white about some things.”

She put a hand up to her mouth, but I could still see the smile.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Sweetie, you can be pretty black and white about certain things, too. Detective Gordon sounds like he’s perfect for you.”

“I’m not rigid about things.”

“Really?” Her eyes were sparkling. She picked up her teacup. “All right. I’m not going to argue with you.” She took a sip from her cup. “Could we change places?”

“Why? Is something wrong?” I said.

“The light coming through the door makes me squint.” She patted her cheeks. “I don’t need any more wrinkles. HD already makes me look like I’m ninety.”

I pulled out the chair to my left. “You can sit here.”

She gestured at me. “You just scoot over and I’ll sit at your place. It’s easier.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I know what you’re doing,” I said.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to show me that I can be stubborn and rigid because I don’t want to switch seats with you.”

“So slide over,” she said, making a move like she was going to get up.

I got my cup and moved to the chair beside me.

Mom smiled and sipped her tea.

“So are you going to sit there or not?”

She shook her head. “No. I think I’m going to sit here after all.”

She put more marmalade on another bite of muffin and popped it in her mouth.

I shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. It shouldn’t have been a problem. All four chairs were exactly the same, but this one didn’t feel right. I moved back to where I’d been sitting. “This doesn’t prove you were right,” I said.

“Of course not,” she said solemnly.

“Tell me what you know about Hugh Davis,” I said, mostly to change the subject.

Mom yawned and stretched. She reminded me of the cats. Owen was leaning against my leg now, while Hercules was still watching my mother with interest. “I’d heard his name, but I really didn’t know anything about him, so after I talked to you I made a few phone calls.”

“And?”

“And he was a decent enough director, although he hadn’t done much that was significant in the last year and a half.”

That would explain why he’d been pushing Hannah so hard.

“Do you know why?” I asked.

Mom set her cup down. “He may have been a decent director, but it appears he wasn’t a decent person.”

“Not a decent person how?” I asked. “Did he drink too much? Cheat on his taxes?”

She shook her head. “I heard from an unimpeachable source that he pushed one of his leading ladies so hard she started cutting herself and another ended up having some kind of breakdown.”

“Wait a minute. Did Ben know that?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “At first all anyone would say was that Hugh could be ‘challenging.’ That can mean anything from ‘he throws things in rehearsal’ to ‘he likes to wear frilly undies.’”

I pulled both feet up under me. “Those are pretty serious accusations. Are you sure your source is accurate?”

“Very.”

I blew out a breath. “Do you know who the two actresses were?”

She poured the last of the tea into her cup. “That I don’t know. But it strikes me that they’d have family and friends. If someone treated you that badly, I don’t know what I’d do.” She smothered another yawn.

“How about you go fill the tub full of hot water while I make you a fresh pot of tea?” I said, getting to my feet.

“Umm, that does sound good.” She stood up as well and wrapped me in a warm hug. “I’m so glad I decided to come, Katydid.”

“Me too,” I said.

I put the kettle on to boil again and took Mom up to her room. When the tea was ready I poured a cup and took it up to her. She’d already put on a fuzzy yellow robe and taken off her makeup. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back in a messy bun, she looked more like she was my older sister than my mother.

“Take your time,” I said, kissing her cheek.

I went back to the kitchen and started clearing the table. Owen was sniffing Mom’s purse, which she’d left on the floor next to her chair. “There’s nothing in that for you, nosy,” I said. One ear twitched, but that was the only indication I got that he’d heard me.

Hercules wound his way around my legs and I bent down and picked him up. “So Hugh Davis wasn’t a very nice person,” I said.

He murped his agreement.

“Mom’s right, you know. Those women must have family and friends who wanted Hugh to pay for what he did. So how do we find out if that’s what someone did?”

M
aggie called about eight thirty that evening. She sounded tired but not at all worried. “It went well,” she said. “Now it’s in the hands of the universe.”

“My fingers are crossed.” Owen had climbed onto my lap when I answered the phone and he put one paw on the receiver. “And Owen sends his love.”

Maggie laughed. “Thanks. I know they’ll both help. Give Owen a scratch from me.”

Mom poked her head around the doorway to the kitchen. “Ask Maggie to join us for breakfast,” she stage-whispered.

“Mom would like to know if you can meet us for breakfast,” I said.

“Yes,” Maggie immediately said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to think about it?” I teased.

“I have been thinking about it,” she said. “I really want to meet your mother. I’ve heard so much about her from you. The fact that she’s on my show is just a bonus.”

We settled on a time and said good night. I gave Owen a scratch under his chin. “This is from Maggie,” I said. His golden eyes closed to slits and he started to purr.

It was the alarm clock that woke me in the morning, not a furry face with sardine breath. When I went downstairs I found Mom, sitting on the floor by the refrigerator. She had a fork in each hand with half a sardine speared on each one. Hercules was methodically licking fish oil off one chunk. Owen was biting off bits from the other and setting them on the floor so he could eat them.

Mom looked up and smiled. “Good morning, sweetie.” She gestured at the counter. “I made you coffee.”

“Oh, umm, thank you,” I said. Mom could do only two things in the kitchen and making coffee wasn’t one of them.

“My internal clock is completely out of whack,” she said. “I made some tea and fed the cats. I hope that’s okay. Owen seemed hungry.”

“What did you feed them?”

She tipped her head in the direction of the counter, where an empty can sat waiting to be washed and recycled. “That canned food.” Her right hand moved and Hercules’s head bobbed up and down as he tried to keep licking without missing a beat.

“They’re very intelligent cats,” Mom said. “Hercules took me right to the cupboard with the cat food and Owen showed me the sardines in the refrigerator.”

“Yes, they are something,” I said darkly, eyeing both cats as I moved to the fridge to get the cream for my coffee. “Why are you feeding them sardines like that?” Each cat was less than a foot away from my mother. Most people, with the exception of Maggie, didn’t get that close.

Mom looked up at me, frowning. “You did tell me not to touch them, Katydid.”

“I mean why are you feeding them sardines at all?”

She shifted slightly. “I was having my tea and half of one of those wonderful blueberry muffins. It just seemed wrong for me to have a treat and them to have nothing.”

Owen made a little murp of agreement.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to feed them a blueberry muffin. I can’t see how that would be good for them.”

Hercules glanced over at me then. Unlike his brother, he at least had the good sense to look a little guilty.

I got a mug out of the cupboard and poured a cup of the coffee for myself. It didn’t smell burned or have the consistency of molasses. That was good. As I added cream and sugar I realized I didn’t care if the coffee tasted . . . well, as bad as every other cup of coffee my mother had ever made. I was happy just to have her in the middle of my kitchen floor feeding sardines to my cats.

Owen had pulled the last bite of fish off his fork. Mom leaned sideways, set the fork on the table and grabbed her tea. “Cheers,” she said, holding up the cup.

“Cheers,” I echoed. I took a sip, aware that I was suddenly being watched by three sets of eyes. The coffee wasn’t too watery or too strong. It didn’t taste like it had been filtered through a pair of old sweat socks. “This is . . . good,” I said. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised but, well, I was.

Mom gave the boys a conspiratorial grin and got to her feet. She came over and kissed the top of my head. “See, sweetie?” she said. “You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

Herc’s head came up and he gave her a green-eyed glare.

She held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Hercules,” she said. “I meant no offense.”

The glare smoothed into a kitty smile. If offense had been taken, it had already passed.

Maggie was waiting for us at Eric’s, sitting at our favorite table in the window. She stood up to greet us when we came in the front door.

“I’m so happy to meet you,” Mom said, taking both of Maggie’s hands in hers. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

Maggie smiled. “I’m glad to meet you, too, Mrs. Paulson. I’ve heard good things about you also.”

Mom gave her a sly grin. “Well, then, you haven’t heard the best stories,” she said. She gave Maggie’s hands a squeeze and let go. “And please call me Thea.”

As soon as we sat down, Eric himself came over with the coffeepot and I did the introductions.

“I hear you make a chocolate pudding cake that’s almost as good as my favorite Death by Chocolate cheesecake,” Mom said.

Like everyone who met my mother, Eric was already charmed. “Come back for lunch and you can judge that for yourself,” he said.

She smiled. “I will.”

Mom ordered an omelet for breakfast while Maggie and I both chose our current favorite, Eric’s breakfast sandwich.

Eric went back to the kitchen and Claire came over with hot water and a couple of small teapots for Maggie and Mom. Once Mom had a cup of tea steaming in front of her, she reached for her bag and pulled out a small package wrapped in lavender paper and tied with silver ribbons. She handed it across the table to Maggie.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I brought this for you.”

Maggie looked from my mother to me. “Uh, thank you,” she said. She set the package on her lap, untied the ribbon bow, and carefully unfolded the tissue paper. When she saw what was inside, she put a hand to her mouth. She looked at Mom across the table. “I can’t believe you did this.”

She held up a T-shirt, the same pale lavender color as the wrapping paper. Across the front it read
LIFE IS WILD AND WONDERFUL
. The rest of the fabric was covered with signatures scrawled in permanent black marker.

“It has to be the whole cast,” Maggie said. “There’s Billy and Jack and Nicole. I just . . . oh wow!”

“Kathleen told me you like the show,” Mom said. “I thought you might enjoy the shirt.”

“I will.” She couldn’t stop smiling. “I can’t decide whether to wear it or frame it.”

Mom took a sip of her tea. “Wear it,” she said. “Enjoy it. Life is meant to be lived, not looked at from a distance.”

“Are you and Jack really having an affair?” Maggie asked, holding the T-shirt against her chest with one hand. “I mean, your character.”

Mom propped one elbow on the table. “Can you really see me with him?” she asked, eyebrows going up.

“I knew it,” Maggie said.

They started talking about the show and I leaned back in my chair with my coffee and let their voices wash over me. Having Mom and Maggie sitting at the same table was the best of both worlds. I wished I didn’t have to choose between Boston and Mayville Heights, and I was uncomfortably aware that I was going to have to make that choice soon.

The front door of the café opened then and Marcus stepped inside. He smiled when he saw me.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hi,” he said. He gestured toward the table. “Is that your mother with Maggie?”

I nodded. “Do you have time to meet her?”

“I’d like to, but do you have a minute first?”

“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”

“Hannah was telling the truth. She was at Barry’s Hat on Friday night. I talked to a friend of Liam’s.” He made a face. “He took her keys. Some of the crew from the festival were there. One of the women wasn’t drinking. She drove Hannah home.”

“You went to Barry’s Hat?”

“All I did was have supper at the bar,” he said. “I was talking to the bartender and he said he’d met my sister.” His eyes kept sliding off my face. He wasn’t a very good liar.

“Of course. Because you go to bars all the time to have supper.” Maybe my mother was right. He’d done exactly what I would have done and was saying just what I would have said.

“I can’t do nothing, Kathleen,” Marcus said quietly. He closed his eyes momentarily and shook his head. “And yes, those words do sound familiar.”

“Then I don’t need to say ‘stay out of it,’ do I?” I glanced over at the table. Maggie and Mom were still deep in conversation. “Well, at least now you know Hannah was telling the truth.”
As far as it goes,
I added silently. “That’s good.”

“Yes and no,” Marcus said. “Liam said Hannah got there about eight. Where was she between then and the time she left Red Wing? She says she wasn’t anywhere near the marina.”

There were deep frown lines between his eyes and I wanted to rub them away. “Do you believe her?”

He shook his head. “I want to.” He let out a long breath. “I know you don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He forced a smile. “I can tell you Abigail Pierce is in the clear. She’s on the hotel surveillance, breaking in Hugh Davis’s room at almost the same time Davis was making a call on his cell phone.”

“You’ll notice I’m not asking you how you know this.”

“I met her and her lawyer coming out of the station. She told me.”

“Marcus, please don’t do anything—”

“—stupid?” he finished.

I shook my head. “I was going to say don’t do anything that might get you in trouble.” My mouth was suddenly dry. “Call me instead.”

We stood there, eyes locked, for a long moment. Something we seemed to be doing a lot of lately. I cleared my throat. “Come meet my mother,” I said.

I took Marcus over to the table and made the introductions.

Mom stood up and held out her hand. “It’s very good to meet you, Detective,” she said. Her expression was serious. I knew her well enough to know she was appraising him, making a hundred tiny little judgments in just a few seconds.

“You as well,” he said.

Claire was on her way to the table with a loaded tray.

“I’ll leave you to your breakfast,” he said. He smiled at Mom and Maggie. “Have a good day, Kathleen,” he said quietly to me.

“‘From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life,’” Mom recited softly as Marcus walked away.

“Marcus and I are not star-crossed anything,” I said as Claire reached the table. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maggie look across the table at Mom and nod, ever so slightly.

After breakfast I dropped Mom off at the Stratton and made my way to the library. There was more than half an hour before we opened, so I sat at my desk, turned on my laptop and started researching Hugh Davis’s history as a director. Mom had said he hadn’t done much of significance in the previous eighteen months, so I went back a year and a half and started from there.

What I very quickly found out was that there were just too many productions with too many actors for me to figure out who the two women were that Hugh had bullied. I leaned back in my chair and swung around to look out the window. There had to be a better way.

Chloe Miller came in just after ten with the book of poetry she’d borrowed. She walked over to the desk and held out the book. “Thank you,” she said. “The poem was perfect.”

“You’re so welcome. How are rehearsals going?”

“They’re going well. I met your mom, by the way. I like her.” She smiled. “Everything’s coming together.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Every time I’d seen Chloe she was alone. It struck me that the polished, put-together actress was a little shy. I remembered I’d heard that she’d sat down in the middle of the seniors’ reading group and answered their questions when she’d been in the building the other day. “Susan told me you spent half an hour the other morning getting peppered with questions when you were here. Thank you.”

“I didn’t mind,” she said, playing with a hammered-gold ring on her left middle finger. “They were fun. They asked some great questions about staging a production.”

“Chloe, are you free around one o’clock?” I asked. “I’d love to take you to lunch.”

“For taking a couple of minutes to talk to a few senior citizens?” She shook her head. “It’s not necessary, Kathleen.”

“It wasn’t just a couple of minutes or just a few senior citizens. But if you don’t have time, I understand.”

“I do have time,” she said. She smiled. “It would be fun to have lunch. How about I meet you here at one o’clock?”

“Perfect,” I said.

Around eleven thirty Susan poked her head around my office door. I was deep into the budget and started when she said my name. “Sorry,” she said. “Andrew’s here with some kind of panel thing that’s supposed to go in the gazebo. I thought we should check with you first.”

“I better take a look at this,” I said. “I’ll come down.”

Abigail and Andrew were in the parking lot with Burtis Chapman’s truck. There was a large latticework panel tied down in the bed of the truck.

“Hey, Kathleen,” Andrew said. “This is supposed to go at the back of the gazebo. Is that going to be a problem?”

Abigail came around the side of the truck. “Ben wants to use it as a backdrop,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

“How are you planning on keeping it in place?” I asked. The wooden panel was long and wide and I didn’t want the gazebo damaged in any way.

“Bungee cords,” Andrew said. “It’s actually two pieces, hinged. It stands up by itself. The cords are just for added stability.”

I leaned over the side of the truck bed. The backdrop looked sturdy enough. “How are you going to keep someone from just walking off with it in the middle of the night?” I said to Andrew.

He grinned at me. “You mean not everyone in Mayville Heights is a law-abiding citizen? I’m shocked.”

“Oh, people who live here are honest and law-abiding,” Abigail said. “It’s just that sometimes we get some ‘undesirables’ from out of town.” She said the whole thing with a completely straight face.

Andrew looked at her a little uncertainly. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll unload this and we can see if it’s going to work.”