Cat Trick

“I forgot to tell you yesterday that when I checked Mike Glazer’s body for a pulse, I noticed a bump—at least I think that’s what it was—at the back of his head, behind his ear.”

“I saw it,” he said, “but thanks for calling me.”

I didn’t want him to hang up before I’d said everything I wanted to say. It was time to tango. “And I wanted you to know that I’ll stay out of your case, assuming there even is one.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. There was silence for a moment; then he added, “Does that mean you’re not going to bring me coffee?”

I laughed. “Not necessarily.”

“Kathleen, I know this is short notice, but would you like to have supper with me tomorrow night?”

Two furry faces were watching me around the kitchen doorframe.

“I would,” I said.

“Full disclosure: I’m cooking.”

“As long as you’re not planning on making something with sardines in hot sauce, I think I’ll be okay,” I said.

It was Marcus’s turn to laugh. “So does that mean that there won’t be any cats joining us?”

“Yes, it definitely does.” I glanced over at the doorway again. Owen and Hercules had disappeared.

“About six thirty?”

“I’ll see you then,” I said. “Have a good day.”

“You too, Kathleen,” he said, and he was gone.

I went back to finish my breakfast. Owen and Hercules were sitting beside my chair like two adorable, well-behaved cats.

“I’m not fooled,” I said, picking up my spoon. “I know you heard enough to figure out that Marcus invited me for dinner, and I’m not taking either one of you.”

“Rrrow,” Hercules said. It seemed he wasn’t happy that Owen had been to Marcus’s house and he hadn’t. Or he might have been trying to point out the piece of yogurt-covered apple that had just fallen off my spoon onto the floor.

“Nice try,” I mumbled around a mouthful of granola. “But it’s not as though your brother had a five-course meal when he was visiting Marcus.” I glanced down at Owen, who was still in well-behaved mode. “And it’s not like he’ll be visiting again anytime soon. Emphasis on soon.”

Hercules poked the chunk of apple with a paw and then made a cranky face when he ended up with yogurt on his fur. He held up the sticky paw and glared at me, a sour expression on his face.

“It’s only a bit of yogurt,” I said. “From soy milk. Look.” I held up my spoon and licked the back of the bowl. “Lick it off your foot. You might like it. Abigail made it.”

He looked uncertainly at his paw, glanced over at the sink and then focused on me.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I’m not washing your feet again.”

He made annoyed noises in his throat. I figured he was probably muttering “Bite me” in cat. Then tentatively, he licked his paw. Then he licked it again. Then he looked up at me and made a hacking sound, like he was about to bring up a fur ball—or that tiny dab of yogurt.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said in exasperation. I stood up, went over to the cupboard and got the container of stinky crackers. “Here. Maybe this will get rid of the taste.”

Owen meowed, reminding me—as if I could forget—that he was here, too. “Yes, you can have one, too,” I said, leaning over to set the sardine cracker on the floor in front of him.

I went back to my breakfast, and it occurred to me that if I could keep Owen and Hercules from popping up—literally—somewhere they weren’t supposed to be and outing themselves and their talents to the world, I should be able to keep a police investigation from coming between Marcus and me.

Usually on Fridays I didn’t go down to the library until noon, but I’d changed shifts with Mary because of the upcoming food tasting, and since she hadn’t called, I was assuming she still wanted the time.

Eric dropped off Susan just as I was unlocking the library doors. “Hi, Kathleen,” the twins yelled, waving from the backseat. I waved back as Susan hurried up the stairs.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

“Hear what?” I said as I keyed in the code on the alarm pad.

“If you have to ask, then you didn’t.” She smiled. “The pitch to Legacy is still a go. One of the Scott brothers is coming for the tasting and the art show.”

“That’s good news,” I said.

“Yeah, it is,” Susan said, unzipping her jacket as she followed me inside. “Most of the work is already done. What’s the worst that can happen?”