Софи Келли - Cat Trick

His furry head dropped even lower over his paws, as though they were suddenly the most fascinating appendages he’d ever seen.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

I filled the boys in on Oren finding the knife inside the tent. Mostly I just wanted to say everything out loud to see if it made any more sense than when I just rolled what had happened around in my head.

“The knife wasn’t there when you found the button,” I told Owen. He was trying to snag part of a Funky Chicken that was poking out from under the stove and lifted his head only long enough to murp his agreement.

“Oren thinks it was probably just kids goofing around.” I picked up my fork and then set it back down again. “You know, I can see the attraction of sneaking into the tent for a look around, but what was the point of sticking that knife or whatever it is in the ground? What kid carries something like that around?”

Hercules had been carefully washing his face. He gave one last pass behind his right ear; then he walked over to the coat hooks, jumped in the air and with one swipe of his paw pulled down the scarf that his brother had brought up from the basement. He grabbed one end with his teeth and dragged it across the floor to me. He gave me what I would have called a pointed look if he’d been a person and not a cat, and then he went into the living room.

“Is this supposed to mean something?” I called after him. Since he was a cat and not a person, I didn’t get an answer. “Does this mean something?” I said to Owen. He was too busy eating to do more than just glance at me. In other words, “You figure it out.”

I picked the scarf up from the floor. I knew Owen had swiped it for cat knows what reason. I suspected he’d pretended to discover the scarf in the basement to divert suspicion from himself. Cat or not, he was more than capable of doing that.

I stared at the woven tangle of purple fabric shot with silver in my hand. If Owen, a cat, was capable of a little subterfuge and diversion, why not the person who had killed Mike Glazer? It felt a little like something from an old Nancy Drew mystery, but maybe that silver-handled knife was a plant designed to reroute the police’s interest on to someone else. It was a little outlandish—okay, it was a lot outlandish—but it didn’t mean I wasn’t on the right track.

“I get it,” I called. After a moment there was an answering meow from the next room.

Maggie insisted that she talked to Owen and Hercules like they were people only because I did. I wondered what she’d say if she knew that not only did I talk to them as though they were people, but sometimes I was pretty sure they were answering. I headed upstairs to get ready for tai chi, taking the scarf with me.

I had enough time, so I walked down to class. Taylor King was coming along the sidewalk as I turned the corner. “Hi, Taylor,” I said.

“Hi, Ms. Paulson.” Her purse slipped down off her shoulder as she reached for the door.

“You can call me Kathleen,” I said.

She smiled. “Okay.”

I gestured at her bag. “I like your purse. It’s vintage, isn’t it?” The little copper satin handbag had a gold clasp and fabric strap.

“It’s from the nineteen fifties,” Taylor said, running her fingers over the smooth fabric. “I collect old purses. I like to think about the women who used to own them—what they were like, what their lives were like.”

“The bags have a story,” I said.

She nodded. “Yeah, they do.”

“I like old things, too,” I said, smiling back at her. We started up the stairs. “How do you like tai chi so far?” I asked.

“I like it.” She shrugged. “But I don’t see how I’ll ever learn all one hundred and eight movements.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I thought I was never going to get beyond Cloud Hands.” I fluttered my hands in front of myself and she laughed. I laughed too. “But I did and so will you. You’re a lot better than I was. And I’m not just saying that to be a polite adult.”

“Are there any books about tai chi at the library?” Taylor asked as we got to the top of the steps.

“Four or five,” I said, peeling off my hoodie and sitting down to change my shoes. “Would you like me to leave a couple for you at the front desk?”

She nodded, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail. “Yes, please. Sometimes when I get home I can’t remember one of the parts of a movement. It would help if I could at least see a picture.”

“I’m going over to the library after class. I’ll see what we have.”

Taylor gave me a little-girl grin, lacing her fingers together. “Thank you. I work for my dad on the weekend, but I’ll try to leave early on Saturday and come get them.”

“I could take the books home with me and you could stop by my house and pick them up, if that would help,” I said, hanging my hooded sweatshirt on one of the hooks and setting my shoes on the floor underneath.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously,” I said, smiling as I straightened up.

“Well.” She hesitated. “If it’s not too much trouble. I’m trying to show my dad that I’m responsible because I’m going to start driving soon, so I don’t really want to ask to leave work early. I promise I’ll come get them on Sunday.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“Okay, then, thanks.” She hung her little bag on an empty hook and we went into the studio. Ruby waved Taylor over, and Maggie walked over to me, carrying her before-class mug of tea. “I heard that Oren found something in one of the tents this morning,” she said.

I tried to keep my face neutral. “I heard the same thing.”

“Ruby says Marcus and his cohorts were there all morning.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at her. “You’re fishing,” I said.

“Okay, I’m fishing,” she said. “I saw you cross the street to speak to Oren this morning. What was going on?”

“He found something. He wasn’t sure if it was important or not, so I used my phone to call Marcus because Oren doesn’t have one.”

Maggie sipped her tea and watched me over the top of her cup. “Was it important?”

I pulled a hand over my neck. “I saw Oren this afternoon and he didn’t think that Marcus thought so.”

“Do you think so?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Maggie sighed. “I’ll be glad when this is all over—not just the investigation, but everything: the food tasting, the art show, the whole pitch to Legacy. This entire project has a bad energy to it.” She looked up at the clock. “Time to get started.” She moved to the middle of the room, clapped her hands and called, “Circle, please.”

I slipped in place between Rebecca and Roma. They both smiled at me. Before I could do anything more than smile back, Maggie was calling out instructions.

I worked hard the entire class. It was a good distraction from thinking about Mike Glazer and what had happened to him.

“Good work, everyone,” Maggie said when we finished the form at the end of the class. “Work on bending your knees and shifting your weight.”

Beside me, Roma stretched out one arm and then the other. “Your push hands are getting better,” she said. “We should practice sometime.”

I nodded. “Please. I could use some extra practice.”

She frowned. “Maybe this weekend. I’ll look at my schedule and let you know tomorrow night.” We started for the door. “Could I bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” I said.

“I have some samples of a new all-natural cat food,” Roma said, running a hand back through her dark brown hair. “I thought I’d bring them along for Hercules and Owen to try.”

“I’m sure they’d love to be your taste testers.”