Leann Sweeney - The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

I filled a heavy pitcher with tea bags and waited for the water to boil. That’s when I heard the beginning of a catfight downstairs. I should have told Kara to close the door when she left the kittens, I told myself as I raced down the stairs.

At first, I was bewildered by what I found. Merlot and Syrah were in the middle of the game room, both their coats puffed out so they looked like blowfish. The “you better stay away if you know what’s good for you” half hiss, half growl I was hearing came from my sweet Chablis. She was playing guardian angel to Dame Wiggins and her litter. The big-boy cats wouldn’t be getting near them if Chablis had her way.

“Boys, I’m sorry.” I bent to stroke their ruffled fur. “It’s a girl thing.”

Syrah, my dominant cat, slowly sat, never taking his eyes off his onetime best friend, Chablis. Merlot, the sensitive guy, turned and raced up the stairs. His feelings were hurt, but it wouldn’t last. Chablis was playing-what? Grandma?-and that made me smile. I felt the tension in my gut ease, and then I heard the whistling kettle call me.

By the time we all had glasses of tea, Kara seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen her.

Tom said, “She’s a columnist, not a reporter, Jillian. I guess we both stand corrected.” He gave me this raised-eyebrows look, one I understood to mean, “Go along with me.”

“Sorry, I should have known there’s a difference,” I said. “Has Tom convinced you to save the Mercy Messenger from mediocrity?”

She laughed, but this time without a hint of derision. “No way. But something big has happened in this town-that’s what you were talking about downstairs earlier, right? Both Tom and I think I could freelance on this. Animal mistreatment? A murder? That might be an interesting story.”

“Who said the professor was murdered?” I glanced at Tom, who just shrugged as if to say, “Not me.”

“No one said he wasn’t murdered,” she answered. “With Tom’s private-eye skills and you being right there at the scene yesterday, I could get plenty of facts about the case and end up selling this story to the wire services.” She turned to Tom, her eyes bright. “Or… what about this, Tom? A true-crime book. And that might just be the beginning of a big career. Bigger than anything stupid Houston had to offer.”

Okay, she wants to stay, I thought. I liked that. Maybe I could work on breaking down that wall between us. Finally.

When Kara did leave to take that nap she’d talked about, Tom came over and sat down at the other end of the sofa, spreading his right arm along the back of the couch until his hand was inches from my shoulder.

“I did good, huh?” he said.

I stared at him in exaggerated shock. I said, “You think so?”

He looked at me, but I could tell the confusion I saw was completely fake. “Okay, Jillian, I may have overstepped, but the girl’s lost.”

I sighed. “You’re right about that, but the way you just took over, it really made me feel as if I should be the one to-” My cell rang, and I pulled it from my pocket. It was Candace.

“Can you meet me for dinner? I need to vent,” she said.

“Sure. But can we both vent in front of Tom? Because he needs to be vented upon,” I said.

“Meet me at the new diner. This sounds like fun.” She disconnected.

I stared at the phone for a second, then closed it. “That was Candace. She’s upset, needs to talk. Are you brave enough to join us?”

Tom rose. “Sure. Maybe I can help you understand where I’m coming from in offering to help Kara. Speaking of Kara, should you invite her, too?”

“She looked so tired, I think she needs to rest, so I’ll leave her a note and make sure she gets her dinner later.”

Before we left, I peeked in on Kara. Yup, sound asleep after her drive. Merlot must have decided beds were a good thing after all. He was stretched out at the foot, his lovely, long coat spread out so that he looked even larger than he is. He gave me a look that seemed to say, “I’ve got this problem under control.”

We took Tom’s Prius since my van was blocked in by Kara’s car. During the drive to the diner, Tom spoke first. “I’m sorry if I upset you. But you’ve lived here for over a year and no one’s come to visit. After you came for Christmas dinner at my mom’s house, she started asking me questions about your past. And I realized I didn’t have much to say.”

“You know everything you need to know about me,” I said.

“See, that’s the problem. You’re as guarded as Kara in your own way,” he said.

I smiled. “I already came to the same conclusion.”

“When I opened my big mouth with Kara, I was trying to help you. She may not be a blood relative, but-”

“But she is a part of John,” I said. “Like I said, I realize that.”

“She’s down and out, though she’s trying to cover it up,” Tom said.

“Her father left her plenty of money. Enough to relocate, enough to live on while she looks for a job, and yet she shows up on my doorstep. She never accepted me when he was alive, so can you understand why I might be a little confused? And okay, I’ll admit it, I am hopeful she wants to connect with me, but it’s hard. Even after all this time, we’re still practically strangers.”

“Maybe she needs a family and didn’t know any other way to approach you except by dropping in unexpectedly,” he said. “Even if she doesn’t need a family, you do. I mean, who do you lean on?”

Good question, I thought. My parents died a long time ago, way before I met John. So I guess he was the one who-I blinked. I couldn’t think about this now, much less talk about it with Tom yet.

Tom pulled into an angled parking place in front of the Main Street Diner. “You didn’t answer my question. Can we talk more later? I want you to let me in, Jillian.”

“Sure,” I said. But was I sure? I didn’t know.

“Are we okay, then?” he asked.

“Certainly.” I gently tapped the corner of his turned-up mouth. “Your smile fixed everything.”

“That’s a nonanswer if I ever heard one,” he said as we both got out of the car.

The Main Street Diner had opened last month, and from what I’d seen from the outside, the restaurant suited Mercy’s small-town ambience right down to the green awning, which matched all the other ones on the street. There must be some kind of town ordinance about those awnings, I decided. I mean, people couldn’t all choose the same color by accident, could they?

I’d heard from Belle, who owned Belle’s Beans, that this new diner was already cutting into her revenue. She once had a monopoly on coffee, breakfast muffins, pastries and ready-made sandwiches. I loved Belle, who was kind of wacky but made great coffee, and I almost felt like a traitor visiting this establishment.

Tom held the door for me, and when I walked in I felt like I’d stepped onto the set of an old movie. The twin aisles of booths to my right were high-backed wood. To my left was a long, curving counter accented by chrome. The red leather swivel stools had chrome pedestals to match. A sign told us to seat ourselves-it was early for supper-and then I saw Candace waving at us from the back booth.

I slid in beside her to give Tom plenty of room across from us. Even though the booth seats had no padding, they were comfortable. A small jukebox was attached to the wall behind the sugar, salt and pepper.

Tom immediately took a quarter from his pocket and began to flip the laminated pages for a song. He chose “Jailhouse Rock” and settled back with a smile as the song started to play. I didn’t move my knee away when I felt his rest lightly against mine. Maybe he had no idea, and my moving away would give him the wrong idea. Or maybe it was a kind of apology for stepping in with Kara without talking it over with me first. In any case, I had to admit that it felt nice.