Лори Касс - Gone With The Whisker

“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for a friend and he’s not answering his phone.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “I was wondering if you’ve seen him? Thin, long-ish hair, a little older than you. His name’s Mason.”

The guy nodded. “He was in here a few minutes ago, asking about . . .” He paused.

I smiled. “Asking about what? Please tell me he lost his phone again. Because that’s the only reason he should have for not answering text messages.”

Laughing, the guy said, “No, he was asking if we were hiring.”

* * *

Eddie and I were watching the sunset. His back half was on the chaise and his front half was on top of my legs. The humidity had gone up again, so I wasn’t exactly enjoying the heat his body was kicking out, but he was purring, so that made it okay.

“It was the same at the other businesses,” I told him. “Mason was looking for work.” But late July could be a bad time for that. There was little more than a month left in the official summer season, and business could start dropping in mid-August.

Eddie tipped his head back and yawned, giving me a fine view of the roof of his mouth.

“Not your most attractive feature,” I told him. “Though I still wonder what those ridges do.”

“Mrr.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” I scratched the side of his face and got the purrs going again. “And I’ve also figured out that Luke, that’s Luke Cagan, from the hardware store—”

“Mrr!”

I stopped with the scratching. “Sorry. Was I doing it wrong? Of course I was. Anyway, I stopped at the hardware store and Jared told me Luke bought a late-model truck and keeps it immaculate. But I also learned from Darren—you remember, the mechanic who loves the bookmobile almost as much as I do, but from a completely different point of view? Anyway, I stopped by Darren’s garage and it turns out that he takes care of the Jaquays’ vehicles, and they have a new pickup. Still, all things considered, it was probably Luke out there that day with Courtney. But I’m so horrible with car identification, I could have it all wrong.”

“Mrr!”

“I’m a sorry excuse for an amateur investigator, aren’t I? And I’m not a very good aunt. Plus I can’t think of the last time I saw Aunt Frances and Otto, and I haven’t been up to the boardinghouse in—”

Eddie thumped down to the deck, jumped up onto the railing, and up onto the houseboat’s roof.

“Mrr!”

I slid deeper into the chaise. “You got yourself up there, you can get yourself down. I’m not coming up after you.”

“MRR!!”

“Forget it.”

There we sat, me down below trying to enjoy the stunning sunset, him up above staring holes into the back of my skull. And we might have stayed that way forever except for an unexpected visitor.

“Nice night,” Ash said, stepping aboard. “What’s up with you, Mr. Ed, besides everything?”

“Funny.” But I smiled, because it kind of was. “Any chance you can convince him to get down from there?”

“Think about what you just said.” Ash dropped onto the other chaise. “Convince a cat? Or more to the point, convince Eddie?”

We turned and looked up at the cat in question.

Eddie looked down. “Mrr.”

“That settles that,” Ash said comfortably, turning back around.

“Once again, the cat gets what he wants.” I glared at Eddie. He glared back. “Tie,” I said, then whipped around before he could claim to win the staring contest. “So, a Friday night and you’re not working? That hasn’t happened in months, seems like.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And now I don’t know what to do with myself. Where’s Rafe?”

“In the UP.” I frowned, trying to remember which of his friends he’d gone off to help, and came up dry. “With a buddy, fixing up a hunting cabin. He should be back tomorrow. But since you’re here,” I said brightly, “I can fill you in on what we’ve found out about our murder suspects.”

Groaning, Ash closed his eyes and leaned his head against the chaise’s back. “I’m not working. Not working at all right now. Barely even breathing.”

He did look tired, but that was endemic to the Up North population in summer. With daylight sticking around past most children’s bedtime, we tended to stay up late and not get enough sleep until mid-September.

But I hardened my heart and told him everything Rafe and I had learned. About identifying Courtney Drew’s car as one I’d seen on the road that day. That we’d been trying to locate the second vehicle, and that we were pretty sure Luke Cagan owned it.

“Then again,” I said, “it’s possible those vehicles had nothing to do with the murders at all. But . . . it just seems like a huge coincidence. Courtney and probably Luke driving down Brown’s Road the same day Rex and Nicole were on the bookmobile. And then an air conditioner almost falls on me.”

“Wouldn’t Violet and Julia also be in danger then?”

I eyed him, looking for evidence of sarcasm, and found nothing but fatigue. “Maybe. But it just seems weird. I think someone should go out to Brown’s Road and see if there’s anything at the dead end. That could tell us a lot. Maybe they’re cooking meth down there.” I shivered. “Or they’ve been stealing guns and are storing them in a . . . in a cave or something.” Even to my own ears, that last possibility sounded stupid.

“Sure,” Ash said, with his eyes closed. “I’ll get right on it. But don’t you have a bunch of other suspects?”

“Well, there are the Jaquays. And Mason Hiller, who owns the gas station out there.”

“What about Violet Mullaly?” Ash asked. “Wasn’t she on your suspect list once upon a time? Or has she been shifted over to the possible victims list?”

“Not yet.” Then I remembered he’d been looking into her background. “Is there a connection between her and Rex? Or Nicole?”

“Mrr!”

I turned just in time to see Eddie launch from the houseboat’s roof, aiming himself directly for . . .

“Hey!” Ash sat upright as Eddie landed on the chaise, right between Ash’s flip-flopped feet.

“MRR!”

“You’re in his spot,” I said.

“There’s room for two.” Ash patted the upholstery. “Have a seat, little buddy.”

“Or over here.” I patted the space next to my knees. “Lots of room.”

With a distinct curl of his lip, Eddie jumped to the deck and stalked off, his tail twitching mightily.

“Don’t go far,” I called. “It’s almost bedtime.”

“Mrr!”

Ash laughed. “You two crack me up. Sometimes it really feels like you’re having a conversation.”

Of course we were. I wasn’t sure we were communicating, but we certainly talked to each other.

“So you’ll look into Courtney and Luke?” I asked.

He sighed. “Sure. And the Jaquays and Violet Mullaly and who else? Oh, yes, Mason Hiller.”

I felt a pang of sympathy, but did my best to squash it. Kate needed a resolution to this more than he needed sleep. And if someone truly was trying to kill me—something I’d mostly tried to forget—well, that needed to stop, too. Preferably sooner rather than later.

“Have you heard about the burglaries?” Ash asked, then described a string of cottages that had been broken into in the last few days.

This was odd, because most area robberies happened in winter, when the vast majority of expensive lake cottages were empty of people, though not of their expensive contents. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I said.

“Eventually, sure. But meanwhile half the lakefront owners in the county are calling us, wanting extra patrols, wanting us to keep their property safe. Basically wanting us to be their security guards.” He sank deeper into the chaise and muttered something about a deputy vacancy in Alaska.