Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

“And in first place, Quincy, as Babe the Blue Ox, owned by Charity Oliver.”

The butterscotch cat’s owner gripped him so hard, she was in danger of crushing him. Nevertheless, he purred loudly. Maybe he’d caught her infectious joy at winning the contest. Maybe he could tell he’d won and was happy about it. Maybe he liked being squeezed by his owner. The loud applause made him a bit jumpy, but he felt safe in his owner’s arms. After all, she was the one who fed him those delicious treats. The other woman stroked him. He basked in the attention and purred even more loudly, closing his eyes tightly in contentment. The two women swelled with pride.

Inger smiled at Peter then ran over from the Aronoff’s stand to join them. Chase grabbed Inger’s hand and raised their arms in the air together, signifying that Inger had a lot to do with the first-place win. Daisy handed the blue ribbon to Anna, since Chase’s hands were full.

“Where should we put this?” Anna asked Chase.

“Maybe in the shop?” Chase was distracted, watching Peter and Ivan. Shadow was still out of his carrier. Ivan held him and Peter admired their ribbon.

“Yes,” said Inger. “In the front. I’ll explain it to people.”

“Be sure,” Anna said, “that you mention who helped—”

A ginger furball leapt down, streaked past Chase and Inger, and jumped upon the pedestal where the black cat’s carrier rested.

“Quincy!” Anna wasn’t far behind, running to try to catch him.

The ginger cat dove into the carrier and started pawing the bedding, looking like a dog digging a hole, or maybe a cat looking for a fresh place in the litter box.

Chase thought of that last one and was afraid he would do his business in Shadow’s carrier. She reached in and pulled him out, knocking his ox horns off. It was a wonder they had stayed on while he’d streaked across the room. Now, though, they fell to the floor. Anna swooped them up before anyone could step on them, although they hardly needed them now.

When Chase folded her cat in her arms, a dazzling sparkle caught her eye in the carrier. She reached in again and this time she withdrew what Quincy had been digging for.

It was the missing diamond collar.

TWENTY-NINE

Silence fell on the arena as, one after another, people noticed what she held.

Her hand, holding the precious object at arm’s length as if it were contaminated, began to tremble. Showers of fiery sparks from the diamonds caught the bright arena lights and shot around the room. A few dabs of butter were wedged between some of the jewels. It hadn’t been cleaned off since it had been taken from inside the sculpture, Chase thought. Quincy strained toward it, flicking his tongue out.

Ivan, more wild-eyed than ever, lunged for the collar, but Chase was quick enough to snatch her hand back against her chest. She narrowed her eyes and looked from one man to the other.

“You had this all the time?” she demanded, her throat tight with anger.

“No, no! I didn’t know it was there,” Peter cried. “Papa, what have you done?”

Ivan grabbed her arm, but she kept her grip on the collar. In a flash, Ivan threw Chase to the floor, banging her head and her right hand against the ground, trying to loosen her grip. Quincy jumped down. Chase flinched but didn’t let go.

“Police!” Anna yelled, as loud as she could, which was pretty loud. She scrambled and caught Quincy, who had leapt away from the fray.

Chase shook her head in an effort to clear the stars spinning inside her skull. Ivan straddled her, clutched her wrist, and pressed, trying to get her to release the collar. Quincy, maybe having a change of heart, jumped from Anna’s arms. He pounced and bit down, hard, on Ivan’s forearm. The man yowled and rolled off Chase.

The policeman Chase had seen enter was there an instant later. He lifted Ivan off the ground and held him by both arms. Chase still had the collar. She slowly rose from the floor, rubbing the back of her sore head. Other officers stayed inside the door to the hallway, beckoning a dozen more uniformed police officers inside. She could barely see the tops of their heads, but she could easily tell which one was Detective Olson because he was a bit taller than the others.

Ingrid stood behind Peter, her hands clutching her horrified face.

“What’s going on?” the policeman asked. He was a large, stern-looking man of about forty with bristly dark brown hair, an acne-scarred face, and substantial jowls.

“It should belong to us,” Ivan snarled. “The money spent on that thing should have gone to pay Peter. She should not have it.” He tossed his head toward Chase on the word she .

The officer detached a pair of plastic strips from his belt and looped them around Ivan’s wrists behind his back, ignoring what Chase held. Chase could tell Ivan was rubbing the officer the wrong way.

“How did it get in your carrier?” Anna asked.

Peter shrank back. “I didn’t know it was there,” he protested.

“How could you not?” asked Anna. “Didn’t you bring your cat here in that carrier?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, but . . . I don’t know. I didn’t know it was there,” he repeated.

“Did your cat notice it was there?” Chase stepped closer, putting her face in his.

Peter frowned and looked down at the cat, who sat crouched at the foot of the stand all this time. Peter picked him up. “That’s strange. You’d think Shadow would have found it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like butter as much as Quincy does,” Chase said. Quincy, in her arms again, was now licking bits of it off the collar she still held.

“I hope none of those diamonds are loose,” Anna said. “Maybe I’d better take it.”

“Has anyone called Detective Olson over here?” Chase asked.

The policeman finally took a close look at what was in Chase’s hand. “This is the missing artifact, isn’t it?” the man said. He held out his hand, one arm on Ivan’s upper arm, and Chase gave it to him. “I’ll get backup right now.” He slipped it into a paper bag and into a pocket one-handed. He waved toward where Olson stood, now surrounded by two dozen police. He took a whistle from his belt and blew it.

Chase watched Ivan. His eyes never left the collar as the man tried to summon more police.

“Why does your father have this?” Chase asked Peter. She wanted to hear someone else say it.

“I have no idea. I don’t know how it got there.” Peter looked genuinely puzzled.

Patrice came running over, carrying Princess Puffball. “That’s him!” She pointed at Ivan. “That’s the horrible man who threatened me!” Her eyes were wild. “He wanted me to give him the collar.”

Ivan had wanted Patrice to give it to him, she said, after she stole it. He was the reason she’d put it inside the butter sculpture in the first place. “There’s only one way it could have ended up in the carrier if you didn’t put it there,” Chase said to Peter.

Ingrid was giving Peter peculiar looks. He glanced back at her once, then quickly away.

“Yes, you’re right.” He looked at his father with sorrow in his eyes. “Papa? You took this? From the butter sculpture?”

Ivan had to have seen Patrice hide it there and gone to retrieve it.

“So what if I did? You should have it.”

Chase could see the top of Detective Olson’s head as he finally made his way through the throng toward them.

“But what else did you do when you took it?” Peter’s voice shook and tears flowed down his face, scrunched in agony.

“All right,” Ivan shouted. “I killed that man! He came in and saw me. I had to.”

Gasps were heard from everyone crowding around the spectacle. Chase let one escape, too, at the unvarnished confession.