Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

The band drew nigh and drowned out the conversation. When it had passed, Chase leaned out and looked around to see who the speakers were. Only one remained: the fortune-teller herself. That is, the person Chase assumed was the fortune-teller. At any rate, she was the young woman who had been at that tent earlier with Mike and Mike’s aunt Betsy. She must have a cat. Princess Puffball? And she had taken something and lost it.

Chase wanted to know more about the Fancy Cat Contest. Mike had mentioned it, and this woman seemed to have an entrant. Should Chase enter Quincy?

After the parade passed, she returned Quincy, in his crate, to his place under the table of their booth. A colorful pamphlet with pictures of sleek cats on it lay on their exhibit table.

“What’s this?” Chase asked.

“Some woman in a business suit was tossing them out during the parade. She’s with a pet food company. I think they’re sponsoring something here.”

Quincy gave an irritated mrow from his crate. He clearly wanted out of it. Maybe the fortune-teller/cat owner would know where to exercise a cat here at the fair.

“Do you want anything from the food carts, Anna?”

“I’d like something cold to drink.”

The day was sunny and beautiful. Chase was warm in her sweater, and thirsty, too. “I’ll get us some lemonade. I want to stop and talk to the fortune-teller on the way.”

Anna raised her eyebrows.

“She’s entering a cat in a contest here. I want to know more about it.”

“You’re thinking of entering Quincy in a contest?”

“Fancy Cat Contest.”

“Quincy is lovely and adorable, but I’m not sure he’s fancy.”

“Anyway, I’ll ask her about it. If she has a cat here, maybe she knows where to exercise them, too. There must be several cats if a contest is being held.”

The entrance to the fortune-teller booth was hung in purple gauze that glittered with silver stars and half moons. One swath was pinned back, leaving a narrow entrance. Chase peeked inside, then stepped into the tent. The young woman sat behind her display table, which was draped in more of the same material. It was dark inside, lit only by several electric candles and a glowing globe that sat in front of her. Chase blinked to adjust her eyes to the dimness. She also sniffed. Something gave off a pleasant scent of lavender.

“Welcome. I am Madame Divine.” The woman spoke in a creepy low voice. “Step closer. Have a seat and give me your palm.” She stood to take Chase’s hands and drew her into a seat. She wore a caftan made from more of the purple gauze, and her shoulder-length black curls were tucked into a gold turban. Her deep purple nail polish shone in the soft light from the globe, which was her crystal ball, Chase surmised.

“Oh, hi. Chase Oliver. Our booth is right over there. The Bar None.” She pointed her head in that direction, since Madame Divine had both her hands. “I don’t really want my fortune told. I just heard you talking about a Fancy Cat Contest and wanted to ask you about that.”

Madame Divine frowned. “What did you hear? Where?” Her natural timbre was rather low, but the spooky voice was gone.

“I didn’t mean to overhear. I took my cat behind our booth to get him away from the noise of the parade. It was scaring him. Most of what you were saying was drowned out by the marching band, but I did hear you mention the contest.”

Her frown lessened. “Ah. Well, yes. I’m entering my cat, Puffy.” Princess Puffball, Chase remembered.

“How would I enter mine?” Chase put her hands on the round table between her and the fortune-teller.

“Have you read the brochure about the fair?”

“Not yet.” It was probably the pamphlet she had seen on their table.

“The entry form is in there.” Madame Divine reached for Chase’s hands again.

Chase looked around for a cat. A shelf to one side held fortune-telling books, tarot cards, and Ouija boards for sale. “Is your cat here?” She extracted her hands and folded them in her lap, where Madame Divine couldn’t reach them.

“Not today. The contest isn’t until the end of the fair, on next Sunday.”

“Oh. I have to bring Quincy here every day, and I was wondering if there was a pen or a big cage where he could get some exercise.”

“There might be. You should talk to the contact person. Daisy something-or-other.”

Chase rose. “Thanks, Ms. Divine. I’ll look her up.”

“Madame Divine is just my stage name. I’m really Patrice Youngren. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out for Chase to shake. Her hands were clad in lace fingerless gloves and she wore rings on almost every finger. Chase gripped the gloved hand and wondered if she wore gloves because she wanted to prevent others from reading her palms. Patrice shook with one hand and put the other on top of Chase’s. It was an oddly intimate gesture.

“I guess you know Mike Ramos?” Patrice asked. “I heard you talking to him yesterday.”

“Yes, he’s our vet.”

Patrice nodded and Chase got the feeling she was being dismissed.

“Do you know him?”

Patrice nodded again without offering anything further.

Chase persisted anyway, curious now about the conversation she’d overheard. “I heard you say you’ve lost something. Is it anything I can help look for?”

A fleeting look of panic widened Patrice’s brown eyes but was gone in a flash. “No, thank you.”

That cold tone was definitely a dismissal. Chase gave her a smile. “I’ll see you around.”

For a moment, as she walked through the sawdust, she wondered why “Seventy-six Trombones” from The Music Man was running through her head. Then she remembered that the marching band had played it when they’d gone past.

As Chase reached the lemonade stand, she spotted Mike leaving with an extra-large cup.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been so worried.”

“Chase, thanks for sending Jay Wright to help me out. I was trying to figure out who to call.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “I’ve turned my phone off because I’m getting so many calls from reporters. And some from crackpots.”

“Well, I’m relieved to see you here,” she said. “I didn’t know if you would make it or not.”

“Jay said there wasn’t enough evidence to keep me, even though I’m their best suspect. They asked me a few questions then they locked me in a cell with some scary types. Then they brought me out and questioned me for hours more. I’m glad to be out of there.”

“They really think you could have killed Mr. Oake?”

“I wasn’t charged with anything. That was a surprise to me after all the questioning. Detective Olson acted like he wanted me to confess, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.”

“Yes, I’ve had experience with that. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” He still held her hand and she squeezed his, then dropped it. “By the way, I just met Patrice Youngren. She knows you?”

“She sure does.” He glanced at his watch. “Look, Chase, I’ll talk later. I need to be at the vet station now. I was late getting here.”

Mike hurried away. He hadn’t really answered all of her questions. At least not the way Chase wanted them answered.

Julie showed up late in the morning. “Need some help?”

“Where’s Jay?” Chase asked.

“After being at the courthouse early this morning, he had to go into work today. He’s defending a state legislator, and his firm wants to do a good job with it. He’ll be by, maybe tomorrow. Definitely next Saturday.”

“That’s great they gave him a big case,” Anna said.

“It’s not his, by himself. He’s on a defense team.”

“Sounds like football.” Chase laughed.