Лори Касс: Booking The Crook

As I divested myself of outerwear, I watched the feline progress. First, Eddie’s nose came out, then his head, ears twitching. One front paw reached out to rest gently on the mat, then the other came out to meet it. Then, in a sudden leap to the floor, all of Eddie was out of the carrier.

“In the kitchen,” Rafe called back. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“How odd,” I said to Eddie. “This particular kitchen is the last place I’d expect to find food.” But Eddie was too busy sniffing his new environment to pay any attention to anything I said.

I put my coat in the front closet, slipped into moccasins I’d bought last month, and picked Eddie up, using my legs to lift because he really was a pretty big cat. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go see what Rafe hunted and gathered for our sustenance tonight. I wonder if—”

My words came to a halt, just like I did. Eddie and I had walked through the living room and the dining room, and now an amazing sight greeted us.

The last time I’d seen the kitchen, it had been a mostly empty room, empty because the cabinets were still somewhere else, nowhere near completion. There still weren’t any cabinets, but in the middle of the room stood a square table and two dining chairs. On top of the table was a white tablecloth, china, and flowers, all lit by the soft glow of candlelight.

Rafe, dressed in paint-splattered jeans and sweatshirt, stood behind one chair. “Would you like to be seated, miss?” He pulled out the chair smoothly.

I grinned and let a squirming Eddie drop to the floor. “Why, yes, I would.” Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I saw that the tablecloth was actually a drop cloth, that the china was made of paper, that the flowers were silk poinsettias that looked suspiciously like the ones from the Christmas wreath we’d bought, and that the candles were stuck into the bottoms of cut-off tubes of caulk. Still, he’d gone to a fair amount of effort, and knowing that he’d done it just for me was making me a little wobbly.

“Dinner will be served momentarily,” he said as I sat and hitched forward to the card table. “I hope sandwiches from Fat Boys will be to your liking?”

“How could they not?”

He turned, reached into a white bag that was sitting on a pile of paint cans, pulled out two foam boxes, and uncrated our dinner.

“Mrr.”

“Don’t worry, young lad,” Rafe said. “Yours is next. Hope you’re okay without a plate.” Out of the white bag came a smaller foam box.

I couldn’t quite see the box’s contents, although from the sound of it, Eddie was plenty happy with whatever it was. “What did you get him?”

“Piece of fried fish with all the breading taken off.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ll probably be his favorite from now on.”

“Thought I already was.” Rafe sat. “So what happened at the meeting?”

After I’d come back downstairs from my board summons, I’d texted him that there’d been a special meeting and I’d tell him about it over dinner. “It’s kind of a long story,” I said slowly.

“They’re not firing anyone, right?” he asked. “And not getting rid of the bookmobile?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That wasn’t it at all. It’s just . . .” I paused, because old emotions, ones I’d thought had long since faded, were coming back to life. I swallowed. “Remember Stan Larabee?”

“Well, sure.” Rafe nodded. “His donation to the library paid for the bookmobile. And he’s the . . .” His voice trailed off, because he’d come to the sad part.

“And he’s the one,” I said, “that I found in that farmhouse almost two years ago, just before he died.” It had been a difficult time, but Stan’s killer had eventually been brought to justice. And soon after, it turned out that Stan had willed the bulk of his substantial estate to the library. However, the relatives had come out of the woodwork to contest the will, and it had been in the hands of lawyers ever since.

“The estate has finally been settled,” I said. “That’s why the board had a special meeting. Graydon and Trent have been handling the settlement details, and they were announcing it to the board.”

“And they invited you, too?”

I nodded. “Because the bookmobile was mentioned specifically in the will. Stan . . .” A knot in my throat caught my words and I had to cough it out. “Stan wanted to create a foundation with enough capital to buy a new bookmobile every ten years.”

And that was why, when I’d first met Trent, he’d been asking so many questions about the bookmobile. Otis, the outgoing president, had handpicked Trent as the new president because Trent’s attorney skills included handling large bequests. In addition to the bookmobile, Stan’s wishes also included some other odd details that hadn’t been explained fully to me, but I wasn’t going to worry about those right now.

Rafe put his sandwich down, got up, and came around the table. He pulled me up into a massive hug and twirled me around. “I always knew I liked that Stan,” he said, after putting me down and giving me a big smacking kiss.

“Yes,” I said, sniffing a bit, but it was a happy sniff. “Me, too.”

The board had also apologized for keeping me in the dark about Stan’s will, Graydon and Trent especially.

“We know you’re the soul of discretion,” Trent had said, “but until the decision was final, the attorneys all insisted that the board and the director be the only ones to know.”

I’d been fine with that—mostly—and had forgiven them completely when I’d seen the number of zeros on the check the library would receive even after the bookmobile foundation was set up. Soul of discretion I might be, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep that kind of news to myself.

Rafe gave me one more hug. “So all’s well that ends well, right?” he asked, ushering me into my chair again. “But there’s one thing we have to talk about,” he said.

“What kind of thing?”

“You came very close to becoming Stewart’s second murder victim. I know you’re fine, but it was a close call and thinking about it scares me.”

Rafe’s face, normally full of humor and mirth, was filled with worry and concern. “You said you can’t walk away from friends who ask for help. I understand that. And I love you for it. But we have to think up a different way to do this.”

I frowned. “To do what?”

“To fight crime and stuff.”

“‘And stuff’?”

He shrugged. “Don’t want to leave out any possibilities. So here’s what I’m thinking. If a friend comes to one of us with a problem, big or small, we work on the solution together. Me and you. You and me. We’re a team.”

I smiled, my heart full to bursting with love for this wonderful, though sometimes annoying, man. “A team. You and me.”

“Mrr!”

Without missing a beat, Rafe made the necessary correction. “You and me and Eddie.”

My furry friend jumped onto my lap and I hugged him tight. “The best team of all,” I said. “The absolute best.”

About the Author

Laurie Cassis the national bestselling author of the Bookmobile Cat Mysteries, including Wrong Side of the Paw , Cat With a Clue , and Pouncing on Murder . She lives on a lake in northern Michigan with her husband and two cats.

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