Лори Касс - Cat With A Clue

When I described the encounter I’d had with Shane at the grocery store, Ash went still. “And you didn’t mention this at the time because?”

I shrugged, because I wasn’t sure why. “He was just letting off steam.”

“You don’t know that.”

He was right. “Sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.”

“Okay.” Ash nodded. “I’ll tell Hal and see what he wants to do with it.” He twirled his paddle in his hands, started to dig the blades into the water, then stopped and looked at me. “Just so you know, we are looking at Steve Guilder.”

“Andrea’s high school boyfriend?”

“That’s the one.” Ash nodded. “We’re looking, so leave that alone, okay? He moved back to Michigan about a year ago. We’re trying to track him down.”

“Is he in Chilson?” For some reason I glanced around. “Do you know where he’s working?”

“We’re trying to track him down,” Ash repeated. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

It was a beautiful summer day with hardly a cloud in the sky, and worrying had been the furthest thing from my mind.

Until then.

Chapter 13

The next morning, I woke to the sound of rain pattering on the houseboat’s roof. I lay quietly for a moment, trying to decide which was noisier, the rain or Eddie’s snores, then reached for my clock to check the time. “It’s not even eight,” I said, yawning. “What do you think, bud? Option one is get up, get going, and be productive in the four hours before I have to be at the library. Option two is roll over and see what happens.”

“Mrr,” Eddie said sleepily.

I murmured agreement, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Two hours later, I blinked and found that I was wide-awake. Eddie tried to convince me to stay in bed, but it wasn’t any good. I was awake and going to stay that way.

“You, of course, get to remain in bed if you wish,” I told him as I towel-dried my hair, postshower. “That’s one of the benefits of being a cat.”

Eddie’s eyes opened slightly.

“You want me to name all of them?” I pulled on clothes suitable for an afternoon in the library; dress pants, a dressy T-shirt, and a light jacket. “There’s no time for the complete list, but I can hit the highlights. A cat’s sense of self-confidence, for one. The absolute nonnecessity of having to change your clothes. Plus there’s the ability you have to purr. What’s that all about, anyway? And then there’s—”

I stopped, because my audience of one had gone back to sleep. I could tell, because he was snoring again, this time most certainly louder than the rain.

“Have a good day,” I whispered. Then I kissed him and headed out to hunt down some food.

* * *

The folks at the Round Table were happy enough to stuff me full of cinnamon apple pancakes, link sausage, and some healthy wedges of watermelon. I put up my rain jacket’s hood and scooted from restaurant to car, telling myself that driving to the library when I normally walked on nonbookmobile days was okay on a day like this. Far better to use the gas to drive the mile than to walk and end up with wet shoes and socks and pants from which I might never get the mud spatters out.

I arrived at the library long before the noon opening and used the time to catch up on e-mails and to open the snail mail that had been accumulating on my desk. At straight-up twelve, I unlocked the doors and headed across the quiet lobby to the reference desk.

Donna, who was a deacon in her church, wouldn’t arrive until half past. She’d worried over me being the only staff member in the entire library, saying that maybe someone else should work on Sunday afternoon. I’d said if I couldn’t manage half an hour by myself, that my librarianship should be irrevocably revoked.

And, for the first fifteen minutes, absolutely nothing happened. Not a single soul walked in the door, and I was left free to research a new educational software program for the children’s computers. Then, just as I was thinking that I must not have unlocked the doors, I heard one swing open and a troop of children scampered in. A motherly type cast a worried glance in my direction and shushed her charges.

I got up, smiling, and walked toward them. “Hi, I’m Minnie. If you need anything, just let me know.”

The woman pushed back her rain-damp hair. “How about something for three siblings and four cousins to do for an hour or two? We’re staying with friends and we were all supposed to go out on the boat, but . . .” She sighed.

“I have just the thing,” I said with confidence. The brick-and-mortar library might not have a cat, but in addition to books, we had a puppet theater, a tree-shaped resin structure designed to be climbed upon, and jigsaw puzzles galore. I herded the entourage to the children’s section, and the kids instantly scattered to various parts of the room.

“Thank you,” the woman said. Deep feeling rang in every vowel and consonant. “I promise to remember you in my will.”

“No need,” I assured her. “All in a day’s work for a librarian.”

I left them to their devices and headed back to the reference desk, exquisitely satisfied with my profession, glad I hadn’t given in to a brief temptation in my sophomore year to switch majors. Though the archaeology class I’d taken had been fascinating, it wouldn’t have suited me nearly as much as being a librarian did.

As I neared the desk, I saw that in my absence a man had come in and sat at a computer. “Hi,” I said. “If you need any help, my name is—” I blinked. “Oh, hey. I didn’t recognize you.”

A hatless Mitchell nodded. “Hey, Minnie. What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said, leaning against the barrier that separated the computer carrels from each other. “But I’m wondering what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He glanced up sideways at me, then turned his attention to the computer, shrugging.

“You’ve been working at the toy store,” I said quietly. “You’re been crewing on a charter boat, and you’re working that renovation construction job.” From what I’d been told, Mitchell had never held more than one job at time in his life, and often not even that.

“Work isn’t so bad,” he muttered, whacking at the keyboard.

I thought about what I might say next, trying to choose words that would sound concerned yet lack any hint of condescension. “Mitchell,” I said softly, “if your girlfriend truly loves you, she loves you just the way you are.”

“Yeah?” He reached up for his baseball hat, but his hand found nothing but air, so he was forced to let his hand flop back down uselessly. “That’s what my sister says, but Bianca, she’s so great, you know? She deserves someone who works as hard as she does. Someone who’s worth something.”

“But—”

Mitchell pushed on through my objection. “You told me to stay busy, remember? And I figured working lots of jobs was the best way to do that. And now I see that I can save some money, you know? I need to show Bianca that I’m worth more than just an attic apartment in my sister’s house.” His voice was full of disgust for himself. “I’ve wasted so much time hanging around and not doing anything much. I need to change before it’s too late.”

Negative point to Minnie for not thinking her advice through. I reached out to touch him on the shoulder, but let my hand drop. “Mitchell, I understand that you don’t want to lose Bianca.”

“She’s the one,” he said. “I love her.”

The stark declaration startled me. I blinked, then said, “It’s great that you’re making a living. But don’t change yourself too much, okay? We like you just the way you are.”