Kelly Sofie - Curiosity Thrilled The Cat

“How did you do that?” I asked him. “I put you in the porch. I locked the door.” I remembered Owen chasing birds in the backyard and how I’d thought for a moment that he could disappear. Was that how Hercules had gotten out of the porch? Could he . . .

No. Crazy moment. Owen couldn’t make himself invisible. Hercules couldn’t walk through walls. And I was way more stressed than I’d realized. They were cats. Real cats—fast and stealthy. They had no paranormal abilities. They were sneaky, not supernatural.

I lifted Herc into my arms and stood up. “What am I going to do with you?” I didn’t want him to wander down the street and maybe get hit by a car.

“Okay. Fine. You win,” I said. “You can come.” I stuck my face close to his furry black-and-white one. “No getting out of the bag and no jumping on anyone’s head. Are we clear?”

He nuzzled my cheek. I undid the side zipper of the bag, pulled out my sweatshirt and shoes and set Hercules inside. He twisted around and settled next to the rolled towel, tucking his tail around his back legs.

“Are you all right?” I asked, tying my hoodie around my waist. Hercules made a sound that was halfway between a meow and a burp. I closed the zipper. He peeked out at me through the side mesh panel. I settled the padded back of the bag on my hip and started down the street.

When I’d found the cats on the overgrown grounds of Wisteria Hill, I’d brought them home in this bag. Maybe that was why they liked being inside it. The bag couldn’t collapse down on them and there were half a dozen mesh panels so the air could circulate. And they were getting carried instead of having to walk.

I looked through the top mesh window. Hercules was stretched out, with his head on one paw and the other over his nose. He opened one eye and looked up at me. “It does not smell in there,” I whispered. The paw stayed on his nose and the open eye winked shut.

A truck passed, heading up the hill. Maybe I should stop talking to the cat, I thought. At least while there were vehicles driving by. I didn’t want to be known as the crazy lady who talked to her gym bag.

Rebecca and I arrived for class at the same time. I waited by the door as she came up the sidewalk from the other direction.

“Hello, Kathleen,” she said with a smile. “I like your bangs off your forehead.”

“They’re driving me crazy.” I held the door open for Rebecca with one hand and took her canvas tote bag with the other.

“Thank you,” she said. “You know, I think they just need a little more layering.”

I sighed as we started up the steps. “I wish I’d never cut my hair,” I said.

Rebecca’s smile widened. “As soon as I can hold a pair of scissors I’ll even up the ends for you and see what I can do with those bangs. I promise. You’ll feel better.”

At the top of the stairs I put Hercules down between my feet, untied the shirt from around my waist and hung it on one of the hooks by the studio door. At the end of the row a collapsible red umbrella dangled from the last hook. A green scarf with beaded ends was knotted around the middle of the umbrella.

Rebecca was sitting on the wooden bench opposite, changing her shoes. I hung her bag next to my sweatshirt. She glanced up and noticed the umbrella. “There’s my scarf,” she said. I reached over, unknotted the fabric and handed it to her. The long edges had been beautifully stitched by hand

She smoothed the material on her lap. “Thank you,” she said. “I know it’s just a scarf, but it was a gift and I couldn’t remember what I’d done with it. I didn’t realize I’d left it here.”

She looked troubled. Was she afraid she was getting forgetful? I hadn’t seen any signs that Rebecca was having problems with her memory. I smiled at her. “I forgot my rubber boots here once,” I told her. “I didn’t notice that I wasn’t wearing them until I was starting up Mountain Road in the rain and the water was streaming down the sidewalk over my feet like a waterslide.”

Rebecca stood up and reached past me to tuck the scarf into her tote. “What you’re trying to say is that I’m not getting old and feeble.” She smiled back at me.

I gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “I wouldn’t let you cut my bangs if I thought you were,” I said.

I grabbed the strap of my messenger bag, and we went into the studio. Violet raised her hand in greeting. Rebecca walked over to her.

I headed for Maggie, who was standing next to the tea table. “Hi,” I said. “Can I leave my bag under the table?”

Her hand was on the top of her head, gently pulling it down to her shoulder. “Sure,” she said. “Do you have something breakable inside?”

“I have a cat inside,” I said.

“What?” Maggie’s eyes widened, which looked a little strange because her head was tipped sideways. I lifted up the bag so she could look in the top. “Is that Hercules?” she asked.

“Shhh, yes,” I hissed.

She let go of her head and peeked in the bag again. “Hey, Fuzz Face,” she whispered. A soft meow came from inside. “Why did you bring a cat to class?” Maggie asked, grabbing the top of her head again and pulling it down to the opposite shoulder.

“He wouldn’t stay home,” I said. “He kept following me. I put him in the porch, but somehow he managed to get back out when I wasn’t looking.”

“Very sneaky,” Maggie whispered to the bag. She gave me a sideways grin. “Stick him under the table,” she said. “Can he breathe okay in there?”

“Thanks,” I said, carefully sliding Hercules out of the way. “And yes, he can breathe.”

Maggie started rolling her head slowly from one shoulder to the other. “Any more news on Easton?” she asked.

My hands were clammy. I wiped them on my shorts. “The police found part of his cuff link in the meeting room are at the library,” I said.

“How’d it get there?”

“That’s what Detective Gordon wants to know.”

Maggie dropped her head to her chest. “So he thinks what? That you and the maestro made out in the meeting room? Then he ended up dead and you put him on a book cart and rolled him down the street to the Stratton, and no one saw you?”

“When you say it like that it sounds . . . silly,” I said.

“Because it is.” Maggie moved to the middle of the room, loosely shaking her arms.

Someone clattered up the stairs. Ruby. She came through the door, pulling off a yellow tie-dye T-shirt to reveal an orange tie-dye tank. I loved Ruby’s clothes. I’d dressed a lot more conservatively when I’d been in my twenties.

Roma walked over, slowly rolling her shoulders. Violet and Rebecca trailed behind her. Roma touched my arm, turning me partly away from the others. “Kathleen, how do you feel?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Slowly I flexed and extended my fingers. “I’m okay,” I said. “These muscles are a bit sore, but the tingling is gone and everything works the way it’s supposed to.”

“Good,” she said.

I glanced over at the table. Was it my imagination or could I see Hercules’ green eyes watching through one of the front mesh panels? I turned back to Roma. I’d been meaning to ask her about Owen. “Roma, do you know anything about catnip?” I said.

“I know some cats love it and others don’t,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

I rubbed a hand across my neck. Sometimes I missed the weight of my hair on my neck. “Have you seen those little yellow chickens stuffed with catnip that they sell at the Grainery?” I asked.

“You mean Fred the Funky Chicken?”

I nodded. “Uh-huh. Rebecca’s been buying them for my cats. Hercules isn’t interested, but Owen—”

“—is acting like a catnip freak,” Roma finished.