Kelly Sofie - Curiosity Thrilled The Cat

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. About fifty percent of cats like catnip. The rest don’t. It’s probably genetic, the way tongue rolling is in people.” She smiled. “It won’t hurt him.”

“Thanks. That’s good to know,” I said.

Roma twisted a wide silver ring around the index finger of her right hand. “You know, there’s catnip growing wild on the grounds of Wisteria Hill. Maybe that’s how Owen got a taste for it.”

“Do you know much about the cats out there?” I asked, tugging at the bottom of my T-shirt, which had bunched up when I’d tied the hoodie at my waist.

“I do,” Roma said. “Some of us have been taking care of them, making sure they have food and shelter. Over time we’ve managed to catch them all so they could be neutered and have their shots.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t easy.”

I remembered the last time Roma had given shots to Owen and Hercules. Both cats had been yowling, scratching dervishes. Roma had worn a long, heavy Kevlar glove. Hercules had left teeth marks on the thumb and two fingers, and Owen, scratch tracks down the entire arm.

“Would you be interested in coming with me next time I go out to the estate?” Roma asked, pulling her ring all the way off and sliding it back on. Her nails were short, without any polish. “You seem to have a rapport with those cats.”

I glanced over at the table again. “I would,” I said.

Roma’s smile grew wider. “I’ll call you,” she said.

We turned toward the others. Violet was asking a question about one of the movements, her hands in front of her body at about shoulder height. Maggie adjusted one arm and pointed down at Violet’s knees.

“Cloud hands,” Roma said with a sigh.

I wasn’t the only one who had trouble with that part of the form. I couldn’t coordinate my hands with each other, let alone the lower half of my body. I looked like I belonged in platform shoes and spandex in a bad disco revival show.

We all watched as Maggie demonstrated, moving slowly and fluidly through the movement. Rebecca tucked her arm across the front of her body. Her sleeve slid backward, uncovering her wrapped wrist.

Maggie stopped what she was doing. “Rebecca, are you hurt?” she asked.

Rebecca’s face went pale and she put a protective hand over her arm. “It’s just my arthritis acting up,” she said, rolling her wrist slowly from side to side under her hand. “I’m using a poultice. The bandage is just to keep it clean and in place.”

Maggie stepped in front of Rebecca, took her hand and ran her slender fingers gently over the bandage. “Can you bend it?” she asked.

“Yes.” She pulled her arm away from Maggie and held it out from her body, slowly bending her wrist back and forth. “It’s just a little stiff.”

Maggie examined the bandage again. “Do you make your own cotton strips?” she asked.

Rebecca nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“You have a very fine hand. What do you use in your poultice? Red cedar? Marshmallow?”

“I use my mother’s herbal remedies,” Rebecca said, holding her wrapped arm against her chest with her good arm. “They’re not like anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” Maggie said, discomfort showing on her face. She dropped her hand to her side. “Just take it easy. Stop if anything hurts.”

She took a step backward and a couple of slow, calming breaths. “Okay, everyone. Circle,” she called.

Roma moved to my right side, next to Rebecca. A look passed between the two of them. Would that be me someday, exchanging looks with Maggie when someone younger urged me to take it easy?

We made the circle a little bigger and started our warm-up exercises. Maggie looked across at me and grinned. I knew what was coming. “Bend your knees, Kathleen,” she called. I crossed my eyes at her from across the circle. Next to me I heard Roma laugh.

I was sweating by the end of class, even with the windows open and the fan running. I started for my bag and then remembered what else—who else—was in there. Instead I used the end of my T-shirt to wipe my face.

Ruby came up to me, her orange tank sweat stained. “I heard you found Easton’s body at the theater yesterday,” she said. “That true?”

I finger-combed my sweat-damp hair and refastened the clip. “Yes, it’s true,” I said.

Ruby held out her hand. “This is for you.”

A coil of black cord lay in her hand. I picked it up. A small purple crystal dangled from the cord. “What’s this for?” I asked.

Ruby touched the crystal and started it swinging. “Keep it with you. Or wear it. Whatever. It’ll keep negative energy out of your life.”

For a moment I didn’t know what to say. Between the problems with the library renovations and finding Gregor Easton’s body, I was pretty sure there was a lot of negative energy in my life. “It’s beautiful,” I finally managed. “Thank you.”

Ruby took the necklace from my hand and showed me how to slide the knotted ends along the cord to make it longer or shorter. I slipped the pendant over my head and tucked the crystal inside my shirt. I wasn’t sure it could keep negative energy out of my life, but it couldn’t hurt. I hugged Ruby. “This is so nice,” I said.

Maggie came up to us, holding a steaming cup that smelled like lemons. “What’s so nice?” she asked.

I pulled the necklace out from under my shirt so she could see Ruby’s gift.

“Ruby, that’s beautiful,” Maggie said. “It’s one of yours?”

Ruby nodded. “The crystal will help ward off negative energy.”

“Do you think there was a lot of negative energy around Gregor Easton?” I asked, pulling my sticky shirt away from my body.

“Oh, yeah,” Ruby said. “I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but from what I saw, the man was a lech. You put that kind of energy out into the world and who knows what will come back with it?”

I nodded, wondering what they’d all think if they knew Detective Gordon thought I’d been sleeping with the dead conductor.

Rebecca and Violet had come over to where we were standing. Rebecca was blotting the back of her neck with a towel. Violet didn’t sweat. She didn’t wrinkle or get windblown, either. She looked at Ruby. “What do you mean, ‘Who knows what will come back with it’?” she asked.

Ruby bent one arm behind her head and pushed down on the elbow with her other hand. “Whatever energy we put out into the universe—good or bad—stays connected to us, like there’s a tiny, invisible thread attached to it,” she said. “Eventually it comes back and there’s no way to know what else it will pick up along the way. No way to know what will get entangled in the string.” Ruby switched arms.

“My mother believed something like that,” Violet said.

“Your mother believed in karma?” Ruby asked.

“My mother believed what goes around comes around,” Violet said.

Ruby laughed. “That’s karma all right. It’s a bitch.”

Everyone laughed at that, but I couldn’t help shivering, for some reason. I felt a chill, as if someone had just drawn a finger up my spine.

Roma touched my shoulder. I jumped and sucked in a breath. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just, well”—she pointed across the room at the tea table—“your bag seems to be moving.”

8

Step Back, Seven Stars

Crap on toast! She was right. The bag was moving, rocking from side to side the way a kid might rock a rowboat to try and tip everyone into the water. Or the way a restless cat might rock a nylon bag because he was bored.

“Kathleen, dear, is there something in your bag?” Rebecca asked.

“It’s my phone,” Maggie blurted.