Лори Касс - Pouncing On Murder

“What do you think, pal?”

Eddie was already in one of his favorite spots from last summer, the back of the bench seat that was half of my dining area. He’d already prowled around the whole place a dozen times, sniffing and stretching and poking into things that he had no reason to poke into. Behind the small dresser I used as a nightstand, for one. Underneath the small kitchen sink, for another. Now he was lying, meat-loaf-shaped, on the seat back, looking over the houseboat as if he were the ruler of all.

“You’re not the king, you know,” I told him. “This is a partnership, remember?”

Which reminded me of the odd partnership Adam and Henry had shared, making maple syrup and who knew what else? I’d told Adam I would try to help, to do some research. But useful research requires a pointed question; otherwise it’s only information-gathering.

“Which is usually interesting,” I said, “but not always immediately useful.”

Eddie stretched out one paw and rested his chin on the seat.

“Yeah, I know. It’s up to me to figure out the right questions.” I slid onto the bench opposite Eddie. “How about this? Let’s assume . . . I know, you don’t like assuming, but work with me on this. For right now, let’s assume that Henry was killed by the same person who tried to run over Adam. What could a lifelong resident of Tonedagana County have in common with a newcomer with no family roots in Michigan who is more than twenty years younger?”

My cat’s response was a heavy sigh.

“Okay, maybe that’s not the right question.” I thought a minute. “Here’s another one. Henry was an insurance agent for a company in Petoskey before he retired. Adam is an accountant who works remotely for companies in Chicago. What could tie them together?”

Eddie moved his other front leg. Now both of them were stretched out in front of him. Supercat.

“The only thing they seem to have in common is a lack of friends. Adam hasn’t been here long enough, and Henry didn’t seem to have any.” At the library, Donna had told me that when Henry’s wife was alive they’d been very social, but since her death he’d retreated more and more. “I just don’t see how that could matter to—”

Eddie stood and, without a backward glance, jumped down. I turned to watch as he stalked through the kitchen, down the few steps, and into the bedroom. He jumped up and out of view. This didn’t bother me until I heard a rustling sound that I didn’t recognize.

And then I suddenly did.

I bolted off the seat, ran through the kitchen, jumped over the steps in a single bound, and was in the bedroom in seconds, trying to reach my cat before he destroyed the library books I’d laid on the spare bed.

“Eddie! Leave that alone!”

My cat turned. Blinked straight at me. And sat down right on top of a book Stephen had handed me to read. “Funny,” I said, pulling the copy of 101 Ways to Improve Your Communication Skills Instantly out from underneath him. “If you’re nice, I’ll read it out loud to you at dinner. That way we’ll both learn something.”

Eddie stared at me for a long moment. Then he jumped down and marched into the back of my tiny closet.

“If you’re going to be like that,” I said, “I’m going to the restaurant. Kristen likes me just the way I am, poor communication skills and all.”

From out of the closet came a muffled “Mrr.”

“The cat food dish is where it always is,” I told him. “On the floor next to the kitchen sink.”

“Mrr.”

“You’re welcome,” I said and, smiling, headed out for a night of watching Kristen cook. And with any luck, I’d also come up with some ideas for a reason someone might want to kill two men who were different in almost every way.

Chapter 6

The next morning I woke up with the feel of cat fur against my right ear. “Eddie,” I said, “I love you dearly, and I’m pretty sure you have kind feelings for me, but do you really have to be this close?”

Other than starting up a quiet purr, he didn’t reply. Just then the alarm clock started beeping. I reached outside the cocoon of covers to turn it off and was suddenly wide-awake. Of its own volition, my arm made a quick retreat to the warmth it had previously been enjoying. No wonder Eddie was wrapped up around my only exposed skin—it was freezing out there!

If it was actually freezing, I could have some serious issues with frozen pipes and engines and who knew what, but last night’s forecast hadn’t called for anything close to thirty-two degrees. However, I didn’t like leaving the space heater on overnight, and the forty-three-degree low they’d called for last night was a lot lower than the sixty-five degrees I was used to up in the boardinghouse.

Eddie and I snuggled together until the alarm went off a second time. I reached out to slap it off. “You with the fur coat,” I said to my cat. “How about getting up and turning on the space heater in the bathroom?”

“Mrr,” he said sleepily.

“You’re not moving,” I said, pointing out the oh so obvious.

He burrowed deeper.

“Okay, I can see that I’m going to have to do this all by myself.” I took a deep breath and, like ripping off a bandage, tossed back the covers and jumped out of bed. The cold hit hard and it took an act of supreme courage not to jump right back into where I’d been.

“I’m up,” I told Eddie, my skin prickling as I quickly pulled on fleece sweatpants and sweatshirt over my pajamas. “How about you?”

He opened one eye and stared at me with it. I could almost feel the thought coming out of his little kitty brain: humans do the darnedest things.

“With you, pal,” I said, my teeth chattering. “I am definitely with you.” I fled for the bathroom, knowing that my upcoming shower wouldn’t last long enough to thoroughly warm me. My houseboat was wonderful in many ways, but the size of its water heater was on the highly inadequate side. Eddie was right; humans—at least this human—weren’t always very smart.

• • •

“Morning, sunshine,” Holly said, pushing a cartful of books past the reference desk. “Say, didn’t you move to the marina this weekend? Bet it was cold down there this morning.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” After all, once I arrived at the library, it had only taken an hour and three cups of coffee to stop my shivering. “A little cold is good for the soul,” I said virtuously.

She snorted. “Right. And eating peas will turn my hair curly.”

I looked at her shiny, smooth hair. The overly curly black locks I’d been handed at birth had been the bane of my existence for years. “My mom told me that eating bread crusts would make my hair go straight.”

A tall woman with dark blond hair and a quiet smile had come near the desk while we’d been talking. She nodded and said, “My mom told me I’d get sick if I ate chocolate chip cookie dough.”

Holly smiled at Irene Deering. “Did you?”

“Only time was when I grabbed half the batch and ate it in the attic before anyone found me.”

We laughed, Holly moved on with her cart, and Irene stood in front of the desk. “Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“I live to serve. Ask away.” Then a worrying thought struck me. “Is Adam doing okay?”

“He’s fine. And thanks again for your help the other day. I don’t know what we would have done without you. No, don’t wave away my thanks,” she said. “I’m going to show my appreciation whether you like it or not.”

“Not,” I said.

“Well, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. It means the world to us.”

Whatever. I squirmed. “How’s Adam doing with those books I dropped off?”

She smiled. “Already done with most of them, if you can believe it.”