Софи Келли - A Tale Оf Two Kitties

I handed him my keys so he could open the back door. “I don’t even know who or what the other guy is,” I said. “I’m just hoping it’s not the Justasons’ dog.”

Marcus unlocked the door and I set Owen on the floor just inside the kitchen. He stretched, made his way over to the table and meowed loudly. The tranquilizer Roma had given him seemed to be wearing off with no aftereffects.

“I kind of promised him a plate of sardines if he didn’t bite Roma,” I said to Marcus.

“You get the sardines, I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee,” he said.

I was just putting the plate in front of Owen when Hercules wandered in from the living room. He made a beeline for his brother. “Mrr?” he said softly.

The two cats looked at each other for a long moment and it almost seemed as though they were communicating without making a sound. Finally, Hercules looked over at me, tipping his black-and-white head quizzically to one side.

I crouched down so I was level with him and he put one white-tipped paw on my knee. “Owen’s fine,” I said. To my right the subject of the conversation was carefully sniffing the sardine he’d taken off the plate and set on the floor, just the way he always did with his food.

Herc made a noise that almost sounded like sympathy. I gave the top of his head a scratch and straightened up.

I could smell the coffee Marcus had started. While he got plates and mugs from the cupboard I got Hercules his breakfast. He murped a thank-you and began to eat, eyeing his brother from time to time.

“What time do you have to be at the library?” Marcus asked.

I raked a hand back through my hair. “I don’t have to worry about opening—I called Abigail and she’s doing that for me.” I looked over at Owen again. “Do you think he can be trusted not to try to get that collar off?”

“Of course not,” Marcus said, putting the sugar bowl and a small carton of cream in the middle of the table. He moved around me to get the sandwiches he’d warmed up in the microwave, dropping a kiss on the top of my head as he went past. “I don’t have to go back to work until tomorrow. I’ll stay here.”

“What are you going to do all day?” I asked.

“We were going to paint your spare bedroom this weekend. I can at least start. I mean, if you trust me to start without you.” He raised one eyebrow.

“I trust you ,” I said, taking the plate he handed me. I sent a pointed look in Owen’s direction.

Marcus laughed. “I’ll keep a close eye on him, I promise.”

“The paint is on the workbench in the basement and you can eat whatever you find in the refrigerator for lunch. There’s some pulled pork and some coleslaw.”

Hercules had finished his breakfast and carefully washed his face and paws. Instead of coming and sitting next to my chair the way he usually did at breakfast time, he made his way around the table to the place Marcus had set for himself.

I laughed and shook my head as Marcus poured me a cup of coffee. “I don’t think you’ll have to eat by yourself,” I said, gesturing at the little tuxedo cat sitting next to his chair. “‘Lunch’ is Hercules’s favorite word, tied with ‘breakfast,’ ‘supper’ and ‘snack.’”

The cat loudly meowed his agreement.

I took a drink from my coffee and watched Marcus as he tried to be discreet about sneaking a tiny bit of Canadian bacon out of his sandwich to the cats. He really was handsome, with broad shoulders, dark wavy hair and a smile that came slowly but lit up his face when it finally arrived. Both cats liked Marcus, which was a good thing because I was crazy about him. I was uncomfortably aware that I had to tell him everything about them soon.

chapter 3

After we finished eating Marcus stood up and made a shooing motion with one hand. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Go get ready for work.”

By the time I had done my hair and makeup and changed, Marcus had cleaned up the kitchen and started moving furniture from the spare room. Owen was supervising from the gray slipper chair that Marcus had already moved into the upstairs hallway.

I put a hand on Marcus’s chest as he passed me, stopping him long enough to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’ll call you later,” I said. I leaned over to stroke Owen’s fur. “Be good,” I whispered.

Owen made a face as though he were insulted by the mere idea that he’d be anything else.

When I got to the library Mary was at the circulation desk and Abigail was just coming down the stairs. “How’s Owen?” she asked, walking over to me.

“He’s all right,” I said. “He had to have stitches and he’s wearing a cone, which he’s not crazy about.” I smiled at her. “Thank you for opening.”

Abigail smiled. “Anytime. I’m glad Owen’s all right. Let me know if you need to go home and check on him later.”

I nodded. I was hoping that cat-sitting didn’t turn into cat-wrangling for Marcus. Or the feline version of Jules Verne’s The Secret of Wilhelm Storitz .

It was a busy morning. It seemed like half the population of Mayville Heights was looking for something to read. The dip in the temperatures after a day of unseasonably warm weather seemed to have nudged people into coming in for a few books so they could curl up by the fire and stay inside. I managed to find a few minutes at lunchtime to call Marcus.

“The collar is still in place, the ceiling is painted and we’re having a pulled-pork sandwich for lunch,” he said.

“We?” I asked. I already knew the answer to the question. The boys loved pulled pork as much as they loved sardines.

There was silence for a moment. I thought I heard a faint “mrr” in the background.

“I meant me,” he said then. “ I’m having a pulled-pork sandwich for lunch.” I heard the sound again in the background. I was fairly certain it was Owen.

I laughed. “I’m sure you are.”

“I talked to Mike Justason,” Marcus continued. “His dog is fine but he mentioned seeing a stray in the area. I called Thorsten and he said he’ll do some extra circuits of the area.” Among his other jobs, Thorsten was also the town dogcatcher.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

• • •

When I got home at the end of the day I found Marcus and his two furry helpers in the kitchen. “Something smells wonderful,” I said.

“Chicken and rice,” he said.

“I could get used to coming home to this,” I said.

“I could be a kept man,” Marcus teased, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin.

I laughed. “No, you couldn’t. You’d miss being a police officer.”

After supper Marcus took me upstairs to see the spare bedroom. He’d painted the ceiling and the walls. And as usual he’d done a meticulous job. “I thought we could tackle the trim on the weekend,” he said.

“That works for me,” I said. I turned in a slow circle. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “It looks like a professional did the job.”

He smiled and a bit of color flushed the tops of his perfect cheekbones. He gave me a long look that did crazy things to my heartbeat. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said.

We returned downstairs and once again I was nudged out of the kitchen when I tried to do the dishes. I mock-glared at Marcus. “Okay, you win this one but don’t think I don’t know you’re buying your allies with sardine crackers.”

All that got me was three faux-innocent smiles.

“I’ll drive you to class,” Marcus said when I came back carrying my towel and shoes for tai chi a few minutes later. “I have to talk to Eddie.” He raked a hand back through his hair. “Did you hear about the business with the drone?”