Софи Келли - Hooked On A Feline

Hercules and I had been listening to whatever songs by Johnny and the Outlaws I could find online. Even Owen seemed to like the band’s music. He didn’t always share my taste in music the way Hercules did. Whenever I had gotten involved in one of Marcus’s cases, so had the boys, as far-fetched as that seemed. More than once, Owen’s ability to disappear and Herc’s to walk through walls had helped me learn something I wouldn’t otherwise have figured out. I hadn’t been able to convince Marcus of that, though.

Hercules seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion. He jumped down from the bench and went into the kitchen without waiting for me to unlock the back door. I sighed, picked up my shoes and followed him, stopping to open the door first. Hercules was already halfway across the kitchen, headed for the living room. He was a cat with a purpose. I had no idea what he was up to.

He made his way across the room and launched himself into the big wing chair. I folded my arms and glared at him. “Excuse me. That’s a people seat not a cat seat,” I said.

His response was to stare pointedly at my laptop, which was sitting on the footstool.

I shook my head. “No.”

Hercules looked over at me and blinked his green eyes a couple of times.

“Yes, I get that you think I should say yes to Harrison,” I said.

He continued to look at me.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

Hercules was as motionless as a statue. I knew better than to get into a staring contest with him. I wouldn’t win.

“I need to get out of these clothes first and I’d like a cup of coffee,” I said.

He meowed softly and began to wash his face. It was easy to be magnanimous when you’d won, especially when you were a cat.

I put the laptop on the kitchen table, started the coffeepot, then went upstairs and changed into a red-striped T-shirt dress that was comfortable for sitting around in but would also be okay to wear to Fern’s later.

I had just poured my coffee when Hercules poked his head around the living room doorway and meowed inquiringly at me.

“I’m ready,” I said. I snagged the nearest chair with one foot, pulled it closer and sat down. The cat padded over to the table and launched himself onto my lap.

“So what should we look for?” I asked. I talked to Hercules and his brother, Owen, a lot. Saying out loud what was running through my mind helped me make sense of things. At least that was how I rationalized it.

Hercules gave me a blank look. Okay, it seemed where to start was my department.

“By the way, where’s your brother?”

“Mrr,” he said with what looked to me like a shrug.

Translation: I don’t know .

Given the fact that Owen could become invisible anytime he wanted to, it was possible he was here in the kitchen right now. Possible but not very likely. Owen was very good at disappearing. Hiding the fact that he was “hiding,” not so much. My guess was that he was either in his basement “lair,” where he stashed things he’d swiped from around the house, or upstairs on the bed in the spare room—somewhere he knew he wasn’t supposed to be.

“Maybe we should poke around on social media,” I said to Hercules. “If Mike surprised someone who had broken into his house, maybe it wasn’t the first time they’d done something like that. Marcus said there hadn’t been any break-ins reported, but people don’t always call the police if nothing’s been stolen.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”

“Merow!” he said. Hercules was almost always enthusiastic about helping me do some online research. He’d peer at the screen and move his head as though he were reading an article or checking out a photograph. Oddly enough, more than once, a seemingly stray tap of his paw at the keyboard had landed me on just the piece of information I was looking for.

I thought about who lived in the same area as Mike had, working my way along the closest streets in my mind. Just about everyone used some form of social media, it seemed. A lot of people were talking about Mike’s death and about the reunion of Johnny and the Outlaws. I couldn’t find any mention of any break-ins in the area.

Hercules stayed perched on my lap, green eyes glued to the laptop screen, one paw on the table edge. When I leaned back and reached for my coffee, he tapped a paw on the touch pad, then turned and looked at me.

“Okay, what did you do?” I asked, leaning around him so I could see the screen.

He looked from the computer to me. If he could have raised an eyebrow and said, Duh , he probably would have.

We seemed to have somehow landed on the Facebook page for Keith King’s storage business. I’d seen Keith a lot more frequently at the library in the past few months. He was one of the newest members of the library board, and like Mike, he had been researching his family history after receiving one of those DNA test kits.

I read a few of his posts but didn’t find anything useful. I was about to give up and move on when I spotted it. About three weeks ago, Keith had offered a deal on renting a medium-sized storage unit: rent for twelve months and get one month free. Keep your snowblower and winter gear safe from anyone with sticky fingers who might walk through your yard.

I leaned back in the chair, putting one hand on Hercules so I wouldn’t knock him off my lap.

“That could just be a promotional line,” I said. “It doesn’t mean there’s been someone wandering around people’s yards out where Keith lives.”

“Mrr,” Hercules said without moving his gaze from the laptop’s screen.

“Yes, I know. It doesn’t mean there hasn’t been, either.” I could call Keith, but I wasn’t sure how to ask him without explaining why I wanted to know.

I looked at the computer again. There were comments under Keith’s post, I noticed. I scrolled through them slowly. The third-to-the-last one gave me what I was looking for. It had been made by one of the Reading Buddies moms. She had jokingly asked if Keith had a unit large enough for her car because she’d had some change and a set of AirPods swiped from it while the family was on their back deck eating supper. Another commenter had commiserated with her, saying that unfortunately you had to keep your car locked all the time these days, even in Mayville Heights. Someone had sprayed whipped cream all over her front and back car windows.

It wasn’t exactly a smoking gun, and there was a big difference between grabbing a pair of AirPods from an unlocked car and killing a man in his own living room. Still, I couldn’t help thinking that I might be onto something. At the same time, I was uncomfortably aware that I was already digging into a murder I wasn’t sure I wanted to get involved in—or even should.

chapter 5

Marcus picked me up just before six and we drove over to Fern’s. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was looking for comfort food. The diner was busy but I was glad Marcus had suggested we eat out. It had been such a sad day, I was glad to be around other people.

Peggy was just coming out of the kitchen when we walked into the diner. She was still wearing the navy dress she had worn to Mike’s service. She smiled, grabbed a couple of menus and showed us to a booth by the windows.

“How’s Harrison?” I asked Peggy. “He didn’t find the service too much?”

“I asked him that very question and he said he’s not feeble yet, thank you very much.” She shook her head. “That man is stubborn to the bone. On the other hand, it’s a quality he passed down to all three of his children. I told him that was karma in action.”

I smiled. Larry was actually the most easygoing of all the Taylors. Harry, and especially Elizabeth, were just like their father.