Sofie Kelly - Copycat Killing - A Magical Cats Mystery

“Maggie and I didn’t talk about the boots,” I said over my shoulder to Hercules as I got to the living room doorway. He was zealously cleaning the bottom of his left paw and didn’t even look up. Even though I’d said Maggie’s name, neither did Owen.

“I distracted her,” I added.

Nothing, not even a tail twitch, or two.

I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. “Yep, tossed a dead rat right at her. Of course, it turns out it wasn’t exactly dead.”

I would have sworn both cats did a double take. They bolted across the floor. Owen skidded to a stop just in front of me. Herc was a little more dignified. Throw the word rat into a sentence and suddenly they were interested.

They trailed me upstairs and sat just inside the bathroom door while I got cleaned up and told them what had happened at the co-op store and later at Wisteria Hill. I knew it was a little weird, okay, probably more than a little weird that I talked to the cats like they understood what I was saying, but I’d found it helped me to sort things out. There were times when it really did seem like they were following the conversation. And I told myself that talking to Owen and Hercules wasn’t as bad as walking around talking to myself.

Owen gave me the cold shoulder while I got dressed. Clearly in his kitty mind I had wronged Maggie. But he came around once I started spreading peanut butter on toast for a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I gave each cat a small bite, glad Roma wasn’t around to catch me. Then I pulled one of the other kitchen chairs closer so I could prop my left foot on it. I’d left the support bandage on in the shower, tying a plastic bag over it so it was only a bit wet on the top edge.

I poured a second cup of coffee and I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the sensation of the earth dropping out from under me again. It was that same stomach-falling sensation as being on a roller coaster— without being belted in the seat—with the world flipping upside down at the same time and dirt flying everywhere.

I shook my head and opened my eyes. A furry black-and-white face and a furry tabby face were both studying me. “I’m okay, really,” I told them, folding both hands around my coffee cup. “But I should call Roma.”

At the sound of Roma’s name both cats made little growly sounds in their throats. Hercules and Owen didn’t exactly like her. They’d either been born out at Wisteria Hill, or abandoned out there as very young kittens. I’d found them when I was exploring the old estate, after I first moved to Mayville Heights. They’d followed me and I ended up adopting them. Sometimes I thought they’d adopted me. They didn’t have the best people skills. A visit to Roma’s vet clinic always involved a lot of yowling, hissing and a Kevlar glove.

Luckily Roma was between patients. I explained what had happened out at the old estate. “When the bank let go, Marcus thinks it disturbed some kind of grave site.” I told her about the bones, picturing that dirt-encrusted skull again in my mind. I shook my head to chase away the image. “There’s going to be a lot of uproar out there for the next few days and I’m worried about the estate cats,” I said.

“And are you all right?” she immediately asked.

“I look worse than I feel,” I said. “But I’m more concerned about the cats with all the people wandering around out there. They’re not used to it.”

Roma sighed. “I don’t want to move them unless I absolutely have to. The change would be incredibly stressful.”

“Maybe you don’t need to,” I said. “Marcus seemed to think the bones were from an unmarked burial site from a smallpox epidemic back in the 1920s. He said there have been other sites found in this area.”

“He’s right,” she said. “A couple of rock hounds stumbled over one near here maybe a year and a half ago.”

I pictured her, mouth pulled to one side as she thought about what to do. “I have time,” she said. “I think I’ll take a drive out there, talk to Marcus and see things for myself.”

“Any chance you could swing by and pick me up?” I asked. “I’d love to get my truck.”

“Are you safe to drive?”

“Marcus didn’t think so, but I am,” I said, shifting in the chair and wincing when more weight went on my bruised hip. “Bring your bag if you want to check me out first.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she retorted. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes or so.”

I pulled on a clean sweatshirt and put my wallet in the pocket. My rubber boots were still damp, but it didn’t take long to dry them with the hair dryer—a trick I’d learned from Maggie. I was ready when Roma tapped on the back door.

She frowned and pressed her lips together when she saw my face. “Ow! Are you sure you feel all right?”

“Scout’s honor,” I said solemnly.

“And when were you a scout?” she asked, tucking her dark hair behind one ear and leaning in to get a better look at my scraped forehead.

“Okay, librarian’s honor then,” I said.

Roma shook her head but there was a hint of amusement in her brown eyes.

I stuck out my leg. “I twisted my ankle.” I touched the side of my face. “I scraped a little skin off my face.” I put one hand on my hip. “And I have some bruises that you’re just going to have to take my word on. That’s it.”

“Your hand?” Roma asked, pointing.

“That doesn’t count,” I said. “I didn’t do that out at Wisteria Hill.” Like Maggie, the paramedic had put on a bandage that was a lot larger than I really needed. “I did that while I was helping Maggie.”

“Kathleen, has it occurred to you that maybe you should have just stayed in bed today?”

“Hey, I’ve done worse,” I said.

“I know,” she said, dryly. “I’ve seen your worse.” She crossed her arms over her chest and studied me. I had the feeling that any moment she was going to sprint back to her SUV and get her bag and I’d find myself being examined by some instrument that was usually used on the working end of a farm animal.

She gave me a stern glare. Or it would have seemed stern if there hadn’t been the beginnings of a smile making her lips twitch. “Okay, let’s go. But if you feel dizzy, or nauseated—”

“I’ll say something, promise,” I finished.

“And make sure you roll the window down,” she said, letting the smile loose.

I locked the house and followed Roma out to her car. As we drove back out to Wisteria Hill I told her more about the hill collapsing. She shot me a quick, sideways glance. “You’re really lucky you didn’t break something, or worse.”

I remembered the feeling of falling, out of control, as dirt rained around me. I blew out a breath. “I know,” I said. “I was just trying to pick up that weird little purple piece of litter. You know what Harry Taylor would say? No good deed goes unpunished.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, quietly, without taking her eyes from the road. She reached over and patted my leg.

There were more cars and police vehicles at the old estate. A lot had happened in the last hour and a half. The carriage house had been blocked off with plastic crime scene tape and Derek Craig was on “guard duty.” Roma and I skirted the tape and circled the building so she could get a look at the collapsed slope.

“Good heavens,” she said, softly.

My stomach did flip-flops, looking at how much of the hill had fallen away underneath my feet.

The entire field behind the carriage house was cordoned off as well. Marcus was at the far end, watching a woman who was sitting on her heels, examining something. It was a pretty safe bet she was looking at the bones that had been unearthed. There were two other people staking off a grid. Roma followed the yellow tape around the edge of the muddy, rocky ground and I limped behind her, working our way over to Marcus.