James, Miranda - Out of Circulation (CAT IN THE STACKS MYSTERY)

“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said. “I’m sure she’s feeling upset enough at the thought of me being in her business, you might say, without having another member of my family getting into it too.”

“You’re probably right.” Laura sighed, obviously disappointed. “But if you need me for anything, I’m there for you.”

I thanked her. We talked about more mundane matters for a while, including plans for the rapidly approaching holidays. Laura said she still had some Christmas shopping to do, and I told her smugly that mine was all done.

Diesel head-butted my leg, and automatically I reached down to rub his head. “I didn’t forget you, boy, never fear. You’ll have a present or two to play with.” He warbled. An empty box was as good as anything to him. Like most cats he liked to stuff himself into them, and the smaller they were, the better he appeared to like them. He also loved ribbon, but we had to watch him to make sure he didn’t try to eat any.

I broached the subject of Laura’s postholiday plans with some caution. She had been remarkably uninformative on the subject whenever I mentioned it recently, and I secretly hoped it meant she might stay in Athena for another semester at the very least. I knew Frank wouldn’t be any happier to see her leave for California than I would.

“No firm plans yet,” Laura said with a shrug. She avoided my eyes as she continued. “I talked to my agent yesterday, and she’s working on some auditions in January. Two movies and one TV sitcom thing. Just minor parts, but you never know when they can lead to something bigger.”

“I see.” I felt deflated. I knew it was selfish of me to want my daughter to give up her career in Hollywood to live here in Athena, but since I’d had her and her brother with me for months now, I was reluctant to see either one of them move too far from home. “Well, I’m sure you’ll knock their socks off in those auditions and get the parts. They’d be idiots not to hire you.”

“Thanks, Dad. My biggest fan.” She beamed at me.

“Always.” I finished my drink and got up to dispose of the can. “I’d better start getting ready for dinner. See you later, sweetheart.”

Diesel remained with Laura while I went upstairs to shower and change clothes. I checked my face in the mirror and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to shave again. My five o’clock shadow looked more like seven thirty.

The cat wandered into my bedroom as I finished tying my shoes. “Are you ready to go, boy? We’re going to have dinner with Helen Louise.”

His ears perked up at the mention of Helen Louise, and he meowed. It was very sweet, the way those two adored each other. And a good thing as well, since I could never care for anyone who didn’t love my cat as much as I did.

Helen Louise lived only a few blocks away, so Diesel and I walked over. It was a fine, clear night, though chilly, but not too cold to be uncomfortable for a cat walking on the pavement. I rang the doorbell right on the dot of six thirty. Helen Louise knew I always turned up on time, so she would be ready for us.

The door swung open, and she greeted me with a kiss and Diesel with head rubs. We followed her to the kitchen, led as much by the enticing aromas as by our hostess.

Helen Louise had inherited the house from her parents, and Bradys had lived in it since the early twentieth century. Though not as large as Aunt Dottie’s place, it nevertheless had the same sense of warmth and welcome, the aura created by a loving family.

The one room Helen Louise had changed was the kitchen, remodeling it to serve her needs as a baker and chef with more up-to-date ovens and refrigerator. I had no idea what the appliances cost, but her fridge alone was twice the size of mine. She was proud of her kitchen, and with her culinary skills, she deserved a first-class one.

“Do I smell coq au vin?” I sniffed appreciatively.

“ Mais oui, mon petit chou . I know how much you love it. We also have haricots verts Lyonnaise and gratin Dauphinoise .” Helen Louise grinned wickedly as she continued, “And there just might be a special gâteau au chocolat for dessert.”

I still wasn’t quite used to being referred to as a little cabbage , but I knew it was a classic French term of endearment.

I pulled her into my arms, and we spent several satisfying minutes before I released her. “What happened to that early night you planned on? You must be exhausted, and here you are cooking dinner for us.”

“I’ve caught my second wind,” she said with an impish smile. “You just recharged my batteries.”

I laughed and pulled her close again.

Diesel warbled indignantly at being ignored so long, and we were both grinning as we separated and reached at the same time to stroke his head.

“This is what I needed,” Helen Louise said softly.

“Me, too.”

She tapped me playfully on the chest as I attempted to kiss her again. “Time for more of that later. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Sit yourself down and prepare to feast.” She pointed to my chair.

The old oaken table was covered by a beautiful white linen cloth that made the cobalt Fiestaware stand out nicely. Helen Louise’s set was vintage, lovingly cared for by her grandmother Brady and then her own mother.

“Why don’t you pour the wine?” Helen Louise said as she took my plate to fill it.

She’d chosen a Nuits-St.-Georges Chardonnay, a favorite of both of ours. Helen Louise would never settle for cheap wine, and, having benefited from her expertise on numerous occasions now, I had to agree.

Over the delicious dinner we chatted about ordinary things, neither of us wishing to let the events of the previous night intrude. We ate dessert in her living room in front of the fireplace, all nice and cozy. The dark chocolate cake, paired with a delicious tawny port, had me groaning with a combination of pleasure and guilt.

Diesel desperately wanted to taste the chocolate, but Helen Louise fended him off with a couple of bites of chicken instead. Chocolate was dangerous for cats and dogs, no matter how much they might beg for a taste.

When we set our plates aside, the cat took it as his signal to jump onto the sofa with us. He spread himself across our laps, with Helen Louise getting his head. His tail thumped against my chest, and I only narrowly avoided receiving a mouthful of hair. He settled down after a moment, and then we were able to talk about the subject we had avoided thus far.

“Was it only last night?” Helen Louise shook her head. “Hard to believe.”

“I know. I feel like I’ve aged a couple of months already.”

“Tell me what you’ve been up to. I have a feeling you haven’t been able to keep out of this.” Helen Louise grinned.

“True,” I said, “but not exactly by choice.” I shared with her the visits from the Ducote sisters and Kanesha Berry, then went on to relate the rest of my day.

“You have been busy,” she said when I finished. She filled my glass with more of the delicious tawny port, and I had a few sips. “Any conclusions?”

“Not really, though I still figure Morty Cassity had the best motive for pushing Vera down the stairs.”

“He’s the most likely one,” Helen Louise agreed. “I can’t believe he and Sissy are brazen enough to be carrying on in Vera’s house less than twenty-four hours after the woman died. That’s cold.”

“Isn’t it?” I recalled Morty’s attitude when I talked to him that afternoon. “He certainly didn’t hold back his feelings. No grief there, for sure. How long have he and Sissy been having an affair?”

“A couple of years, maybe three,” Helen Louise said. “It’s hard to know. First I heard of it was two years ago, I think.” She frowned. “Before that there was always talk that Morty was seeing other women, but no one could ever come up with a name that I recall.”