Cat With a Fiddle (9781101578902) (16 page)

Ford Donaldson nodded to me then, seemingly acknowledging that we had all had enough for the moment. “I'm going to take Mrs. Wallace in now, Alice. We'll contact the NYPD about Polikoff. Why don't you and your friend go and get some rest? Just slam the door closed here, and I'll speak to you in the morning.”

Holding her firmly by the arm, Donaldson led Mrs. Wallace toward the door.

“Just a second,” I said. “Mrs. Wallace, did Ben have anything to do with the thefts of the kittens?”

She stared at me blankly.

“The Scottish Folds that were taken and sold,” I said.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, confused. “Ben doesn't even like cats.”

Tony and I walked back to the car. We were cold and depleted, but rather giddy with triumph.

Once inside, Tony said, “Let's play one quick hand of casino. Eleven points. Loser buys drinks.”

“Drinks! This isn't Manhattan, Tony. We're not going to find any place open for drinks.”

“Don't worry about it. If I win, I have some other stakes in mind, anyway,” he said mischievously.

“Besides,” I protested, “you cheat!”

“Not me. It's you who was cheating. You don't even know the damn rules.”

“All right, sucker,” I said. “Deal.”

“Great,” he said, grinning. “And I bet you thought we were too old to neck in a car.”

I started to win big. It was obvious that I was going to crush him. I already had three aces, the good ten, and most of the spades.

Tony began to chuckle. Which was unnerving, because he was being roundly beaten.

“I don't see anything funny about your situation, Basillio. You're going to have to finance the celebration.”

“True. I wasn't laughing about that. I was laughing about how I had to drive all the way up to a backwash of the great state of Massachusetts to see the great Nestleton stymied.”

“What do you mean ‘stymied,' Basillio? I found out what happened, didn't I? My trap worked, didn't it? We know who the murderer is, don't we?”

“Yeah, Cat Lady, but it wasn't a feline crime. Your theory about the Scottish Fold thefts turns out to be meaningless. Mrs. Wallace didn't know what the hell you were talking about.”

“Play the game, Tony,” I said, slamming a card onto the seat. I beat him ten to one.

***

Click here for more books by Lydia Adamson

Lydia Adamson
is a pseudonym for a noted mystery writer and cat lover in New York City.

Alice Nestleton Mystery Series eBooks from InterMix

A Cat in the Manger

A Cat of a Different Color

A Cat in Wolf's Clothing

A Cat by Any Other Name

A Cat in the Wings

A Cat With a Fiddle

 

Look for
A Cat Tells Two Tales

available now in print from Obsidian