Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) (21 page)

C
hase scooped up her cat. He drooped in her arms. He was alive, though, and warm. She felt his little heart beating through his rib cage and he swiveled his right ear an eighth of an inch.

She inspected him closely. His left ear was torn and his inner eyelids were covering most of both his beautiful amber eyes. He was a poor, sick ghost of himself. She mounted the steps carefully, trying not to jostle her poor kitty. Cradling him in one arm, she retrieved her cell from her nightstand and called Mike.

A sleepy voice answered in a croak. “Chase? Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced at her alarm clock. “Oh. No, I didn’t. It’s past one. Sorry. Mike, Quincy is home.”

“That’s great.” He didn’t sound very happy about it. Was the redhead in his bed?

“He’s not well. His ear has a chunk taken out of it and his third eyelid is showing.”

“Oh, that’s not good.” Now he sounded awake and alert. “I’d better take a look. Can you bring him to the condo?”

“So you’re alone?”

“Of course. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

She laid the injured animal gently on her bed and threw on the clothes she had just taken off, jeans and a sweater. She pulled on her dirty socks and tied her sneakers, then rummaged around for something to wrap Quincy in.

He hadn’t moved a muscle since she’d put him on the bed. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. She got a clean bath towel and cradled him in it, stepped carefully down the stairs, and put him in the front passenger seat. He didn’t stir.

She could easily have walked to Mike’s condo, but didn’t want to carry Quincy in the cold, exposing him to the elements. The wind whipped her hair as she rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat. A plastic bag flew by her windshield as she turned on the lights and the engine. The trees were swaying in the stiff breeze when she got out at Mike’s and carried Quincy up the sidewalk.

Mike must have been waiting for her at his front door. He ran out and took the cat from her. Chase followed Mike inside where he put Quincy on his kitchen counter and unwrapped him from the bath towel.

Aside from a couple of
Hm
s and other grunts, he said nothing as he poked and prodded, using his veterinary instruments to take Quincy’s temperature and listen to his insides. Chase held her breath while he did his examination.

Finally, he straightened. Giving Quincy a soft pat, he wrapped him up again.

“He’s been in a fight. I guess you could tell that.”

“That’s how his ear got torn?”

“Seems that way. It’s just nicked a little, you know, not torn.”

“Did he lose the fight?”

Mike smiled. “I haven’t seen the other guy, but I’d guess that yes, he lost. His nictitating membrane is up, as you noticed.”

“His what?”

“His third eyelid. It’s a sign of stress, or maybe infection.”

“It looks horrible.”

“It’s not necessarily always a sign of sickness. Cats sometimes show it when they’re relaxed and content. Lots of animals have them, mammals and birds.”

“They do?”

Mike nodded, stroking Quincy absently. “Humans are one of the few mammals who don’t. But its appearance along with the other symptoms is not a good sign. He’s also dehydrated, so I should put him on IVs for at least a few hours. I’ll include some antibiotics.”

Chase cringed. Quincy with tubes in his little legs? Yuck. “Okay. You can do that tonight?”

“I should.” Mike paused to think, a hand on his chin. “But I’ll have to take him in to my clinic. You could take him to the twenty-four-hour hospital, but maybe we can do it this way instead. I have the tubing and meds at the practice, so I’ll take him there to get him started, then we can bring him back here for the rest of the night. He might perk up by morning.”

Chase breathed out a sigh of pent-up worry. Someone was going to take care of him. “He’ll be all right?”

“Oh sure. This is a minor setback, especially if we treat him right away.”

She felt her knees grow weak and her ears start ringing. The room grew dim.

She felt a breeze on her face. Opening her eyes, she found herself lying on Mike’s couch. He was standing over her, fanning her.

“I’m not licensed to treat people, Chase.”

“What happened?”

“You fainted.” He gave her an odd smile. “You also mumbled something about ‘the redhead.’”

“I did?”

Mike nodded.

Chase couldn’t look at him. What had she said? She must have babbled in her coma, or her faint, or whatever. It wasn’t sleep.

“Were you referring to Jasmine?”

Jasmine?
“I don’t know if I was or not. Who is she?”

“She’s the widow of my best friend from college. He died two months ago and she’s having a hard time.”

“Is she the dog owner who let her dog eat a chicken?”

“She didn’t
let
him eat it.”

He sounded testy. She should drop the subject. Then she remembered where she was and what was happening.

“Quincy!” She sat up. “How long was I out? We have to get Quincy to your place.”

“Yes, we do. You were only out for a couple of minutes. Do you want to stay here?”

Mike frowned and cupped his chin in his fist. “On second thought, maybe I should run in and get the equipment, bring it back, and do the operation here.”

“Operation?”

“Sorry, wrong word. Procedure. Get him started on fluids and antibiotics. It’ll be easy since he’s a shorthair.”

“Sounds good.” She sank back into the couch.

Visions of dogs on IVs and redheads with spiky hair danced in her head as she lay with Quincy tucked in beside her, still wrapped in the beach towel.

So
Jasmine
was the widow of his college friend. It didn’t mean she wasn’t something more.

W
ednesday morning she had to open the shop. Technically, she didn’t
have
to, because Anna would have done it for her, but she felt the need to do something. She hadn’t accomplished anything for the last two days, except worry about Quincy. The shop would at least give her something else to occupy her mind.

She put him on soft towels in his crate and set it in the corner of the kitchen where she could keep an eye on him. Mike had sedated him so that the IV would stay in place until he was fully hydrated and until he had had enough antibiotics. The vet had promised to come by at noon to check on him.

What a relief if was, not having to put him into the emergency vet hospital! Not to mention how nice it was not to have to pay the extra expense of boarding him there. There were definite advantages to dating a vet when you owned a cat, as Anna, The All Wise, had noted.

Chase hoped a health inspector wouldn’t come by today when they had a furry animal in the kitchen. That would not be good. But she couldn’t leave him in the office. She just couldn’t. She turned her eyes aside and pretended not to notice when Anna slipped a bit of crumbled topping into his crate. Quincy gave it a lethargic sniff and a halfhearted lick, but he was too dopey to actually eat it.

The shop was bustling and kept both women busy. At about ten o’clock, Chase ran to answer the phone in the office. It was Laci Carlson.

“How are you? Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, much.” She sounded bright and chipper. “The doctor told me yesterday that I could go back to work! Isn’t that wonderful?”

She had picked the right day. Vi was slammed, almost overwhelmed, in the front. “Yes, it is. Can you come in today?”

“I’m all dressed. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She made it in five.

Vi frowned at Laci. “You again?” was her greeting.

“Vi,” Chase said, pulling her aside and huddling near the swinging doors with both of them. “You will work with Laci. Laci, you will work with Violet. We need both of you. I don’t need you quarreling. One of you work behind the counter and the other cover the floor. Stay away from each other. I don’t want to hear any bickering.”

“I’ll take the floor.” Vi flounced away and Laci took her position at the cash register, looking relieved to not have to be near Vi.

Chase felt like a junior high school principal, lecturing these two grown women. Well, barely grown, but out of high school anyway, and old enough to act responsibly on the job. How could she have forgotten how awful it was to have them working together? Chase would have to do something. She and Anna couldn’t keep employing both of them. She realized Anna was right about that. They could work separate days, but there were times when two people were needed in front. She shoved that worry down below her concern for Quincy, and for herself.

When she reentered the kitchen, Anna was standing in the middle of the room, fuming.

“I really need to find my blue marble rolling pin.”

The office phone trilled again and Chase went to get it. This time it was Detective Olson.

“I may need your help,” he said, not sounding as unfriendly as he sometimes did. “The last time we spoke, you mentioned, very briefly, that you saw something blue by Ms. Bjorn’s head.”

“Yes, I remember. There was a button and . . . something blue.” And suddenly, she got a clear mental picture of it. Something blue. Blue marble.

“Do you recall what it was?”

She stiffened and hesitated a split second before she told the lie. “No, I didn’t get that good a look at it. Just something . . . blue.” She knew he wanted her to tell him she had recognized it, Anna’s favorite rolling pin. He couldn’t know that it was from the Bar None, though. Could he?

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she told him and hung up.

Slowly, she trudged into the kitchen. Anna still stood with her hands on her hips, fuming.

“Anna, I saw something next to Hilda Bjorn after she was attacked. It was blue.”

“Blue? How big was it?”

“About eight inches long. It looked very much like your missing rolling pin.”

Anna’s mouth dropped open. “No, that can’t be right.” She shook her head. “How would it get there?”

“I have no idea. But if it is yours, if it came from our kitchen . . .” A cold weight settled into Chase’s stomach. “If it’s from our kitchen, they’ll think I did it.”

Anna’s mouth stayed open. “No. No, you did not do that. I know you wouldn’t bash in an old woman’s head.”

The cold in her stomach crawled up her spine. It sounded to her like Anna was trying to convince herself. Did she think Chase could attack someone with a piece of heavy marble?

“You know what’s crazy?” said Anna. “I can’t even find my
green
marble rolling pin. Someone is stealing rolling pins.”

Loud voices sounded from the front. Laci and Vi again.

Feeling so weary she could barely walk, Chase made her way to the front to referee.

“You’re doing this on purpose to make me lose my temper!” Vi shouted at the cringing Laci.

Both of them were behind the counter. There were a half-dozen customers in the shop, all standing motionless, watching the scene.

Vi grabbed Laci’s hair. “The twenties go on
top
of the checks!” She tugged and Laci’s intricate updo came unraveled, shedding bobby pins. “You’re a complete idiot!” She shook Laci’s head, still holding on to her hair.

Laci flushed crimson and grabbed the front of Vi’s pastel blue satin blouse. “I am not an idiot!” Laci shouted and ripped Vi’s blouse open. Buttons flew to the floor.

“Quit that!” Chase roused herself and jumped between them, too late. The customers had all fled. Chase grabbed Vi and pried her fingers out of Laci’s hair. By then Anna had arrived and pinned Laci’s arms to her sides. Laci struggled against Anna, her face growing redder and redder. Vi panted from exertion.

“That’s enough.” Chase kept her grip tight as Vi tried to shake herself loose. “You’re both fired.”

Vi and Laci both grew still.

Vi recovered first. “Fired? How can you fire me?”

“Easy,” said Chase. “I can’t take this anymore. You’ve driven all the customers away. We can’t afford that.”

“I’m your best salesperson. You can’t run this place without me.” Vi held her blouse together and pouted.

“Watch me,” said Chase. “Get your purse and go. Now.”

Anna was trying to catch her eye, but Chase angled her sightline away to avoid looking at her.

“Laci, you, too,” Chase said.

Vi snatched her purse from under the counter and stalked out, holding her head high in defiance. She looked regal, even with a ripped blouse, leaving in disgrace.

Laci, however, began to tremble. Tears coursed down her cheeks from her huge sky-blue eyes.

“Oh, sweetie,” Anna said and folded the girl in her arms. Laci stood and sobbed for a good three minutes while Chase watched helplessly. Anna was falling for Laci’s drama and undermining Chase, darn her, when Anna had wanted to get rid of Laci all along.

They had always worked as a team. They
needed
to work that way. If they were going to pull against each other, fight each other, the partnership just wouldn’t work.

Chase threw up her hands and stalked to the kitchen, leaving Anna consoling Laci. Chase poured herself the last cup from the coffeemaker and sat on a stool. It wasn’t noon yet and she had almost single-handedly consumed an entire pot of coffee. No wonder her hand shook when she lifted the cup.

No, it wasn’t all caffeine. Part of her shakiness was anger and adrenaline. She could count on one hand the physical confrontations she’d been involved with over the course of her thirty-two years. It would be fine with her if she went another thirty-two years without another one. Or more.

Her mind strayed to her poor pet. She knelt on the floor and stroked him gently, avoiding the leg with the IV. He was dopey, but he lifted his elegant head and gave her a hoarse purr. She hoped he knew she was doing all this for his benefit. Would a cat know that, though? Was anyone harboring good feelings toward her at the moment?

A tear strayed down her cheek. She was taking care of Quincy. Anna was taking care of Laci. But who was taking care of Chase Oliver?

A
nna stole up behind Chase so quietly, she didn’t hear a thing.

“I sent Laci home,” Anna said.

“Well, that’s good, since I just fired her.”

“Charity, darling, we have to talk about these things before you go off on a cockamamie spree.”

“Me? I was cockamamie? Did you see what they were doing? They were attacking each other. All the customers left. This is no way to run a business.”

Anna stuck two cups of water into the microwave to make tea for them. “You’re right. We need to hire someone else, or two someones. I’ll put ads in the paper and online as soon as I finish this.” The timer dinged and she dunked bags of Earl Grey into the hot water. She sat beside Chase for moment, sipping, then sprang up. “No, I’ll do it now.”

She disappeared into the office to use the company computer. Chase swiped at the lone tear on her face, grateful that no more were following it. She hated people who wallowed in self-pity. This wasn’t like her, and she was determined not to give in to her incipient feelings of depression.

Ticking off the points on her fingers, she counted her blessings. She’d read once that it was an antidote to depression.

One: Quincy was home and would recover.

Two: Anna and Julie were her good friends, her beloved family, and they were loyal and true. Almost all the time.

Three: A handsome man had taken her out to dinner. (At this point, Detective Niles Olson’s deep blue eyes intruded, but she shut them out.)

Four: Four? She pondered. She was healthy and half owned a business that was doing nicely.

Five: Surely she could think of one more.

“There, that’s done.” Anna bustled into the kitchen. “Now I have to finish the batch I was baking.” She picked up the icing tube and squeezed vanilla drizzle on the latest batch.

Chase felt the stabbing pain in her back, a dull pounding in her head, and another ache deep inside. She must have winced because Anna noticed.

“You don’t look well, dear.” Anna switched off the mixer and started the oven preheating. “Would you like to go upstairs and have a nap?”

“How can I? Someone needs to be out front.”

“Why don’t we close for the rest of the day? You’ve had too much piled onto your thin shoulders. We own the place, right? We can close up if we want to.” She squeezed Chase’s hand. “There should be some advantage to owning your own business.”

“Oh, Anna!” Chase wailed. She buried her face in Anna’s aproned chest and sobbed.

Chase lifted her head when she heard the back doorbell. Anna went to let in Mike Ramos.

“Hi,” he boomed, full of joviality. “I’ve come to see my favorite . . .” His face grew solemn when he saw Chase. “Is this not a good time?”

“No, it’s a good time.” Chase sniffed.

Anna handed her a tissue.

“I must look awful,” Chase said.

“Well, you look . . .”

“We’re having a bad day,” Anna said. “We just had to fire both of our employees.”

Chase was glad Anna said “we” fired them. It made her feel more like a teammate.

Anna went into the office and left Chase to tell Mike about the fight between Vi and Laci.

“I don’t see that you had a choice,” he said after she’d related the details of the incident. “But I’m sorry you’re going through that.”

If she hadn’t just cried herself out on Anna’s bosom, she might have considered doing it on Mike’s broad chest. But she found herself regaining her composure. “I guess you should look at Quincy.”

Mike gave Quincy a going-over and pronounced him on the mend.

“I’ve taken out the IV, and the anesthetic should begin to wear off soon.”

As he left, he promised to call her the next day and arrange a date.

He actually used the word
date
, Chase noted. So, they were dating. That was official. She called to Anna that she was going upstairs now for a lie-down.

An hour later, Chase came downstairs, feeling more refreshed than she would have anticipated. Anna had flipped the sign on the door to “Closed” and was still baking. She gestured to a small heap on the counter. “I picked those things up, from the floor and the top of the display case.”

A half-dozen bobby pins lay in a pile with two satin-covered buttons.

“The debris from the knock-down, drag-out,” Chase said. She fingered one of the blue buttons. “You know, I wonder how many people sew designer buttons onto their blouses.”

“Vi does, often.” Anna was taking hot, loaded baking pans from the oven. She’d made several batches, four at a time in the large oven, while Chase had been napping. The kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering aromas.

“Yes, but do you notice other people doing it much?”

Anna closed the door and switched off the oven. “Not too much. It’s an old-fashioned effect, isn’t it?”

“I wonder . . .”

“Yes? You know, I think they’re used on wedding dresses, mostly, aren’t they?”

“I wonder how easy they are to get.” Chase went to the office computer and did a couple of searches. “That’s what I thought,” she mumbled to herself.

She returned to the kitchen and picked up her cell phone to call Detective Olson. It rang in her hand. After almost dropping it, she answered the call from Julie.

“How’s the trial going?” Chase asked.

“It should wrap up by the end of the week. I asked Jay to look up a record for you. Guess who Torvald took out the restraining order against?”

“Gabe Naughtly?”

“No. Violet Peters.”