I unlocked the truck, dropped my bag on the seat and decided to head to Eric’s to get some supper to take home. I found a parking spot on the street just a couple of spaces down from the café, a sign, I decided, that the universe did not mean for me to cook tonight.
The restaurant was fairly quiet with about half the tables occupied, typical for a Saturday evening this time of year. I took a stool at the counter just as Nic Sutton was coming from the kitchen with a tray of food.
“Hey, Kathleen,” he said. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be right there.”
I nodded. “Take your time.”
Nic expertly delivered the orders, smiled and gave what from my vantage point looked like directions to the Stratton Theatre all quickly and efficiently. He scanned the room to make sure no one was trying to get his attention and then came back and slipped behind the counter.
“What can I get you?” he asked. “I’m assuming since you didn’t grab a table that you want takeout.” Nic was about medium height and stocky, with light brown skin and deep brown eyes. He had grown a goatee a few weeks ago and I thought the closely cropped facial hair suited him.
“I do,” I said. “How about a noodle bowl?”
“Good choice,” he said. “How about chicken and shrimp?”
There was a better than average chance that I would end up with a paw in my bowl if I said yes to the shrimp but I did it anyway. “Are there any cheese biscuits?” I asked.
Nic shook his head. “But we do have some fresh naan bread. It’s made with caramelized onions.” He raised his eyebrows in a question.
I smiled. “That sounds good, too.”
“I’ll go put your order in,” he said. He grabbed his tray and headed for the kitchen. When he came back he gave me an appraising look. “Leaded, unleaded or no coffee at all?”
“Better make it decaf,” I said. He poured me a cup in a take-out container and I gave myself a mental kick for leaving my new stainless-steel mug at home.
“Were they taping the Baking Showdown today?” Nic asked as he set the cup and a lid in front of me.
“I just came from there,” I said, reaching for the cream and sugar.
“Any hints on who’s in and who’s out?” he asked, a teasing smile lighting up his face. “I would not breathe a word to a soul. I swear. And on a totally unrelated subject we have chocolate cheesecake.”
I laughed. “Nice try but my lips are sealed.”
Nic made a face. “Overplayed my hand a little with the cheesecake, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “Little bit, maybe.”
“Can you at least tell me how Charles is doing?” he asked.
I took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and strong, just the way I liked it. “You know each other?”
“Kind of,” he said. “I was working last week when it seemed like pretty much everyone from the show showed up for dinner. We were swamped. Claire’s shift ended at six and she hadn’t been out of the door five minutes.”
“So Charles was here?”
Nic scanned the room again to see if anyone needed anything. “Good thing he was. Like I said, we were swamped. First thing I know, Charles is getting coffee for people. Next thing he’s helping me wait tables. I wouldn’t have gotten through the night without his help.”
“So you’re saying he waited tables here for two hours?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Eric wouldn’t let him pay for his own food. I never could have handled so many people all by myself.” He reached for the coffeepot. “I’ll just go top up some cups and your food should be ready.”
“That’s fine,” I said. I took another sip of my coffee. Charles had been here helping Nic with customers the night Kassie Tremayne was killed. There was no way he could have killed her, and I was happy about that because I did like the big baker. On the other hand, Charles had had an alibi all along. Why hadn’t he said so?
chapter 11
I drove out to Wisteria Hill early Sunday morning. I’d had to drag myself out of bed. It had been a long week.
Roma had decided early in the morning was the best time to move the cat colony. For the past several weeks she had been slowly moving their feeding station, which was at the back of the carriage house, over to the door, literally a few inches at a time. I had helped her as often as I could. The first couple of times Lucy had looked perplexed, but noticed after carefully checking out the food and the water she’d eaten, the others had followed her lead.
Today, for the first time, the feeding station was in the doorway of the cats’ new home. Eddie had done an excellent job on the twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot shed. It was insulated, with a roof that didn’t leak and new shelters for each cat made from plastic storage bins by Rebecca, Ella King and Harry’s daughter, Mariah.
I was surprised by the knot of anxiety that lay in my stomach like I’d swallowed a large rock. This was such a big change for the cats. What if they didn’t like their new home? What if they all just disappeared? We’d never be able to find them again. And I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to rehome Smokey at the clinic, at least not now. The colony was his family. Just because he was old didn’t mean there wasn’t a place for him.
Roma had asked me if I would put out the cats’ food and water for the first time.
“Of course I will,” I’d said at once. Lucy trusted me as much as she trusted anyone, and Roma hoped the cat would accept the change more easily if she saw me.
Roma and Eddie stayed across the driveway as I headed for the carriage house with the food, the dishes and two jugs of water. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and I knew she was probably as apprehensive as I was.
I propped the side door of the carriage house open and then went over to the new building. That door was wedged open as well and the feeding station was set up in the doorway. Eventually it would be moved farther inside. Eddie had built a small flap in the larger door so the cats could come and go as they pleased. There was a partial wall dividing the shelter area from the rest of the space so the cats would feel secure. The shelters themselves were up on a long shelf about waist height. There was a small step about halfway between the floor and the top of the platform so the cats could easily get up and down. I knew even Smokey could navigate the distance if I could just come up with a way to convince Roma that he needed to stay.
The building was sheltered by a clump of evergreen trees and some other bushes, which Eddie felt would mitigate the extremes of both the summer and the winter temperatures.
I set out all the dishes and filled them with food and water. Then I backed away, crouched down and waited. I had probably stayed like that for maybe five minutes, although it felt a lot longer. The lump in my stomach felt heavier and harder. I had cramps in both my legs but I was scared to move, afraid that if I did it would be just the moment the cats would appear and I’d frighten them away.
Then, finally, I saw movement at the door of the carriage house. Lucy poked her head out. She looked at me and it seemed to me she looked confused. I didn’t blame her. After the loft had fallen down in the carriage house we didn’t see her or any of the cats for two long days. They didn’t touch any food. Roma kept putting out water and insisted they would come back. Later she’d admitted she was trying to convince herself as much as she was me.
“They did come back, Kath,” she had reminded me earlier. “This will work, too.” I wondered if, like before, the reassurance was for herself as much as for me.
I watched Lucy. Lucy watched me. Neither of us moved. I was holding my breath, I realized. I let it out and then called softly to the little cat. “Hi, puss. Breakfast is ready.”
She took a step outside and her whiskers twitched as she sniffed the air. Could she smell the food at that distance?