When it became obvious that Bee and Buster weren’t content with simply seeing each other once a year when Buster had a checkup, Gloria began dropping him off at the vet clinic some mornings. She would go out, do whatever old retirees spend their days doing, then come back in the afternoon to pick Buster back up. Today was evidently one of their play days.
“Here she is. Should we ask her?” Buster said from his perch on top of the filing cabinet when I came in. Bee was sitting next to him, their eyes boring into me. I sighed.
“What do you guys want?” I asked.
“You say that as though you’re expecting us to want something unreasonable,” Bee said.
“Yesterday you asked me if we could set up a Christmas tree in the living room permanently.”
“Yes.” Obviously Bee didn’t consider that an unreasonable request.
“Be nice to her. It’s important that she say yes,” Buster whispered, as if I couldn’t hear. I narrowed my eyes and was even more suspicious when Bee actually did what he wanted.
“We want to go outside.”
Well, that was unexpected. Bee wasn’t really an outdoor cat. Mainly because I didn’t want her to be; but often whenever the urge struck her, Bee came back in complaining about something. Last time she decided the grass was too “sticky”.
“Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“You’re cramping our style.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” I asked. “How exactly am I doing that? I didn’t even know Buster was here until two minutes ago.”
“There’s not enough people and animals coming in this time of year,” Buster explained. “We need a bigger audience.”
Ah, now that made sense.
“Really? You’re just going to walk down Main Street and judge people?”
“Exactly.”
“Is that all you’re going to be doing?”
“Of course,” Bee said, giving me a look like I’d just betrayed her. “Judging people is what we do.”
“You know, you’re lucky you’re so lazy, or I might not actually believe you,” I said, heading toward the door. Buster and Bee both leapt off the counter like dogs being told they were about to go for a walk. I put my hand on the door handle but didn’t open the door.
“However,” I said, “I do have some ground rules. For one thing, absolutely no eating any wildlife. Do not chase birds. Do not chase squirrels. Do not hunt anything. Got it?”
“We promise,” Bee replied. I looked at Buster.
“I promise too,” he said. “I’ve never been much of a hunter. I’m a pacifist.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Stay away from cars. Stick to the sidewalks. And do not bother people,” I told them. “Complain about them from afar.”
“Yes mother,” Bee said sarcastically, and I frowned at her.
“If you’re not back in two hours, you’re never going outside alone again,” I warned them as I opened the door.
“Look at that, we have a curfew, like we’re irresponsible teenagers,” I heard Bee tell Buster as they darted out the door before I could change my mind. As if. Teenagers were less moody and more predictable than my cat.
“What are Trouble 1 and Trouble 2 up to now?” Sophie asked as she came out of the back. “Sounds like they’re going on an adventure.”
“They have a date,” I told Sophie. “Like a pair of true romantics, they’re going to wander down Main Street and judge people. Apparently it’s too slow for them in the vet clinic right now, and it’s cramping their style.”
Sophie laughed. “Those two are ridiculous.”
“I know. It’s funny though; I wasn’t sure I ever believed in soul mates, but Bee and Buster are probably the closest thing I’ve ever seen to it.”
“We should hold a little cat wedding for them,” Sophie suggested. “Complete with a cat-sized dress and tuxedo, a photographer, and all our friends.”
I laughed at the thought. “I think Bee would kill me in my sleep if we tried that.”
“I’m still not hearing a downside,” Sophie joked, and I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Hey, so Kurt and Irene told me that Chief Gary announced that Jeremy Wallace was killed by a bear. They’ve decided it wasn’t a murder.”
Sophie’s face fell. “That sucks.”
“It does. Especially since Irene then asked me if I thought she should get a gun, to protect herself. It’s what I’m most afraid of; that people are going to be afraid of bears now.”
“Yeah, that’s not good,” Sophie said. “So are we going to investigate like it’s a murder?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Charlotte actually made a good point last night—don’t ever tell her I said that—when she said that him being a tourist with no ties to anything in Willow Bay makes it more likely to be a bear attack. And after all, it’s not like I have any solid proof that the guy was murdered. And that’s what we need. We need to know for sure.”
“But how are you going to find out?” Sophie asked.
“I’m possibly the only person on the planet who can just ask the bears and get an answer to that question,” I replied with a smile.
That was how I found myself trudging through the woods at three in the afternoon, bundled up in a thick jacket, but still feeling chilled down to my bones. After a summer of perfect weather in the high eighties, the temperature had dropped suddenly this week, and my body was totally unprepared for the weather to be in the fifties again.
“At least it’s not raining,” I muttered to myself, looking up at the imposing grey clouds above. “Not yet, anyway.”
There was one advantage to the bad weather; it meant I was unlikely to run into anyone else on my way to find the local bears.
I knew there was one female who lived near a little pond a ways away from the end of the trail that I was currently on. All the locals knew she lived there; the bear was nicknamed “Jeanie” and was a favorite of local bear spotters. I was hoping Jeanie would be around and know something.
It took me another fifteen minutes to reach the end of the trail, and by the time I did I was sweating, out of breath, feeling generally gross, and thinking to myself—for probably the tenth time this year—that I should probably exercise occasionally. I made my way through the woods that I knew like the back of my hand—growing up in Willow Bay I’d spent most afternoons in these woods—and five minutes later I found myself by the edge of a small pond, about fifty feet in diameter.
“Jeanie?” I called out as loudly as I dared, and then sat and waited to see if the bear would appear. Hopefully she was both in the area, and willing to chat. Luckily, two minutes later I heard a tree branch cracking nearby, and a minute later the big black bear ambled toward me. She was pure black, except for her snout which was more of a light brown. Jeanie’s rounded ears twitched as she looked at me.
“Hello, human,” Jeanie said to me cautiously. She was still a good fifty feet away; bears were definitely a cautious animal.
“Hi, Jeanie,” I told her. “Is it all right if I call you Jeanie? That’s what the humans in town call you, anyway.”
“That is fine,” Jeanie told me. “My own kind call me Korawaa—it means the mother of cubs in our language. But for you, Jeanie is acceptable. In fact, I think I like it.”
“Thank you, Jeanie. Listen, I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to ask you a few questions about what happened in these woods yesterday.”
“Yes,” Jeanie said. “It was very sad. I saw the man, but when I saw what was happening I ran away.”
Oh, this was even better than I could have imagined! It sounded like Jeanie actually saw the whole thing.
“You’re telling me you saw what happened?” I asked.