I shrugged. “Things become clichés for a reason: because they happen a lot.”
“So you don’t think he’d been taken over by a malevolent entity or replaced by an evil twin?” Ruby asked, eyes twinkling.
“Probably not,” I said.
Ruby told me a little more about some of the artwork that was going to be on display and then available for sale online. I really hoped everything worked out.
I finished the last of my hot chocolate and stood up. “Thank you. Lunch was delicious,” I told Maggie. “But I need to get back to the library.”
She wrapped me in a hug. “Anytime,” she said. “I wish Roma could have made it.”
“Maybe we could have dinner sometime next week.”
“Good idea.”
I tugged on my sweater and slipped my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said to Ruby.
She smiled. “Thanks for letting me paint the cats. Tell Owen I have fish crackers.”
I grinned back. “And Maggie right across the hall. Two of Owen’s favorite things in the same place. You might never get rid of him.”
I gave them both a little wave and headed out. As I came level with the tents set up by the Riverwalk, I felt a chill, like a cold finger trailing up my spine. What was going to happen when everyone found out Mike Glazer’s death hadn’t been an accident? Because no matter what Roma said, I couldn’t shake the feeling it hadn’t been.
7
Owen woke me the next morning by sticking his face about an inch away from mine, and when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were his golden ones. He meowed at me, so I got a blast of kitty morning breath, too.
“What have you been eating?” I asked, rolling on to my back and stretching.
He was already at the bedroom door. He stopped long enough to glance back over his shoulder. “Merow!” he said. Then he kept on going. I knew cat for “Get up” when I heard it.
I yawned and sat up. Another meow, louder and more insistent, came from the hallway. Translation: “Now!”
When I got down to the kitchen, Hercules was sitting by the cats’ food bowls. I bent down to pet the top of his head. “Good morning,” I said. Owen was sitting next to the table, carefully washing his face.
He knew. I’d explained everything over supper last night, and I was certain that somehow he understood Ruby was going to take pictures of him and use them to paint his portrait. Now he was meticulously getting ready for that. It wasn’t something I’d ever be able to explain to someone who wasn’t a cat person.
“Why don’t you wait until you’ve eaten to do that?” I said as I got the cats’ breakfast.
He hesitated with a paw in midair and seemed to consider my words. Then he went back to washing the right side of his face. Apparently, having one’s portrait painted required a lot of grooming.
Owen ate breakfast with even more care than he usually exhibited. Then the face-washing routine began all over again. Hercules watched his brother with what seemed to be amusement. The first problem came when it was time to leave. Owen refused to get in the cat carrier. He shook his furry gray head, marched over to the back door and sat down in front of it.
“No,” I said emphatically. “You go in the bag or you don’t go.”
He disappeared, his default play when he couldn’t get his own way.
“Fine,” I said. I hung the carrier back on its hook, kicked off my shoes and sat down at the table again. I leaned forward, forearms on my knees, and smiled at Hercules, who still had that slightly amused expression on his black-and-white face.
He looked from me to approximately where I figured Owen was and then back to me again. Probably wondering who was going to blink first.
“So, what do you have planned for this morning?” I asked. “Sitting on the sunporch? A nap? Maybe some grackle stalking?”
He meowed enthusiastically at my last suggestion.
“I have to work on the staff schedule for next month.” I brushed a bit of lint off the bottom of my pants. “And decide what we’re going to do for Halloween programs. What do you think about a puppet show?”
He bobbed his head up and down. It might have been a yes or it might have been that he was following a dust mite drifting near the floor.
“Did you hear the phone ring last night?” I asked. “That was Roma. She invited me to have lunch out at Wisteria Hill next week.”
He put a paw on my leg and looked over at the carrier bag. “I’m sure Roma wouldn’t mind you going out for a look around sometime,” I said.
Owen winked into view then. He stalked over to where the bag was hanging, tail flicking like a whip, and sat down underneath it.
I gave Hercules a scratch on the top of his nose. “Have a good morning,” I whispered.
I got up, went over to where Owen was standing, his back to me, and set the cat tote on the floor. He got in without looking at me while I stepped into my shoes. I put the bag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys and briefcase and headed for the truck.
I set the carrier on the passenger side and unzipped the top so Owen could at least poke his head out. He took riding shotgun very seriously. We were halfway down Mountain Road before one ear emerged out of the zippered opening. After a moment, the rest of the cat followed. He sat on the seat with the bag between us and stared out of the windshield for the rest of the ride.
When we got to the River Arts Center, I pulled into Maggie’s parking spot, the way I had the last time. “Bag,” I said to Owen.
He climbed inside with a twitch of his ears and a flick of his tail. I made sure the zipper was done up all the way before I got out of the truck.
Ruby was waiting by the back door. “Good morning,” she said, holding it open for me.
“Hi,” I said.
She bent over and peeked at Owen through the front mesh panel of the carrier. “Hi, Owen,” she said.
“Murp,” he said in return.
Ruby laughed. “I love your cats,” she said. “They’re like little people in fur suits.”
“You have that right,” I said, following her up the stairs. “Owen definitely thinks he’s a person and should have all the same rights and privileges.”
Another meow came from the bag.
“See?” I said.
Ruby laughed again.
Once we were in Ruby’s studio, it didn’t take long for the “photo shoot” to begin. Ruby had cleared her workspace, and her camera was ready. I opened the bag and lifted Owen out. He blinked, shook himself and took a couple of passes at his face with one paw.
“You look fabulous,” Ruby told him, and he immediately sat up straighter and held his head up a little higher.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I muttered.
Only the twitch of one ear told me that Owen had heard what I said, but since I was still on “ignore,” he didn’t even bother to so much as glance in my direction.
I stood over by the windows, out of the way, while Ruby took photos, posing the cat with both instructions and hand signals. I didn’t think I had ever seen Owen be so compliant. When she was finished, she pulled the bag of organic fish crackers out of her tote bag and dumped a generous pile in front of Owen. He gave her a cat smile and started his sniff-and-eat routine. Ruby came over to me, scrolling through the pictures she’d just taken.