Mike hit the latch on the cage. “I got a great idea last night.”
“You know who committed the murder?” asked Chase, hoping he had information that would free him from suspicion.
“No, not about that. About Quincy and the contest.”
Chase hadn’t done a bit of thinking on that subject. She had nearly decided she wouldn’t enter him, since she hadn’t had any costume inspirations. “What’s your idea?”
“Puss in Boots! You like it?”
Chase didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but it didn’t sound too original. “Not sure. Let me see what Anna and Julie have come up with.” Probably nothing, since she hadn’t asked them to.
“A little hat with a feather,” he said, “and leather-looking wraps on his front paws. I think it would go over great.”
“It’s not very glitzy.”
A knock sounded on the door to the inner room. It wasn’t closed, so the knocker pushed it open.
“Elsa,” Chase said, looking somewhere between them, since she didn’t know who was who. “And Eleanor.”
“And Lady Jane Grey,” added one of them, holding up a large cage with a white cloth thrown over it.
Chase wondered what they thought she thought was in the cage. Of course it was Lady Jane Grey. Could those two be any more annoying?
“Is she doing all right today?” he asked, looking at the cage. “Are you leaving her again?”
Elsa reached over and whipped off the covering. “If that’s all right.”
“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle, que nul ne peut apprivoiser,” the bird warbled in a screechy falsetto.
Chase covered her ears and Mike looked horrified.
“What’s she doing?” Chase asked. She had been cute the night before, mimicking and doing parrot noises. This morning, the screech was sending her headache into her eyeballs.
“Oh, you naughty birdie,” crooned Elsa, down two or three octaves from Grey’s pitch. “She just adores Carmen, doesn’t she, Ellie?”
The bird answered by swinging into, “Toreador, en guard! Toreador, Toreador!”
Chase groaned inwardly at the thought of an opera-singing parrot. She wasn’t even crazy about opera when it was sung by humans with excellent voices.
“Could you please replace the cover?” Mike kept his tone even.
Elsa redraped the cage and set it on the examining table. “Can we leave her for the day?”
“She might get lonesome if we leave her by herself,” Eleanor added.
“She hasn’t sung opera in here before. I can’t have her disturbing the other animals,” Mike said.
Elsa looked around. “I don’t see many here.”
“They’re in and out all day,” Chase said, getting tired of their attitude. They took over every place they entered, like the world belonged to them. Besides, she had just about run out of patience. “He has to treat animals who have a problem while they’re here, being shown, or in competition.”
Mike surprised Chase by telling them that, starting today, he had to charge for boarding animals.
“Is she paying?” Eleanor pointed at Chase.
“Absolutely,” Mike said, lifting the cage to a shelf next to Quincy.
Chase managed to keep from laughing. Elsa handed Mike the money and they swept out.
The cacophony had ceased, but the cat eyed the cage warily nonetheless. He didn’t take his eyes off it. When the man set it next to his cage, he sniffed. He smelled bird. A claw snaked out under the cloth, between the bars. The parrot found the latch to the cat’s cage and jiggled it. The cat watched, purring.
When she got back to the booth, Anna had opened up and it was full of buyers. The wind had died down and it didn’t feel nearly so cold. The heater Anna had brought still felt wonderful.
She would talk to Anna about the cat costume during their first slow period.
Before that happened, the two Aronoffs walked by the booth, both in fur-collared coats and those Russian-looking fur hats. Chase wasn’t sure it was quite that cold. The nutty father, Ivan, was waving his arms at his son, Peter. “What do you know about it? Have you ever seen one?”
Peter’s voice sounded so reasonable after Ivan’s slightly hysterical words. “I haven’t, but I still think Puss in Boots isn’t the best idea.” Peter held a small pet carrier.
Chase called to them. “Are you putting a cat in the contest?”
Peter smiled and held up the carrier. A black cat was in it. It looked like the cat she’d seen being boarded in the vet clinic. “Yes, this is our cat. His name is Shadow. I want him to be Batcat. A Batman costume, but with his own ears and tail.”
“Puss in Boots.” Ivan sounded cranky. But it was hard to tell if he was or not. He always sounded that way.
Should Chase speak up and alienate the crabby man? “I think Batcat would be perfect for a black cat.”
Ivan stuck his face in hers. “What is wrong with Puss in Boots?”
Chase took a step back. “Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just not . . . original.”
“No one else will do it,” Ivan said.
“I heard someone else talking about Puss in Boots.” That wasn’t a lie. Mike Ramos had talked about it. But she wasn’t going to use his idea.
Peter grinned and Ivan scowled and they went on their way to drop the cat off at the vet’s. She wondered if Shadow liked opera.
The customers had thinned out at their booth, although the toy booth next to them was going full speed ahead. Chase cocked an ear in that direction. She was surprised that Harper had softened his voice today somewhat for the little ones. He was still gruff as could be when he gave the prices to the parents.
Sally, the tall blonde travel agent, came by and ordered four Almond Cherry Bars for herself and her partner. Chase waited on her while Anna helped a family group stocking up on Peanut Butter Fudge Bars.
“How’s your jailbird doing?” Sally asked.
Chase was confused. “I don’t have a bird.”
The blonde leaned over the table and lowered her voice, pointing to Harper’s booth. “That jailbird. The ex-convict toymaker.”
“How do you know he’s an ex—”
“Shh!”
Chase had inadvertently raised her voice.
“Don’t let him hear you,” she said.
“How do you know he’s been prison?” Chase continued softly.
“Those tattoos. That’s the kind you get there.”
“How do you know?”
She waved a bejeweled hand. “One of my cousins, the black sheep of the family, was locked up for drug charges a few years ago.”
“Say,” Chase said. “You’re not missing any jewelry, are you?”
She peered at her hands. “No, it doesn’t look like it. Is Harper a jewel thief? Is that why he was in prison?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I mean, I don’t know.”
“Well, why do you ask, then?”
She didn’t want to spread Patrice’s name and her weakness all over the fair. “I had a ring taken. It’s nothing to do with Harper. I’m not even sure it was here.” She cringed a little at the lie. She should never have brought it up.
“See you,” Sally said, leaving with her package.
Chase got Anna’s attention as she finished up a sale. “Can you think of a costume for Quincy for the Fancy Cat Contest?”
Anna held her chin in her fist, thinking. “I did think of Puss in Boots, but, as you say, that’s probably too easy. I also thought of Supercat, but if that one is going to be Batman—”
“Batcat.”
“—Batcat, then another caped crusader wouldn’t be good.”
“Patrice wanted to try that jeweled collar on her cat. I imagine there would be more to her getup than that. Maybe a frilly princess dress.”
“You’re right, Charity. After all, what was that cat’s name? Something frilly.”
“Princess Puffball.”