I opened and closed my hand a few times. “Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”
“He’s an asshat,” Ruby said.
“A what?” I asked.
“Asshat,” she repeated. “You know—someone whose head is so far up his . . . you know . . . that he’s wearing it for a hat.”
“Sounds uncomfortable,” Maggie said.
“Does Jaeger look like anyone else either of you have seen?” Ruby asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Uh-uh,” Maggie said. “Why?”
“I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen him somewhere before, especially since he cut his hair.”
“Maybe a workshop or an exhibit,” I said.
“No, I don’t think that’s it.” She shook her head and all the little hoops in her left ear danced. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I just came to see if you guys wanted to go get something to eat at Eric’s.”
I glanced at my watch.
“Is this a cat morning?” Maggie asked.
“Uh-huh.” I was one of several volunteers who helped tend a feral cat colony at Wisteria Hill, the old abandoned Henderson estate just outside town.
“Going by yourself?” She was all innocent sweetness.
“Maybe,” I said. I knew where the conversation was headed.
For months Maggie had been trying to play matchmaker between Marcus Gordon and me. Marcus was a police detective, and we’d gotten off on the wrong foot the previous summer when he thought it was possible I had killed conductor Gregor Easton, or at the very least been involved in some intimate hanky-panky with the man who was twice my age and a . . . well . . . pretentious creep.
But last winter Marcus had rescued me when I was left dazed and wandering through the woods in the bitter cold after an explosion. We’d gotten closer since then, though not close enough to suit Maggie. She was indirectly responsible for our friend Roma’s relationship with hockey player Eddie Sweeney, and it had just made her worse where Marcus was concerned. Maggie believed in happily ever after and she had no problem with giving it a nudge, or even a big shove.
“Meeting anyone out there?” she continued.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“Start what?”
Ruby grinned. She’d heard us do this before. “Start on Marcus and me getting together. We’re friends. That’s all. He’s not my type. He doesn’t—”
“Even have a library card,” Maggie finished. “Is that the only thing you can find wrong with him?”
Okay, so I had probably used that excuse too much. I thought about Marcus for a moment. He was tall, with dark wavy hair, blue eyes and a gorgeous smile that he didn’t use nearly often enough. He was kind to animals, children and old people.
I caught myself and shook my head. I was supposed to be thinking of what was wrong with the man, not what was right. Maggie was smirking at me as though she could read my mind. I stuck my tongue out at her.
“So, how about breakfast?” Ruby said.
Maggie nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
“I have to get out to Wisteria Hill,” I said. “But I’ll drive you two over and get a cup of coffee to go.”
Maggie picked up the length of old pipe again.
“Are you taking that with you?” I asked.
“Would it look stupid?”
“Well, not exactly stupid,” I said. “More like you’re about to start looting and pillaging.”
“You know, I really do believe every creature has a right to exist. It’s just . . .” She blew out a breath. “I don’t want some of them for roommates.” She set the pipe on the floor against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
Maggie locked the building, and then we piled in the truck and headed for Eric’s Place, farther up Old Main Street. Even though I knew the town pretty well now, I still found the whole Main Street versus Old Main Street thing kind of confusing.
“Is it ever going to stop raining?” Ruby asked, looking skyward as we got closer to the café.
“There’s more rain in the forecast,” I said.
“It could be wrong.”
“It could.” I rubbed my left wrist. It had been aching for days, and not just from slinging sandbags. I’d broken it the previous summer and now it was pretty good at predicting bad weather. Maybe the fact that it didn’t hurt so much today meant the forecast was wrong.
The restaurant was warm and dry and smelled like coffee, a nice change from the scent of wet feet. Eric’s wife, Susan, worked for me at the library, and I knew they had a heavy-duty sump pump in the basement.
I crossed to the counter. “Hi, Kathleen,” Eric said with a smile. “What can I get you?”
“Just a large coffee to go. Thanks,” I said.
He reached for a take-out cup, poured the coffee and added just the right amount of cream and sugar. As he passed me the coffee, he noticed the overly large bandage with which Maggie had wrapped my hand. “That doesn’t look good,” he said. “How did you do that?”
“She was scooping up dead things with a shovel and throwing them at me,” Maggie said.
“New hobby?” Eric asked dryly.
“More like a side job,” Ruby said with a grin. “Rodent wrangler.”
Eric nodded. “Yeah, the rain’s driving them out of their hiding places.”
Maggie put her hands over her ears and started humming off-key.
“Maggie has a hear no rodents, see no rodents, speak of no rodents policy,” I said.
“We tried that with the twins when they went through their streaker stage,” Eric said.
I handed him the money for my coffee.
“How’d that work?” Ruby asked.
“About as well as you’d expect. They may be four, but they have the tactical skills of Hannibal getting those elephants across the Alps. They always managed to be stark naked at the most embarrassing moments.”
He handed me my change. “Thanks, Eric,” I said.
Maggie dropped her hands. “Have fun with . . . the cats,” she said. Her lips were twitching as she tried not to smirk at me.
“Nothing’s going to happen out there,” I hissed at her. “Nothing.”
Of course, I was wrong.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sofie Kelly is an author and mixed-media artist who lives on the East Coast with her husband and daughter. In her spare time she practices Wu-style tai chi and likes to prowl around thrift stores. And she admits to having a small crush on Matt Lauer.
Sofie Kelly
Curiosity Thrilled the Cat
A Magical Cats Mystery
When librarian Kathleen Paulson moved to Mayville Heights, Minnesota, she had no idea that two strays would nuzzle their way into her life. Owen is a tabby with a catnip addiction and Hercules is a stocky tuxedo cat who shares Kathleen’s fondness for Barry Manilow. But beyond all the fur and purrs, there’s something more to these felines.
When murder interrupts Mayville’s Music Festival, Kathleen finds herself the prime suspect. More stunning is her realization that Owen and Hercules are magical—and she’s relying on their skills to solve a purr-fect murder.
Available wherever books are sold or at penguin.com
OM0043
Also by Sophie Kelly
Curiosity Thrilled the Cat