“Hey, I don’t criticize your dinner choices,” I said, gesturing at the half a sardine still on his plate.
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see Rose standing in the doorway. “Hello, dear,” she said. “I thought that might be you. Would you like a cup of tea?”
I licked a bit of strawberry filling from the back of my fork. “Please,” I said.
“I’ll be right there.” She disappeared inside but was back in a minute with a cup of tea for me and one for herself. She handed me the cup and then took the chair beside me.
“This cake is incredible,” I said, gesturing with my fork.
Rose smiled at me over her tea. “I’ll teach you how to make it.”
Rose had been teaching me how to cook for months. After a lot of false starts and disasters, I was finally beginning to master some things. “Okay,” I said, nodding slowly. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tackle something so elaborate, but it occurred to me that eating my mistakes could be fun.
Before I started thinking about making cakes, there was something I needed to clear up. “Rose, how did those things end up in Angie’s garage?” I asked. “That was really stupid, even for Jason.”
“Well, it was crystal clear to the police that Tom couldn’t have planted that watch on such a high shelf,” she said, “and neither could Katie or you. Or me. Who else could it have been other than Jason?”
“Elvis could climb up there,” I said slowly. “He picked up your oven mitt.”
Rose reached over and patted my cheek with one hand. “You have a very vivid imagination, my darling girl,” she said.
I looked at the cat again. He licked a bit of fish oil from his plate and then licked his whiskers. I shook my head. No. Elvis was a very smart cat, but thinking he’d been coached to put Tom’s watch and that bottle of pills up on the shelf in Angie’s garage . . . it was a ridiculously far-fetched idea, I realized.
“I almost forgot,” Rose said. “Charles called. Jason finally admitted to drugging Angie with sleeping medication in exchange for not being charged for the thefts. He claims he never meant for her to get hurt. He just wanted her to fall asleep so he could swipe some of her jewelry.” She eyed my plate. “Is that your supper?”
“Not . . . exactly,” I said.
“How about some chicken fried rice and an eggroll?” She reached over and confiscated my plate and napkin. Then she got to her feet and started for the back door, not waiting for an answer. Elvis jumped down and headed off with her.
As Rose reached for the doorknob, the crumpled paper napkin slid off the plate onto the wide deck boards. Elvis immediately turned, picked it up in his mouth and padded back to her. Rose leaned down and Elvis dropped the napkin in her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, stroking his fur before straightening up.
I watched them disappear through the screen door, Rose talking to the cat, Elvis making little murps as though he was taking part in the conversation, and in the back of my mind the thought began to slowly spin that maybe my idea wasn’t so far-fetched after all.
Sofie Kelly is a New York Times bestselling author and mixed-media artist who lives on the East Coast with her husband and daughter. She writes the New York Times bestselling Magical Cats Mysteries (Faux Paw, A Midwinter’s Tail) and, as Sofie Ryan, writes the New York Times bestselling Second Chance Cat Mysteries (A Whisker of Trouble, Buy a Whisker).
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