The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (3 page)

Dull light emanated from a candle sitting in what appeared to be a pie plate on the floor. I pressed my hand to my mouth and whispered, “Oh my goodness,” between my fingers.

The clouded eyes of a woman stared up at us. The odor hit me then, the unpleasant combination of spoiled food and an unwashed body.

Shawn didn’t whisper when
he
spoke. “What in hell are you doing here?”

“I asked first,” the woman said.

“This place is dangerous, lady,” Shawn replied. “Plus, I’m thinkin’ you don’t have a key.”

Dustin cleared his throat. “This isn’t a healthy place to be…staying.”

The woman drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped them with her arms and began to rock.

I felt a swell of emotion seeing her withdraw. I approached her, moving slowly so as not to upset her any more than she already was. When I reached her side, I knelt and saw she was wearing what could only be described as rags. Filthy ones at that.

“Are you all right?” I said.

She turned her face to me. “Right as rain,” she answered. “You one of
them
?”

“One of whom?” I asked, taking in the objects surrounding her. I saw a saucer of curdled milk, a few chicken bones, a roll of paper towels, an old glass milk bottle full of water and a cellophane package of powdered sugar donuts.

“The ones that comes in the night,” she said before burying her head in her knees again. More rocking.

“This is the first time I’ve been here,” I said in a soft tone, hoping to calm her obvious fear. Before she hid her face, I’d seen her features more clearly—the road map of wrinkles and scars, the frizzy gray hair spilling over her shoulders and surrounding her face like a kinky woolen hat. She appeared to be a few decades older than me.

Shawn hovered over us. “You don’t belong here, lady. Why are you here?”

She lifted her head and met his stare. “I don’t have to tell you nothin’.” Her mouth puckered into a childlike pout.

I held up a hand to Shawn, hoping he’d keep quiet. “I’m Jillian. What’s your name?”

“Clara Jeanne if you’d met my mama, but I was always Jeannie to the rest of my kin.” She squinted, looked up at the high ceiling. “Course Mama’s been gone so long, I can be Jeannie, period. Just Jeannie.” She looked toward the saucer on the floor. “Ain’t that right, Boots?”

“Boots?” I said.

“My kitty. She’s pretty, huh?” Jeannie smiled, revealing her rotting teeth.

An invisible cat. My heart ached with sympathy and concern. This woman definitely needed our help.

Dustin cleared his throat again before speaking. “We do have a job to do here, Mrs. Hart.”

I turned to him and in a calm tone said, “We have a problem, though, don’t we? One that needs to be handled first.”

“I—I guess you’re right,” he replied.

Shawn offered a disgruntled “Great,” under his breath.

“Boots
is
great,” Jeannie said with a nod.

“I don’t see Boots,” I said.

“That’s ’cause you don’t believe. Most folks don’t.” She reached out with an arthritic hand and made a stroking motion, as if petting a cat.

“Ah,” I said. “Boots is your pet. Do you both live here?”

“Yup. Gotta guard the door, you know. Never knew the creepers would come in the day. Never happened before.” She stopped her hand movement and said, “Okay, my baby girl. You go on then. I’m kinda scared myself.”

“Don’t be afraid, Jeannie. This is Shawn, by the way. He likes cats, too.” I gestured up at him and then pointed toward the open door where Dustin stood. “That’s Dustin. No one will hurt you. I promise.”

“Then you can just take your own selves right back out the way you came. Shut the door, too. Boots might get out and those mean cats will get after her. They’s always stealin’ her food.”

“Mean cats?” Shawn said, his interest suddenly piqued. “Where are they?”

“All over the dern place,” Jeannie said. “They do take care of the critters, though. Boots ain’t such a great mouser. Never was.”

“Maybe if we had invisible mice to go with the invisible cat, she’d do a better job,” Shawn said.

“You might be right about that,” Jeannie said, the sarcasm lost on her.

“Jeannie, we have a job to do here,” I said. “Those
mean
cats, as you called them? They don’t come near you, do they?”

“Nope. They just steal food when I’m sleepin’.” She glanced toward an old fireplace across the room.

I could see more objects now that my eyes had gotten used to the dim light. Several unlit candles sat on either side of the big fireplace. A wooden desk stood in the corner along with a pile of cheese cones. I also noted a large trash bag filled to near bursting with who knew what.

Dustin started toward the bag and Jeannie startled me by springing to her feet and racing across the room. She planted herself between Dustin and the bag, legs spread, arms folded.

“You leave my belongin’s alone, you hear?” She lifted her chin and stared up at him.

Dustin, palms facing her in surrender, took a few steps back. “I—I promise not to touch anything.”

But while this action was taking place, Shawn had gone to the fireplace and crouched. He was scanning the opening with his Maglite.

“You stay away from there, too, Mister Shawn. Don’t be disturbin’ nothin’.” Jeannie, clearly agitated now, was glancing back and forth between Dustin and Shawn.

Shawn got down, pressed his cheek against the wood floor and trained his light inside the fireplace. “This could be one spot where the cats are coming and going. I can see daylight beyond all the hunks of concrete and loose bricks in this old fireplace.”

Jeannie abandoned her spot in front of the trash bag, scrambled across the room and kicked Shawn’s backside. “You stay away. Just stay away. That there is a holy place.”

Shawn rose and looked up at her, unperturbed by this frail woman’s attempt at an assault. “Sorry, but if you’d like those mean cats removed, I’m your man.”

“How’s that?” she said, taking a step back, her arms folded.

Each movement she made filled the already dank air with her sour odor. I wondered when she’d last bathed. Years ago, maybe?

“We plan to take them to another place. Take them away from here where they’ll be fed and cared for,” Shawn said.

“Maybe we can do the same for you, Jeannie,” I said quietly. But I knew there was no maybe about it. She would have to leave. None of us had planned on finding a human being living here. Solving this problem took priority now. She could be ill. She might have family looking for her.

Jeannie backed into a corner of the room. She wasn’t about to go—at least not now. “This is a holy place, I tell you. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“That simply won’t work, um…Miss Jeannie,” Dustin said. “This structure could be unsound and—”

“Oh, there’s sounds, plenty of ’em,” Jeannie said, defiance in her tone. “Don’t you be tellin’ me somethin’ you know nothin’ about.”

But I was tuned in to what Jeannie had said not once, but twice. “You say this place is holy. What does that mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Shawn said, rising. “We do not have time for this crap, Jillian.”

Shawn preferred dealing with animals over people every time, so I wasn’t surprised at his impatience.

“Give me a moment, okay?” I edged closer to Jeannie. “How is it holy?”

She raised her chin. “It just is. This is where I belong. Don’t need nothin’ from the likes of y’all, neither.”

I nodded. “Okay. We’ll leave. But Jeannie, we have to come back. Do you understand?”

“Wait a minute,” Shawn said. “Leave?”

I stared at him and I saw his expression change from stubbornness to understanding. He knew better than to argue.

“I—I think that’s wise,” Dustin said. “We should go.”

Jeannie remained in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around her. “You do that and don’t bother comin’ back.”

Shawn led us out of the room with his Maglite and then shut the door behind us.

“Didn’t expect to find a—a
person
,” Dustin said. He said this as if we’d just stumbled upon Martians.

“We need help on this one,” I said, half to myself. I looked at Dustin. “And not from the town council. Can you keep quiet about this to Councilwoman Webber?”

“I—I don’t know. She’s the chairwoman of the council and expects a report from me soon, so—”

Shawn closed the space between himself and Dustin. “You want these cats out of here fast?”

Despite the lack of light, I could tell poor Dustin was completely intimidated by Shawn and upset by our surprise discovery.

“Y-yes. Of course we need to deal with all the…problems,” Dustin said, nodding.

“Then do what Jillian says. She’s good with
problems
. And, dude,” said Shawn, tossing his head in the direction of the closed room, “that lady in there is one
big
problem.”

Since Shawn had driven us to the mill in his truck, he dropped Dustin and me off at Belle’s Beans so we could pick up our cars. Shawn said he trusted me to solve the “Jeannie problem,” as he called it, and solve it fast. For now, he had work to do at his Mercy Animal Sanctuary. Dustin agreed to follow me to my house to help me with the “solving.”

On the five-minute drive home, I called my best friend, Deputy Candace Carson of the Mercy Police Department.

“Hey there,” she answered. “You still at the mill?”

“We had to leave sooner than expected and we need your help,” I said.

“Uh-oh. Were there…dead cats? Because I don’t think I can deal—”

“No. Gosh, no,” I said quickly, not wanting to even think about the possibility. “We ran into an unforeseen problem. When you have time, could you swing by my place so I can explain?”

“How about now?” she said. “This town is so quiet, I swear I can hear my fingernails growing.” Candace didn’t wait for me to respond before saying she would join me at my house in a few minutes.

I felt a smidgen of relief after I disconnected. I wanted
to brainstorm with Candace before getting social services involved in relocating Jeannie. In our county, the system was not known for its speedy action. Overworked, understaffed and underpaid, the social workers stayed too busy. My guess was they stayed too busy all over the country.

After Dustin pulled into the driveway behind me, I got out of my van and he exited his yellow VW Bug. His car looked vintage, not one of the newer models, but it gleamed, even in the gloom of the late-winter morning.

As we walked along the side of my house toward the back door, I said, “I have three cats, just so you know. And they won’t hide like those in the mill. In fact, they’re very friendly.”

While I said this, I glanced at Dustin’s chestnut hair. Because I have one cat allergic to human dander, this was routine for me—checking new visitors for dandruff. His hair looked as perfectly clean and flake-free as his car seemed to be. Chablis—my funny allergic cat—wouldn’t need a dose of Benadryl, thank goodness.

As we walked around to the back of the house, Dustin stopped abruptly. He looked out at the lake beyond and said, “Wow. What a view. I hope to live on a lake like this one day. I love anything to do with water—skiing, boating, fishing.” He nodded. “Yup, I want to wake up and see something like this every morning.”

“It’s peaceful here,” I said. Despite the overcast weather, the lake shimmered. I loved how mysterious Mercy Lake seemed in the dead of winter. “I not only love this lake; I love this town.”

Dustin said, “From what little I’ve seen and heard, the South sure is different from New York, where I grew up. But I’ve been with the company such a short time, I don’t even have an apartment in Greenville yet. That’s why I’m staying in town for this job.”

“You’re just out of school?” I said as we climbed the deck stairs.

“I graduated in December,” he answered. “If your town council wanted a more experienced engineer, my bosses would have charged twice my hourly rate. That doesn’t mean I can’t do the job, though. I’m excited to get started.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, you’ll do just fine.” I disarmed the security system and we entered the mudroom. I gestured at my three cats in waiting. “There’s my family. Merlot, Syrah and Chablis.”

They sat in a row, ready to greet us—the red Maine Coon, Merlot; the amber Abyssinian, Syrah; and Chablis, the seal point Himalayan. I felt a calm settle over me when I saw their precious, curious faces. All Hurricane Katrina rescues, these three cats meant the world to me.

Dustin knelt and extended a hand. “They’re not afraid of strangers?”

Syrah answered by starting toward Dustin, but all of a sudden he stopped, arched his back and hissed. Strange thing was, he didn’t seem to be hissing at Dustin. The cat was focused on something behind me and I wondered if a bug or a little lizard had come in the door behind us. I turned and looked at the floor. Nothing.

The little green chameleons so prevalent in the summer usually hid under stones in the winter. But maybe one of them had come inside. They move so fast, I could have missed one sneaking in the door. No matter what, any bug or other creature coming in here chose the wrong place. My cats could be relentless in their pursuit of small intruders.

Chablis, meanwhile, about-faced and hurried into the kitchen, ready for a treat—her usual routine when I came home. Merlot continued to sit and stare in the direction of my right calf. What was wrong with my boy
cats? They were usually so friendly when I brought a new person into their home.

“I apologize for their rude behavior,” I said to Dustin. “Maybe they’re hearing something we can’t.”

Dustin still had his hand outstretched in Merlot’s direction. “What’s this big one’s name again?”

“Merlot. Syrah is the one with the amber fur and big ears.”

At the mention of his name, Syrah finally walked up to Dustin and rubbed his head against my visitor’s knee.

Merlot chattered as he did when he spotted a bird, but he didn’t move. His gaze was still focused beyond me.

After petting Syrah, Dustin rose and approached Merlot. He put his fingers down near Merlot’s face. My big boy swiped his face against Dustin’s hand.

“They’re a pretty good judge of character and I believe you just passed muster,” I said with a laugh. “Though I’m not sure what’s with the hissing and the chattering. We’ll chalk it up to weird, feline behavior.”