The Cats that Stole a Million (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 7) (3 page)

“Let me ask the cats. After all, their favorite room in the mansion faces the Foursquare.  But first I’ve got to let them out of their playroom.”  Ever since the explosion, whenever she left the house, Katherine locked the cats in the playroom.  In light of the mansion’s reputation as being a murder house, it was a good idea not to have them running around while she was gone.  Normally, she would hire Elsa the cat wrangler to sit with them, but Elsa wasn’t available.  And today Katherine was only gone for a few hours.

“I know our cats are extraordinary, but how will they let you know if they approve or not?” Jake inquired.

“I’m kidding,” she said, amused.  “I’m just stalling for time to consider Stevie’s offer, that’s all.”

“Good idea.  In the meantime, I’ll let them out.  I’ve got to go upstairs anyway and get out of these wet clothes. I need to put on my snow diggin’ suit.”  Once again Jake lapsed into his country accent.

Katherine asked, “Do you ever speak that accent with your colleagues?”

“Hale no, woman. I save that way of talkin’ jess fer you.”

Katherine giggled.  “Okay, get out of here.”

“Actually, Mrs. Cokenberger, I’m going outside to do a little more snow shoveling.”  He reached over and pulled Katherine into a kiss.  “I’ll need a kiss for the effort.” 

Katherine smiled, and watched him leave.  Then she thought,
Do I really want Stevie Sanders living next door?  I think he has feelings for me
.

She picked up her cell and called her best friend, Colleen, who lived in an apartment in the nearby city.  “Hey, Carrot Top, do you have a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I just got an offer on the yellow Foursquare.”

“Shut the door!  Really?  I thought that would
never
happen.  Katz, you don’t sound too happy about it.  Seller’s remorse?”

“I feel guilty about selling a haunted house.”

“But you’re not.  Katrina has crossed over. I’d take the money and run. One less piece of real estate you have to worry about.” 

“This is true,” Katherine agreed.  From her great-aunt’s estate, she’d inherited several Erie properties, some of them rentals.  Although she hired a property manager to handle them, she didn’t like being a landlord, especially since one of her buildings had been damaged by an arsonist several months earlier. “So, here’s the interesting part. You won’t believe who made the offer.”

“That friend of Stevie Sanders that looks like a Sasquatch.”

“Close, but try Mr. Stevie Sanders.  He, himself, and —”

“Are you kidding?  Oh, Katz, I didn’t see that coming.”

“What should I do?  I really want to sever my ties with the house.”

“Katz, by severing ties with the house, you establish ties with a man who was a crim.  What if he doesn’t stay clean? What if his crim father moves in?”

“For Stevie’s sake, I hope that never happens.” 

“Exactly. What does Jake think about it?”

“He thinks Stevie is a stalker because he sees him drive by a lot.”

“Well, is he?”

Katherine answered reluctantly, “I’m not sure.”

“Then don’t sell the house to him.  There has to be someone else who will buy it.”

“Really?  Even with Margie’s stunning interior rehab, there weren’t any takers during the previous listing.”

“Katz, why don’t you just take it off the market and keep it?  Sounds to me you need to think about it some more.”

“Yeah, you’re right.  Listen, I’ve got to go upstairs and check on the cats.”

“Okay, talk to you later,” Colleen said, then hurriedly added, “Hey, before I forget, Mum called and said she ran into an old school friend of ours.”

“Who?”

“Remember Madison Orson?”

“The model?”

“Uh-huh. Mum said she ran into her on 47th Street.  Madison said she was working some place nearby as a temp.”

“I didn’t think there were any modeling agencies on 47th Street.”

“No, not modeling, but a temporary reception job.”

“Reception?”

“Yes, that’s what she said.  I hope you won’t get annoyed with Mum, but . . . ”

Katherine thought,
What has Mum done now
?  She loved Mum like her own mother, but sometimes Mum didn’t make smart life choices.  In fact, Katherine still hadn’t forgiven Mum for disabling the pink mansion’s security system to let in a murderer.  That foolish mistake nearly cost Jake his life.  The aftermath wreaked so much havoc in her life, she had to go through counselling.  “But what?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Mum told her about Jake and you getting married.  Madison said she wanted to call and congratulate you.  Mum gave her your cell number.  Hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s okay,” Katherine said.  “I’d love to talk to Madison.  Do some catch-up.  It’s been years since I’ve spoken to her.”

“Oh, ‘tis grand.  Mum also gave Madison your address because Madison wants to send you a gift.”

“Oh, she doesn’t have to do that.  Did Mum get Madison’s number?”

“Ah, no.  She said that Madison had to hurry off because she was late getting back to her job.”

“Okay, cool.”

Colleen quipped, “Let me know if Stevie Sanders is going to be your new neighbor.” 

“Will do.”  Katherine pressed the end call button and walked upstairs to the cats’ playroom.  When she put the key in the lock, she wondered why the cats were being so quiet on the other side.  Normally when they heard her climb the stairs, they’d be waiting at the door, ready to bolt out as soon as she opened it.  But today she found the cats snuggled together on the lower perch of the largest cat tree.  Scout and Abra’s paws hung over the platform. 

“Hi, guys and dolls,” she said, walking over. 

“Mao,” Dewey belted, waking up.

“Why are my treasures sleeping as one giant fur ball? You’ve got other cozies in this room.  Are you trying to keep warm?”

“Ma-waugh,” Scout confirmed, jumping down.  She stretched, then rubbed her face on Katherine’s leg. 

Katherine gently picked up Scout and held her close.  “You’ve been sleeping a lot, magic cat.  Should I be worried about you?” 

She surmised that Scout, in the past few months, had too many outside, stressful adventures. Lately, all Scout wanted to do was sleep.  Katherine startled when she heard someone climbing the stairs.

Jake called from the first landing. “Katz, are you up here?”

“I’m in the playroom.”

Jake walked into the room, and patted Scout on the head. “I’m sorry. I forgot to let them out.”

“You weren’t outside very long.  Surely, you can’t be done shoveling.”

Jake laughed.  “A young entrepreneur walked by carrying a mighty nice lookin’ shovel, so I hired the lad to finish for me.  I gave the kid twenty bucks.  He acted like it was a million dollars.”

Scout began struggling to be put down.  “Ouch, Scout.  Your back claws are really sharp.”

Jake walked down the hall, and started to unlock the attic door.  Scout darted down the hall to join him.  Jake said to the Siamese, “You better ask your mom.” 

Katherine walked into the hallway.  “I’m sorry, Scout, but cats and bats don’t mix.  Let’s go back into the playroom.”

Scout fired off her signature sapphire-blue glare, then hiked her tail and sprinted into the playroom.

“Good girl,” Katherine praised. 

Standing by the attic door, Jake waited impatiently.  “Hurry up,” he prodded.

Distracted, Katherine forgot to relock the cat playroom door. “I’m coming as fast as I can,” she offered.  “Should I wear protective gear?”

“Actually, Sweet Pea, I was up there earlier, investigated every nook and cranny, and didn’t see any winged creatures.”

“That’s encouraging,” she said, mounting the stairs after him.  On the landing, Jake turned and said, “Boo!”

Katherine grabbed the stair rail.  “Don’t do that,” she said, pressing her other hand to her chest and sneezing.  “Jake, first thing we need to do is dust.”

The floored attic was a wide-open space, separated by chimneys for the fireplaces on the first floor. The combination furnace-and-air-conditioning unit for the second story stood off to the side, near the east side of the house. 

Katherine rarely went into the attic.  It was dark from inadequate lighting, stuffy, and dangerous to walk in because of the floor boards that were warped, damaged, or missing.  Under her great aunt’s will, Orvenia’s belongings were donated to the Erie Museum or to charitable organizations.  Katherine had diligently sorted through the mounds of “stuff,” which reminded her of King Tut’s tomb.  At the time, she hadn’t officially inherited the house or the money yet, but wanted to make sure she sorted fine antiques and valuable personal papers from junk.  She hired a crew to remove most of the things, but had kept several empty wardrobe trunks, two antique wood chests, and a tall, antique grandfather clock with a cracked glass door.  One of its weights lay on the floor, and seem to cry out, “Fix me.” 

The grandfather clock had been a thorn in her side.  At first the museum wanted it, but later, the now-deceased museum curator, Robbie Brentwood, had declined, stating it needed too much work, especially a new base, because the short, Regency-style legs that held it up were cracked in several places.  So, it remained where the movers left it — on a short, knee-height half wall above the first set of attic stairs.  Looming like a top-heavy giant, it posed a safety hazard to anyone ascending the stairs.

Jake, who was very enthusiastic about his “new office” project, announced, “I want my desk facing the front of the house.”  He pointed to the three leaded glass windows in the turret area.

Joining him, Katherine said, “We’ll have to put new insulation and drywall up on the walls and ceiling.  Also, we’ll have to hire an electrician to rewire.”  She thought of Stevie Sanders, but didn’t mention his name.

Jake seemed to read her mind and suggested, “We could hire Stevie Sanders to do the electrical work.”

Katherine eyes grew big.  She didn’t answer, but said instead, “Let’s ask Margie to come up with a plan, and have her do the hiring.”

Jake walked over and hugged Katherine.  “I like your thinkin’, Lincoln.” 

Katherine was enjoying the warmth of Jake’s body pressed against hers, because the attic was freezing.  They both were startled when they heard a box fall in the far corner of the attic.  The sound seemed to come from the vicinity of the furnace.

Katherine jumped.  “What was that?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s check it out.”

Behind the furnace was a small, closet-sized room.  Its walls and ceiling were built of the same pine planks that formed the attic floor.  The room’s purpose wasn’t obvious. Clearly, it wasn’t for storage, because there were no shelves or hooks to store or hang things.  Katherine was surprised to see the planked door, painted in layers of green paint, partially open. 

Katherine had gone into the room one time, and that was enough.  It instantly set off bad vibes.  She couldn’t explain it, and was reluctant to mention her feelings to Jake or Colleen.  Jake, being the confirmed skeptic, would offer a rational explanation, while Colleen would want to bring over her spirit-hunting equipment and do a paranormal investigation.  Katherine didn’t want Colleen dredging up any of the spirits of the poor souls murdered in the mansion, especially Patricia Marston, who was doing just fine in hell, where she belonged.

What was odd about the room was that it didn’t have a ceiling light fixture, and because it also didn’t have a window, peering into the space was like looking into a dark void.  The only way you could see inside was with a flashlight. 

“Jake, there’s a flashlight hanging on a nail by the front window.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, heading over to fetch it.

Katherine slowly walked to the door, and peered into the space.  Four glowing, red eyes met her gaze. 

“Raw,” Abra cried.  “Waugh,” Scout added.

Katherine suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to lock the playroom door.  “Just great,” she said, annoyed.

“How did they get up here?” Jake said, beaming the light toward the cats.

Scout and Abra started swaying back-in-forth in their macabre death dance.  They arched their backs, and began bouncing up and down like deranged Halloween cats.  Scout hissed; Abra foamed at the mouth.  Both cats’ eyes were red and reflected an eerie glint in the flashlight’s beam. 

In a soothing voice, Katherine said to the cats, “It’s okay.  Come to me,” then to Jake, “If you grab Abra, I’ll get Scout.”

Jake lunged for Abra, and caught the Siamese around the middle.  Abra squawked, but didn’t try to get down. 

Still holding the flashlight, Jake directed the light to Scout who had stopped swaying, but was now slinking toward a missing floorboard.

“Scout, stay. Do not go,” Katherine commanded. 

It was too late.  Scout jumped into the hole; her usually pencil-thin tail bushed out to three times its normal size. 

“Jake, hurry and get her,” she panicked.  “Hand me, Abra. I’ll take her downstairs and make sure the other cats don’t get up here.”