The Case Of The Cat Crazy Lady E-Book

Debbie De Louise

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Cathy Carter and her brother Douglas own a pet cemetery and animal rescue center in the small, upstate New York town of Buttercup Bend.

After the local “Cat Crazy Lady,” Maggie Broom, is found dead in her home, Cathy is stunned to learn that Rainbow Gardens and Rainbow Rescues is the recipient of most of Maggie’s estate.

Maggie’s estranged brother and sister come to town and are upset with the terms of their sister's will. Sheriff Leroy Miller is convinced one of them killed Maggie.

When another person turns up dead, Cathy sets out to solve the murders with her reporter friend, Nancy Meyers. But who really wanted to kill the "Cat Crazy Lady," and why?

Leseprobe

THE CASE OF THE CAT CRAZY LADY

BUTTERCUP BEND MYSTERIES BOOK 1

DEBBIE DE LOUISE

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Acknowledgments

Next in the Series

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2017 Debbie De Louise

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Graham (Fading Street Services)

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

In memory of my beloved mother Florence whose cat crazy gene I inherited, my neighbor and friend, Pauline, who has moved away and was nothing like the character with the same name, and Floppy and Oliver, two of my special cats, who have gone to Rainbow Bridge.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I began writing this book in 2017. At that time, I had a Siamese cat named Oliver whom I’d adopted from my mother when she was admitted to a nursing home with dementia. Oliver was a senior cat. He’d been diagnosed with kidney disease two years before I started the book. Many of Oliver’s traits are included in the story, exhibited by Cathy’s cat of the same name.

We had to say goodbye to Oliver before I finished the first draft of The Case of the Cat Crazy Lady. There’s a scene in the book where Cathy reads a poem that the deputy sheriff wrote for his cat after she died. I wrote this poem after I lost Oliver.

The Buttercup Bend series isn’t the only book I’ve written that features a Siamese cat. The main pet character of my Cobble Cove series, Sneaky the Library Cat, is also loosely based on Oliver. Sneaky’s blog includes interviews with pet characters from other cozy mysteries.

I hope you enjoy this first book of my new series and will visit Cathy again in Buttercup Bend as she tries to solve the mystery in book two, The Case of the Parrot-Loving Professor, when it’s published.

CHAPTERONE

Cathy slung her camera strap over her shoulder and tiptoed out of the house to avoid waking her grandmother and her cat Oliver who was still asleep on her bed. It was a lovely May morning in Buttercup Bend and the perfect time to catch the sunrise.

She stopped at the end of her block and gazed across the rooftops of the neighboring homes at the Catskill Mountains in the distance. Aiming her camera, she took a few shots of the pearly skies dipping into the mountain peaks.

Continuing her walk, she paused several times to take more pictures. The whole town seemed to be in bloom with neatly planted flowerbeds mixing with wildflowers in a profusion of colors that burst in vivid shades.

While Cathy considered photography a great hobby, she was also paid for the work commissioned by Pauline Harding, the editor of the Buttercup Bugle, the town newspaper. Last night, she had walked this same route on an assignment for a feature story about spring in Buttercup Bend. Her photos would accompany her reporter friend Nancy Meyers’ background about the town that had been founded a hundred years ago this coming Friday. Cathy wanted to have a selection of photos to choose from that were shot at dawn as well as twilight.

Turning the corner toward the newspaper office that was housed in a two-floor ranch, Cathy noticed something amiss. The cats that were usually gathered in various locations in the front yard of Pauline’s neighbor’s house were surrounding the front door. Some were crying, and a few were howling. Cathy assumed they were waiting to be fed by Maggie Broom, known as the town’s Cat Crazy Lady, since she’d arrived in town two years ago toting her van full of kitties.

As Cathy paused outside Maggie’s house, the door flew open, and Pauline, wearing a nightgown and a pair of slippers, ran out. Her dark eyes were wide, and the color of her face almost matched her white hair.

“Maggie’s dead. She’s been murdered. I just called Leroy on my cell. Her cats woke me up howling under my window, so I went over to let her know they were keeping me up. When she didn’t answer my knock, I opened the door that was unlocked and found her dead in her bed.”

A few seconds after Pauline’s shocking announcement, a police car roared down the block and stopped in front of them. Sheriff Leroy Miller rushed out, a disarrayed mass of red tendrils sticking up from his head like rusty spikes. The law enforcer’s half Irish, half African American heritage resulted in an interesting combination of features.

“I came as quickly as I could, Pauline.” Cathy caught the special look that passed between them. Everyone in Buttercup Bend knew that the newspaper editor was dating the sheriff. Miller glanced at Cathy, observing her camera. “Have you taken shots of the murder scene, Ms. Carter?”

Cathy, stunned and feeling a bit weak and dizzy, said, “No. I haven’t even seen the, uh, body, Sheriff. I was walking around town taking photos when Pauline came running out of Maggie’s house and told me what happened.”

“Taking photos might be a good idea,” Pauline said, some color returning to her face now that the sheriff had arrived.

“Let’s go inside then. My lazy deputy sheriff is still asleep. Otherwise, I would’ve asked him to come along and take pictures.” He was talking about Brian Fitzcullins, the young officer who’d used the services of Cathy and her brother’s pet rescue to adopt some of his pets.

As they entered Maggie’s house, the sheriff glanced around. “Hard to tell if anything has been disturbed,” he said as he gingerly avoided stepping on a long black tail and the heads of two tabbies that blocked his way. Cathy was surprised that the cats hadn’t hidden from strangers, but, like the ones outside, they might’ve been waiting for their breakfasts and hoping the newcomers would provide it.

“What a mess,” Pauline said walking next to the sheriff. “Something should’ve been done about all these cats, especially the ones outside that tear up my garden all the time.”

Gran had told Cathy of Pauline and Maggie’s ongoing dispute over Maggie’s outdoor cats. Cathy had even offered to catch them and bring them to Rainbow Rescues, but Maggie had refused the help and claimed they were her pets. No one could deny she took good care of them, even placing heated cat houses in her backyard in the winter.

They made their way carefully through the cluttered house that, besides felines of all shapes and sizes, also contained many cat toys and all types of cat items that Maggie collected. An unpleasant odor wafted from down the hall where Cathy assumed the litter boxes were kept.

When they finally arrived at the bedroom, Cathy prepared herself for the worst. At her parents’ wake, she’d found it hard to look into their caskets.

Her brother Doug had been at her side as she wept. The memory caused the dizziness to engulf her again.

“You okay?” Miller asked, noting her leaning against the door.

Cathy nodded. “I’ll be all right. I just …”

Pauline took her hand. “Don’t worry, honey. There’s no blood. She was smothered. I found the pillow on her face.”

“I hope you didn’t disturb anything.” The sheriff entered the room first.

“I removed the pillow, of course, and checked her pulse. I also had to chase off a bunch of cats that were on top of her. Who could’ve done this?” Pauline’s voice broke.

“A murder in Buttercup Bend. It’s hard to believe. Since I’ve been sheriff, the worst crime I’ve had to investigate was the theft of a bicycle that was stolen by a kid’s brother.”

Cathy and Pauline approached the bed. Cathy took some deep breaths, hoping they would calm her. But the sight of Maggie, ash blonde hair spread across her pillow, blue eyes open wide in fright, was more than she could take. As she’d done looking down at her mother lying against a pink satin pillow at the funeral home back on Long Island, Cathy collapsed.

CHAPTERTWO

Awakening in her bed with Oliver at her feet, Cathy thought she’d had a nightmare. But then she saw Gran sitting next to her in her long nightgown, her gray hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes, deep blue and alert, met Cathy’s. “How are you feeling, dear? You’ve had quite a shock. The sheriff and Pauline brought you home. They told me all about Maggie. I feel terrible. Such a horrible thing to happen in our town.”

Cathy had no recollection of having traveled in the police van, but she recalled that Pauline had found Maggie murdered. When she sat up, she still felt dizzy. “Does the sheriff have any suspects? Did he get the photos he wanted?”

“I think he called Brian over there to take them.” Florence glanced over at Cathy’s bureau where her camera lay. “As far as suspects, he’s questioning a few people. In fact, I promised him I’d come down to the station after I was sure you were okay. There’s no rush. We can eat breakfast first.”

Cathy was confused. “Why does he want to speak with you?”

Florence looked down at the quilted bedspread where the Siamese was still sleeping, but one blue eye had opened a slit as if he was listening to the conversation. “I was at BINGO last night and brought Maggie some tea afterwards because she had missed the game due to a headache. Do you remember that I came home and picked up some of that herbal tea I give you when you have migraines?”

“How did the sheriff know about that?”

Florence raised her head. “Pauline must’ve mentioned it when he asked her who had seen Maggie yesterday. I’m not mad at her. She was just filling him in.”

Pauline was known as the “gossip monger” of Buttercup Bend and that’s why, after she retired from teaching, she took the job as editor for the paper to keep abreast of all the goings on in the nightborhood. Cathy wondered who else she may have informed the sheriff about. Cathy had passed Maggie’s house late yesterday afternoon when she was taking photos, but the place had seemed dark, and she hadn’t noticed anything sinister.

“What else did Pauline tell the sheriff?” Cathy asked.

“I really don’t know, Catherine. They spoke privately. I was about to make some breakfast. Why don’t we eat outside? It’s a lovely day. We can let Oliver stroll a bit, and maybe Steve can join us when he comes.”

Cathy had lost track of time and had forgotten that the gardener was due that morning.

The sly twinkle in her grandmother’s eyes reminded her that Florence was an incorrigible matchmaker. Steve wasn’t the only man her grandmother was hoping Cathy would date. Every time the local vet, Dr. Michael Graham, came to the rescue center to check one of the pets or examine Oliver, Florence offered tips on how to flirt with him.

Although both men were strikingly different in appearance and personality, Cathy was equally attracted to them. However, having had a few short-lived romances in the past, she was wary to start a new relationship.

Cathy offered to help Florence make breakfast, but she refused. “You just sit on the patio and relax, Catherine. You’ve been through enough this morning.”

As her grandmother walked to the refrigerator to take out eggs, Cathy realized she was limping. Despite many days when she woke up with debilitating pain in her back, Florence still managed to keep up the household chores as well as assist some of the rescue center volunteers and help with the maintenance of the cemetery’s garden.

“I’m well enough to give you a hand, Gran. Your back seems to be bothering you this morning.”

Florence nodded as Oliver came to her side and rubbed against her, purring. She bent down gingerly to pet him. “I’m a little stiff and sore but not extremely so.”

Cathy knew her grandmother could be stubborn and was reluctant to accept help, so she insisted on at least bringing out the silverware, napkins, and orange juice. Oliver scooted behind her, happy to be in the fresh air.

Just as Cathy was about to make a second trip inside for the coffee, she heard whistling by the gate. Turning, she saw a tall blond head peeking over the top. Keys jangled, and the gate swung open. Steve ambled through, his face brightening when he saw her.

She waved and felt a smile widen her cheeks. “Good morning, Steve.”

The gardener approached. Cathy noticed how his tanned skin emphasized his well-formed upper body muscles through his white polo shirt. He wore khaki knee-length shorts, and his smile showed a soft dimple as his blue eyes regarded her with warmth.

“Mornin,’ Cat. How are you this lovely day that you match so purrfectly?”

She laughed at how he called her by her nickname and the way he said the last word. It masked her embarrassment at his compliment. She brushed a strand of her honey gold hair back, exposing the scar that was a reminder of the awful accident that had bruised her inside and out and left her and Doug orphans.

Although Steve seemed to like what she wore, she wished she’d dressed nicer than in an old pair of jeans and a lemon-yellow sweater turning brown after so many washes.

To bring the subject off her and to a matter of more importance, Cathy asked, “Did you hear what happened to Maggie Broom?”

Steve frowned. “No. What happened to her? I was at her house yesterday fertilizing her catnip garden.”

“Pauline found her dead when she went over her house this morning. I was taking photos on the block and was there when the sheriff arrived.”

“That’s terrible.” Steve bowed his head in respect.

“Yes. I couldn’t believe it when Pauline rushed out of the house. A murder in Buttercup Bend doesn’t seem possible.”

“Must’ve been a burglary. I know a lot of old people keep money hidden in their homes because they don’t trust banks. Ms. Broom was eccentric. I could see her stashing away cash inside one of her cat beds or even under a litter pan.”

“You might be right, Steve. I know Gran has spending money tucked away somewhere in our house, but I doubt it would be under Oliver’s litter box. I’m sure Sheriff Miller is investigating what happened to Maggie and who might be responsible.”

An uncomfortable silence hovered over them. Steve dug his hands into the pockets of his shorts and lowered his head as if examining something in the grass.

“I was hoping to catch you this morning when I came to water the grounds. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Sure. What’s up, Steve?”

He began to shuffle from foot to foot. With his eyes on the ground, he spoke so quietly a bird flying overhead almost drowned out his words.

“There’s a square dance Friday night, and I was wondering if … Would you want to go with me?”

When he lifted his head, Cathy noted the redness that bloomed underneath his tanned skin and knew it wasn’t sunburn. Had Gran put him up to this, or was he genuinely interested in taking me on a date?

Her heart beat fast. She wanted to go but accepting his invitation wasn’t easy. She hadn’t been on a date in a long time, and she was a terrible dancer. “Yes,” she said nearly choking on the word.

The sun chose that moment to flash its brightest rays, but the sudden luminescence was broken by a stray cloud and a deep voice calling Cathy’s name. She turned toward the gate and saw Sheriff Miller standing there, his uniform covered in cat hair, an angry expression on his dark, hound-dog face.

CHAPTERTHREE

Cathy rushed to the gate to let in the sheriff.

“Good day, Miss Carter.” He dusted some of the cat hair off his uniform. “Is your grandmother home?”

“She’s in the house making breakfast.”

He glanced at Steve. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s our gardener. Should I get Gran?”

“Yep.” Miller took a few steps toward the patio. “I’d like to talk to Mr. Jefferson, too.”

Steve turned around. “I’ll be happy to speak with you, Sheriff. What’s this about?”

“I don’t know if Miss Carter filled you in, but Maggie Broom was murdered last night. I have some questions for you and Florence.”

“I heard about the murder. Awful.” Steve grimaced.

“How did you hear about it?”

“I told him,” Cathy blurted out.

It was then that Florence stepped out onto the patio holding a plate of scrambled eggs in one hand and a carafe of coffee in the other. She was fully dressed now if one could differentiate her long floral dress from her nightgown. “Good morning, Leroy.”

“Good day, Flo.” The sheriff tipped his hat at her. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of coming down to the station and pick you up myself, but since Mr. Jefferson is here, he can join us, too.”

She nodded as she placed the eggs and carafe down on the table. “Well, you’re just in time for breakfast. Why don’t we talk here? There’s plenty of food to go around.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t question suspects together.”

“Suspects? What are you talking about?” Steve asked.

“You’ll find out when you come to the station.” Miller looked toward his police car that was parked outside the gate in back of Steve’s truck.

“We can at least have something to eat first,” Florence said.

“No time for that,” the sheriff insisted. “This shouldn’t take long. You can heat the food up later.”

“Very well. Let me grab my purse, and I’ll be right out.”

“Can I come along?” Cathy asked. She was curious about what the sheriff wanted with her grandmother and the gardener. Even if Florence brought Maggie tea last night, she didn’t think that would be cause enough to consider her a suspect in the murder, and she had no idea why Miller wanted to question Steve.

“You stay here, Catherine,” Florence said stepping back outside with her purse on her shoulder. “There might be a pet emergency, and one of us should be around.”

“I’m sure Doug and Becky can handle anything that arises,” Cathy said. Her brother and his wife lived right next door and closer to the rescue center than she and Florence.

Florence knit her gray eyebrows together. “You know your brother is a late sleeper, and Becky could have the baby any day now.”

“She’s not due until June,” Cathy pointed out but, by the look on her grandmother’s face, she knew she’d lost the battle. “Okay. I’ll stay but call me if you need me. I’ll keep my cell handy.”

“I’ll be back to work on the gardening,” Steve said. He and Florence walked with the sheriff to his car.

Worried about her grandmother, Cathy covered the eggs and brought them inside with the other breakfast items. Turning back to the door, she noticed Oliver was still on the patio. She joined him and took a seat on the wicker rocker to wait for Florence and Steve to return.

“Gran’s at the police station,” she said to the cat. “How can the sheriff possibly suspect her of murder? You know how gentle and kind she is, Ollie. I’m sure Steve is innocent, too.”

The only reply she received from the Siamese was a blink of his blue eyes.

When the police car finally pulled up, Cathy’s heart lurched as her grandmother emerged from it walking stiffly to the gate.

“Gran, is everything okay?” she asked running to her.

“It’s all fine, dear.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He asked Leroy to drop him at another job. He didn’t want to miss his appointment. It’s within walking distance, so he’ll do the gardening here when he picks up his car afterwards.”

Cathy sighed with relief. “What did the sheriff ask you? How can he suspect you?”

Florence took a seat on the other porch rocker, and Oliver rubbed against her ankles, purring to welcome her home.

“I don’t think he seriously suspects me, but he had to question people who were with Maggie yesterday. Leroy wanted to know if the tea I brought Maggie after the BINGO game contained any sleep-inducing properties. I explained it was only meant to soothe her pain but might’ve relaxed her enough to make her drowsy.”

“What else did the sheriff say?” Cathy hated to interrogate her grandmother after what must’ve been an unpleasant experience, but she found herself curious to know the details of a crime that was so rare in the small town.

“He told me they placed Maggie’s time of death at about ten p.m. last night. After they brought you home, Leroy and Brian did a thorough search of her house. He said there were no prints because the killer probably wore gloves. However, they uncovered a sealed envelope filled with a few hundred dollars under one of Maggie’s litter boxes. A copy of the will was there, too. Leroy commented that was a strange place to hide an important document.”

Cathy thought of Steve. Was it a coincidence he knew Maggie’s hiding place? She pushed that thought aside. Steve had trouble killing insects in the garden. She couldn’t imagine him harming a person.

Gran continued. “Since none of the money was taken, Leroy doesn’t think the person who killed Maggie was a burglar.”

“What about the will?” Oliver padded over to Cathy for some show of affection, and she petted his dark head.

“That was sealed, too. It was labeled, ‘Copy of Margaret R. Broom’s Last Will and Testament.’ Leroy brought it down to the station as evidence. Norman Dexter, Maggie’s lawyer, has the original and will be handling the disposition of her property.”

“What is the sheriff doing about Ms. Broom’s cats? I wish we could take them at Rainbow Rescues, but there’s not enough room for all of them.”

“Brian was concerned about that. Luckily, there was a post-it attached to the will written in Maggie’s handwriting that said, ‘In case of my death, I have made arrangements for all my cats. Don’t bring them to any shelters until my will is read.”’

Cathy knew that Brian often brought strays he found on his patrol to Rainbow Rescues and a few of them he adopted himself. Many were identified by Dr. Graham as cats that simply escaped from their homes, but several were put up for adoption at the rescue center.

“Until Maggie’s provisions for her pets are disclosed, Brian is stopping by the house to feed them,” Florence explained. “In the meantime, Leroy mentioned that Maggie’s brother and sister were contacted and will be coming to town for the reading of the will.”

“Maggie has siblings?”

“She didn’t talk much about them because they’ve been estranged for a long time. She was the eldest of the family. Her sister Gladys lives on Long Island and is a sixty-eight-year-old retired secretary. Brody lives in Ulster County, only a few towns over from Buttercup Bend. He’s fifty-seven and been in trouble with the law since he left home at fifteen.”

Cathy tried to digest this information. “It sounds like Maggie’s brother was the black sheep of the family, but I wonder why she wasn’t close to her sister.”

“These things happen in families, Catherine. I’m so glad it hasn’t in ours.”

Cathy couldn’t imagine not being on speaking terms with a relative. She and her brother Doug had always been friends as well as brother and sister. Besides Florence, it was because of Doug that she was able to survive the loss of their parents.

“It’s getting a little chilly out here. Why don’t we go inside?” Florence suggested, scooping up Oliver.

Cathy followed her into the house. Just as she closed the door behind her, a familiar voice called, “Cathy, I’m back.” She turned to see Steve walking up toward the porch.

“You go speak to him,” Florence said. “I see you left out breakfast. Even though Leroy gave us donuts at the station, I can use something more nutritious. I’ll warm up the eggs and bring some out to you two, so you can eat while you talk.”

Cathy met Steve on the porch. She closed the door behind her so Oliver wouldn’t sneak out. “How did it go, Steve? Gran filled me in on some of what the sheriff told her about Maggie’s murder.”

“I think I’m clear, thanks. He questioned me because I fertilized Ms. Broom’s catnip garden yesterday, and we’d discussed some changes she wanted to make. That gossipy neighbor of hers told Miller that she heard me arguing with Ms. Broom. I may have raised my voice a bit, but it was because she wanted me to plant a butterfly garden that attracted birds. You know how crazy Ms. Broom was about her cats. Besides the indoor ones, some live outdoors, and I thought planting these types of gardens would be inhumane. The Sheriff saw that as a motive for me returning later and smothering her. Isn’t that crazy?” He strode over to the rocker Florence had occupied and plopped himself down. It seemed he needed to get the interrogation off his chest.

“Gran and I have known you since you started gardening the pet cemetery two years ago,” Cathy said. “We know you wouldn’t harm a fly. You even hesitate killing garden pests.” She took the chair next to him.

At Cathy’s words, Steve’s blue eyes lit up and a blush again spread across his suntanned cheeks. “Thank you, Cathy, but I’m sure the sheriff was just doing his job interviewing possible suspects. He pointed out that a pair of gardening gloves would make an excellent guard against fingerprints.”

“Obviously, he had no evidence to support that.”

“True, but he told me he’s keeping an eye on me.”

“Doesn’t he have any other suspects?”

“He wouldn’t say, but I gather there aren’t too many. Ms. Broom wasn’t particularly the friendliest person in Buttercup Bend, but I can’t see anyone wanting to kill her.”

Cathy considered the gardener’s words. “Maybe it’s someone who’s not from around here. I know the sheriff ruled out a burglar, but maybe one got cold feet after killing her and left without taking anything.”

Steve nodded. “Could be. Who knows? I should get back to work. I don’t want to give Miller any cause to think I’ve changed my routine.”

“Can’t you even stay to eat? Gran is heating up the food from breakfast.”

“That’s okay, Cat. I’ll grab something in between jobs. Let me give a quick once over to your garden and the cemetery. It looks like it’s in pretty good shape since I was last here.”

“Gran and I try to keep it up as much as we can. Even with her arthritis, she insists on doing some weeding and watering.”

Steve shook his head. “I know how stubborn Florence can be and how she feels bad that I charge her less than most of my clients, but I consider both of you friends and don’t mind at all doing you the favor of maintaining your property.”

The way he said “friends” and looked at her, Cathy felt warmth flood her body. She remembered his invitation to the dance and was happy she’d accepted.

As Steve left, Cathy recalled something. When she’d walked down Maggie’s block late yesterday afternoon, she’d heard two women arguing. One of them was Maggie. The other, who was complaining loudly about how some of Maggie’s outdoor cats were getting in her yard and destroying her flowerbeds, was Pauline, the same person who’d found her dead.

CHAPTERFOUR

Cathy decided not to say anything about Pauline to the sheriff. After all, the lady was Florence’s best friend. She’d been like a second grandmother to Cathy ever since she visited Florence when her parents were alive.

“You look like you’re contemplating something,” Florence said after Cathy went inside and told her Steve wasn’t staying to eat.

“I’m just thinking about what Steve told me the sheriff said. I wonder who will inherit Ms. Broom’s house and what provisions were made for the cats.”

“Maggie’s lawyer will take care of that. Now let’s forget about all this right now and have some food. I know it’s a sad thing, but life goes on, Catherine. Maggie wasn’t the friendliest person. She preferred cats over people, but she was a resident of this town. I’m sure Pastor Green will dedicate a service to her. Pauline will have the details. We’ll need to pay our respects.”

Cathy said, “You don’t think the funeral will be on Friday, do you?”

Florence raised a gray eyebrow. “I’m not sure. Why? Do you have plans that day?”

“Well, I, uh.”

Florence smiled knowingly. “Wait a minute. Friday is the square dance. Do you have a date? That would be lovely. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Cathy lowered her eyes, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. “It’s Steve. He just asked me this morning before the sheriff showed up.”

“At least some good has come out of this day. Wait until you tell your friend, Nancy. I’m sure she’s going to the dance, too.”

Unlike Cathy, Nancy never missed any of Buttercup Bend’s social activities. Not only because she was a reporter for the Buttercup Bugle but because most of the eligible men in town were smitten with her. She liked to play the field but never stuck with one guy long. Cathy believed that was because Nancy had been in love with someone in high school who broke her heart.

After Cathy and Florence finished eating, Cathy’s brother raced into the backyard on his Adidas sneakers. His baggy jeans rode low on his skinny hips as if he’d just pulled them on. He stopped in front of them and took a few deep breaths. His face was redder than the beets Florence grew in her garden. “Come quick, Gran, Cat. We have an emergency.”

“Douglas!” Florence said. “What’s the matter? Is Becky okay?” Becky was eight months pregnant with their first child.

“Becky’s fine, but she went into Rainbow Rescues this morning and found Hobo curled up in his cage not responding. He’s alive, but he seems sick. I called Dr. Graham. He’s on his way, but I think you should be there when he comes.”

“Of course.” Florence followed Douglas along the path that led to the rescue center. Cathy went along, too. She’d never had any veterinary training, but she’d watched Dr. Graham examine the cats at Rainbow Rescues and had picked up some tips from him by asking questions and observing his exams.

As they entered, Becky wobbled over to them. She wore her Rainbow Rescues apron stretched over her jeans and a short-sleeved tee. Florence contended that the tiny brunette was big enough to be carrying twins, but her doctor assured her that wasn’t the case. It was one big baby, so bets around Buttercup Bend were on a boy.

“Hi, Cathy, Florence. I asked Doug to come get you while we wait for the vet because I’m so worried about Hobo. He’s just lying in his cage. I tried to feed him, but he won’t even take food off my finger. He was fine yesterday. I don’t know what happened.”

Even though most of the pets that were brought to Rainbow Rescues were nameless, the staff gave them temporary names. Hobo was one of their oldest residents in the cat section of the center. Cathy found him five years ago when Rainbow Rescues first opened. He came crying to her grandmother’s door, a starving orange kitten with matted fur and big green eyes. She named him Hobo because he was dirty and seemed to have traveled from a distance. They went through the normal procedures to find his owner, placing his photo in the Buttercup Bugle and on telephone poles around town asking if anyone had lost him and including the phone number of the rescue center. When he wasn’t claimed, they made him an official resident of Rainbow Rescues.

The three other cats who were present when he arrived were all adopted within a few weeks after he came. Cathy tried to convince Florence to take Hobo, but her cat Floppy was receiving twice daily insulin injections for diabetes. Florence felt adding another cat to their household would be too much work. Cathy still regretted not taking Hobo after Floppy passed away, but she’d promised Oliver’s owner on her deathbed that her old cat would have a home with her and Florence. Then several other cats were admitted to Rainbow Rescues, and Cathy believed Hobo was adapting well. He became a favorite among Becky and the volunteers who cleaned the cages and changed the litter pans and food.

Her heart sinking, Cathy gazed into Hobo’s cage. He was rolled into an orange ball. His eyes were closed, but she thought he was awake. Two full dishes of uneaten wet and dry cat food lay next to him.

Florence said, “Poor thing. Did any of the other volunteers report a problem with him yesterday?”

“No,” Becky replied. “He’s usually active and playful at this time. Something is bothering him.”

Douglas stood by his wife. “Sometimes cats go off their feed for a short time. We may have panicked a bit.”

“It’s still a good idea you called Dr. Graham. Cats can hide illness a long time before exhibiting symptoms.”

Cathy knew her grandmother was right. Floppy had seemed fine until he started urinating outside his litter box, and some tests showed he had diabetes. She hoped Hobo was only having an off day.

When Dr. Graham arrived a short time later, Hobo was in the same position in his cage. Becky had wanted to take him out and cuddle him, but Florence had warned her that some cats get testy when they aren’t feeling well and prefer to be left alone.

Dr. Graham smiled as he entered. A tall man in his early thirties, he dressed like a country vet in jeans and a light blue polo shirt that accented his eyes that were just a shade darker. His square-shaped glasses rode low on his nose, and his wavy black hair was combed neatly behind his ears. He carried a black bag that accompanied him everywhere, even to social events. The bag contained his veterinary medical kit and first aid items.

“Good morning, folks. What seems to be the problem?”

Florence answered for the group. She addressed him by his first name which he preferred. “Hello, Michael. Thanks for coming. Hobo isn’t acting himself today. Can you look at him?”

“Of course. I’ll even be happy to give the other cats and Mr. Oliver a once over after I check Hobo.”

“Thank you.” Cathy watched nervously as Becky took a key from her pocket and unlocked Hobo’s cage. Dr. Graham reached in and gingerly removed the cat. Hobo didn’t fight him as Florence had feared but lay listless against his chest.

“Okay, boy. Let’s have a look at you.” Michael carried Hobo to a nearby table that he used when he examined the rescue center cats. He placed him down, reached into his medical bag, and took out his instruments. He looked in the cat’s ears, opened his mouth, checked his teeth and gums, and examined his eyes. Then he felt his stomach and lastly used his stethoscope to listen to his heart. All the while, Hobo kept quiet. Cathy, Becky, Florence, and Doug looked on expectantly until the vet was done. Michael turned to them with his diagnosis. “I don’t see anything wrong, but I should bring him to the animal hospital to run some blood tests and observe him. However, I think the findings will be the same.”

“What do you mean?” Becky asked. “If he isn’t ill, why is he acting this way?”

Michael smiled again, his thin moustache spreading under his nose. “Ever heard of depression? I’m aware this cat’s been here since you opened Rainbow Rescues. I also know the volunteers are great with him, but I think he’s starting to tire of living in a cage and wants a regular home.”

The vet’s diagnosis touched Cathy’s heart. She had a thought. “If you’re right, I have an idea of where he might find a good home.”

Florence sighed. “Oliver might not take too well to a younger cat in his territory.”

“And we can’t take him with our two dogs and a baby coming,” Douglas put in before Becky could make an offer.