Deadly Diamond: A Murfy the Cat Mystery (3 page)

“Some cats is blind. And stone-deaf some. But ain’t no cat wuz ever dumb.”

––
Anthony Ewer

CHAPTER FIVE:
Something Wrong

The day began as it usually did; our routine the same as the day before, except that when Alyx was ready to leave, all three of us followed her to the truck.

“Okay, I get it. You all want to go today, right?”

The cottage-style bungalow where we live is located in the historic district of Beachside, about two blocks from the store. The neighborhood, still in the process of redevelopment, is a mix of architectural styles as the people living there are a mix of ages, young couples with children, middle-aged and retired folks who have lived there many years, and a handful of Florida natives.

Pooky took the ride better than I expected––she was only slightly hyperventilating when we arrived at the store a few minutes later. Bernice, a thirty-something, flamboyant dresser, and middle-aged Nelda, her opposite and equally competent employee, were already there. Bernice helped with the carriers; no small feat since I alone weigh sixteen pounds more or less, and I think it’s probably more rather than less.

Nelda made the mistake of reaching for Pooky and got her hand smacked as a gentle warning not to touch.

“Don’t mind her, Nelda, she’s like that with everybody; she’s not as sociable as the other two cats,” said Alyx. “You’d think she’d want to stay home––she was the first one out.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll make sure the customers leave her alone too.”

It had been a while since Pooky was in the store last, and she took off sniffing and touching, investigating her surroundings.

“You know that you and Bernice will be here by yourselves for most of the day, right? I promised Althea I’d help her redecorate her living room, and I expect to be there all morning and maybe through lunch.”

“That won’t be a problem. Bernice and I can handle the customers, and we’ll watch the cats.”

“I’m taking Murfy with me, so he can play with her cat Simon while I work. Althea thinks her cat needs a playmate.”

Nelda laughed. “The notion that a cat needs anybody, even another cat, is hilarious.”

More than a half-hour later, Alyx was still trying to reach Althea on the phone to confirm our visit.

Bernice caught up with her when her customer walked away and asked if she was still going to Althea’s place.
 

“I’ve been calling for the past thirty minutes and she’s not answering her phone. I’m a little worried about her.”

“Maybe she ran out to get something,” offered Bernice by way of explanation.

“She’s expecting me; I don’t think she’d leave without calling. I hope you’re right.”

Alyx kept trying to reach Althea without success, giving Misty and Pooky the opportunity to corner me and let me know that they didn’t appreciate the fact that I’d dragged them to the store claiming it was important, and then I take off on a play date.

They were right to be angry. I should have explained. I apologized for my error, and I knew from their silence that my apology wasn’t accepted. No matter, we still had a job to do, and I told them what to look for and what to do if the thief came back.

“As every cat owner knows, no one owns a cat.”

––
Ellen Perry Berkeley

CHAPTER SIX:
No Need to Hurry

Althea lived in a condominium community on the river, minutes from the new bridge. Althea’s car was in the driveway, so Alyx parked in the space reserved for visitors. She rang the bell several times, knocked, and there was still no answer. She tried the door and amazingly it opened.

“Hello? Althea, it’s me, Alyx, are you home?” The stillness was unsettling. Aware that a cat lived there, Alyx closed the door behind us. She called again. No answer. She moved slowly into the living room and there was Althea, crumpled in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Alyx unceremoniously deposited the carrier with me in it where she stood, and crossed the short distance in a heartbeat. But I knew there was no need to hurry. Althea was dead.

A short time later, the police arrived. I immediately recognized Detective Smarts. He had wrongfully arrested Alyx’s son Ethan earlier in the year, and I hadn’t forgotten. I didn’t think much of his detective skills and I openly expressed my feelings. That is to say, I hissed and snarled at him. He practically snarled back. Alyx, on the other hand, politely answered his questions, telling him what she knew, keeping her feelings to herself.

Smarts asked her if Althea had any relatives.

“She did mention one niece, her husband’s niece, actually.”

“Do you know her name or where she lives?”

“Her first name is Carole. Her last name sounds like
dirt
––no wait––
earth
. That’s it! Carole Berth and I think she lives in Umatilla.”

He wrote it all down and flipped the page. “Why are you here, Ms. Hille?”

Alyx hesitated before answering. “Althea asked me to help her get rid of some of her furniture and redecorate her condominium. We had made an appointment for today. I called several times to confirm my visit, and when I didn’t reach her, I got worried and came over anyway. The rest I’ve already told you.”

“One question, Ms. Hille. I have an appreciation for antiques, and know the value of some of these pieces. Just how were you going to help her get
rid
of some of the furniture?”

“What I meant was that I would buy some pieces and take the rest on consignment,” she answered pleasantly.

He closed his notebook, and Alyx asked, “Are we finished here? Am I free to go?”

“We have to get your fingerprints, and then you can go.”

“Why do you need my prints?” she asked suspiciously.

“It’s procedure, Ms. Hille.”
          

“What about her cat? A Siamese. I’d like to look for him and take him home with me. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Other than filing some paperwork with the Humane Society, I don’t see why not. Go ahead and look for the cat, and I’ll go find someone to take your prints.”

She stood, and sat back down again. The detective saw the pallor in her cheeks and offered to get her a glass of ice water, which she accepted.

“Would you like me to call someone for you?”

“No, thank you. I need to sit for a few minutes, and I’ll be fine. Thanks for the water.”

Simon was nowhere to be found, and so we left immediately after a uniformed officer took Alyx’s fingerprints. Smarts was in the room the whole time, and I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. For a second, he had me thinking that he was going to have me paw-printed as well.

As soon as we drove away, Alyx called Maggie. She had been all right up until that point, and then when she told Maggie that Althea was dead, her eyes filled with tears, and she pulled off to the side of the road for a few minutes.

“I was going to bring her cat home with me, and I couldn’t find him.”

“He’ll probably reappear when he’s hungry.”

“Yes, except I won’t be there to see him.”

“I’ll swing over there on my way in tomorrow morning, and for the rest of the week, all right?”

“Thank you, Maggie.”

We stopped at her store only long enough to pick up Misty and Pooky. Once home, the felines and I trooped out to the lanai, where the girls barraged me with questions. Did Althea’s cat know what had happened? Was he upset? Who was taking care of him? I told them we hadn’t found Simon. Then I asked Misty what had happened in the shop while we were gone. She communicated that she was on the counter by the front door the whole time that I was gone, and didn’t see the thief or any other suspicious-looking person. The most exciting thing that happened was that Pooky got stuck in an open drawer she was inspecting. Pooky didn’t think it was very amusing and swatted Misty.

The communication came to a halt when Alyx came out on the lanai with a tuna salad sandwich. She ate half her sandwich and put the rest on her plate. I jumped on her lap and licked her hand, offering comfort as best I could, hoping for a taste of tuna. The others hunched quietly nearby for the same reason, also hoping for some leftovers. Then the home phone rang, and I positioned myself to hear the conversation––something I regularly do so I know what’s going on.

“Are you all right, Alyx?” Hunter asked when Alyx answered, pressing the button for speakerphone.

“How did you know I was home?”

“When you didn’t answer your cell phone I called the store. Bernice told me about Althea and that you’d gone home. I’m sorry. I know you were fond of her,” he said, “It must have been awful for you, finding her body.”

His voice was kind. Alyx sank deeper into my favorite chair and laid her head back. They talked a while and made a tentative date for later in the week. Alyx looked around the room she loved. She told Maggie that the mix of old, new and antiques together with the wood floor covered in colorful antique rugs made her feel grounded. She had brought work home with her and stayed busy the rest of the afternoon, detailing her part of the renovation for the arrogant new client who wanted her million-dollar home restored to its 1930s splendor.

The beachside home had deteriorated through neglect, and Alyx was thrilled when the home went up for sale. She had told Ethan that she hoped the new owners would restore it rather than have it razed. Maggie was clearly not impressed with the new owner, Linda Stone and told her so. Nevertheless, Alyx wanted to work on the house and Maggie agreed to take on the job, accepting her argument that the profit would be worth the effort––an odd argument coming from Alyx or Maggie for that matter.

“Most beds sleep up to six cats. Ten cats without the owner.”

––
Stephen Baker

CHAPTER SEVEN:
A Pioneer Christmas

Alyx found the perfect lamp she’d been looking for on-line, completed the transaction and logged off when a car came up the drive. Before she could get to the door, she heard Ethan’s familiar greeting, “Hi, Mom; it’s me––your one and only son.”

“Hi, honey. I’m in the office.”

Misty pawed Ethan’s pockets for the expected treat he always brought whenever he visited, and we weren’t disappointed with the tasty morsels he produced. About six feet tall, with blue eyes, short black hair and a thin-line beard, Ethan, considered handsome by human female standards, gave his mother a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve missed you… been busy?” she asked casually.

“Sorry I haven’t been over, Mom. Nikki and I went to South Beach for a couple of days.”

“You could have told me that when I called you instead of letting me wonder what was going on.”

“Yeah, I know. You always worry when I tell you I’m going out of town, and I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, I’m twenty-three,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, “I shouldn’t have to tell my mother everything I do.”

Having had only each other since her divorce years earlier, the mother-child bond was strong––except Ethan was no longer a child. Occasionally, Alyx had trouble remembering that, this time she did remember and wisely said no more on the subject other than, “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound.”

She served the cherry pie she’d picked up from the bakery, at the kitchen table where a bank of windows framed a perfect Southern picture––a huge magnolia tree with a white wrought iron bench sitting under its shady canopy. Alyx had designed the kitchen around the enamel-topped, 1940’s table and chairs that had been in her parent’s basement and that still held pleasant memories of the many family gatherings that had taken place while her parents were still living.

She told Ethan about Althea. “It was only yesterday that she was making plans for her future,
 
for starting a new life.”

He asked if she knew the actual cause of death.

“No, I don’t. The fact is, I may never know.”

She mentioned Simon, the missing cat. “I know Althea would want me to make sure he has a home. But I don’t want another cat.” She gave him one of her special smiles, “How would you like to have a sleek, handsome Siamese cat?”

I liked the idea and tapped my tail. Misty saw my reaction and turned her back to me in obvious disapproval.

“Maybe, if he’s anything like Murfy.”

“I’ll let you know if he turns up.”

“Mom, I’m not promising. …”

“I know,” she said as she cleared the table. “So do you have plans for this week-end?”

“Yes. Nikki read in the paper that the old pioneer settlement is hosting its annual
A Florida Christmas
. Neither one of us has been there since we were in high school.”

“What did the article say about the event?”

“She said the historic buildings in the settlement are decked with old-fashioned pioneer ornaments. There’s music, including concerts in the 1890 church and visitors can join carolers as they stroll around the grounds.”

“That place is like a tiny rural village, isn’t it? I think the oldest building is the 1875 log cabin. My favorite is the kitchen in the old schoolhouse. I love the high ceiling with tall windows all along the wall looking out to the herb garden, not to mention the fresh-baked goods they offer.”

“My favorite was the blacksmith shop. I think I was intrigued by the red hot iron being pounded into something.”

“Well, it sounds like fun. All you need is some cool weather to make it perfect.”

“Yeah, that’s what Nikki said. Did they have sour orangeade the last time you went?”

“No, and it doesn’t sound like something I would want either,” she said, puckering her lips. “What is it?”

Ethan laughed. “Nikki said it’s an old Florida pioneer treat made from the juice of sour oranges.”

“Well, that’s a new one on me. I’ve never heard of sour orange trees, unless they mean from un-ripened oranges. Let me know what it tastes like.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll bring you some.