The Cats that Surfed the Web (10 page)

“No, it sounded more like it came from the basement.”

“It’s probably just an icicle. They’re some really big ones hanging on the gutters. They’re melting,” Colleen said.

There was another loud thump.

“
That
didn’t sound like an icicle,” Katherine said, bolting out of the room. She ran up the stairs and went directly to the bedroom. The Siamese were curled up and sleeping on the bed. She then went back downstairs.

“What did they break this time?” Colleen asked.

“Nothing. They’re asleep. It must have been something out on the street. Have you seen Abby?”

“She’s not with the Siamese?”

“No, she’s not.”

“Last time I saw her, she was prowling around like Scout does, going from room to room, sniffing everything.”

“Abby,” Katherine called, concerned.

There was a loud thud nearby.

“That didn’t come from the basement,” Colleen said.

“It sounded like it came from the living room, but I distinctly shut all of those pocket doors.”

They rushed into the atrium, slid open one of the pocket doors, and then darted inside to find Abigail sitting demurely in a large flowerpot that contained a tall rubber plant. The surrounding planters had been turned over—their soil spread everywhere. The remnants of shredded plants were strewn across the oriental carpet.

“What a mess,” Katherine said, aghast.

“Chirp,” Abigail announced proudly from the flowerpot.

“‘Tis the worse mess I’ve ever seen,” Colleen noted. “How did she get in here?”

“I must have closed her in when I shut the doors.”

“Abby,” Katherine scolded, walking over to the guilty-looking cat. Abigail leapt out of the flowerpot and rocketed out of the room.

“I hate to tell you this, Katz, but I think this mess requires more than the Hoover. We need the help of your handy dandy man.”

“I’ve got his business card. I’ll give him a call,” Katherine said wearily. She went to the atrium phone and dialed Cokey Cokenberger’s number. A male voice answered on the third ring.

“Cokenberger Contracting,” he said.

“Hello, Mr. Cokenberger. This is Katherine Kendall.”

“I’m sorry, I’m the son. Let me get my Dad.” He put the phone down, then yelled, “Dad, you’re wanted on the phone. It’s that lady from the pink house.”

“Just a second, Tommy,” Cokey called to his son. “And it’s ‘Ms. Kendall,’ not
that lady
,” he corrected.

The son got back on the line. “He’s in the kitchen. Ah, here he is,” he said handing his father the phone.

“Hello, Ms. Kendall?” he said in an out-of-breath but friendly voice.

“Hello, Mr. Cokenberger.”

“Cokey. Call me Cokey,” he insisted.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but I’ve got a bit of problem over here at the house. One of my cats decided to rearrange the flowerpots in the living room. I need your help to carry what remains of the potted plants to a place where the cats can’t get them.”

“What happened?” he asked, mystified.

“Abigail dumped all of the flower pots and has made an incredible mess. There’s potting soil everywhere.”

“That sweet little girl? Surely not,” he chuckled. “I’m just finishing my supper and I’ll be over directly. I’ll bring my Shop-Vac.” He hung up.

“Supper,” Katherine said. “It’s not even five p.m.,” she said looking at her watch.

“Katz, look,” Colleen said, pulling a newspaper clipping out of one of the unearthed flower pots.

“What is it?”

“It’s an engagement notice. I can hardly read it.” She took it over to one of the windows. “Vivian Marston announces the March wedding of her daughter Patricia to James Edward Cokenberger.”

“Handy Dandy! Our Cokey?” Katherine said. “Shhh, I just heard someone pull in. I think he’s here.”

“Already,” Colleen confirmed.

The doorbell clanged noisily. Katherine rushed to the side door and unlocked it. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she said.

“Show me the disaster site,” he said merrily.

Katherine escorted him into the living room.

“Looks like a tornado hit,” he exclaimed.

“Look what I found in one of the pots,” Colleen said, holding up the aged article. “It’s an announcement with your name on it. Strange place for a newspaper clipping, don’t ya think?”

Cokey became quiet. He squinted to read the article, “I’m sorry, I left my reading glasses at home.”

“It’s your engagement notice to your wife,” Colleen blurted. “Do you want this clipping?”

“My ‘wife’ and I were never engaged,” he coughed nervously. “I think you’ve found one of my skeletons in the closet,” he said solemnly. “I was engaged to Patricia Marston for a brief time. We broke up years ago, and I married my only wife, Margaret.”

“Oh, I see,” Colleen said, embarrassed.

Cokey looked at the floor.

“You’ll have to bring Margaret over so we can meet her,” Katherine said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“My wife would love to meet you, as well as my kids. They’re nuts about cats.”

“Now I’ve put my foot in it,” Colleen said. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“We didn’t realize,” Katherine said apologetically.

“I’m surprised a newspaper clipping would survive being buried in a flowerpot since the Stone Age,” he laughed, then added, “I’ve got to go to my truck. I’ll be right back.”

Once Cokey had left the room, Katherine said, “Great, Colleen. He’s probably never coming back.”

“I didn’t know it,” Colleen said innocently.

“Shhh, here he comes.”

Cokey returned, carrying a large Shop-Vac. “You ladies might want to leave the room,” he advised. “This is very loud.” He plugged in the Shop-Vac and began to carefully vacuum the soil from the oriental carpet.

Colleen went back into the parlor while Katherine began searching each room for Abigail. “Abby,” she called over the deafening drone of the Shop-Vac. She searched the kitchen—no Abby. She circled the house, going from room to room, calling the cat’s name—no response. She walked upstairs and was surprised to see Abby sitting outside her bedroom door.

“The Siamese are in there,” Katherine said. “Do you want to take a nap with them?” She stroked the silky fur of the Abyssinian.

“Chirp,” Abigail said in agitation. She stood up on her hind legs and reached for the door handle.

Katherine opened the door and Abigail bounded inside. The three Siamese woke up, but Lilac and Scout immediately went back to sleep. Iris hissed and then yawned. She put one foot over her eye and curled up closer to Scout, then went back to sleep. Abigail jumped up on the bed and walked a few feet from the sleeping cats. She began purring, tucked her paws underneath her, and closed her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, my darlings,” Katherine said. She shut the four cats in the bedroom and went back down to the atrium. “I can’t understand why she did that.”

“What, I can’t hear you?” Colleen said struggling to hear.

“Why did Abigail destroy the plants?” Katherine shouted.

Colleen shrugged.

Cokey Cokenberger turned off the noisy vacuum and entered the room. “I’m bankin’ that the only plant that will survive is that big old rubber plant. I’ll take it down to the solarium.”

“Solarium? Where’s that?” Katherine asked perplexed.

“It’s that room with the metal door to the outside; the one with all the windows. Mrs. Colfax called it the solarium.”

“Thanks, but I really didn’t like the idea of plants being up here anyway. I’ve found that cats and plants don’t mix.”

“I’ll roll this rug up and take it home. I can have the carpet cleaning service pick it up. I’ll bring it back good as new.”

“Yes, please,” Katherine said.

After Cokey left the room, Colleen whispered behind him, “I wonder why they broke up? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“You mean incredibly nosy minds,” Katherine countered. “Is there a date on the clipping?”

“No, the date is torn off. Why do you think it was buried in the flowerpot?”

“‘Tis a mystery.”

Cokey slipped into the room holding a dirty stuffed bear. “I found this in one of the broken flowerpots,” he said.

Katherine and Colleen exchanged curious glances.

“I just saw that hanging in the bathroom,” Colleen said.

“Oh, no—not Lilac’s bear,” Katherine said, taking the stuffed toy. “This is one of my cat’s favorite toys,” she explained. “I’ve already given it one bath today when Lilac dropped in the dirty mop water. Now I’ll have to give it another one.”

Cokey belted out a laugh and left the room.

“Did you notice,” Colleen began whispering, “that when he came into this room we didn’t hear him?”

“I noticed that. I don’t know how he does it. Every time I take a step, the floorboards squeak bloody murder. Maybe we should check to see if he leaves a reflection in the mirror,” Katherine kidded.

“I vote we move these Queen Anne wing chairs so we can see whoever comes into the room. I don’t like having my back to a door.”

“Spoken like a true New Yorker.”

Katherine easily moved one of the chairs. Colleen moved the other chair a few inches but stopped when she heard something drop to the floor. She reached down and picked up an old-fashioned, flip-top cigarette lighter.

“Did that come from inside the chair?” Katherine asked.

“Here, help me tip it over,” Colleen said. After the two of them flipped the chair onto its side, they discovered a tear in the lining.

“Did one of the cats do this?” Colleen said suspiciously.

“I can’t tell if it’s a cat tear or an old age tear,” Katherine said.

“There’s something hanging down from it.” Colleen pulled out a plastic object.

“My night retainer!” Katherine exclaimed.

“Oh, that’s disgusting. Take it,” Colleen said scrunching up her face.

“I’ll bet you five bucks Iris stole it out of my bag and stashed it in this chair.”

“She doesn’t waste any time hiding her loot,” Colleen observed. She continued feeling around and pulled out a caged ball with a bell inside. “Wasn’t the cat with bangs playing with this earlier? Care to pay me in singles or a crisp Lincoln back?”

“Abigail, too,” Katherine gasped. “Now I have two kleptomaniacs.”

“Who do you think this lighter belongs to?”

“It looks like 14-karat gold plating. It probably belonged to one of my great aunt’s guests. Mark said she entertained frequently.”

“No, wait. There’s an inscription—
To Cokey with Love.
There’s a letter after that but it’s been scratched out,” Colleen said as she handed the lighter to Katherine.

“Listen, I’ll try and catch him before he leaves,” Katherine said, heading for the door.

“I guess you’ll have to do that tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“He just backed out of the driveway,” Colleen said, pulling the lace panel aside and looking out the window.

“I’d better check to see if he locked the exterior door to the basement on his way out.”

“Wait. I’ll go too, but first let me get my ghost meter,” Colleen said cheerily. She bolted out of the room and rushed up the stairs.

Katherine called after her. “Seriously, do you think a ghost would prefer the basement over being up here?” She laughed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t go down there without me,” Colleen yelled from upstairs.

“Okay, whatever. But, if you get any ghost readings, I’m throwing that thing out into the snow,” Katherine teased.

Chapter Seven

By Wednesday, Katherine and Colleen were bored out of their minds. The ghost-hunting adventure to the basement had been a bust. Colleen complained that she wasn’t getting a reading anywhere in the house. Even the dusty attic didn’t set off the EMF meter.

Katherine’s laptop was useless because the cable company hadn’t connected its service. No email. No high-speed Internet. Katherine’s thumbs were cramping from texting friends; Colleen was tired of playing the same apps on her phone.

The boxes from New York hadn’t arrived, so there was nothing to unpack and put away. The house was sparkling clean; the rugs swept, the floors mopped.

The boredom had even spread to the cats, who didn’t want to get off Katherine’s bed to eat their breakfast. Colleen suggested some retail therapy
,
so the two drove into the city. Katherine needed to visit the home improvement store, and Colleen wanted to shop for clothes. By noon, they were famished and stopped at a chain Italian restaurant. Colleen talked about her crush on Mario, and Katherine talked about Mark Dunn. She wasn’t sure about him just yet, but she admitted she was kind of interested.

Just before dark, they drove back to Erie. It took a while to unload the car, which was stuffed with their new purchases. Afterward, they decided to go see a movie. The town of Erie boasted one of the finest theaters in the state. It was built in the Art Deco period and had been painstakingly restored by its current owners. The movie was a romantic suspense thriller with Colleen’s favorite Irish actor. Katherine munched on Twizzlers, and Colleen ate an entire bucket of buttered popcorn. Later she complained that she had totally blown her diet. They were in a happy mood when they pulled into the driveway of the pink mansion.

“Didn’t we leave the lights on?” asked Katherine, suddenly startled.

“Yes,” Colleen said uneasily.

“It’s pitch-dark inside. Do you think there’s been a power failure?”

“No, not really,” Colleen said, looking around. “The neighbors’ lights are on.”

“This gives me the creeps. Something is not right here.”

They quickly got out of the Toyota and paused on the bottom landing of the covered carport steps. Katherine rummaged in her bag and found her keys. “Dammit, it’s so dark. I can’t find the right one.”

“Don’t even bother,” Colleen said. “The door’s open.”

“Oh, my God! Somebody broke into the house.”

“Call the cops,” Colleen said, starting to jog down the driveway. “I can’t because my cell is upstairs on the charger.”

Katherine punched in 911.

The 911 operator answered, “What’s your emergency?”

“I’m calling from 512 Lincoln Street. Someone has broken into my house.”

“Stay where you are and I’ll send someone.”

“Okay, thanks,” Katherine said, and then
called to her friend, who was hovering at the end of the drive. “Come back, Colleen. The cops will be here in a minute.”

As the two waited, an Erie police cruiser pulled into the driveway. When the patrolman got out, they rushed over to him. A second officer got out of the car and put his baton through a loop
on his parka.

“I’m Chief Charles London and this is Officer Dan Glover. I normally don’t answer these kinds of calls but tonight it’s my turn to ride shotgun.  We’re kind of short-handed here in Erie.  Which one of you made the call?”

“I did,” Katherine said. “My name is Katherine Kendall. This is my friend Colleen Murphy. My late great aunt left me this house.”

“Yes, I heard about that. What
seems to be the problem here?”

“We came home and found all the lights were out. And the side door was open.”

“Big old house like this, I’d say you probably tripped a breaker. Did you possibly forget to shut the door?” he asked.

“I distinctly remember locking it,” she answered.

“Well, now, ladies, we’ll go in and have a look. You stay out here.”

Chief London and Officer Glover entered the house. Katherine and Colleen remained in the driveway, watching lights being turned on throughout the house.

“So much for the ‘breaker’ theory,” Colleen observed.

“What if something happened to my cats?” Katherine worried.

“When we left, you put them in the bedroom. I shut the door,” Colleen reminded.

“If a criminal got in, Scout and Lilac would hide under the bed. Iris would challenge him and possibly do battle. But, Abby, she’s so incredibly friendly, she’d probably lick his hand,” Katherine said apprehensively.

Officer Glover returned. “You two want to come in?”

“Yes, it’s freezing out here,” Colleen complained.

The chief stood in the dining room, tugging at his beard. “Well, it wasn’t a power outage. We checked out two floors; didn’t find anything suspicious. Does anyone else have keys to this house?”

“Not anymore,” Katherine said. “The locks have been changed.”

“Well, everything seems okay now. If you find anything missing, feel free to give us a call.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said.

“Lock up behind us,” he said. He tipped his hat and left.

Officer Glover said good-bye and Katherine bolted the door.

“That’s a standard phrase in this town,” she noted. “Mark said it, too.”

“What, ‘good-bye?’” Colleen asked.

“No, lock the door behind me.”

“Waugh,” Scout called meekly from atop the atrium curio cabinet. She was sitting like an Egyptian statue next to the telephone. Iris jumped up beside her. Katherine noticed that Iris’s tail was three times its normal size. Abby and Lilac entered, trotting side-by-side. They looked like two horses of a different kind. “Me-yowl,” Lilac said to Abby’s “Chirp.”

Walking over to Scout, Katherine asked, “How did you guys get out of your room?” As Katherine reached over to pick up Scout, the lights went off. “I don’t freaking believe this,” she said.

Colleen panicked and stumbled over a chair. Lilac and Abigail catapulted off the dining room wall and rocketed up the stairs. Iris or Scout misjudged the bottom step and caromed off the Turkish nook table, knocking it over in her wake. Katherine heard more feline feet thundering up the stairs.

“Colleen, are you okay?”

“I’m good, but what the hell happened?”

“It’s probably electrical,” Katherine reassured. “We’ve got to go down in the basement and find the circuit breaker box.”

“No way,” Colleen said. “How are we going to see? It’s totally dark.”

“Okay. Okay. I remember seeing a small flashlight hanging on the atrium door. Just stay here a minute and I’ll try to find it,” Katherine said bravely, feeling her way into the atrium. When she found the flashlight, she turned it on and began flashing the beam back and forth in the room. When she joined Colleen, something loud crashed in the basement.

“Oh, the saints preserve us. We’ll all be killed!” Colleen screamed, running from the house.

Katherine ran after her, slamming the door. “Colleen! Stop!”

“Are you crazy? We need to get those officers back here.”

“We can’t keep calling the cops every time we hear a little bit of noise or have a power failure. The officers turned on all the lights. It was probably too much for the system.”

“So?” Colleen said, terrified.

“So, like the chief said, it’s an old house. A power surge most likely tripped the circuit breaker. We’ve got to go down in the basement and check it out.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to go root around in that dark basement with just a flashlight,” Colleen complained. “It’s creepy enough in the daylight.”

“Which would you rather do, go with me, or stand out here and freeze to death?” Katherine countered.

Colleen mounted the covered carport steps, but Katherine kept walking down the driveway. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Remember? There’s a door in the back of the house. You can get to the basement from there.”

Walking to the rear of the house, they found the door and unlocked it. Stepping in, Colleen held the flashlight while Katherine headed to the mechanical room. Colleen swept the flashlight beam around erratically.

“Gimme that,” Katherine said, taking it away from her. “This isn’t a laser light show.” She concentrated the beam along the walls in search of the circuit breaker box.

“What does it look like?” Colleen asked.

“It’s just a gray metal box against a wall with a bunch of switches on it.”

“Like that?” Colleen said, pointing to a wall near the water heater.

“Where?”

“Over there by that tank thing, and that big green plastic bag on the floor.”

Katherine walked over and found the gray rectangular panel. She played the flashlight beam over each breaker switch; all of them indicated the power was on. She looked at the main switch at the top of the panel. The breaker was not tripped, but the switch was off. She pushed the switch up with a clank and the basement lights came on.

“For the love of Mary!” Colleen screamed.

“What now?” Katherine said, getting annoyed.

“There’s a foot sticking out under that bag!” Colleen pointed toward the water heater.

Katherine got down on her knees and partially moved the plastic garbage bag aside. She stared mutely at a lifeless body on the concrete floor.

“Is she dead?” Colleen asked, as she took a cautious step forward.

Katherine nodded. “This is so tragic. Poor Mrs. Marston.”

“Who?”

“Vivian Marston. My great aunt’s housekeeper.”

“I thought you said she was in the hospital.”

“Last time I asked about her condition, Mark said she’d been moved to the Erie Nursing Home. He said she was in a coma.”

“Coma?” Colleen asked, stunned. “Then what’s she doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Katherine said, baffled. She fished out her cell and called 911 again. “Please send the officers back to 512 Lincoln Street. We’ve found a body in the basement.”

They heard a police siren in the distance. Within a few minutes, the chief’s cruiser pulled up and parked behind Katherine’s car.
She ran out and waved them to the rear door.  Chief London and Officer Glover got out and hurriedly ran into the basement.

“Don’t touch anything,” the chief barked at Katherine and Colleen. “I used to be a detective in the city before the Mayor appointed me the new chief.” He brusquely strode over to the body, pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, and stooped down, looking closely at the face. “I know who this is,” he said. “It’s Vivian Marston.” He looked up at Katherine and asked, “Why is she wedged next to the water heater?”

“I don’t know,” Katherine answered sadly.

The stillness of the room was shattered by the bloodcurdling yowl of a terrified feline upstairs. One of the cats was throwing her body against the door at the top of the basement stairs. The door led to Katherine’s office.

Officer Glover unsnapped the flap on his holster and started up the stairs.

“Stop!” Katherine pleaded. “It’s my cat behind the door. Please don’t shoot.”

“Sounded like a woman screaming,” he said suspiciously.

The hysterical cry was heard again. “Waugh,” Scout shrieked.

“It’s Scout—my Siamese. She’s very upset. I’ve got to go and comfort her,” she said, heading for the windowed sunroom.

“Where are you going?” he yelled.

“Please, Officer, the door is bolt-locked from the other side. I have to go back out to the side door.”

“No, it’s not,” Officer Glover said as he pushed open the door. Suddenly a streak of brown shot down the basement steps like a bullet. The officer grabbed the handrail and nearly lost his balance as he sidestepped the hysterical ten-pound Siamese.

“Scout,” Katherine cried anxiously.

Scout ran past her and went directly to the body. She arched her back, and with all four legs stiffened, began bouncing up and down in some kind of bizarre dance, with her eyes fixed on the corpse.

“Why is she doing that?” Colleen asked, frightened.

“Get that cat away from the crime scene,” the chief shouted in exasperation.

Katherine rushed over and reached down to pick up the terror-stricken cat. Scout’s V-shaped jaw was tightly clamped on a small silver key ring with a charm attached. With one hand, Katherine began massaging Scout’s mouth. Scout spit out the key ring and then bit Katherine hard on the hand. “Ouch,” cried Katherine. Scout sprang off Katherine and resumed her macabre dance. She began uttering a throaty, morbid-sounding wail.

The chief seemed angry, but reluctant to move closer to Scout. He said to Katherine, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call Animal Control.”

“Oh, no! Please don’t. She’s just frightened,” Katherine pleaded. “Scout, darling,” she said gently. Scout gave one last Halloween lurch, then trotted back to Katherine. “Waugh,” the Siamese said in her normal voice. Katherine picked her up and began stroking her. Scout was trembling. “It’s okay, baby,” Katherine cooed. Scout thrust her head against Katherine’s forehead, then nuzzled her head into the crook of Katherine’s arm.