Page 5 of Catnapped

Mrs. Farrol gasps. “That is a family heirloom! My grandmother received that as a gift from Rockefeller!”

May winces.

I put a hand on her knee. “No need to yell, Mrs. Farrol.”

She slumps back in her chair and grabs her drink. “Too right. All this upset and dismay are taking a toll on me.”

“It’s all right,” May says.

It’s not, but I let May continue, my hand still on her knee. She doesn’t have to be afraid. I won’t let this crazy old bird raise her voice again. Not to May.

“So she was hiding,” May runs her hand down the cat’s back, “and waiting for Fitzy to–”

“Fitzy?” Mrs. Farrol asks, agog.

“That’s her pet name for him.” May shrugs.

“Inappropriate.” Mrs. Farrol scowls at the cat. “He’sroyalty.”

May clears her throat. “Anyway, she was waiting, but he never came. By the time she gave up and clawed her way out of the coat, she couldn’t find any trace of him.”

“The cat said all that?” I stare down at the fluffy murder cloud in my lap.

“Yes.” May says it so assuredly. She truly believes she’s speaking to the cat. Or, I suppose,listeningto it. “And one more thing, when she came out of the closet and set off to look for Fitzy, she smelled something strange in the house.”

“Strange?” Mrs. Farrol perks up again. “Like what?”

“She doesn’t know. But she said she’d know if she smelled it again.”

“Ugh.” Mrs. Farrol grimaces. “That’s nothing. No help at all. I should’ve tossed that trollop out on the street the moment shecame pawing at the door. This could be all her fault. In fact, we were perfectly happy before she–”

“Mrs. Farrol.” May cups her hands over the cat’s ears. “Please. She can hear you.”

Mrs. Farrol drains her glass with a loud gulp.

“Are there any other pets we can interview?” May asks.

“No. Just her.”

“What about the butler?” I ask.

“Dudley?” Mrs. Farrol hiccups. “He loves my baby boy. Everyone does. It’s impossible not to.” She beams at the pink-on-pink painting of the not-so-attractive cat. “He’s the cutest thing in the world. So sweet and kind.”

“Right.” I shift, hoping the cat will jump down. She simply shifts with me, her big green eyes looking almost … smug. But cats don’t have expressions. They don’t talk, either, I remind myself. “We’ll need to speak with Dudley and anyone else who was on the property the day the cat disappeared.”

May nods.

“Of course. You have free rein. Just find my baby and bring him back to me.” She lies back dramatically, one arm draped across her eyes. “I simply can’t do without him.”

May whispers something to the cat, which then jumps off my lap and trots to the door. May rises, and I follow her lead, hating the fact my hand isn’t on her any longer.

“I’ll do the questioning this time,” I tell her as I open the door for her.

“Thank you.” She looks up at me, her delectable mouth in a sweet smile.

My heart seems to beat at twice its usual speed, and I find my own lips twitching. It’s as if they want to … smile.

I’ve gone from investigating a missing person to searching for a lost cat with a woman who thinks she can talk to animals. What the hell is happening to me? And why do I seem to like it?

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