Page 96 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“Sure.” Arthur accepted the cat with slow, gentle moves. “Hey, Ms. Mittens,” he murmured into her fur.

Her paws did look like mittens, and she wasn’t wearing a collar, which didn’t mean much. Most cats figure out how to get out of a collar in about fifty-three seconds, flat.

While the kids were busy with the cat and Cam was buying several of the slim bottles of oil, I also dipped and tasted. Oh, good heavens. I was going to have to purchase a bottle, too, and I’d get one for Allie while I was at it. If Narini took credit cards.

I glanced up to see Thea staring at me with stony eyes and a set to her mouth I didn’t like. I countered with a friendly smile I didn’t feel. She didn’t return it and looked away.

After we finished our olive oil transactions, Arthur gave me a pleading look.

“We can keep Ms. Mittens, can’t we?” he asked in his sweetest, highest voice.

“Please, Auntie Cee?” Franklin added.

“It’s not my decision, boys,” I said. “Look, she’s well fed. She must belong to someone here.”

“I’ve never seen anyone taking care of her.” Thea arched an eyebrow. “She’s usually around the market begging.”

Interesting. Narini said she’d never seen the cat.

“See?” Arthur asked. “Nobody owns her.”

As if cats were ever owned by anyone. My tabby Martin back home was testimony to feline independence. “But Frankie, you’re allergic,” I said. “You can’t be sneezing all the time at home.”

“We could keep her in the garage,” Franklin said.

“Yeah, set up a little cubby for her in a big box with an old blanket and her food and stuff.” Arthur still hadn’t put her down, and she showed no inclination to want to be released.

“Even if she is a stray, the decision is up to your mom and dad.” I hoisted my ever-heavier bag on my shoulder. “Come on. Aren’t you hungry for tamales? Put her down, honey, and you both say goodbye to her. We can ask your parents after we get home.”

With an adult-worthy sigh of reluctance, Arthur set Mittens on the ground and gave her one last stroke.

Franklin sneezed again. “Bye, Ms. Mittens.”

I thanked Narini and turned to go, ushering my nephews ahead of me. Cam strolled with us. What lingered in my ears was the sound of an argument beginning in hushed voices behind me.

We stood in a line ten-deep at the tamale truck, with our new black-and-white friend keeping us company.

Rafael strode up. “Can I have a quick word, Cece?”

“Um, all right.” I glanced at Cam. “Can you watch them for a second?”

“Sure,” Cam said. “I’ll treat everybody.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur shot Rafael a scowl.

“You’re going to stay right here and hold my place, Artie, right?” I asked.

He nodded, then picked up Mittens and held her tight like a shield.

I stepped out of line and moved a couple of yards away to where Rafael stood.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I saw you talking with Thea Robinet and thought you might want to know a little thing about her.”

Huh. I hadn’t seen him watching. “Okay. What?”

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