The Fashion Hound Murders (9 page)

“Any puppy mill pets at these stores?” Josie asked.

“They don’t sell pets at all,” Harry said. “And you won’t need a purse camera.”

“Good,” Josie said.

Josie paced the floors for another hour, waiting for news about Harry the cat. The Humane Society veterinarian’s office called. Harry’s operation was a success. She could pick up the cat after three o’clock.

She was nearly weak with relief. Josie filled the cat’s bowls with food and water and put a soft toy mouse and a yarn ball on the cat’s rug. There. The room was ready. Now she needed to get Amelia at school.

Amelia fairly skimmed over the ground as she ran to her mother’s car that afternoon.

“Is Harry okay?” she asked.

“Good afternoon to you, too,” Josie said. “Harry is fine and we’re going to pick him up, unless you have something else you’d rather do.”

“No,” Amelia said, as if her mother had asked a serious question.

“Don’t be too disappointed if he doesn’t want to play,” Josie said. “He’s had surgery. His paws are hurting and he’ll be groggy. He’ll probably want to go to sleep.”

“I understand,” Amelia said.

All the way to the Macklind Avenue shelter, Amelia texted Emma about her plans for the cat in that strange shorthand kids used. Josie was grateful for the quiet.

Amelia insisted on carrying in the pet caddy herself.

Josie was impressed with how the vet tech handled the cat. She’d carefully wrapped Harry in a scrap of old blanket, then packed him into the new caddy. Harry looked sleepy and flopped down inside like a rag doll. Josie felt a pang of guilt when she saw his stitched front paws.

Amelia held the cat carrier on her lap on the way home and peppered Josie with questions. “When do you think he’ll come out and play, Mom?” “How long will he sleep, Mom?” “Will he get any bigger, Mom?” “When’s he going to be well, Mom?”

Josie answered, “I don’t know” until Amelia gave up. She refused Josie’s help carrying the cat inside. “He’s not heavy, Mom.”

Harry was carried into the purple bathroom with great ceremony. He didn’t make a sound. When Amelia opened the door to his carrier, Harry poked out his head and looked around cautiously.

“He’s coming out!” Amelia said, as if she’d spotted a rock star.

Harry crawled under the claw-foot bathtub and refused to budge.

“Harry, come out and play,” Amelia called.

“Let him alone, honey,” Josie said. “He’s had a hard day.”

“Can I ask Grandma to come see him?”

“You can, but she doesn’t like cats.”

Josie called her mother.

“Are you seeing someone besides Stan?” Jane asked when she picked up the phone.

“Not yet.”

“Josie, you won’t find a better man,” Jane said.

“That’s the problem, Mom,” Josie said. “I’m looking for someone who’s not quite so perfect.”

“Humph!” Jane said. “There are plenty of drug dealers. And that last one you dated, that plumber—well, I won’t mention his family.”

“Me, either, Mom,” Josie said, interrupting Jane. “Your granddaughter wants to know if you’ll come downstairs to see her cat.”

“I am not entering your home with that wild animal running loose,” Jane said.

Chapter 9

“So that’s all I can tell you about me,” Jerry said, scratching Sassybear’s ears. The friendly black and tan dog was one of the official greeters at Airedale Antics. Amelia was petting Chloe and checking out the cat treats.

After some coaxing, Jerry began to talk about himself. “I work at the post office. I rent a house in Maplewood. I’m single and I have a dog named Chloe. Not real exciting.” He dismissed himself with a shy little shrug. Josie wanted to scratch his ears and pat his blond head.

Down girl, she told herself.

“Uh, how do you feel about exercise?” she asked.

He patted a nearly nonexistent paunch. “I should do more,” he said. “But I don’t. Too busy.”

“That’s good,” Josie said.

“It is?” Jerry tilted his head like a puzzled pup. “My doctor says I need to work out more. So does my mom. I wouldn’t have a weight problem if Mom weren’t such a good cook. I don’t get much exercise standing behind a post office counter. That’s why I got Chloe. I thought walking her would help me lose weight. Could I buy you some wine? I mean, your cat?”

“Harry might like the Meowlot,” Josie said. “You could buy him a drink.”

“Can cats have wine?” Amelia asked. “Isn’t it bad for them?”

“It’s not real wine, honey. It’s all-natural gravy with vitamins and minerals,” Josie said.

“I’m getting Chloe a bottle of Barkundy,” Jerry said.

“Is Jerry short for Gerald?” Amelia asked. “We have a Gerald in my class.”

“No, it’s for Jeremiah,” he said. “My dad was a born-again Christian.”

“Oh, the prophet,” Josie said.

“The brokenhearted prophet,” Jerry said. “No one listened to his prophecies. I use Jerry. My father died two years ago. Cancer.”

“My father died, too, last year,” Amelia said. “I miss him.”

“I miss Dad, too,” Jerry said. “So does Mom.”

There was a long silence.

Then Jerry said, “But enough about me. Tell me what a mystery shopper does, Josie. Do you really get paid to shop, like the ads say?”

“Those ads are usually scams,” Josie said. She spent a half hour talking about her work. Jerry listened and asked questions. Jerry really did seem ordinary, in the best sense of the word. Josie knew she wasn’t always a good judge of men, but in the last hour, Jerry hadn’t hit on her, talked about his ex, or done anything that set off alarms.

“Are you seeing anyone seriously?” he asked. Jerry noticed her slight hesitation.

“Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t mean to go too fast. But I was so happy you didn’t start singing ‘Jeremiah was a bullfrog’ when I told you my name. I’m really tired of that song.”

“Can’t blame you,” Josie said.

“Could Chloe and I walk you two home?” Jerry asked.

“It’s not too cold tonight,” Josie said. “I definitely need a walk. I’m embarrassed to say our home has an old couch out in front, but that will be picked up next week.”

On their walk, Chloe stopped to sniff every bush, tree, and light pole on the street. Amelia solemnly held the red leash while Jerry and Josie talked. Chloe stopped for frequent pats and ear scratches, and even rolled over and presented her belly for scratching. “Her fur is so soft, Mom. Almost as soft as Harry’s,” Amelia said. No animal could compare with Harry.

When they reached Josie’s home, Jerry said, “We’re practically neighbors. You live only two blocks away.”

Chloe streaked across the sidewalk, with Amelia hanging on to the leash. The pup stopped to anoint the couch by the curb. “Chloe! No!” Jerry shouted. He ran up and yanked her leash.

“Once it’s outside, the couch is fair game,” Josie said.

“I’m not sure Chloe knows the difference between outside and inside couches. She has enough bad habits.”

Josie could see Mrs. Mueller peering through her blinds. Josie waved at the old sourpuss, and the blinds snapped shut.

They stood outside Josie’s flat while Amelia talked nonstop about her new cat. “I wish he’d come out and play,” she said. “All I saw of him since he came home was the tip of his tail under the bathtub.”

“Well, that’s progress,” Jerry said. “He’s eating, right?”

“And he uses the litter box,” Amelia said. “He’s really good about that. It’s my least favorite chore. I just wish I could see him.”

“It takes time,” Jerry said. “Cats don’t like change. I should know. My mom has thirty-seven. If you want to see cats, you should come to our house for dinner tomorrow night. Mom would let you play with her cats. How about it, Josie?”

“Uh, it’s a little soon,” Josie said. And it could become an endless evening if Josie and Jerry’s mother didn’t hit it off.

“Mom loves company,” Jerry said. “Amelia can play with the cats and with Chloe.”

“Yeah, Mom,” Amelia said.

“But we have a lot to do on Saturday,” Josie said, stalling for an excuse.

“We can sleep late Sunday. I don’t have school,” Amelia said.

“Good,” Jerry said. “It’s all settled. I’ll pick you up at five. It will be just a few hours. I’ll make sure you’re home early. What can go wrong?”

A million things, Josie thought. But I’ll have my cell phone. I can call for help if there’s a problem.

She said yes. She knew she would regret that decision. She didn’t realize how much.

Chapter 10

Josie and Amelia were squeezed shoulder to shoulder in the front seat of Jerry’s dented black Ford pickup. Chloe the pup squirmed on Amelia’s lap, her tail wagging happily.
Thump! Thump!
The pup’s tail kept whipping Josie’s arm while Amelia scratched the dog’s ears.

Amelia was in a good mood. Harry had poked his head out from under the bathtub this morning and allowed her to pet one paw before he scurried back to shelter. Amelia had texted this triumph to her friend Emma.

Now she told Jerry about her encounter with Harry. He listened carefully and asked the right questions. Josie marveled at his patience.

The old truck bounced along a gravel road in Wildfern. Tiny rocks pinged off its chipped dark paint. Wildfern was a remote suburb in West St. Louis County that lived up to its name—it was mostly wildwoods. In the summer, dark leathery ferns grew in their shady depths. Wildfern had more unpaved roads than any other part of the county. Bare trees almost grew across the narrow road, and their branches left more scratches on the truck’s sides.

Josie was uneasy. They were in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew. It was dark. She wondered if she could even get cell phone service out here and quickly checked her phone. Oops. One thin bar.

“Something wrong?” Jerry asked.

“Thought I might have a message from my boss,” Josie said. “But he’s decided to leave me alone today.”

It was growing dark, but not cold. It was supposed to be unseasonably warm for the next few days, so she and Amelia wouldn’t freeze to death in the deep woods.

“We’ll be bouncing in these ruts a little while longer,” Jerry said. “You’ll see Mom’s house after the next rise. It will be on the right.”

Whump!
The front wheels dropped a foot or two, and the truck lurched. So did Josie’s stomach. Jerry steered the battered pickup back into the ruts, while putting out a hand to protect Amelia. The pup nearly slid out of Amelia’s lap. She caught it and Chloe squealed.

“Easy, girl,” Jerry said.

Josie wasn’t sure if he was talking to the truck or the dog. “Sorry. That was a deep rut. It’s about time for the neighbors to pitch in and get another load of gravel for this road or I’m going to break an axle. Are you okay, Amelia?”

“I’m fine,” she said, and smiled at Jerry. Break an axle, she thought. Why did that sound familiar?

“Those sure were good brownies, Amelia. Mom will love them.”

My daughter is lonesome for her father, Josie thought. She’d insisted on baking Jerry a batch of brownies. Jerry had happily eaten three before they left for dinner at his mother’s house. The rest were wrapped in aluminum foil for his mother. Josie held those and hoped they weren’t covered with dog hair.

“Uh, before we get there, I should tell you my mom is a little unusual,” Jerry said.

“So is mine,” Josie said.

“That’s her duplex there,” Jerry said.

Josie saw a one-story, pale green rambler surrounded by an acre of brown winter lawn. She was glad she didn’t have to mow it. The long concrete slab porch was sheltered by a brown vine and a green striped awning. “That’s Mom’s moon vine on the porch. In the summer, it has the prettiest flowers. She has honeysuckle growing up the side trellis. Mom loves flowers.”

Bernice “Call Me Bernie” met them at the door. She had a comfortable figure and an old-fashioned apron protecting a flowered housedress. She gravely thanked Amelia for the brownies and asked her recipe.

“I’ve made apple pie for our dessert,” Bernie said. “But your brownies will make a good bedtime snack.”

Three cats crowded around Bernie’s feet. Two more slept curled on top of the television. Brown, white, black, and gray cats perched on couches and chairs. An old hound slept near the furnace grate, a kitten nestled in his paws. Jerry had to restrain Chloe from bounding over to join them.

“Let me see my grand dog,” Bernie said, after the people were introduced. Chloe pranced and twirled, got tangled in her leash, and had her ears scratched.

“Come into the kitchen,” Bernie said. “I’m making pork chops.”

A fluffy black cat boldly strutted across the table and sat in the bread basket. Josie’s stomach turned. Bernie swatted the cat with a dish towel. “Blackie, get off the table. You know better.”

Blackie stared defiantly at Bernie. Bernie picked up the cat by the scruff and dropped it on the floor. Chloe sniffed the cat and Blackie planted his claws in Chloe’s tender nose. The pup howled in pain.

“Is she hurt?” Amelia asked.

Jerry checked the pup’s nose. “No blood. She’s learned her lesson.”

“Put Chloe in the backyard,” Bernice said. “Otherwise, she’ll wake up poor old Hound Dog. He’s getting a bit creaky. Fix her a bowl of water and some kibble. Would you like a beer or diet soda, Josie?”

“Diet soda. In the can, please,” Josie said as she watched cat hair float across the room.

“Have a seat at the table there,” Bernie said. “Dinner will be ready in a sec.”

Bernie shooed a yellow cat off a chair and pointed with the meat fork for Josie to sit down. Amelia took the chair next to her mother.

More cats came shyly out of corners to study the new-comers. Many didn’t look healthy. One tabby had a weepy eye. A calico had bald patches in its coat. Josie hoped she didn’t take a skin disease home to Amelia’s cat. The thought made her itch.

“Where is your bathroom?” Josie asked.

“That door there,” Bernie said, waving toward the back of the kitchen.

In the mirror on the bathroom door, Josie saw that she was covered with cat hair. She looked like she was wearing fur pants. Well, she could clean that off.

Quit judging Bernie, she told herself. She’s a nice lady even if she is a bit lax with her housekeeping. You’re not exactly Martha Stewart. Josie washed her hands and went back to the kitchen.