4

 

“You’re sure he’ll be all right?” I asked the woman for the sixth time.

She placed a gloved hand on my beloved Memnet, tiny stethoscope to his chest.

Mom grabbed my elbow to steer me away from the exam table back into the waiting room, casting the too-young-looking veterinarian an apologetic glance.

“She’s gotta be younger than I am, Mom,” I said. “I can’t trust Memnet to somebody who is that much younger than me. How can she possibly know what’s going on? I don’t know what’s going on.” I felt hysteria burbling up, and I could tell Mom thought so, too.

“Now, Ivy.” Mom used the firm tone she once used on me in high school when I tried to find a reason for breaking curfew. “You’re not helping the situation with this kind of behavior. Doctor Bailey appears to know what she’s doing. She came in special for us. Come, sit.”

I could not sit, so I paced. The long, narrow room smelled of dog and disinfectant with an underlying hint of peppermint, which I realized, after passing it on my eighth lap, came from an air freshener plugged into the outlet behind a hexagonal side table. The police allowed us to rush Memnet over to the vet’s office as soon as the preliminary check was done. We promised to give a full statement tomorrow.

“Miss Preston?” The doctor stood in the connecting doorway, holding a limp Memnet in her arms.

He tried to greet me and made a weak attempt to come to me. I took him with gratitude and hid my tears in his coat. Mem’s wheezy purr ratcheted up a notch.

Dr. Bailey stroked his ears. “Generally speaking, Memnet’s in very good health,” she praised us. “He’s getting up there, of course. He’s eleven years old, you said? He’s doing pretty well, then.”

“Do-do you know much about Maus?” I asked, while getting control of myself.

Mom stood at my other side.

The doctor smiled. “The mayor brings Tut in regularly.” She looked at us with narrow-eyed curiosity. “He told me he hoped to bring more Mauists into Apple Grove and I should be ready.” The woman swished her long ponytail over her right shoulder. “I didn’t think my first encounter would be with a beauty like Memnet. I wish I could be more specific about what he got into, but at this point, the substance seems to have cleared most of his system. I took a blood sample to send to the lab. Update me on how he’s getting on, say, in two days. Otherwise, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” In response to my apparent expression of panic, she pointed to the pocket of my shirt. “You put my card in your pocket.” She winked at us, then. “My daughter is in high school. She’s developed a keen interest in Egyptian Maus since getting acquainted with Tut.” Dr. Bailey walked to the door with us and let us out. Up close I could see that she was not that young. There were plenty of silver hairs streaking that blond ponytail.

Ivy, get a grip.

Mom drove so I could hold Memnet. Usually a contented rider as long as he was in his carry box, today he was too exhausted to notice scenery whizzing by.

“I think Memnet scared your intruder away the first time. The thief realized he had to knock out your attack cat if he wanted to steal anything on this attempt,” Mom said.

“But who would do something like that?”

Mom hmm’d. “You must have gotten some information someone needed to be kept quiet. Perhaps someone in the town just wants to frighten you away. You were the one who wanted to move away from the big, bad suburbs, remember? And I believe you said not everyone in Apple Grove is ready for an influx of newcomers.”

I ignored her subtle hint. “Or Mem annoyed someone.”

“What do you suppose the doctor meant when she said the mayor thought she should be ready?” Mom asked.

“For more cats like Tut and Mem?”

“Or their owners.”

“Ha! We’re all just a bunch of trouble-makers, right?” Mom didn’t have any pets. She pulled into my narrow gravel drive up to the one-car garage painted a zesty yellow to match the trim of the cottage. “You should come home with me.” She put a hand up to halt my protest. “I said ‘should.’ I know you don’t want to, but won’t you please think about it, at least until you feel safe?”

“I do feel safe, Mom. I’m not sure why, exactly, but the person could have easily killed Mem and he or she didn’t. The thief obviously got what he came for, although pawning my equipment won’t be easy since it’s all marked.”

“The thief obviously wanted more than the equipment alone, then. What about information?”

“Who would care about Netty Drumm’s flower blog she commissioned me to design? Or that Bernice’s Hobby Shop will be closed for three days next week due to having the place fumigated, which I’m not supposed to mention, and I’m to put announcements on their website? Or Gina Ebersole’s babysitting service that’s supposed to block assignments from the Wayland Murphys? What kind of high school kid orders a message relay for unwanted business?” I shook my head. “Mom—”

“Your business can’t be that mundane.” She held her tongue as we took Mem inside where he sought a patch of sunlight in the living room and made himself comfortable. Messages on the answering machine I kept for my private line were waiting: the LCD indicator flashed three.

“I’ll just go freshen up,” Mom said as she carried her purse into the guest room.

The first message was from Officer Ripple who wanted to set up a time to interview my mother and me.

Easy enough. Mom would be here all week. We could surely squeeze in an appointment for such an important opportunity to discuss why Apple Grove was suddenly turning into a hotbed of intrigue since I moved here. They had, of course, taken our initial statements earlier; dusted for fingerprints, took photos, combed poor Mem, and taken the sack he’d been tied in.

Dale Robbins from next door said he’d assumed the van in the driveway, the one that advertised something about security systems, was there on business for me; and no, unfortunately he hadn’t paid any more attention to the company name or license plate number.

We definitely needed to work on the neighborhood watch details.

The next message was from some family member of Netty, wondering about the cost of the funeral flowers. I had not been kidding with my mom about the nature of my work. I wondered how the family member got my personal number, since I don’t give it out readily. The third message was a hang-up. I frowned, perplexed. My machine did not record hang-ups unless there was some other accompanying sound. I reached to press the replay button.

“OK, honey. All set for lunch? Anything I can help you with?” Mom came back to the kitchen with her “determined to keep Ivy upbeat” expression.

I let the puzzling last message go and turned to explain about the police request for an interview.

“Of course, I’ll help in any way I can. They do know about my coursework, don’t they?”

“Um, I doubt it. For some reason, the subject hasn’t come up.” To thwart the astonishing news I had a lapse of judgment in not relaying to the police the very important information that my mother taught criminology, part time, at a community college, in another city, I distracted her with the first item that came to mind. “I’ve invited a friend over for dinner later in the week. I hope you can help me cook.”

Her eyebrows went up. “A friend?”

I planned to regret this later. “Yep. I have made a bona fide friend. His name’s Adam Thompson and he just opened the new bookstore. In fact, tomorrow we’ll get a cup of coffee there.”

“I thought you said this man owned a bookstore.”

I squirmed and gathered the strap of my purse over my shoulder. I jiggled the car keys. “He also does fancy coffees and gifts. Memnet seems fine for now. Let’s go out for lunch.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

I wasn’t sure if she meant the friend, the cat, or the lunch.

~*~

 

We sat in Officer Ripple’s cramped office at City Hall the next morning. Mom settled in, comfortable in the presence of law enforcement as much as I was not. I didn’t feel guilty or anything, I just wasn’t as fascinated by high crimes and misdemeanors as my mother. She had made a niche for herself studying criminal behavior and passing that knowledge on in her college classes, the workshops she put on for community neighborhood watches, and even for local police departments and schools. She possessed a natural poise I assumed I would have by the time I reached her age. Trouble was, I never seemed to reach her age.

“So, Miss Preston, Mrs. Preston.” Ripple shuffled the typed pages of our earlier statements on his desk. “As I understand, you both were out of town—”

“That’s right,” Mom said. “We went for a drive in the…country.”

“And neither of you heard anything earlier in the day or evening? Saw anything or anyone out of place, say, in the neighborhood? Heard any strange noises you couldn’t identify?” Ripple asked.

“Officer, my daughter has barely settled in. Everything is strange and out of place to her. Perhaps I could offer my assistance,” Mom said.

Ripple threw his pen on the pile of pages and then leaned back in his creaky chair.

I swiftly gathered a breath. “Thank you, Mom.” I shifted to meet the resigned, closed expression of the officer in charge of me—my case, that is. “We didn’t see anything out of place. The neighbors came and went at their usual times. This has to be related to the earlier break-in, right? Only this time they were prepared for Memnet.” At Ripple’s speculative glance in my direction, I closed my open mouth, then gave a faint negative shake of my head. I could just imagine his thoughts: no wonder this one’s crazy. Check out the parent.

“We can’t jump to conclusions, Miss Preston,” Ripple said. “Until we have clear evidence linking the two, we’re treating this as a separate incident.”

“Detec—ah, Officer Ripple,” my mother inserted suavely, uncrossing her legs and leaning toward him, smile wide and deep. She tapped the pile of papers on the desk. “You’ve applied for promotion, I see. You’ll make a wonderful detective.”

Officer Ripple actually preened at my mother’s non-accidental slip.

I felt my mouth pucker and stifled the smirk at her tactics.

“Do you believe this theft has anything to do with Ivy’s allegation that something might have happened to Apple Grove’s mayor?”

Ripple laughed, but quickly smothered it. “Absolutely not! Mayor Conklin is on a business trip. In small towns like ours, the mayor’s job isn’t often a full-time position. Donald keeps regular office hours, but he’s been away a lot recently, working on behalf of bettering the community. Outsiders will have to adjust to not having the mayor at their beck and call.”

Ouch. OK, I’ll probably always be considered an outsider. I was unprepared for Mom’s next move and needed to hustle to keep up with her.

She stood in one fluid movement while somehow managing to snag her handbag at the same time.

I grabbed and missed my bag a couple of times, and then, red-faced, clumsily pushed out of the broken-sprung chair.

Mom held out her hand over Ripple’s desk.

Ripple lurched forward to grab it, while trying to stand as well.

“Thank you for your time, sir,” Mom cooed, as if we had not been the invitees. She smiled brilliantly, doing her magic best to put him at ease.

I often watched her do it with recalcitrant students, obstinate potential suitors, and bullying neighbors, and stood back to admire. Although why she catered to this guy, I couldn’t tell. I followed her out the door, to the elevator.

“Do you mind if we go up to the mayor’s office, Ivy?” she asked.

“The office will probably be locked up if the mayor is out,” I replied. “But, sure, we can see if maybe Marion’s there. She said she would stop in a couple of times to catch up on the mail.” After the elevator doors closed I started in. “Mom, why—”

She held up a hand, her warning sign, and made a nice smile at me. It was her way of asking me to wait before speaking. I suppose she thought the elevator might be bugged or something. As if Big Brother was concerned that terrorists might be planning their attack strategy in an elevator in Apple Grove, Illinois. Honestly.

As I suspected, the door marked “Mayor” was locked tight and the place was dark.

Mom still peered through the window and rattled the door. Then she looked up and down the hallway.

On the fourth floor the only other enclosed spaces in this wing were restrooms and two large conference rooms. The area was cut off from the police side of city hall by a wall, with the elevator and stairs being the only inside access. An emergency fire escape snaked up one side of the wall past windows.

“I’ve been told the old holding cells are in the basement. With the rats. Wanna go check those out, too?”

“No, thank you, darling. Some other time,” Mom replied calmly.

I despised the childish anxiety that rose from my gut. “Let’s go get that cup of coffee.” Seeing Adam would definitely perk me up. Pun intended. I grinned.

“What’s so funny?” Mom asked, as she headed toward the elevator.

“Oh, nothing much.” I reached out and hugged her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

We turned to walk back the way we’d come.

Mom stopped and glanced back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Why would the men’s room light be on, when there’s no one here?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure someone just forgot. Maintenance will take care of it.”

“But the mayor’s suite is the only one occupying this floor, right?”

I double-checked the felt board at the end of the hall. “Yup.”

“And if only the mayor’s wife and female assistant were here…”

“Then what? Mom, there’s bound to be a lot of people coming and going.”

“Not if the mayor’s out of town.”

I could have kept going with the rationalization, but I wanted to see Adam. I knew where this was headed, so I heaved my best drama queen sigh and straight-armed the door open.

I suppose I should have called out first, but Donald was in no state to protest.