“Where to next?” Mart asked as we pulled back out onto the main road toward town. “Who else do we need to interrogate?” she added in a horrible New York accent.
“Well,” I said as I glanced at the dashboard clock, “we probably only have time for one more stop before business hours are over for most everyone, so let’s prioritize.” I handed her the list that I’d crammed into my pocket.
“Harvey, have you heard of folders? Or a purse? Anything that holds things neatly?” she said as she smoothed out the rumpled paper.
“Hey, just be grateful that I don’t write all my notes on my hands and arms anymore. That practice carried me through my twenties just fine.”
Mart rolled her eyes hard enough that I could see it in my peripheral vision but then said, “Okay, so there are the two vets in town on here. One of them is ours, and I can’t see her even caring what Penelope Whatsherface did.”
I nodded. Our vet was old Eastern Shore stock. Totally up to date on the latest information and technologies but also quite confident that the old ways worked well in most cases. I loved her because I knew she’d tell me the brazen truth with compassion, and she also wasn’t one to recommend expensive procedures if they weren’t going to improve an animal’s life meaningfully. “Yeah, Melissa is brass tacks and no-nonsense. I think we can skip her.”
Mart removed a pen from her very cute and tidy purse and marked our vet’s name off. “So that just leaves that mobile cat grooming van and the vet right in town. Maybe we do the vet since that’s on the way?”
I nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll try to catch up with the other groomer tomorrow. Maybe someone will let me borrow a cat as a cover?”
“Good luck with that,” Mart said.
Within a few minutes, we pulled into a very well-landscaped, charming farmhouse that had apparently been converted into a vet’s office. The pathway up to the front porch was lined with plants and adorable animal figurines made from concrete, and on the porch itself, hand-painted Styrofoam coolers were tucked along the sides.
“Interesting décor,” Mart said as she peered down at one of the coolers and promptly stumbled backward. “There’s a cat in there!”
I leaned forward. “Oh, hi, kitty,” I said and was greeted with a fervent hiss. “All right, then, enjoy your bed.”
We turned toward the entrance and saw a brass sign that said, Come On In. We did as directed and stepped into a beautiful foyer with a beautiful staircase at the back and a receptionist’s desk straight ahead.
“Hello,” I said to the smiling woman at the desk. “We were wondering if Dr. Stoltzfus has a few minutes to chat with us.”
“He’s with a patient at the moment, but when he’s free, I will be happy to ask him. May I tell him what this is about?”
I opened my mouth to say Penelope’s name, but Mart spoke before I could. “We’ve found a few stray cats, and we’re hoping to get his advice on how to care for them best.”
The woman’s face grew even brighter. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk with you. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let you know when he’s free.” She gestured toward a sitting room that looked more like a Victorian parlor than a waiting room. “There’s kombucha and water if you’re thirsty.”
We made our way into the room, and I poured myself some of the kombucha stored in the small fridge in the corner, having never tried it. It seemed a strange element for this tidy, farm-like office, but we all had our eccentricities. And the drink was good if slightly sweaty tasting. “Want some?” I said as I held my glass out to Mart.
“No, thank you. I know it’s really good for you, but I can’t stand it. Tastes like the locker room in my middle school gym.”
I had to admit her description was pretty accurate, and I wondered what it said about me that I kind of liked it. I carried my glass to a lovely armchair across from the one Mart had chosen and glanced at the magazines on the table between us. Dogs Naturally, Holistic Wellness, and several other alternative medicine titles. The kombucha was beginning to fit more.
And when the vet joined us, it felt like everything clicked into place. He was a white man in his fifties with a long, black ponytail and socks under his sandals. I totally got the vibe when I saw him. “Dr. Stoltzfus?” I said as I stood up. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”
“Of course,” he said as he shook both our hands. “I understand you know of some stray cats?”
“Um, yes,” Mart said as I shot her a look. She’d started this, so she was going to have to carry it through. “I mean, yes, there are several strays by my friend’s bookstore downtown. We’ve been sure to give them water, but we haven’t fed them because we aren’t sure it’s the best call for them to be where there’s so much traffic.”
I stared at my best friend. She was a very good li—storyteller. A very good storyteller.
“Do you think we should call animal control, just to be sure they’re safe? Or is there another option?”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully and said, “It sounds like you have a feral cat colony, much like I do here.” He pointed toward the porch. “You probably saw the coolers when you came in.”
“We did,” I said. “So the cats in those are feral?”
“Yes, and they live right around here. We give them food and water and those boxes to stay warm or cool, depending on the weather. And they keep mice and rats away.” He studied first me and then Mart. “I would be happy to help you give your own colony safety if you’d like.”
Now, I felt bad. This man was offering to help us, and we didn’t even have any stray cats. “But is it really safe to encourage them to stay in such a high-traffic area?”
Stoltzfus sighed. “Probably not, but the truth is that if you move them anywhere else, they’ll likely just return. That’s home to them.” He held my gaze for a very long moment. “And the only other option is just not an option at all, as far as I’m concerned.”
My heart started to pound. “Euthanasia?” I asked.
“Cat murder,” he said.
Mart jerked her head back at that pronouncement but recovered, nodding sincerely. “So, what do you suggest?”
For the next few minutes, we listened to him explain how spaying and neutering were essential and were safe havens for the cats. He offered a very discounted rate for the sterilization procedures and said he’d give us a list of people who often supported feral cat colonies. “It’s a bit of work upfront, but then the colony provides a service. And when the males are neutered, it’s a fairly peaceable kingdom, if you will.”
I figured now wasn’t the time to mention that I brought two dogs to work who would do anything they could to disturb that peace if allowed. Besides, we didn’t have any cats to speak of. “That sounds great, Dr. Stoltzfus,” I said. “Much better than the earlier advice we’d been given.”
“Oh?” he asked. “What advice was that?”
Mart shook her head. “That woman who owns the cat spa, well, she told us to just have them put down. That they were simply a nuisance.”
At the mere mention of Penelope, Stoltzfus’s face grew hard, and his whole body tensed. “That woman,” he practically spat as he spoke, “should never have been allowed to touch an animal. How anyone could trust her with their beloved pets, I’ll never know.”
I nodded. “That’s the impression we got when we told her about the cats.” Since we were all in on this lie, I figured why not just goad him a bit and see what he said. “I thought when she added Reiki to her spa that she might have been, well. . .” I paused and looked at my now-empty glass of kombucha, “like-minded, you know?”
“She added Reiki? Really? That is rather enlightened.” Dr. Stoltzfus seemed to be considering his earlier opinion, but after a moment, he sighed. “I imagine it was just a business ploy on her part, not a real knowledge of the practice.” His words were clipped and dismissive. There clearly wasn’t much room in his opinion of Penelope to even allow for things he valued.
“Apparently,” Mart said and stood up. “Thank you for your time. We’ll begin our plans for the, um, colony, did you call it?”
“Yes,” the vet said, brightening. “Here’s my card. Just call anytime if you need advice or to schedule procedures.”
I took his card and followed Mart back out the door to our car.
“Well, if ever someone was a suspect, Dr. Louis ‘Kombucha’ Stoltzfus is the man,” Mart said as I started the car.
I snorted with laughter. I had to give it to my friend. She had a way with words.
When we arrived back at my place, Jared was grilling something on the back patio that smelled amazing.
“Dear God, you’re marrying a good man,” Mart said as she caught the scent on our way up the porch steps. “I love pizza, but something about grilling just pings a visceral pleasure in me.”
“Wow, you’re eloquent about food today,” I said.
“Today? Do you know what I do for a living? If I can’t describe the new wine with at least eighteen adjectives, I’m not doing my job right.” She glanced at me as I held the front door open for her. “Don’t tell Symeon what I said about pizza, okay?”
I nodded just as I caught sight of Symeon coming around the corner with two glasses of wine. “Did I hear my name?”
Mart stretched up and kissed him. “What smells so good?” she said when she landed back on her heels. Always adroit at changing the subject, that one.
“Jared is trying out some steak marinade that he read in one of his cooking magazines. He invited us over for dinner. Want to stay?” Symeon said.
“Are you kidding?” Mart replied. “You’d have to drag me out of here now.”
“Good,” I said. “Just the four of us?” I asked Symeon.
“Tuck and Lu are coming, too,” he said. “I heard mention of a hypothetical not-investigation you two were pursuing today.” He winked at me. “Can’t wait to hear about it.”
“Let me tell you,” I said. “We have a story to tell.”
By the time Jared had finished grilling, the twice-baked potatoes were just coming out of the oven, thanks to Symeon, and we had a gorgeous pot of lima beans with ham hock to go with them.
“Looks amazing,” Lu said as she carried in her contribution—a pineapple upside-down cake that seemed to be dripping with syrup.
“I am famished,” Tuck said as he took off his ball cap and hung it on the back of one of our dining room chairs. “What can I do to help?”
“I think we’re almost set,” Jared said. “But you can get folks’ drink orders.”
Tuck opened the refrigerator door and looked at the wine rack on the counter. “Sweet tea. Water. Chardonnay. Or pinot noir,” he said.
“Nix the chardonnay,” Mart added. “Not robust enough with the steak.”
“I’ll take sweet tea,” I said. “Can’t have a migraine this week.” The sulfites in red wine often gave me days-long headaches that left me barely able to function, so I’d sworn off the reds for the most part. But I also trusted Mart’s judgment about wine. If she said chardonnay wasn’t a good pairing, it wasn’t a good pairing.
“Pinot for me,” Mart said. Winking at me, she added, “I’ll drink your glass.”
The other four gave their orders, and before long, the six of us were seated with a delicious, family-style meal set on the table before us, chatting about our lives, the goings on in town, and such. Tuck informed us there was a major kerfuffle happening at the high school because the athletic director had brought in an artist to update the mural on the outside wall of the gym. Someone from the 1950s had painted it, and it looked like it had been created by members of the KKK, which I could personally attest to. All the athletes in it were white and blonde, and the proportions of some of them were much like a kindergartner would draw. It was time for a refresh.
“Let me guess. That mural was commissioned by someone’s granddaddy, and it’s now considered sacred in St. Marin’s lore,” Mart suggested.
“You nailed it,” Tuck said. “But the AD gets to make decisions about the athletics facilities, so it’s really a pointless fight. I expect, however, we’ll see protesters when they begin work next week.”
“Lord almighty,” I said. “Have they nothing better to do with their time?”
Every pair of eyes at the table turned and stared at me.
“Right. Right. This is St. Marin’s, so no, they have nothing better to do unless there’s a fire to chase when they hear about it on their scanners,” I said.
“Now, there’s an idea,” Jared noted with a glance at Tuck, who smiled widely.
“Best not reveal your trade secrets,” Lu remarked. “You’re already delegating some of your duties to outside forces.” She smiled at Mart and me. “Find out anything interesting.”
“Well, first of all, we have a feral cat colony downtown if anyone asks,” Mart said.
Tuck nodded. “We do have a feral cat colony downtown. The sheriff’s office has been caring for it for years.” He raised an eyebrow. “But why is that relevant?”
“Well,” I said, “your girl Martha here”—I winked at Mart, who hated her full name—“is a masterful liar, and she has convinced a local vet that we have a feral cat colony that we needed advice on.”
All eyes turned to Mart, and she rather proudly, I must say, related the full tale of our afternoon adventures, beginning with her rather masterful story at Dr. Stoltzfus’s office and wrapping up with a much less exciting and, therefore, much shorter recount of our time at Annette Gooden’s.
Tuck and Jared exchanged a look. “So basically, they both had problems with Penelope?”
I nodded. “It seems like it, although I will say that Stoltzfus was much angrier—at least visibly—than Gooden.” I shook my head. “I know that doesn’t necessarily correlate to the likelihood of who committed the murder, but I will say that it was an intenser experience—"
“In all the ways,” Mart added.
“Yes, in all ways with Stoltzfus than with Gooden.” I knew both of these officers valued my intuition, but I also knew they would need hard evidence to proceed with anything we’d told them.
“Well,” Tuck said, “I think it’s about time for you to put on one of your infamous benefits, Harvey.”
I sighed almost as heavily as Jared did.
“Really? Right now. You do know we’re getting married this weekend?” he said.
“I do, and I don’t think this has to be a big deal. Maybe just something casual, a sort of memorial to honor Penelope by doing a bit of fundraising for feral cats?” Tuck batted his eyelashes at me just long enough that his wife smacked his arm.
“Tucker Mason. I thought you only used that trick on me,” she said. Then, turning to me, she said, “If you’re good with it, Harvey, I’ll just use your store but take care of the entire event myself. Maybe we could even do it tomorrow? I can put out a quick press release, and Tuck here can help me with the details since he’s the feral cat expert at the table.”
“Good,” Mart said. “You need Styrofoam coolers.”
Everyone but me stared at her for a long moment until she said, “They make good insulated habitats for the cats. What? They do.”
“She’s right. That’s what Stoltzfus recommended. He even said he had some folks who liked to donate them for just this purpose.”
Lu took out her phone. “All right then, I’ll call him first thing tomorrow. We’ll plan to do the food and, um, cooler drive from three to five tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a nice day, and I’ll have churros from the truck for anyone who donates.”
“If I brought my portable oven and sold pizzas with one hundred percent of the profits going to the cause, would that help?” Symeon asked.
“That would be amazing,” Lu said as she continued to type into her phone. “Maybe we could close off Main Street for those two hours.” This time, she batted her eyes at her husband.
He rolled his eyes but said, “Fine. We’ll make it an impromptu town party.”
“All this sounds amazing,” I added, “but what do you need me to do?”
Everyone at the table said in total unison, “Nothing.” They were so adamant that I bounced back against my chair.
“All right, then. Thanks.” I didn’t really feel grateful—I hated to miss out—but I knew they were looking after me.
“In fact,” Jared said, “You and I are taking the next two days off. Marcus has the store covered, and Tuck has assured me that all is good with the station. We have a wedding to finish getting ready for.”
“What?” I said. “Really?” I suddenly felt near tears and realized it was because I had been trying to do everything. But for once, I didn’t really want to do everything. I just wanted to prepare with this amazing man so we could have a fantastic day. “Okay,” I said through a tight throat. “That sounds really good.”
“Great,” Mart said. “Your mom and I will focus on wedding plans and keep you updated. You two do what you need to do for the big day, and Lu and Tuck, maybe you can recruit the rest of the crew to help with the event tomorrow?”
“Already on it,” Lu said as she held up her phone at the same moment all of ours chimed. “The crew is recruited.”
Jared and I leisurely cleaned up from dinner, then sat on the front porch to talk about our plans for the next two days. That night, for the first time in a few weeks, I didn’t need to pull out a pen and paper to write down all the to-dos swimming in my head before drifting off peacefully with the confidence that forty-eight hours was more than enough time to finish wedding prep, hold a fundraiser, and solve a murder. We had this.