Clawful Reflections Page 8

  “We didn’t like how they rearranged things. It was clumsy and hard for us to chase each other around like we used to,” Tuxedo said.

  “Did they do anything else? Anything that you thought was weird?” It was a long shot. Anyone who ever owned a cat knew that their definition of weird and ours was quite different. They thought it was perfectly normal to climb out on the ledge of a twenty-story building to take a look around.

  “They just made the mirrors easier for the lady to stare into,” Tabby replied.

  “The lady stared in the mirrors constantly,” Tuxedo added.

  “Did she say anything?”

  “She just said how beautiful. At first, we thought she was talking about us,” Tuxedo said, nudging his head against Tabby’s. “But we were wrong. She stopped caring about us.”

  Just then the door to the room swung open, and Blake walked in.

  “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

  13

  Internal Petrification of Organs

  Blake quietly walked up to me and stuck his finger tenderly into the cage to stroke the tabby.

  Tabby and Tuxedo began to meow, meow, meow.

  “Me.”

  “She was talking to me.”

  “No, it’s obvious she was talking to me.”

  “It was me.”

  “You wish. It was me.”

  “You know me,” I said. “I talk to animals like they are people. You’ve seen me with Treacle. You’d think I was discussing philosophy with Aristotle the way I talk things out with him.” I chuckled. I looked at the cats.

  “He doesn’t know I can talk to you,” I said in my head.

  “We won’t tell him,” Tabby said.

  “Hey, mister! We know all about you!” Tuxedo shouted in a loud meow then started laughing.

  “Yeah, we know everything!” Tabby joined in, making me click my tongue and roll my eyes at the two pranksters.

  “Your people will be home to get you soon. But in the meantime, Old Murray will take good care of you. I’ll come check on you in a few days.”

  The cats seemed in excellent spirits and looked quite healthy. I headed toward the door. Blake followed me.

  “Where are you going now?” he asked.

  “I guess I’ll go back home. I couldn’t sleep, but now I’m getting tired.” I smiled up at Blake, who didn’t smile back. “I forgot you volunteered here. It’s a nice place to be. I always did my best thinking when I was here. I don’t usually have good ideas. Maybe I should volunteer more often and I won’t get myself into pickles like I did today.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” he said.

  “I’m afraid if I admit that to myself, I’ll sound like a martyr. I tried to get Patience to like me, but she already had ideas of the kind of girl Tom should take seriously. There was no way I was going to fit that mold.” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s for the best.”

  “You shouldn’t let her discourage you. If it’s what you want, you should fight for it.” He looked at the two cats, who were too busy grooming one another to pay any attention to us.

  “See, there’s the problem. I’m not sure it is what I want.” The words just fell out of my mouth like someone deposited a penny in a gumball machine. I didn’t look at Blake, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head snap in my direction. My cheeks flared up.

  Blake put his hands in his pockets. “So, you want to tell me what you are doing out here at this time of night?”

  “It has to do with Mrs. Kitt.”

  “Well, I think I can put your mind at ease. The cases of internal petrification of organs are rare. Almost seven trillion to one. But they are not impossible. From the quick research I’ve done and what the coroner has said, this transformation could have been taking place inside Mrs. Kitt for years.”

  “Internal petrification of organs?” That was a gross concept.

  “Like a geode sometimes cracks under pressure, so was the situation with her heart. Let’s face it, she wasn’t in the best health, and she was older.”

  “She told us she was exercising and eating better,” I said.

  “It might have been a little too late. And the sudden change in diet and physical activity might have been just the ticket to push her over the limit.”

  “All the more reason for me not to exercise.” I nodded. He didn’t smile. That was the Blake I’d learned to know and love. Wait, I didn’t mean the love part. Or did I? “Did she have any contact with anyone before she died? Is there any next of kin to be notified?”

  Blake shook his head. So, after all this, I’d hit a brick wall. Petrified organs? Exploding innards?

  “Hey.” He finally spoke, and I was glad he did. If the awkward silence had gone on much longer, I would have had to tell a joke, and I was terrible at telling jokes. They came out all wrong and sounded more like tragedies. “What are you doing after you leave here?”

  “I was just going to go back home. Try and stay out of trouble. Why?”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  “It’s okay, Blake. I can get home safely.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” He looked at his watch. There. See? It only took a second for him to go from sweet to sour. “How would you like to check out Mrs. Kitt’s house with me? I’ve got the feeling we might have overlooked something.”

  “Heck yeah,” I said, not even trying to hide my excitement. “Count me in.”

  After we said goodbye to Old Murray and drove separately to my place, I wondered if Bea was still watching the house. If she was, I had no doubt I’d be hearing all the ohs and ahs about what a cute couple Blake and I made and how great we were together.

  As we walked across the grass to Mrs. Kitt’s house, which still had police tape on the door, I looked at my cousin’s house. There was a light on in the bedroom and one on the first floor. I thought it was a little strange at this hour, but maybe I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

  “What do you think we should look for?” I asked as Blake pulled the tape aside and opened the door.

  “I’m not sure. Like I said, Mrs. Kitt’s condition is rare but has happened. But something in my gut says there is something more to this story.” He sighed.

  “Never ignore your gut,” I whispered.

  He looked down and smirked, his right eyebrow going up á la Mr. Spock. I shrugged and stepped inside. Blake pulled his flashlight out and shined the bright beam toward the bathroom where I found Mrs. Kitt. Just past it was the kitchen.

  Blake stood at the threshold of the bathroom. He was reflected a hundred times in the cracked spiderweb that was the mirror. Blake looked at the ground and seemed to be studying the chalked-out area where Mrs. Kitt’s body had been.

  I got a bit of the heebie-jeebies, so I inched my way toward the kitchen. A back-porch light illuminated the fridge, the stove, the counter, and the kitchen table. As I looked around, the place looked depressingly normal. On the fridge was a calendar that had a doctor’s appointment scheduled, a trip to the hair salon, dry cleaning to pick up, and a visit from a person called Shesha.

  “Shesha?” I muttered. “Shesha a real piece of work. Shesha shashy gal from Sharatoga.”

  “What are you saying?” Blake asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just talking to myself to keep the spookies away.”

  As I looked over the fridge, I saw a business card that was stuck beneath a magnet with cooking measurements on it. When I pulled it out, I was surprised to see the name Shesha repeated on it. The business was called Nine Lemons in a Bowl. She touted better living through feng shui.

  I wondered if the woman on this business card was the person the cats said rearranged the babe couple’s house. It certainly couldn’t hurt to give it a try. But I had to keep this to myself. If I told Blake that the babe couple’s cats told me about the people rearranging furniture, I was sure he’d have a long talk with Aunt Astrid to have me committed.

  Before he could take notice, I pocketed the business card an
d tiptoed back to the bathroom where he was still standing.

  “Her death can be explained by science. But what is it with the mirrors that I can’t shake?” Blake asked, squinting at his reflection.

  “Mirrors?”

  “Every mirror in the house looks like this one. They’ve all been shattered, and I can’t figure out why.” He rubbed his chin. “We determined there was no one else in the house at her time of death. There was no forced entry. No furniture disrupted or any other signs of a struggle. She was alone when she died.”

  “She came into the café before she was found,” I said. “I’m sure Bea told Jake.”

  Blake turned to me like he’d forgotten I was there.

  “Jake didn’t say anything.”

  “Oh. Well.” I repeated the story to Blake, telling him how nasty Mrs. Kitt was to Bea and Aunt Astrid. “She didn’t bother with me too much.” I cleared my throat. “She knew she’d have gotten her clock cleaned.” I tugged at my collar.

  “You said she was a nice old lady who never bothered anyone.” Blake didn’t catch my attempt at humor. I wasn’t surprised.

  “She was until she started working out and wearing her hoochie outfits. I’m not sure what it was all about. All I could come up with was some kind of midlife crisis. Aunt Astrid said she was a widow for some time, and maybe loneliness had gotten the best of her.” I shrugged. “But what she said had Bea very upset. I’m surprised she didn’t tell Jake about it. He’s that kind of knight in shining armor made for instances like that. You know, swoop in with a dozen roses and reservations at a fancy restaurant to make Bea feel better.”

  I watched Blake’s face in the light of the flashlight as he digested everything I’d told him.

  “Maybe that’s it. Maybe she just had a psychotic episode and smashed all the mirrors.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t sound right, but it might be all we’ve got.”

  “I’ve learned that when I hit a brick wall or feel I’ve exhausted my options, it’s best to sleep on it. Everything looks different in the sunlight.”

  “Did your aunt Astrid tell you that?” He smirked.

  “No. Well, she might have said something like that but not exactly. I perfected it from whoever said it first.”

  Looking around the dark house as Blake continued to ponder the broken mirror, I took a few steps into the living room. There was a mirror on the wall, and it was smashed. I hadn’t noticed before.

  “What did she use to break the mirrors?” I called out to Blake. There was no answer. “Blake?”

  14

  Playing Detective

  Fear caught me, and I stood still, holding my breath. I didn’t have a light or a gun or anything. I’d followed him into the house of a dead person, knowing full well that there might be a supernatural woogie-boogie in the place. What was I thinking?

  “Blake, you better answer me!” I hissed into the darkness. I wanted him to hear me but, at the same time, didn’t want to give away my position if there were any demons or creatures roaming the empty house. It was a fine line to walk.

  “What?” He leaned around the corner with the flashlight underneath his chin. I yelped and jumped three feet in the air, like Treacle would when something spooked him.

  “Not funny, nerd.” I stomped over to him. “I said, what did Mrs. Kitt use to break the mirrors? Did she use her hands? I don’t see anything left on the ground, and I didn’t see anything when I found her in the bathroom.”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t think any of us thought about that,” Blake said. “Can I use your phone?”

  “Sure, it’s at my house. I don’t carry my cell phone. No one’s ever trying to call me,” I said, making my way toward the door.

  We stepped outside, and Blake put the tape back up around the door. We cut through the grass and went inside my house, where Blake got a warm greeting from Treacle, who had been sleeping on my bed.

  I handed Blake my phone and went into the kitchen to grab a couple of Cokes.

  “Lou. It’s Samberg. On Kitt’s body. Were there any contusions on the hands, knuckles, palms? Actually, were there any cuts or scratches that would be the result of smashing a mirror?”

  This was cool. Now I’d have the coroner’s number on my cell. That could be interesting if I ever felt courageous enough to call and find out about someone in the cooler. The thought made me shake my head at myself.

  “Nothing? Nothing out of the ordinary? Well, other than the petrified insides. Yes. Okay. Thanks a lot, Lou. Sorry to bother you so late.”

  That was the end of the call, and Blake came into the kitchen, his brow wrinkled in deep thought. He handed me my phone and pulled out a seat at the table.

  “Coke?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded as he sat down. “So, there was nothing on the body to indicate Mrs. Kitt used her hands or body to smash the glass. We must have missed something.”

  I shrugged. I had no idea what to tell him, and my energy level was quickly depleting. I was getting more tired by the minute. But at the same time, I didn’t want Blake to leave. It was nice having him here. But I yawned and ruined everything.

  “Gosh, Cath. I completely forgot about the time.” He looked at his watch. “You’ve got to be at the café tomorrow, and Jake will be expecting me to pick him up.”

  “I’m sorry. I was only yawning due to a temporary lack of oxygen. I read that somewhere.”

  “It’s true, but it also indicates when a body is tired. I think we better end our investigation for tonight.” He didn’t smile but nodded as if to reinforce the fact it was late and I was tired.

  “Can you keep me posted as to what you find out about how the mirrors got smashed? That’s a real mystery. I’d like to know.” I took a sip of the Coke. The cold sugary drink tasted great.

  “Of course.” He stood up and walked to the door. I trailed behind him. Treacle gave a pleasant meow from the couch, stretching his left paw straight out, splaying his toes but quickly tucking it back beneath his belly.

  As I held the door open and Blake stepped onto the porch, he turned around, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on his feet.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Sure. I mean, it’s right next door. What could I say? Sorry, that’s a little too far out of my way?” I was babbling.

  “I wouldn’t suggest going over there again. I’m going to talk to Jake, and we’re going to have to do a more thorough scrub-down of the place. We need to find the object used to break the mirrors, and that may provide a more solid lead. We better not contaminate the scene any more than we already have.” He didn’t grin or smirk.

  I nodded and crossed my heart. “Promise.”

  “Good night, Cath.”

  “Night, Blake.” I closed the door, flipped the dead bolt, and leaned against it. “You weren’t a very welcoming host,” I teased Treacle.

  “He wasn’t here long enough. I would have poured on the charm if he’d have stayed. I like Blake.”

  I nodded and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Did you hear what I said?” he called after me.

  “What?”

  “I said I like Blake.”

  “Okay.” I smirked. “What do you want? A medal?”

  “You are supposed to say you do too.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. It’s written all over your face. You just needed Tom to show you the way.”

  “Oh gosh. I forgot all about Tom.” I smacked my head. “Did the phone ring while I was gone? I hope nothing bad has happened to him. I mean, anything worse than what he’s already going through.”

  What kind of person was I? My boyfriend was in a coma after getting shot at work, and I was off with Blake, playing detective.

  “I’m a horrible person.” I sighed to Treacle, who hopped off the couch and circled my legs.

  “No, you’re not. You’re my person, and I know you better than anyone else. Your heart is too big for Tom. He can’t hold it. As much as I like h
im, he just doesn’t have the stuff.”

  Treacle sat down like a beautiful, sleek black statue and looked up at me. I scooped him up in my arms. He was soft and gave me a good headbutt to the chin while his internal motor continued to run.

  “I don’t know, Treacle. I feel like a monster. He could really be in trouble and…”

  Before I could finish my thought, there was a pounding on my front door. I thought it was Blake and something was wrong. Quickly, I set Treacle on the table and dashed to the door. On tiptoes, I peeked through the peephole and was surprised to see Bea there.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked as I opened the door. Then I gasped. “What are you wearing?”

  My normally stylish yet conservative cousin was standing on my stoop, wearing a tank top and skintight jeans that I’d never seen her wear before. I was the jean wearer in the family, and they were never so tight they looked like they might be cutting off circulation.

  “What was Blake doing here?” she snapped.

  “He wanted to check out Mrs. Kitt’s place one more time and asked if I wanted to go with him. Why?”

  “Do you really think he’s interested in you? Don’t kid yourself, Cath. You’ve got a long way to go before you could get the attention of a guy like that.”

  She looked at me in a way that was all too familiar. Again, I was bombarded with visions of Darla Castellano.

  My high school nemesis, Darla Castellano, made my primary teenage years a living hell. She was beautiful and popular and seemed to have everything going for her. I, on the other hand, was plain and awkward and liked to just keep to my small group of friends.

  It was always a mystery why she chose to pick on me. Even now when I saw her in town, those feelings of anger would just bubble up, and my aunt would have to put a binding spell on me to prevent me from giving her a scorching case of scabies or maybe uncontrollable dandruff.

  But even though I never really did anything to her, Darla still glared at me like I was a boil on the face of humanity. It was the same look I was getting from my cousin at this very moment.