The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

things this morning.”

“Not enough,” I said. “I hope Tom and I can figure out what’s happening in that house with a new ruse he and I devised—one I’ve decided I am very uncomfortable with, by the way.” I told her about Ed’s connection to Ritaestelle and what I’d brought home from his shop.

Kara laughed. “I can’t see you as a spy. But Tom? Let him take the lead tomorrow. He’s got the experience.”

“I’m worried about this disguise business. Did you ever go undercover on an assignment when you worked for the newspaper?” I said.

“Print journalists aren’t like the kind of investigative reporters you see on the TV news. We can’t go in with hidden cameras. We have to be very upfront when pursuing a story, right down to our real name.”

“That’s tough,” I said. “How did you get people to open up?”

“I tried to engage people, play straight with them, be honest. And in the end, I lost my job to the ever- shrinking hard-copy newspaper business.”

“Do you miss it?” I said.

“I did at first. I mean, I played by the rules, wrote plenty of pieces I’m proud of, and when my position disappeared, I felt a little lost. But now that’s all behind me,” she said. “I’m closing in on buying the local paper, building my house and learning plenty from Tom about stuff I never even knew I’d like. Surveillance is so cool.”

“What hints can you give me about getting people to open up?” I said.

“You’ve already been tagged as a troublemaker, and as we’ve both learned, word gets around in these small towns. You’ll have to be careful.”

“You think I do need the disguise, then?”

“To get as much information as you need, I’d say yes. Maybe I can help with the disguise. Show me what Ed gave you.”

I led her to my bedroom, and minutes later, after I’d donned the wig and showed Kara the dress, I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh. And I was more self-conscious than I could ever remember.

I shook my head, causing the stinky fake hair to offer up even more aroma. Syrah, who’d been observing me with intense curiosity, hissed and ran off when the hair on my head actually moved. I’d scared the poor guy.

“I cannot do this,” I said, whipping off the wig.

Kara attempted not to laugh, but her eyes betrayed her. “Sure you can. But the floral dress from 1950? No way. I’d just wear a pair of sunglasses and the wig. You don’t want to draw too much attention, and that dress would definitely make you look like an escapee from the funny farm.”

I smiled. “Shawn’s overly serious approach to anything remotely connected to animals has obviously rubbed off on me. I’m making this way too hard, aren’t I?”

“Have fun with this. Get people to talk by becoming an engaging character,” she said.

“Thanks for the great advice. And you know what? Since Shawn left Isis here, it’s my call whether she goes home. After tomorrow, I’ll decide what’s best for her. No more going to ridiculous lengths just because Shawn has his rules.”

“There you go.” Kara raised her palm and gave me a high five.

“Thanks for putting things in perspective. I’ve got an entitled cat that needs a home—and soon. I’ll chat up the folks in Woodcrest to please Shawn, but unless I discover that Ritaestelle Longworth is a serial killer, I know what I’ll do with that prissy cat.”

Kara said, “I was worried for a minute there. You love cats, but there is a limit to animal adoration. Wish I could go with you tomorrow because I’m betting you’ll have a blast, despite all your anxiety over this.”

“You want to go? I could tell Tom—”

She held up her hand. “I’m meeting with the architect.”

“Already?” I said.

“Now that the old farmhouse on my property has been leveled, I’m ready to get started. Can you believe it?”

“Seeing a new home come to life is so exciting,” I said. “Your dad and I enjoyed every minute of watching this house being built.”

There had been a time when Mercy was the last place on earth I thought Kara would end up. But she was here for good now. When Tom first mentioned she should use part of her inheritance to buy the local newspaper, she’d completely rejected the idea. Though big-city newspapers were going out of business left and right, the Mercy Messenger was the first thing people picked up in the morning. But it needed help to stay in business. The police blotter surely didn’t deserve an entire page. Especially when most of what was reported had to do with folks getting drunk and disorderly or smashing their cars into fire hydrants.

Kara said, “Do architects snicker when you come to a meeting bearing a stack of magazines with little Post-it notes marking hundreds of pages?”

“It might scare him. But why even worry about that? I mean, he’s working for you, right?” I said.

She cocked her head and considered this for a second, and then smiled warmly. “Yeah. Why worry?”

“See, now I want to go with you,” I said. “But . . . no. This house is your deal.”

“I wouldn’t mind, but we both have plans, and like I said, you’ll have more fun than I will. I’m a little scared. This is a big deal,” she said.

“We’ll both be anxious. Come for dinner tomorrow and we’ll talk about our day.”

But after Kara left and Chablis sat on my lap, her eardrums no doubt stinging from Isis’s noise, I pondered this situation I’d walked into voluntarily. Despite telling myself that tomorrow’s visit to Woodcrest would resolve the problem, I understood that assuming something would be simple didn’t mean it would be.

Seven

Tom picked me up in his Prius about eleven the next morning. No way could we take my van. I was a marked woman in Woodcrest.

As I slid into the passenger seat, I still hadn’t put the wig on. I still hated it as much as I had the day before. Shawn owed me big-time after this.

“You look tired,” Tom said as we pulled out of my driveway.

“Did you know that goddesses are screeching, awful, spoiled creatures?” I said.

“What are you talking about?”

I explained about Isis on the way to Woodcrest. Tom was sympathetic about the hours of sleep I’d lost to the noise coming from my basement, but I had volunteered to help Shawn, and no good deed goes unpunished.

As we closed in on our destination, I put on the wig and a pair of large sunglasses with square rims, then took out a tube of lipstick. Good thing the sun was shining, or I’d look silly wearing the shades. Okay, I probably looked silly anyway. I pulled down the vanity mirror and applied the bright red lip color that Kara had given me before she left yesterday. And stared at the stranger in the mirror. “Nope,” I said, whipping the wig off. “I can’t wear this.”

Tom glanced over at me and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. But finally he removed his Atlanta Braves baseball cap and handed it to me. “Try this.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and adjusted the size of the hat after I put it on. This time I nodded when I looked in the mirror. “This will do. Even if a baseball cap doesn’t go with this sundress.” I’d taken Kara’s advice and worn one of the few dresses I own—blue cotton with wide straps.

Tom smiled. “Works for me.”

I realized I’d been holding my breath and now let out the air accompanied by a sigh. “Who knew I’m a wig- a-phobic?”

Tom laughed, and soon we were slowly driving down the main street in Woodcrest. The town bustled with activity—lots of folks sauntering on the sidewalks and window-shopping. Tourists? That wasn’t what I had in mind. I wanted to rub elbows with the locals. Tom must have read my mind because he pulled into a parking spot in front of a small pharmacy. “I’ll find out where the Woodcrest people have lunch. Be just a minute.”