Maid of Murder

but Mom acted like I wasn’t even there.”

Looked like I had my first suspect: the furious fiancé.

I saw an opening. “Have you been missing any photographs of Olivia?”

She seemed surprised by the question. “No. I mean I’m not missing any. But if my parents are . . .” she shrugged. “Why?”

“Uh,” I began. I didn’t want to tell her about the engagement picture, but I didn’t want to be another exclusive adult. “Things get misplaced.”

O.M. frowned. Before she could persist, we heard a car roll up the driveway. A car door slammed, and a moment later, Mrs. Blocken stood by the gate I’d left opened.

I jumped off the picnic table.

“Olga!” she called. “Have you seen—” Mrs. Blocken stopped when she spotted me. Her face reddened to the shade of her coif. “What are you doing here?”

“I—”

“Leave my house at once. How dare you come here?”

O.M. pulled her knees to her chest and looked away, out into the yard.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Blocken.” I felt like a five-year-old.

Her eyes blazed. Her attention transferred to the bouquet of flowers I bought. “Where did these come from?” She picked up the vase and read the card. “Do you know why Olivia chose you as a bridesmaid?”

I blinked, struck dumb by the question.

“To get back at me.”

“At you,” I managed to say.

“She wanted to get married in Virginia, and I said absolutely not, that her father and I would only pay for a Stripling wedding.” She spun the vase in her hands. “I didn’t know about the wedding party until a month ago when it was too late to replace you. You should have heard the glee in her voice when she said your name.”

Mrs. Blocken looked me directly in the eye and dropped the vase onto the cement walk. The beautiful hand-blown glass shattered into a thousand pieces.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I whispered and fled, trampling the lilies and roses as I brushed past her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I told myself that I didn’t care about Mrs. Blocken’s hostility, but my tear ducts thought differently. Wiping my eyes and muttering, I drove to the duplex. I pulled into the drive and spotted Ina sitting on the front porch, Theodore in her lap. I rubbed my face vigorously before getting out, so it’d appear I only had a nasty sunburn.

“India,” Ina called. “I read the Dispatch this morning. It doesn’t look good for Mark, does it?”

I waved away her question. “How did Theodore get out here?”

“Who? This little mite?” She scratched him under his double chin. He purred with the ferocity of a jet engine.

“I don’t think little is the right adjective, but yes, the cat in your lap.”

“Well.” She settled in for a good tell-all.

I sat down on the glider beside my door. This could take all afternoon.

Theodore purred.

“I was out in the yard, rotating my leprechauns,” Ina said.

I glanced at the yard; the leprechauns were in a different configuration.

“You know they get tired of being in the same place all the time.”

I nodded and wondered if I had anything in my duplex suitable for lunch.

“I was trading Blinky with Petunia.”

“What?”

“India, you really should learn their names.” At my blank stare, she added, “The leprechauns’ names.” She shook her head in disgust.

I rubbed my left shoulder. “Ina, what about the cat?”

“Right. I was out here moving the gang around, when I heard a terrible ruckus from your apartment. I mean really terrible. Banging. Screams and yells. It was awful. I thought for sure you were being murdered. You know the town’s homicide rate skyrocketed this week.”

Yeah, from zero to one.

“I broke into your apartment with my key, and Templeton was beatin’ the stuffing out of this little guy. Your wildcat was in a rage. He was biting and scratching. Just awful. I clapped my hands, and Templeton ran into your bedroom, but poor little fella just lay there. I felt for sure he was half-dead. I picked him up as gentle as could be and brought him over to my place to care for him. He didn’t make a peep while I tended him and brushed his fur back into place. Templeton might have rabies. Won’t that be sad if you have to put him down?”

“Templeton does not have rabies.” I enunciated each syllable.

Ina looked doubtful. Theodore hung over her thin arms like a swooning maiden. It really wasn’t the best day for me to referee cat wrestling. “Can you watch Theodore for the rest of the afternoon, until they both settle down?”

“Why of course. I’d hate for anything to happen to this little fella.”

Little. I snorted mentally. “Do you need a litter box or anything like that?”

“No, no, I have everything I need for Fella, left over from Archie.”

Archie was Ina’s prehistoric feline who floated to the big catnip garden in the sky three years ago. The cat had lived to age twenty-five.

“I’ll wash Archie’s things down real good for the fella.” Glumly, she added, “They’ve been collecting dust for so long.”

“I better check on Templeton.” I hurried into my apartment. I shut and locked the door behind me. For whatever that was worth. Ina had a key.

Tufts of black and gray cat fur littered the living room and kitchen. I followed the line of fur puffs down the short hall into my bedroom, where the real battle had raged. Fur covered the bed and the fitted sheet had innumerable tears. My laziness had paid off. If I had made my bed that morning, the cats would have shredded my grandmother’s quilt.

Templeton slept in a tight ball in the middle of the bed. The slumber of the triumphant. I sat on the bed next to him, and he opened one yellow eye. A tuft of gray fur hung from his mouth.

After checking the cat over for injuries and finding none, I carried him to the kitchen where I presented him with a peace offering in the form of a can of tuna.

Even with the unwelcome distraction of Feline D-Day, I couldn’t chase the image of Mrs. Blocken and the vase of flowers from my mind. I had to think of a better plan of attack to find the origin of that photograph. Only I, and now Mark, knew that I’d stolen the photo from his office. If I continued to ask about it, suspicions would rise. Even O.M. had asked me why I wanted to know if they’d misplaced any photos of Olivia. I could easily imagine what her mother would say. I would have to be subtle. I laughed in spite of myself. My parents had not set any example in subtlety.

A tap on the door knocked me out of my reverie. Ina. Theodore was draped over her right shoulder, covering her entire torso.

“Why is the door locked?” she asked.

“I didn’t want Templeton to get out and wreak havoc in the neighborhood.”

Ina ignored the transparent lie. “In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you that that filthy Englishman stopped by earlier.”

“Filthy Englishman?”

“That detective fellow.”

“Detective Mains?”