“Reading the label on my antacid.”

“You do live on the edge.”

“What did you think I’d be doing?”

“Thanks for your help today.”

“My pleasure.”

“Speaking of your pleasure—”

“Ryan.”

“O.K. But I’ll make it up to you when we return to the great white North.”

“How.”

“I’ll take you to see Cats.

My itch suddenly localized.

“I’ve got to go.”

“What? What did I say?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I clicked off and dialed Galiano’s number. He was out.

Damn.

I grabbed the phone book.

Yes.

I dialed.

Senora Eduardo answered on the first ring.

I apologized for phoning so late. She dismissed it.

“Senora Eduardo, when you shooed Buttercup, you told him to join the others. Did you mean other cats?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Two years ago, a litter of kittens turned up at the barn where my daughter boarded her horses. Patricia adopted two and found homes for the rest. She wanted to bring the kittens here, but I said Buttercup was enough. They were born at the barn, they could stay at the barn. That worked fine until Patricia stopped going.”

She paused. I could picture her performing the eyelid maneuver.

“About three weeks ago the barn owner phoned and insisted I take the cats or he’d drown them. Buttercup doesn’t like it, but they’re here.”

“Do you know who adopted the other kittens?”

“Families around here, I suppose. Patricia plastered the neighborhood with circulars. Got about a dozen calls.”

I cleared my throat.

“Are the cats shorthairs?”

“Plain old barn cats.”

Dominique Specter’s phone rang four times, then a male voice requested a message in French and English. I left one after the tone.

I was flossing when my cell phone rang. It was Mrs. Specter.

I asked about Chantale.

Fine.

I asked about the weather in Montreal.

Warm.

Obviously, she was not in a chatty mood.

“I have just one question, Mrs. Specter.”

“Oui?”

“Where did you get Guimauve?”

“Mon Dieux. I will have to think.”

I waited while she did so.

“Chantale found a notice at the pharmacy. We phoned. Kittens were still available, so we drove out and chose one.”

“Drove where?”

“A barn of some sort. A place with horses.”

“Near Guatemala City?”

“Yes. I don’t remember the exact location.”

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