The Cats that Played the Market (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 4) (4 page)

“Inside voices, please,” Katherine said, struggling with two bags of groceries. “Let me feed you guys as soon as possible so you’ll give my ears a rest.”

She set the bags on the glass-top Parsons table and stepped back to bring in more, but stopped when the kitchen phone rang. She answered it on the second ring. She would have answered it earlier, but Scout pounced on the phone and she had to wrestle the cat for the receiver. “Again, Scout? Stop it!” she scolded the rambunctious Siamese. “Hello,” she said into the mouthpiece.

“Stop it?” an elderly female voice said. “What did I do?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Who’s calling please?”

“Is this Orvenia’s niece?”

“Great niece, yes.”

“I’m Elizabeth Brentwood. Friends call me Lizard. My son mentioned you the other day and gave me your number. I bet you didn’t know it, but I used to run around town with your aunt.”

“Great aunt,” Katherine corrected in a friendly tone. “Mark Dunn gave me your number, but I haven’t had a chance to call. I never met my great aunt. I’d love to hear about her. Would you like to come for tea?” Katherine added at the spur of the moment.

“Oh, I’d love to. I’ve been in your home many times and it would be swell to see it again. But you must understand, I don’t drive anymore. My chauffeur is my son, Robbie. Is it okay if he comes, too? We can give him a cookie or two and he’ll retreat to the corner,” the woman continued in a raspy voice.

“Yes, of course. I met your son the other day. How about this Friday? Say four o’clock?”

“I’ll write it on my calendar, and I’ll be there. Thank you so much for inviting us.” Elizabeth, also known as Lizard, hung up.

Katherine turned to find five annoyed cats starring up at her from the ceramic floor. Scout’s and Abra’s tails were thrashing in unison — thumpity thump thump.

“Okay, I surrender, Dorothy,” Katherine said. “I’ll feed you now.”

“Yowl,” Iris cried in her sweetest voice.

“Yes, Miss Siam, I do believe I’ll give you a bit more for being my darling girl.” Katherine picked up the seal-point and gave her a kiss on the back of her neck.

The telephone rang again and Katherine moved to answer it. “I’m sorry, kids. Next time, I promise I’ll let it go to voice mail.”

“Hello,” she answered.

“Is this Katherine Kendall?” the male voice boomed on the other end.

“Yes, is this Mr. Brentwood?” She recognized the loud voice, and held out the receiver to protect her ear.

“Oh, we don’t have to be so formal. Call me Robbie. Listen, I just wanted to stop by for a minute. I’m the new volunteer curator of the Erie Historical Museum, and I’m returning a few boxes of material belonging to your great aunt — items we didn’t use.”

“What kind of items?”

“Tons of photographs. I think your great aunt kept the Kodak people happy.”

“Sure, I’m home now,” Katherine said. “Any time is fine.”

The combination curator/financial advisor continued, “On behalf of the Erie Historical Society, I want to thank you for your outstanding donation of the late Orvenia and William Colfax’s memorabilia. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with how I plan to display them, but I need to ask you a few questions about certain items — just by way of clarification. I can be at your house in ten minutes. Okay, then,” he said, without giving Katherine time to answer. “I’ll see you shortly.”

Before Katherine could answer, Robbie hung up.

He’s the pushiest man I’ve ever met
, she thought.

Scout had jumped to the counter and was pawing the phone. “Waugh,” she cried irritably.

“Scout, speak English, please. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me — other than you’re starving — but that was Mr. Motormouth. I’ve gotta feed you cats pronto, before he shows up.”

*              *              *

The new volunteer curator parked in front of the mansion. He drove a late-model four-door Lexus. Katherine met him at the door and let him in. He was holding what looked like a portfolio under his arm, and two cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other.

“Hello, Robbie,” Katherine said. “You can set the boxes down anywhere.”

He placed them on the floor inside the vestibule.

Katherine asked curiously, “What’s in them?”

“One box is full of family photographs we weren’t able to use. You should have them. But in the second box,” he said, reaching down and taking off the lid, “is a valuable antique you should keep.” He pulled out an ancient stock market ticker tape machine.

“That’s really cool,” Katherine said. “When I cleaned out the attic, I don’t remember finding it.”

“Oh, my mother had it. She said she got it from your great aunt in the Forties. Orvenia said she hated to look at it, because it brought back sad memories.  Your great uncle was supposedly obsessed with the machine.  Orvenia was going to throw it away, but my mother talked her into giving it to her.”

“Interesting,” Katherine said. “I love these little tidbits of family history. I guess in modern times, it would be like your husband watching sports all the time, or constantly checking his cell phone.”

“Exactly! My mother donated it to the museum, but Ms. Kendall, this machine is too valuable for our current insurance policy. I did preliminary research. It’s worth over ten thousand dollars.”

Katherine’s mouth dropped. “Amazing. Maybe we should leave it in the box until I can find a place for it. I don’t want the cats to break it.”

“Yes, because it’s the real McCoy,” Robbie said, then continued, “I absolutely love this house. When I was a little boy I used to spend hours playing in the attic while my mom and your great aunt chatted below. In fact, I’m the guilty one who carved his initials on the wall up there.”

“I’ve never seen it,” she said. “Let me take your coat. We can sit in the living room,” she guided.

The heavy-set man chose the rare, expensive Rococo Belter chair — the most fragile chair in the room. Katherine cringed and hoped it wouldn’t collapse. It was already too late to suggest a safer,
less-expensive
chair. Katherine hoped she didn’t have to add its demise to the growing list of broken or destroyed items. Mark Dunn required a list for insurance purposes. Katherine sat down opposite Robbie on the mauve-colored loveseat.

Robbie smiled and asked, “For your great aunt and uncle’s exhibit, I was wondering if a graphic artist friend of mine could come over and photograph the two portraits in here?”

“I think Orvenia and William would be honored. Have him call me to set up a time.”

“Actually, she. Emily Bradworth works for a designer in the city and has volunteered to do this. She’ll take photos, then enlarge them into posters. I just thought it would be fabulous to have their portraits hanging on the wall above the museum display case.”

“I’m kind of confused,” Katherine said. “The museum’s opening is in a week, would Ms. Bradworth have time to do this?”

“Emily is a fast worker. It’s just a matter of her photographing the portraits, then going back to the studio and doing her thing.”

“It sounds good to me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the Colfax material. You said on the phone you needed to clarify some info about my family.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket. “Where was your great aunt born?”

“Brooklyn,” Katherine answered. “Bay Ridge.”

“William Colfax was born in Erie. Do you know how he met your great aunt? The more personal details, the more people will be interested in the display.”

“My granny said my great aunt was a hatcheck girl at the Waldorf-Astoria. William was in town for business and met her there. That’s all I know, except she was seventeen.”

“Yes, there was quite an age difference. I just met a client for lunch at the Waldorf.”

Katherine nodded and wondered if she could hurry him along.

Robbie repositioned himself on the Belter chair, which creaked loudly. He seemed to not notice. “I heard you had cats, but I don’t see any,” he said, changing the subject. He scanned the room. “I love cats.”

Gazing through one of the open pocket doors, Katherine thought she saw the shadow of Scout or Abra in the vicinity of the Eastlake hall tree, where she had hung Robbie’s coat. But when she looked harder, she didn’t see them, or any of the other cats. “Oh, they’re probably plastered on the heat register in the kitchen. In this weather, that’s where they like to hang out,” she explained.

“Ha, ha!” he boomed, and in a jovial mood added, “Before I leave, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a portfolio about an incredible investment opportunity, available here only through me.” He speedily placed several documents on the coffee table in front of Katherine. “I have direct access to this new fund, which was founded by some top money managers in New York. There is a complete prospectus here, and some standard subscription forms. I realize you’re inclined to be skeptical about such investments, but I can personally guarantee you’ll be very happy with the returns you’ll quickly earn. My clients receive a monthly statement of their financial growth.” He gave a wide-open smile and placed a felt-tip pen on the documents.

When Katherine leaned over to look at the papers, she again saw movement in the corner of her eye, but when she turned in that direction, she observed a whirlwind of Siamese cats chasing each other. Iris was in the lead, carrying a small envelope in her teeth. She dodged Scout and Abra by darting underneath the infamous wingback chair — Abby’s storage place for stolen loot, which had now become Iris’s cache, as well. Scout and Abra couldn’t brake soon enough. They skirted the coffee table, scattered the papers, and came to a skidding halt several feet away, then began hissing and snarling at each other. Iris — now inside the wingback chair — emitted a deep growl. Abra boxed Scout’s ears and then raced off with one of the ripped sheets of paper clamped in her jaws, with Scout trailing after her. Robbie sat back in his chair, which moaned as if it were in its final death throes. He wore a shocked look on his face. Clearly, he’d never witnessed a Siamese stampede.

Katherine apologized, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into them. Would you be so kind as to reprint the documents?” She got up from her chair, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment in the city.” Actually there wasn’t an appointment. She just wanted the verbose financial advisor to leave.

“Yes,” he said, getting up and heading to the door.

Katherine swiftly picked up his coat, which was now lying in a heap on the floor. A trace of cream and brown cat fur was enough proof that the Siamese had pulled the coat down from the hall tree. She brushed it off as best she could and handed it to him. “I’m so sorry, again. My cats have been very busy today.”

“Ha, ha! No problem,” Robbie bellowed.

Opening the front door, Katherine said, “I look forward to seeing you and your mother in a few days. Maybe you can bring the documents then?”

“Yes,” he said, then launched into another sales pitch. All Katherine could hear was “Yadda, Yadda.” Lilac trotted around the corner and began me-yowling loudly. Her Siamese voice was so shrill that Robbie seemed to be relieved to walk out the door. After he left, Katherine picked up the lilac-point and said, “Good work. You deserve a chin scratch for that.”

Iris, Scout and Abra returned to the room. Abra dropped the now-mutilated page on Katherine’s shoe, looked up with blinking eyes, and cried a sweet, innocent “raw.”

Reaching down to pick up the torn, crumpled document, Katherine said to the cats, “Okay, I get it. You don’t want me to invest with this man. I hadn’t planned on it anyway. Oh, and Miss Siam, I saw you stash something in the chair. Let’s go have a peek and see what it was.”

Iris protested with a loud yowl. Katherine walked back to the living room and got down on her hands and knees. A rusty brown paw extended from inside the torn lining. “Abby, get out of there.” The Abyssinian hopped out and “chirped” before moving aside to stand guard while her person searched through her stuff.

Katherine began removing stolen items from the chair. Abby and Iris had clearly moved up in the world. They were collecting more expensive items. Basic household items and toiletries had been replaced with objects of value: Katherine’s missing silver earring, a gold chain, and a small ivory envelope. A fang mark blessed the corner. She removed the plain card and began to read the almost illegible handwriting. “Oh, Robbie darling, why can’t we announce our engagement at the museum opening? I do love you so much, Emily.”

“Emily,” Katherine said out loud to the cats, which had gathered around her. “Emily Bradworth, the graphics designer, perhaps? Cats of mine, how am I going to return this to Robbie? It’s very personal. I can’t just give it to him and explain how you punks stole it.”

Scout, a no-nonsense kind of cat, snatched the card from her hand and ran to the front door. With long, slender brown paws she pushed the card through the mail slot. “Waugh,” she cried.

Katherine giggled and went to retrieve the card from the other side of the door. “Okay, I’ll just mail it anonymously. Who wants a treat?” she asked.

With the sound of that magic word, five felines thundered to the kitchen. The collected sound of pounding paws on the wood floor and caterwauling was almost earsplitting. Katherine followed and smiled happily as she yanked the cat treat package out of the cabinet and handed each one of her cats a delicious treat.