Catnip (Dunbarton Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  Marmalade mewed quiet agreement.

  “As for you, my fine feline friend, if I may paraphrase, it will be days of cream and catnip for you, for the rest of your nine lives!”

  Chapter 4

  They had agreed that the first thing to be done was a trip to the vet for a check-up and blood work. Another precaution, suggested by his vet, was the insertion of a microchip under the skin, between his shoulder-blades. This would enable him to be readily identified should he ever be lost. Considering his new-found financial status, Chris had agreed that this was an excellent suggestion and the chip was duly registered and inserted. At the last minute, they also decided to have a DNA sample taken and kept on file. It was a simple matter of taking a mouth swab and sending it to the lab. He was to keep his four-legged client with him while all this was done, taking him home the following Sunday.

  Chris had never been a cat person, always preferring the companionship of dogs. Cats walk alone. They thank you prettily, in a condescending sort of way, for feeding and loving them, but never seem to let you forget that they are purr-fectly capable of looking after themselves if they must, and while it is easier for them to let you do it, you are never allowed to assume any privileges by right of it. The adage, ‘Dogs have masters. Cats have staff,’ sums it up pretty accurately.

  Chris’ sisters always had cats. The cat populations at his home had reached alarming levels at times, and just when it would begin to decline, one or the other of his soft-hearted siblings would rescue another one (or two) and the cycle would begin again. He never thought that he would feel grateful for the years spent removing cat-hair from every piece of clothing and furniture he owned, but you never know what experiences in life are going to come in handy.

  The days Marmalade spent in Chris’ apartment passed relatively uneventfully but Chris couldn’t help feeling that those sea-green eyes had searched him and found him wanting. At any rate, Marmalade’s usual response to conversation was a pronounced yawn, and since it is rather unnerving to discover that a so-called ‘dumb’ animal finds you somewhat less than interesting, Chris found himself performing an endless array of tricks to try and provoke a different response. Only once did he succeed, when in the midst of an acrobatic feat involving a stool and a catnip mouse on a string, he lost his balance, fell off the stool and landed on top of the unfortunate feline. The cat’s response was decidedly unprintable and it was two days before he could look at Chris without spitting viciously and retreating under the nearest piece of furniture. Eventually, though, he forgave him and it was with a sense of mutual goodwill that they drove together to Marmalade’s home on a pleasant Sunday afternoon in April.

  Not that Marmalade showed much interest in the journey. He spent the two-block drive playing with the keys dangling from the ignition. When they pulled up in front of the house, however, a spark of excitement seemed to flow through him, ruffling his hair from his neck to the tip of his tail, and it was all Chris could do to pick him up and carry him along the walk to the front door.

  He had to press the bell twice before anyone took notice and the delay seemed to make the animal even more frenzied. When the door was finally opened, Marmalade squirmed free of his arms, and without waiting for civilities, dashed across the foyer, up the stairs and along the hall to the second staircase.

  “Mr. Mallory, won’t you come in?” James Dunbar invited him into the parlor. “My wife will be down directly. I don’t know where my daughter is. Out in the garden reading, probably. Please sit down and I’ll let Alice know you’re here.”

  “If you don’t mind, before I do so, I’d like to go and find out what Marmalade is up to, and then I have some things to bring in from the car.”

  “Of course. If you’ll follow me we’ll go straight up to Mother’s suite. I’m sure that’s where he’s gone. He rarely set foot down here when she was alive. He usually went up the vine and in her window.”

  James led him up the stairs he’d climbed that time before. It seemed strange that the old lady wouldn’t be at the top waiting for them.

  The sitting room seemed curiously empty. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the light, and dust sheets shrouded all those treasured pieces of furniture. In the center of the room stood the now unnecessary wheelchair and there, curled up on a small flat cushion, was a very mournful little cat. Hearing them come in he turned large questioning eyes to them and let out a plaintive mew.

  Chris walked over and picked him up. “Come on, little fellow. There’s no one here for you now.”

  Marmalade snuggled unresistingly into his shoulder and they left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Alicia was waiting for them in the parlor. The cat broke away from Chris and rushed towards her. She picked him up, cuddling him against her cheek, then motioned Chris towards the sofa in front of the bay window and they all sat down. “Thank you for bringing our boy home to us, Mr. Mallory. The house has been quite empty without him.”

  He could just imagine how empty Alicia Dunbar had thought it. There was a twinkle in those turquoise eyes and Chris knew something of what he was thinking must have shown in his face.

  “You’ll be happy to know he’s in excellent shape. The vet gave him a clean bill of health. I’ve got a list of instructions from him. Most of them are merely common sense. Any of the good quality cat foods is acceptable. Whatever he’s been eating seems to have been fine. Just watch the table scraps. I’ve got a few things in the car that I bought for him and I’ll get them for you later.”

  He handed her the vet’s list and she smiled. “My, you’ve certainly been thorough.” She laughed lightly - at him, not with him, he thought derisively, and bristled. “It’s probably just as well, though. Grandmother took care of most of these things herself. I fixed his meals and took them upstairs, and took him to the vet for his shots, but she did the rest. Mother couldn’t stand the sight of him, so he spent his time either upstairs or outside.”

  “You realize that he is to have the run of the house from now on,” Chris said more firmly than necessary because of that little laugh.

  “Of course, Mr. Mallory,” James anxiously assured him. “This is his home and I ... we all understand that.” The emphasis on the ‘we’ was unmistakable and Chris wondered just how sure he was of his wife’s intentions.

  As they talked, Chris shifted uncomfortably on the unyielding surface of the antique Victorian sofa. A museum-quality piece, it was lovely to look at but lacking in comfort, and he speculated as to whether this choice of seating was deliberate, intending him to feel as uncomfortable physically as the situation was making him psychologically. Looking around the room, though, he realized that it was probably the most comfortable piece of furniture in it. The chairs and other sofas were all just as delicately styled, straight of back and deficient in cushioning.

  The tables, though, were magnificent, a warm mahogany, superbly carved and finished, setting off the pale rose of the walls and the rich wine of the drapes, and all bearing fine china figurines and crystal vases full of flowers. Behind him, the bay window was full of green plants, filtering the light and sending constantly changing shapes flickering across the walls. A large marble-mantled fireplace on the other outside wall was flanked on either side by French doors leading into a glass-walled conservatory containing more plants and some white wicker furniture with thick floral seat cushions. More French doors led out from there to a flagstone patio. In the opposite corner from where they sat, beside the doors that led to the dining room, sat a baby-grand piano covered by a multi-colored oriental shawl and generations of family photos in antique silver frames.

  All in all, despite the over-crowding and the bone-bruising seats, it was actually an attractive room, he thought, in an old-world sort of way.

  “Mother appreciated fine furniture,” James said, as if reading his thoughts. “The tables were made by the firm and many of the other pieces are family heirlooms dating back, in some cases, 100 years or more. Some of them are collector’s it
ems now. Alice tried many times to persuade her to refurnish, as the local museum is interested in acquiring some pieces, but it seemed to comfort Mother to have the house the way it was when Father was alive.”

  “I can understand that. The room is charming,” he added diplomatically, with more ‘politesse’ than truthfulness. “So is the rest of the house, from what I’ve seen of it.”

  “Rather more of a museum than a home,” Alicia declared. “I sometimes feel that I’m walking through Grandmother’s memories of life. When I was little, I used to dress up in the old gowns that were stored in the attic, climb up to the Widow’s Walk and pretend I was a princess in a tower. This was my palace and at any moment a handsome prince might come riding up to carry me away on his beautiful white horse.”

  Chris remembered her Grandmother’s comment about Sleeping Beauty and wondered again why no ‘handsome prince’ had come to claim such a lovely girl.

  “That was when she wasn’t up there dropping water balloons on anyone who happened to be passing below.” Her father broke the spell and they were all laughing companionably when Alice Dunbar breezed into the room.

  “Well, Mr. Mallory, how nice to see you again.” Pointedly ignoring the presence of her four-footed landlord, she offered him her hand. “Please forgive me for having kept you waiting, but with such a large house to care for, without assistance I might add, as well as all the meals to prepare, it doesn’t leave me a great deal of time to think of my appearance.”

  He smothered a smile and rose to meet her. “No need to apologize. The results are more than worth the wait.”

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t an empty gallantry. She was still a very attractive woman and must have been stunning when James Dunbar first met her. He was regarding her now with a mixture of pleasure and pride, and it was with a sense of shock that Chris realized that, in spite of everything, James was still in love with her.

  She was above average in height, blonde and statuesque. Her skin was creamy and unlined, age showing only in the fullness of jaw and throat. It was her eyes that held him, though. Large and intensely blue, they should have been her best feature, but there was a hardness in them, a brittleness, that belied the disciplined composure of the rest of her face.

  “Please sit down, Mr. Mallory. Alicia dear, why haven’t you offered our guest a drink? I’ve prepared some iced tea, if you would care for some.” Chris nodded and Alicia rose obediently to fetch it, Marmalade trailing after her. “I think you should know, Mr. Mallory, that I contacted another solicitor about contesting the will.” When he said nothing, she went on a little more stiffly. “It seems that as … unusual ... as the contents are, the will is legal. James’ mother had the right to leave her estate to whomever she pleased. The only grounds on which to contest it would be mental incompetence which the solicitor felt would be difficult with the evidence of yourself and Dr. Harris to the contrary. He would, however, be willing to try if James were willing.” She looked somewhat scornfully at her husband whose mouth tightened in a determined line. “He, however, seems to have taken leave of his senses and refuses to question his mother’s sanity, and since I have no recourse under the law, we will, of necessity, abide by his mother’s wishes and will continue to live here and,” she hesitated as if swallowing a bitter pill, “take care of the cat.”

  Chris smiled in relief. “I’m very glad to hear that, Mrs. Dunbar. I’m sure that you’ll all get along just fine, and once you get used to it, won’t find it as untenable a situation as you now believe. I’ll give you as much financial freedom as I am able within the dictates of the will and my judgement as trustee. All household expenses will, of course, be met and I’m open to discussion on any major expenditures. I realize that with a house of this age there are going to be maintenance expenses, so feel free to approach me on anything that comes up.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mallory. We appreciate that and I hope it won’t be necessary for us to take up too much of your time.”

  James seemed as relieved as Chris. Alice merely nodded and smiled a little stiffly.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to dinner. Thank you , Alicia, you may put those down on the coffee table and come and help me in the kitchen. I’m sorry we can’t stay and talk with you, Mr. Mallory, but someone has to get things ready. When James’ father was living, we had a cook, housekeeper, maid and gardener on full-time staff, but after his death, his mother decided that we didn’t need as much help, and as the servants retired or moved on, care of the house gradually fell to me. Fortunately for me, she continued to employ a gardener, part-time, to look after the grounds. Appearances must, after all, be maintained!” And on that bitterly derisive note, she flounced out of the room.

  The evening went surprisingly well. Marmalade was still subdued and kept to himself, and Alice went out of her way to be pleasant. It was with a feeling of great relief and well-being that Chris returned home that evening. Despite all of his fears and reservations, things were going to be just fine.

  ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be.’

  Chapter 5

  The next few days were busy ones at the office and Chris was glad to have the pressures of the Dunbar family off his mind. On Thursday, however, he decided to pay a surprise visit to the mansion to see how things were going and to take over some papers that needed signing.

  All was quiet as he drove up and he found it reassuring. The grounds were, as usual, immaculate, the last of the winter debris cleared away, and in the gardens the crocuses were in full bloom. It was a beautiful evening, the sun setting rosily and the buff brick mellow in the dimming light.

  And his mood was equally mellow. Things were going well. His partners were very impressed with the manner in which he’d handled the estate, and he had the vision of a pair of turquoise eyes and possibility of spending the evening with the owner thereof before him. The Dunbars had been very amiable at dinner the previous Sunday and he foresaw no problems with them, in any context.

  Whistling happily, he took the front steps two at a time and started to ring the bell, but before his hand reached the button, there was a loud crash and a shriek of protest from within. Not waiting to be asked, he opened the door to see a large porcelain urn lying shattered on the floor, the earth and palms scattered across the hardwood and carpets. Alice Dunbar stood in the middle of the mess, a stricken look on her face.

  “That damned animal!” Her lip quivered. “He did this on purpose, I know he did. I just finished cleaning this room, and now ...” She broke off in a loud sneeze as the dust settled on her. “.. and now I’ll have to do it all again!”

  Chris looked quickly around the room to find the cause of all the mess sitting under a small Queen Anne table, rubbing his paw across his nose and eyes. He exploded suddenly in a sneeze and something in Alice snapped.

  Chris watched helplessly as she took off after him, vacuum cleaner still in hand, screaming like something possessed. Marmalade didn’t stop to argue. He took off across the floor and over an end table, sending an ornate china lamp rocking precariously, and flew out an open window.

  Chris made a flying leap for the lamp, catching it just before it fell, and set it gingerly back on the table, then turned to see a red-faced Alice surveying the chaos. There was a layer of dust over everything and pieces of china, palm leaves, and clumps of damp earth covered a good deal of the floor and rug, ground in, in places, he observed guiltily, by some size twelve footprints.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dunbar. How did this happen?”

  She looked at him stonily. “That damned ...” Her voice quivered with rage. “That damned cat couldn’t keep out of my way while I cleaned. He had to play with the mop, and the duster, and the cord of the vacuum. He tried to squeeze in behind the urn but he was too big and the rest you can see.” She pointed dramatically to the shattered vase. “That urn was a wedding present from my grandmother. It was one of the few things in this house that was mine.” Her lips quivered again.

  “I’m really very so
rry. Marmalade couldn’t know that, you know. Replace the urn and send the bill to me. The estate will take care of it.”

  “Thank you,” she said coldly, and proceeded to clean up the wreckage. Quietly, Chris picked up a broom and went to help. And that’s how James and Alicia, coming back with the groceries, found them, working side-by-side in stony silence.

  Chris left shortly after they’d finished. Alice had retired to her room without saying another word. Alicia followed to see if she needed anything, her turquoise eyes sending an unspoken apology as she climbed the stairs. James accompanied him to the car. As James opened the door, Chris saw Marmalade slink out of the garage and across the yard to the kitchen door, hunger being the better part of valor, or perhaps just getting the better of common sense.

  “I’m very sorry about what’s happened. My wife was too upset to thank you for your help,” James said. Chris nodded understandingly. “It hasn’t been easy for her, you know. When we were married she assumed we’d have an active social life. She always loved parties. She was the prettiest girl in town, the belle of any ball. She could have had any man she wanted and I was the proudest man in the world the day she married me. But Dunbarton is a quiet town. The social life is limited. Since my brother, Robert junior, had been killed and it was up to me one day to take Dad’s place in the firm, there was no possibility of moving to Toronto as she wished.”

  Chris picked up on the ‘as she wished’. “Was that what you wanted, to move to the city?”

  James smiled sheepishly. “No, I never wanted to leave here,” he admitted, “but I would have, to make Alice happy. I would have done anything to make her happy. Still would, for that matter.”