Let Sleeping Cats Lie by Louise Clark

Author:Louise Clark [Clark, Louise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947833562
Amazon: B07DK2BDQC
Publisher: ePublishing Works!
Published: 2019-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Christy rang the Armstrongs’ doorbell and fumed as she waited. Frank and Stormy had made themselves scarce yesterday after the funeral. At dinnertime, the cat had slunk into kitchen while Noelle was in the room with her. She figured Frank knew that she wouldn’t berate him while his daughter was present, and he was right. Stormy consumed his bowl of cat food with a kind of desperation, then disappeared to lie low in some dark corner where the cat could snooze and recoup his energy from his undoubtedly stressful afternoon. This morning, Stormy had rushed out the door when Christy was taking Noelle to school. She hadn’t seen him since.

No one answered the bell, but the door was partially ajar, so Christy pushed it open. She could hear voices coming from the living room. She headed up the stairs.

“What possessed you to go to Fred Jarvis’ funeral?” Trevor was saying as she reached the landing.

Trevor, Roy, Ellen, and the cat were seated in the Armstrong living room staring at the flat screen TV mounted above the fireplace. They were watching a clip of protesters straining against the barricades the police had erected to ensure the safety and security of all who attended the high-profile event.

“Hi,” she said, deliberately calling attention to herself. The other four swung around at the sound of her voice. “I rang, but no one answered. The door was open so I came up.”

“We left it open for Frank,” Roy said. “He says Stormy gets bored watching too much TV.”

“Don’t we all,” Trevor muttered. His expression was grim. He didn’t look like he was in a particularly good mood.

Hey babe. Some reporter caught your arrival. You and Aunt Ellen looked awesome.

That clip also showed Roy standing by the barricades shouting slogans as the chauffeur driven cars of the political and social elite slid past to enter the protected arrival area. As Roy made play with his megaphone and protest sign, the camera caught Stormy slinking through his legs, then darting past the security detail, heading for the church. On the way, he paused to twine around Christy’s silk clad ankles, before bolting again and avoiding the combined efforts of three policemen to capture him. The reporter commented that this was the cat that would later disrupt the service midway through.

“That clip is why I’m here,” Christy said. “Frank, how could you? You knew I didn’t want you to go to the funeral.”

Stormy licked a front paw. It’s my job. I’m the senior Jamieson.

“No. You. Are. Not,” Christy said, drawing out the words. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she worked on control. “Cats don’t go to funerals, Frank. We had that discussion.”

Stormy hopped off the couch where he was sitting between Ellen and Trevor, to twine around Christy’s ankles. I do.

Knowing it would be impossible to get through to Frank in this mood, Christy turned her irritation on Roy. “I suppose he caught a ride with you.”

Roy blinked a couple of times and managed to look innocent.

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