A Cat on the Case by Clea Simon

Author:Clea Simon [Pinter, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polis Books

Becca hadn’t gotten far. In fact, Clara’s person was walking so slowly by the time she caught up with her that the calico looked up, worried. What if something were really wrong?

No, she realized. Becca simply wanted to make a phone call. But after fishing her device out of her bag and staring at it, she stowed it once again. Shaking her head, she kept walking, picking up her pace as she turned onto Mass Ave. Middle of the day, on a weekday, the street was always busy, but Clara heard her person gasp as they neared the little storefront.

A small crowd had gathered out front, and at first Clara worried that Becca blamed herself. Certainly, she shouldn’t have closed the shop at midday. But she had been worried, and besides, hours often went by without anyone coming in at all. Although Clara had grown accustomed to the incense and herbs Charm and Cherish sold, she’d come to realize that it was the dust – especially on the bookshelves – that tickled her whiskers the worst. Not that Becca could be expected to clean what her inferior human senses couldn’t detect. No, Clara thought as she trotted to keep up. Whatever that buzzing crowd might be on about, none of it could be Becca’s fault.

“There you are!” A familiar caw broke the crowd, and Clara looked up to see Margaret – the store’s owner – emerge from the assembled pack. Despite her short stature, she parted them like curtains, her fierce gaze and lipsticked glower causing bystanders to draw back even before her arms reached up to push them aside. “Elizabeth said you’d be back any minute, but the police wouldn’t wait.”

“The police?” Becca stopped so quickly Clara had to scramble not to run into her.

“Didn’t you get my message?” The painted-on brow sank into an angry V.

“I’m sorry.” Becca reached for her phone. “I was trying to reach a friend, and…”

“Never mind.” Margaret waved her off. “Maybe it’s just as well you weren’t here. You could’ve gotten hurt. Come on, then.”

Without any further explanation, she turned as if to dive back into the crowd and, after a moment’s pause, Becca followed. Shoving her phone back in her bag, she pulled out the keys. Not that she would need them. As the crowd once more parted for the diminutive owner, Clara could see that the door of the little store was propped open. A tech wearing gloves was busy examining the frame – as well as the broken glass within. Becca’s sign – Back in an hour! – still clung to a jagged fragment and swiveled back and forth in the breeze.

“One moment, please.” The tech held up his left hand, palm out, to stop them, even as he continued to brush the door’s metal frame with his right.

“What happened?” Becca’s head swiveled as well, from the broken glass to her boss. A uniformed officer had appeared and was moving the crowd, which continued to creep forward, back almost to the curb.

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