Cat Me If You Can Read online

  “I’m real sorry.” Cora’s voice had a nasal twang. She got up from the sofa, her expression one of embarrassment. “Sometimes it just comes over me, and I can’t help myself.”

  Helen Louise said, “We certainly understand. I’m sure it must be difficult for you.”

  Arthur continued to frown. He hissed something at Cora under his breath, and she turned an indignant look on him. “Of course I finished the room, Mr. Smarty Arty. I don’t never fall asleep when I’m working. It happens when I stop. You oughta know that by now.” She looked at us. “I sat down, only for a minute, you see, and before I knew it I was so tired I passed out like that.”

  Diesel meowed in sympathy, and Cora smiled at him. Arthur eyed the cat with a moue of distaste. He obviously was no ailurophile.

  “There’s really no harm done,” I said in as patient a tone as I could muster. “If you’ll excuse us now. We’d like to freshen up after our drive this morning.”

  Arthur started. “Certainly. Come along, Cora.” He hurried her along in front of him and pulled the door shut softly behind them.

  Helen Louise laughed. “That gave me quite a start, I don’t mind telling you. I was afraid we’d walked right into another murder investigation.”

  I had to laugh also. Diesel warbled and jumped onto the sofa. He regarded us quizzically, as if he wondered what we found so amusing. “I’d never have guessed she was a narcoleptic housekeeper. Poor woman.”

  “No, how could you?” Helen Louise giggled.

  “I wonder if Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce have encountered Cora in her sleep state.” I surveyed the room, furnished comfortably in an English country house style I found attractive. The sitting room of the suite was about the size of my den at home. Not large, but of a pleasing size that could accommodate a small group of eight or ten, perhaps. I spotted a door to the right and headed for it.

  “Come look at the bedroom,” I said.

  Helen Louise came to stand beside me, and together we beheld the beautiful canopied bed. The furnishings in this room followed the theme of the sitting room, and the space was again a comfortable size. A large wardrobe stood against one wall beside a large window. On the opposite wall I noticed a door that must lead into the bathroom.

  “Lovely room,” Helen Louise said. “I think we’ll be fine here for the week.”

  I went over to sit on the bed. “Nice and firm. No back problems sleeping on this mattress, I should think.” Diesel joined me on the bed and stretched out.

  A knock sounded at the suite door, and I went to admit the bellman with our luggage on a large cart. He brought everything into the bedroom. I gave him a healthy tip, and he smiled his thanks as he handed over the car keys. “The car is parked behind the hotel, sir.”

  I saw him out, and when I returned to the bedroom, Helen Louise was busy unpacking. Diesel remained on the bed, seemingly quite comfortable, but I knew I needed to get his litter box set up. I filled his water and dry food bowls as well.

  That task accomplished, I unpacked my own things. When I finished, I checked the time. A few minutes to one. I realized I was hungry.

  “How about lunch?” I asked.

  “I think I could manage a bite or two,” Helen Louise said.

  Diesel meowed.

  “You’ll have to stay here, boy,” I said, “but you’ve got everything you need. Come and see.”

  The cat followed me into the bathroom, and I pointed out his food and water bowls. He immediately headed to the bowls, and I left him and returned to Helen Louise in the sitting room.

  She held the remote control for the television and was surfing the channels. She paused on a channel with a program about animals and turned the sound up a couple of levels, and we left the suite to go in search of lunch.

  “I checked into the restaurant’s ratings,” Helen Louise remarked as we walked down the stairs in the center of the hallway. “Consistently excellent reviews, so I think we should be well fed this week. Apparently it’s quite a popular spot with locals.”

  Downstairs we found Arthur once again resident behind the front desk. He directed us to the dining room, down the hall near reception.

  To our great pleasure we found our friends Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce there along with their ward, Benjy Stephens. Benjy rose at once in greeting when he saw us, and the sisters professed their happiness at our safe arrival.

  After shaking hands with Benjy and giving Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce quick hugs, Helen Louise and I took seats at their table as they insisted we do. They had come down for lunch only a few minutes ahead of us. We exchanged remarks on the beauty of the area and responded to queries about our drive from the Gatlinburg area to Asheville. The sisters and Benjy had driven from Athena by way of Atlanta and had arrived yesterday.

  “Was there any problem with bringing Diesel into the hotel?” Miss An’gel asked.

  “Not after we mentioned your name,” Helen Louise said with an impish grin.

  “Good,” Miss An’gel said. “We left Peanut and Endora at home to keep Clementine company.” Clementine was the Ducotes’ housekeeper. “In fact, she insisted.”

  “She doesn’t like being alone in the house,” Benjy said.

  “I must say I’m relieved that we didn’t bring them,” Miss Dickce said. “As much as I miss having them nearby, I hate to think of having to lock them up in the room here whenever we leave the hotel.”

  For a moment I felt terribly guilty for leaving Diesel in our room, but I doubted the hotel’s graciousness toward his presence would extend to his appearance in the dining room.

  “Is the whole group here now?” I asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

  “There are a few who should be arriving this afternoon,” Miss Dickce said. “Then we’ll all be present and accounted for.”

  Our server approached with menus for Helen Louise and me, and after taking our drink orders, left with a promise to return shortly. Helen Louise was already busy inspecting the menu, and I knew she would select something we would both enjoy.

  “We had the oddest experience when we walked into our suite,” I said. Before I could continue, Miss Dickce giggled, and Miss An’gel stiffened.

  Benjy grinned. “Let me guess. You found a body on the sofa.”

  I had to laugh. “I see you’ve met Cora as well.”

  “Gave me the fright of my life,” Miss Dickce said. “A body sprawled out on the sofa.”

  “The poor girl.” Miss An’gel shook her head. “I know that her condition must be a sad trial to her, but it is mighty disconcerting to hotel guests.”

  “Was she employed here when you last visited?” Helen Louise closed the menu and laid it aside.

  The server returned with our sweet teas and asked if we were ready to order.

  Helen Louise responded. “We will both have the smothered chicken, along with the braised mixed vegetables and the house salad with the balsamic vinaigrette dressing on the side.”

  The server, a young man barely out of high school, or so he appeared to me, glanced nervously at me. I smiled reassuringly. He then nodded and walked away. I supposed he wasn’t used to women ordering for the men accompanying them. I always found such reactions amusing, albeit a bit antiquated.

  “Now, back to Cora.” Helen Louise repeated her question.

  “No, she was not,” Miss An’gel said. “We were last here, what? Three years ago?” She looked at her sister.

  “Four, I believe,” Miss Dickce said, her tone decisive.

  “It sure is a beautiful hotel,” Benjy said. “And from what little I’ve seen of Asheville, there’s history everywhere.”

  “Yes indeed,” Miss An’gel said. “We’ll have some opportunities to experience an important part of the town’s history when we visit Biltmore.”

  We chatted for a few minutes about the Vanderbilt family and t
heir history. Our server arrived with salads and a fresh basket of bread. Benjy, at twenty, had a healthy appetite and a metabolism to match, and he had been steadily depleting the original basket of its contents while we talked.

  The cuisine sustained the reputation Helen Louise had found online. We all enjoyed the meal thoroughly, along with the conversation. I regretfully declined the chance of pecan praline pie for dessert, though I promised myself at least one slice before the week was out.

  As we left the table, Miss An’gel offered to show us the meeting room allotted to the group during our stay here. “It was originally the parlor, but it has been modified somewhat to suit the needs of the hotel for meeting spaces. Still, I think you’ll find it comfortable.”

  We followed Miss An’gel from the dining room across the entryway, nodding at Arthur in reception along the way. He appeared to be standing at rigid attention upon sight of Miss An’gel, and I suppressed a chuckle. I could have sworn I heard his exhalation of relief once he was out of Miss An’gel’s sight.

  Benjy stepped forward to open the door, then stood back to let the rest of us precede him into the room. The thick door and walls had evidently muffled the sound of the argument that burst upon us the moment Benjy opened the door. A young man and an older woman stood only a few feet apart. I had trouble understanding them because they spoke at the same time. Neither appeared to be listening to the other.

  Miss An’gel cleared her throat loudly, and the combatants stopped, turning expressions of mixed hostility and surprise toward us.

  I recognized them—Zac Ryan and Ellie Arnold, both members of the Athena Public Library mystery group. Zac, a young man in his later twenties, had recently moved to Athena to teach art history at Athena College. Apparently he was something of a wunderkind, having earned his PhD at twenty-four and worked for two famous East Coast museums for a few years. Ellie, perhaps a decade older than Zac, had lived most of her life in my hometown. She worked in the largest bank in town as a loan officer. Helen Louise knew her from church, but I knew her only through the group. I wouldn’t have thought Ellie and Zac were acquainted well enough to be arguing like this. Maybe Zac had applied for a loan and had been turned down. I was surprised to see Ellie. I hadn’t known she planned to join the group this week.

  Ellie glared at Miss An’gel, then turned her focus back to Zac Ryan. “I’ll settle up with you later, you little rat.” She pushed her way abruptly through our group in the doorway and disappeared up the stairs.

  THREE

  I hoped the coming week wouldn’t be fraught with tension between Zac and Ellie. One of the purposes of this so-called mystery retreat was for the group to get to know one another better. Our two monthly meetings thus far hadn’t given us much time to socialize. The other was to share the mutual love of mystery fiction by talking about our favorite writers. The Ducote sisters, founders of the group, had underwritten the trip, unbeknownst to most of the members, to make it affordable for those who couldn’t have come up with the money for a week in a boutique hotel like the Hindman. I hoped the sisters wouldn’t be rewarded for their generosity by bad behavior and dissension throughout the week.

  Zac Ryan, his handsome face now flushed red, stood awkwardly in front of us. I suspected he wanted to run out of the room himself, but for some reason felt unable to.

  “Good afternoon, Zac,” Miss An’gel said. “I do hope you and Ellie can mend your differences so that we can enjoy ourselves this week.” Though her tone was benign, there was yet the air of command about the words.

  Zac’s expression of chagrin at Miss An’gel’s subtle rebuke earned him my sympathy. “I’m sure everyone will do their best to make our time here enjoyable,” I said.

  Zac threw me a look of gratitude. “Yes, of course, Miss An’gel. Only a little private disagreement between Ellie and me. I promise I won’t let it interfere with our plans.”

  “Thank you.” Miss An’gel turned to face the rest of the group. “As I told you, this is a comfortable room, and it is ours exclusively this week. I am really looking forward to our talks.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse Sister and me. We have an appointment with a dear friend this afternoon. We’ll be back in time for our meeting at seven.”

  Once the sisters left the room, Zac eyed the rest of us a trifle askance. I had encountered him a couple of times on campus since he joined the Athena faculty, once during his orientation tour and another time at a reception for a retiring faculty member from his department. He had always come across as an affable, intelligent, well-spoken young man, and I wondered what had caused the obvious discord between him and Ellie Arnold.

  None of my business, however. The best we could do at the moment was to ignore the fact that we had found him in an embarrassing situation.

  “Zac, it’s good to see you again.” I stepped forward and thrust out my hand. “Charlie Harris. I’m the archivist and rare books cataloger at the college.” I turned to indicate Helen Louise and introduced her as my fiancée.

  Zac nodded in acknowledgment of my introductions. “I’ve eaten several times at your bistro.” He smiled at Helen Louise. “The food is always delicious.”

  “Thank you,” Helen Louise said. “I’ve seen you in the bistro, and it’s nice now to have a name to go with the face.”

  Zac’s gaze shifted past Helen Louise and me and settled on Benjy. I motioned for Benjy to step forward, and he did so, a bit shyly as was his wont. I tended to think of Benjy as a boy, because he had been young for his age when he first came to stay with Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. But after nearly two years with them, he had developed into a man, nearly as tall as Zac, with excellent manners and a respectful deference to his seniors. I made the introduction, and Benjy shook hands. Zac greeted him warmly and the two stood there smiling intently at each other.

  “So this is where we’re going to be meeting.” The booming voice came from somewhere behind me, and I turned quickly to see Johnny Ray Floyd striding toward the group. Johnny Ray with his compact, broad torso was probably a foot shorter than I was, and I topped off at about six foot one. His powerful shoulders strained the seams of his ill-fitting dress shirt, and the rolled-up sleeves exposed his muscular arms. I hadn’t seen him in anything other than his work clothes before today because he usually came right from work to the group meetings at the public library. He ran his own highly successful plumbing company, and his mother was one of my housekeeper’s close friends. Whenever there was any kind of plumbing issue at my house, Johnny Ray came himself. He had the friendliness of an overgrown puppy, and despite the occasional coarse expression he dropped into conversation, he was a bright, articulate member of the group.

  I stepped forward to offer my hand. “Hi, Johnny Ray. Glad you could make it. How’s the family?”

  “Hey there, Charlie, and Helen Louise.” He winked at her, and Helen Louise laughed. He was an incorrigible flirt. “Family’s doing great. Lou’s upstairs with the twins. When I left to come down here, she was thinking about tying them to chairs in the suite to keep ’em quiet, and the oldest is in his room reading.”

  “He takes after his dad,” Helen Louise said.

  Johnny Ray chuckled. “He sure does. Rather have a book any day than something else. Just like me when I was a kid.”

  Zac and Benjy broke off their conversation to greet the newcomer, and Johnny Ray shook their hands and exchanged pleasantries. “Who else is here?” Johnny Ray asked.

  “The Ducotes, of course,” I said, nodding toward Benjy, “and Ellie Arnold. I think everyone is supposed to be here by this afternoon.”

  I glanced over Johnny Ray’s shoulder to see two more members of the group approaching. Burdine and Elmore Gregory, a long-married couple in their early seventies, strode into the room in their usual hearty fashion. They had retired a few months ago from a successful chiropractic practice. I remembered Aunt Dottie talking about Burdine and h
ow good a chiropractor she was. By the time I moved back, they had shut down to retire.

  Based on my own experiences with the couple, the best adjective I could ever find to describe the pair was enthusiastic. They loved books, and nature, and British television crime shows, and they shared their love of these with anyone and everyone they met, whether the persons they encountered wanted them to or not.

  The Gregorys meant no harm, and I tolerated them as best as I could, but after a while, that unending enthusiasm wore me down. They were indefatigable members of the group, and I would simply have to be patient. Not one of my strengths, but I could use the practice, the Lord only knew.

  Another round of greetings ensued, and when I had the opportunity, I explained that the Ducotes would join us this evening and that Ellie Arnold was here as well.

  “We saw Melba earlier in the dining room,” Burdine said. “She was eating with Paul Bowen.” She tittered. “I can tell Melba is smitten. He is a hunk, even if he is a bit younger than she is. Can’t say I blame her. If it weren’t for Elmore, this gal would be going after Paul herself.”

  Elmore looked pained. His wife’s occasional displays of vulgarity bothered him, I knew, but they appeared devoted to each other nevertheless.

  Paul Bowen, a banker who worked at the same bank as Ellie Arnold, was probably in his early to mid-forties, whereas Melba Gilley, my longtime friend, was my age, early fifties. Melba had a history of bad luck with men, and I could only hope that Paul, should he be interested in her, would be a good match. I loved Melba like a sister, but she seemed jinxed sometimes.

  I didn’t know Paul, except through the group, but he had always seemed like a pleasant man. His contributions to the group revealed his ability to articulate his thoughts with clarity and conciseness. He possessed a wry sense of humor as well, and his favorite crime writer was Craig Rice, known for her humorous hard-boiled novels.

  I mentally ticked off the members of the group who had agreed to this trip, and all were accounted for now except one, Celia Bernardi. A widow of many years, Celia was nearest the Ducote sisters in age, though she acted like a woman close to her deathbed in marked contrast to the sisters’ vitality. She bemoaned her ailments during the group’s meetings, but no one had the heart to tell her to stop except for Miss An’gel. Miss An’gel managed to quell Celia when necessary and did so in a polite but no-nonsense fashion. To others, Celia appeared perfectly healthy, with a rosy complexion and no obvious physical issues. I suspected that she made hypochondria her hobby, particularly since she appeared to have no family to occupy her time and interest.