Next to it, in that big green plastic garbage can, is fresh litter. The old litter gets dumped in the big metal can with the lid on it.
“Fill ten new boxes first, then collect and clean the used ones. Wash them in the porcelain sink by the litter supply. Meanwhile, I have to bathe Mystery and comb Red.”
Helen and Jan worked for the next hour. Jan groomed both cats, talking to them softly. They rubbed their heads against her hand and begged for scratches. She played with them, waving a wand with shiny Mylar strips and teasing them with feathers.
“I’m not goofing off,” Jan said. “This is how the judges get the cats’ attention at the shows. It’s also exercise for them.”
Helen’s job wasn’t nearly as pleasant. She filled the fresh boxes with litter, emptied the used ones in the cattery, found Gabby Garcia, the maid, and then carried five more fresh boxes—two to upstairs bathrooms, one in a guest bathroom, two more in a utility room off the kitchen—and removed and cleaned the old ones. Then she swept up cat hair in the cattery, wiped down the grooming tables, and tossed loads of wet towels into the washer and then the dryer.
By four o’clock, her arms ached and her nose itched from the cat hair, but her work was done and so was Jan’s.
“Tonight we can leave on time,” Jan said. “It will get hectic in a few days.”
Jan looked surprisingly fresh after a day of bathing and combing cats.
Her dark hair held its curls and her skin was still creamy and makeup free.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jan said. “This has been a hellish week. My assistant, Petula, quit, Dee went on a rampage and yesterday was worst of all.”
“What happened?” Helen asked.
“My—my fiancé was killed,” Jan said. “Murdered, actually. I found out about it on TV. Last night on the ten o’clock news.”
“How horrible,” Helen said.
“It was,” Jan said. “I cried all night. Mort was a lovely man, and we planned to marry as soon as his divorce was final.” She wiped away more tears.
“I’m very sorry,” Helen said.
“I didn’t want to come in today, but Dee said she’d fire me if I didn’t. I can’t afford to lose this job. The kitties are a great comfort, and work helps me forget a little.” She sighed and said, “Well, you don’t want to hear me talk about Mort.”
“Oh, but I do,” Helen said.
CHAPTER 8
Tuesday
H elen, grumpy, hot and cat-hairy, was glad she didn’t run into anyone back at the Coronado. She went straight to her apartment, showered, changed into clean clothes and poured herself a glass of white wine.
After a few sips, she was ready to talk with Phil. She found him typing furiously at his computer in their second-floor office. She paused a moment to study him. She liked his silvery hair, and his slightly crooked nose gave him an offbeat handsomeness. He had a cute little wrinkle in his forehead when he was working intensely.
He looked up and said, “Helen! You look nice.” He got up and kissed her.
“I didn’t ten minutes ago,” she said. “I’ve been slaving over a hot cat box—ten cat boxes—while you’re working on a nice, cool computer.
“Any interesting calls come in today on Trish’s phone?”
“One from the Police Benevolent Association,” he said, “and two from her boyfriend, Arthur. He was surprised to find his fiancée had a secretary.”
“So they’re engaged,” Helen said.
“That’s what he said. She didn’t mention it. I’ve been hard at the computer. I’ve had a breakthrough in the case.”
Helen sat in her black-and-chrome partner chair, and Phil rubbed her neck and shoulders. “You’re tense,” he said. “I’m glad you got the job, but it must be rough.”
“I can whine later,” she said. “Tell me about the breakthrough.”
“I think the red medallion by Mort’s body is from the Gold Cup Coventry All Breed Cat Show,” he said. “It’s a big-deal show in Britain.”
“That’s no cute kitty,”
“Fill ten new boxes first, then collect and clean the used ones. Wash them in the porcelain sink by the litter supply. Meanwhile, I have to bathe Mystery and comb Red.”
Helen and Jan worked for the next hour. Jan groomed both cats, talking to them softly. They rubbed their heads against her hand and begged for scratches. She played with them, waving a wand with shiny Mylar strips and teasing them with feathers.
“I’m not goofing off,” Jan said. “This is how the judges get the cats’ attention at the shows. It’s also exercise for them.”
Helen’s job wasn’t nearly as pleasant. She filled the fresh boxes with litter, emptied the used ones in the cattery, found Gabby Garcia, the maid, and then carried five more fresh boxes—two to upstairs bathrooms, one in a guest bathroom, two more in a utility room off the kitchen—and removed and cleaned the old ones. Then she swept up cat hair in the cattery, wiped down the grooming tables, and tossed loads of wet towels into the washer and then the dryer.
By four o’clock, her arms ached and her nose itched from the cat hair, but her work was done and so was Jan’s.
“Tonight we can leave on time,” Jan said. “It will get hectic in a few days.”
Jan looked surprisingly fresh after a day of bathing and combing cats.
Her dark hair held its curls and her skin was still creamy and makeup free.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jan said. “This has been a hellish week. My assistant, Petula, quit, Dee went on a rampage and yesterday was worst of all.”
“What happened?” Helen asked.
“My—my fiancé was killed,” Jan said. “Murdered, actually. I found out about it on TV. Last night on the ten o’clock news.”
“How horrible,” Helen said.
“It was,” Jan said. “I cried all night. Mort was a lovely man, and we planned to marry as soon as his divorce was final.” She wiped away more tears.
“I’m very sorry,” Helen said.
“I didn’t want to come in today, but Dee said she’d fire me if I didn’t. I can’t afford to lose this job. The kitties are a great comfort, and work helps me forget a little.” She sighed and said, “Well, you don’t want to hear me talk about Mort.”
“Oh, but I do,” Helen said.
CHAPTER 8
Tuesday
H elen, grumpy, hot and cat-hairy, was glad she didn’t run into anyone back at the Coronado. She went straight to her apartment, showered, changed into clean clothes and poured herself a glass of white wine.
After a few sips, she was ready to talk with Phil. She found him typing furiously at his computer in their second-floor office. She paused a moment to study him. She liked his silvery hair, and his slightly crooked nose gave him an offbeat handsomeness. He had a cute little wrinkle in his forehead when he was working intensely.
He looked up and said, “Helen! You look nice.” He got up and kissed her.
“I didn’t ten minutes ago,” she said. “I’ve been slaving over a hot cat box—ten cat boxes—while you’re working on a nice, cool computer.
“Any interesting calls come in today on Trish’s phone?”
“One from the Police Benevolent Association,” he said, “and two from her boyfriend, Arthur. He was surprised to find his fiancée had a secretary.”
“So they’re engaged,” Helen said.
“That’s what he said. She didn’t mention it. I’ve been hard at the computer. I’ve had a breakthrough in the case.”
Helen sat in her black-and-chrome partner chair, and Phil rubbed her neck and shoulders. “You’re tense,” he said. “I’m glad you got the job, but it must be rough.”
“I can whine later,” she said. “Tell me about the breakthrough.”
“I think the red medallion by Mort’s body is from the Gold Cup Coventry All Breed Cat Show,” he said. “It’s a big-deal show in Britain.”
“That’s no cute kitty,”
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