Read Online The Whole Cat and Caboodle: Second Chance Cat Mystery by Sofie Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Sofie Ryan
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“She’s Arthur’s sister. I don’t know if there’s any other family.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Nick had taken a job with the medical examiner?” I asked.
“It wasn’t my place.”
“Charlotte told me they disagreed.”
Rose pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s one way to put it,” she said.
I looked around. There were two very large boxes on the floor, holding open one of the doors. Elvis was poking one of the flaps with a paw, trying to get it open. “Get out of that,” I said.
He turned to look at me over his shoulder and then went back to scraping at the cardboard. “Hey!” I snapped. “Stop it!”
He didn’t even bother glancing back at me.
“Jessie’s coming to pick up those two boxes,” Rose said. “Elvis can’t get them open. He can’t hurt anything.”
“That’s not the point,” I said, dropping my bag to the floor so I could go grab the cat. “I told him to stop. He acts like he can’t hear me.”
Rose took another paper-wrapped bowl from the box at her elbow. “Oh, he can hear you. He just doesn’t have any intention of listening.” She smiled without looking up. “He’s a cat.”
“He’s a very bad cat,” I said, picking him off the floor. “You’re bad,” I said, sternly, shaking my finger at him.
His response was to sniff it. Behind me Rose laughed.
I set Elvis down just inside the store. I pointed to the steps. “Go upstairs.” I made a shooing motion with my hand for emphasis. He looked at me unblinkingly. Then he made a wide circle around me and went back into the storage room, in search of Mac—or more boxes he could paw his way into.
“Where’s Mac?” I said to Rose.
She dipped her head toward the back of the space. “He’s in the shed.”
I headed for the door along the back wall. Elvis had jumped onto a metal plant stand. He looked a little like some Egyptian cat-god statue.
I found Mac out back in what we called the shed. The outbuilding had most likely been a two-car garage originally. It had been built much later than the house and had had at least two other lives that I knew about—as an appliance repair business and a pottery studio. My long-term plans were to fix the roof, add some insulation and use the space for more formal workshops, along with badly needed extra storage.
Mac was crouched down in front of a long dresser. It had two long drawers, two short ones, and it sat on four squat, curved feet. The wood, which we thought was elm, was in pretty decent shape. Really the only problem was the fact that it had been painted an unfortunate shade of orange that I thought was reserved just for traffic cones.
“What do you think?” I asked.
He squinted up at me. “The joints are all solid. There’s no sign of mold or worms, although it does smell pretty strongly of mothballs and, if my nose is correct, Evening in Paris perfume.”
“Some time in the sun will get rid of a lot of the smell,” I said. I took a couple of steps to the front of the chest so I could get the full effect of the orange.
“What are you going to do for a finish?” Mac asked, getting to his feet and brushing the dust off his hands. He’d rolled back his sleeves and I could see the muscles in his arms. Mac was all lean, strong muscle. A couple of times I’d thought about inviting him for a run but I was a bit afraid he’d leave me behind.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’m going for a distressed look but I’m not sure about the color.”
“That orange is pretty distressing,” Mac said with a smile as he came to stand beside me.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Avery.”
He smoothed a hand over his head. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Avery.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What did she do?”
“Nothing. I was thinking maybe we should see if she’d be interested in helping me do some work in here.”
“You mean repurposing some of the pieces?” I said. I looked around. Between Mac
“Why didn’t you tell me that Nick had taken a job with the medical examiner?” I asked.
“It wasn’t my place.”
“Charlotte told me they disagreed.”
Rose pushed her glasses up her nose. “That’s one way to put it,” she said.
I looked around. There were two very large boxes on the floor, holding open one of the doors. Elvis was poking one of the flaps with a paw, trying to get it open. “Get out of that,” I said.
He turned to look at me over his shoulder and then went back to scraping at the cardboard. “Hey!” I snapped. “Stop it!”
He didn’t even bother glancing back at me.
“Jessie’s coming to pick up those two boxes,” Rose said. “Elvis can’t get them open. He can’t hurt anything.”
“That’s not the point,” I said, dropping my bag to the floor so I could go grab the cat. “I told him to stop. He acts like he can’t hear me.”
Rose took another paper-wrapped bowl from the box at her elbow. “Oh, he can hear you. He just doesn’t have any intention of listening.” She smiled without looking up. “He’s a cat.”
“He’s a very bad cat,” I said, picking him off the floor. “You’re bad,” I said, sternly, shaking my finger at him.
His response was to sniff it. Behind me Rose laughed.
I set Elvis down just inside the store. I pointed to the steps. “Go upstairs.” I made a shooing motion with my hand for emphasis. He looked at me unblinkingly. Then he made a wide circle around me and went back into the storage room, in search of Mac—or more boxes he could paw his way into.
“Where’s Mac?” I said to Rose.
She dipped her head toward the back of the space. “He’s in the shed.”
I headed for the door along the back wall. Elvis had jumped onto a metal plant stand. He looked a little like some Egyptian cat-god statue.
I found Mac out back in what we called the shed. The outbuilding had most likely been a two-car garage originally. It had been built much later than the house and had had at least two other lives that I knew about—as an appliance repair business and a pottery studio. My long-term plans were to fix the roof, add some insulation and use the space for more formal workshops, along with badly needed extra storage.
Mac was crouched down in front of a long dresser. It had two long drawers, two short ones, and it sat on four squat, curved feet. The wood, which we thought was elm, was in pretty decent shape. Really the only problem was the fact that it had been painted an unfortunate shade of orange that I thought was reserved just for traffic cones.
“What do you think?” I asked.
He squinted up at me. “The joints are all solid. There’s no sign of mold or worms, although it does smell pretty strongly of mothballs and, if my nose is correct, Evening in Paris perfume.”
“Some time in the sun will get rid of a lot of the smell,” I said. I took a couple of steps to the front of the chest so I could get the full effect of the orange.
“What are you going to do for a finish?” Mac asked, getting to his feet and brushing the dust off his hands. He’d rolled back his sleeves and I could see the muscles in his arms. Mac was all lean, strong muscle. A couple of times I’d thought about inviting him for a run but I was a bit afraid he’d leave me behind.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I’m going for a distressed look but I’m not sure about the color.”
“That orange is pretty distressing,” Mac said with a smile as he came to stand beside me.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Avery.”
He smoothed a hand over his head. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Avery.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What did she do?”
“Nothing. I was thinking maybe we should see if she’d be interested in helping me do some work in here.”
“You mean repurposing some of the pieces?” I said. I looked around. Between Mac
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