Fat Cat Spreads Out Page 2

“No, she’s usually nauseated in the morning, then feels better by afternoon. Today, though, she felt faint just before closing.”

  “I’m not a people doctor, but you know what that sounds like, don’t you?”

  “No. What do you think is wrong with her?”

  “I think she’s pregnant.”

  TWO

  Anna wrestled the clumsy wicker basket onto the display table in their booth with a grunt.

  “What are you doing?” Chase rushed to help her, but was too late. “That basket is too heavy for one person.”

  “Oh, pooh. My laundry basket weighs more than this.”

  They had stuffed the pretty basket full of dessert bar packages this morning before they left to set up their booth for the opening of the fair and bazaar tomorrow. Anna thought they could use the basket as part of their display. Anna, a seamstress wizard, had lined it with pink-and-purple-striped cloth before they’d filled it. The table was rather small, but Chase thought they could make it work.

  “Let’s tip the basket and put the dessert bars half in and half out,” Chase suggested.

  “Oh, like they’re tumbling from the basket, right? Great idea, Charity.” Anna started unpacking the small boxes onto the top of the table so they could set up the arrangement.

  A gust of wind stirred the back tarp slightly, and it flapped against the supporting poles.

  The booths were set up along the sawdust strewn midway at the Bunyan County Fairgrounds. They were nine-by-nine tents, each furnished with a five-foot table and two folding chairs for the price of the display space. Chase hadn’t looked around yet to see who the other vendors were, but she wanted to take a walk along the entire concourse after they set up and before they left tonight.

  The tinkling music of an electric calliope came from the direction of the traveling carnival that was setting up in part of the huge visitor’s parking lot. The rides were mostly children’s rides, including a merry-go-round (with the electric music), a small roller coaster, a train ride with a fancy old-fashioned locomotive, and, for the brave, a Tilt-A-Whirl. Chase thought they must be trying things out today.

  Several booths of carnival games lined up at the edge of that lot. Chase used to be a fair hand at ring toss. Maybe she would get a chance to see if she could still do it. Later, after things were well under way, of course.

  The main attractions at the fair were the butter sculpture competition and the pet contests. Chase was glad the booths were set up on the path leading to the exhibit building and close to the butter sculpture location.

  She wasn’t sure what the sculpture contest entailed, but was eager to find out. Julie had started to tell her, but their phone conversation had been cut short by a wave of Bar None customers. All she knew was that the Bunyan County Fair had held the competitions for years, and she remembered seeing some when her parents took her to the fair as a young child.

  A shadow fell across the opening to the booth. Chase turned to find Quincy’s veterinarian running an appreciative eye over what they’d done so far.

  “I like the banner with your logo. The stripes are eye-catching.”

  “Mike,” Chase said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m the vet for the fair. That’s the news I meant to tell you last night.”

  “The fair needs a vet? I guess I haven’t read up on it enough. Is there livestock?”

  “No, not actual farming livestock.”

  “I thought I saw a man unloading a sheep or a goat in the parking lot.”

  “There aren’t any blue ribbons for farm animals, but there are a lot of pet contests. All the farm animals you’ll see here are pets. There’s an obstacle course for dogs and a Fancy Cat Contest. You might consider entering Quincy. But how’s Inger today?”

  “She came in to work this morning,” Anna said. “I told her we’ll open limited hours all next week, since she’ll be there alone. One of those days she can close up early, or completely, and get herself to a doctor.”

  “Yep, that’s what Anna told her.” Chase had her doubts Inger would see a doctor. She hadn’t seemed eager to do that. “I’ll run back to check on Quincy this afternoon, and I’ll also see if Inger is having any trouble. If she is, I’ll either stay or close the shop.”

  “Good idea,” Anna said. “I can always go back, too. Between us, we’ll get Inger taken care of.”

  No one noticed when the packages that were in the basket began to shift and quake. None of the three even saw the bright amber eyes peer over the top. The cat was able to leap out of the basket, land behind the table, and squeeze under the tarp that formed the back wall. Free of the confines of the basket, though the contents had provided good eating, he waddled along the aisle of booths, looking for something more to nibble on.

  “Did you see what I think I just saw?” Mike stepped into the booth and peered at the packed-dirt floor behind the table.

  Chase’s cell phone trilled. “It’s Inger.”

  “I hope she’s okay.” Anna leaned close to overhear the conversation.

  “Ms. Oliver—”

  “Call me Chase, Inger.”

  “Okay. Quincy isn’t here. I just went in to give him his midmorning snack, and—”

  “Midmorning snack? Who told you he gets one of those?” Chase frowned at Anna. Was she still spoiling the cat with too many treats?

  Anna backed away from the phone and resumed unpacking a box.

  “Mrs. Larson said she gives him one every day.”

  It was a wonder he hadn’t been gaining more weight. Chase glared at Anna’s back. “Has the outside door been open?” she asked Inger.

  “No. We haven’t even had any deliveries. I know he didn’t go out the front door. The thing is, the office door was closed. I don’t know why he’s not in here.”

  Chase closed her eyes and tried to picture the flurry when they were packing up this morning. Had she seen Quincy when she’d latched the office door? She couldn’t remember.

  Mike turned to face her. “Is Quincy missing?”

  Chase nodded, then spoke to Inger. “Maybe I should come back and help look for him.”

  When she was a child and Julie nicknamed her Chase, no one could have foreseen that she would spend so much time chasing a cat.

  “I think I just saw him there.” Mike pointed at the tarp that formed the rear wall of the booth.

  “Where?” Anna bent down and looked at the floor under the table.

  “He left. He slid out under the tent.”

  Chase told Inger she thought the cat was at the fair and cut the call short. “Are you sure you saw him?” she asked Mike.

  “Not positive. It’s dark back there. But it sure looked like a critter jumped off this table and went underneath the tarp.”

  “Great,” Chase said, planting her fists on her hips. “Quincy is loose again.”

  After extensive exploring, the aroma coming from the cold building was too much for the cat to resist. It was true, he’d gotten a lot of treats up and down the path he’d been roaming, but this was incredible. The whole building was full of butter. After the heavy door was pushed open, he slipped in, unseen by the person entering. Two people started having a violent scuffle, which sent the cat under a table, crouching until the disturbance was over. After the one left and the other lay still on the floor, the cat picked a table with a large amount of the delicious-smelling stuff and sprang up. It was full of the wonderful goodness. He started licking. Butter. An almost infinite amount of it. Yum.

  The three split up and Chase trudged past the booths. She bypassed the sturdy refrigerated building for butter sculptures, since the door was firmly shut. A sign hung on it that read “Keep Closed.” The jeweler next to it had seen him. He had even petted Quincy and fed him a potato chip from his snack stash. Chase paused at a booth with darling children’s clothing featuring colorful bird
, fish, and butterfly accents. The two women there exclaimed how cute Quincy was. They had given him some cheese crackers. At a book vendor, she was told that her cat was so clever, he’d tried to open one of the books on the display table. They had slipped him a piece of ham sandwich. Everywhere she went, from the cupcake tent to one selling unique board games and fancy decks of cards, she was told how clever and darling her orange-striped cat was. Almost all of them had fed him. She wondered how he was still able to walk.

  She visited the food concessions selling hot dogs and cotton candy and deep-fried concoctions, shuddering to think what they must have fed him. The people selling handmade banjos and the ones selling glass mobiles hadn’t given him anything, but had admired the “charming” animal. At a booth that gave out information about planting microchips into pets, she snatched a pamphlet after asking about Quincy. She would talk to them later.

  The calliope music reminded her there was another midway, in the lot that held the rides and carny games. She walked past the food vendors and made her way along the line of barkers who were calling passersby to “step up” and “win a prize” for either “the little lady” or “the kiddies.” At each booth, she hoped to see her chubby buddy perched on a ledge or nestled in with the pastel plush tigers and bears. At least these fair workers hadn’t handed out any treats to Quincy. None of them had even seen him.

  She trudged back toward her booth. The sun was warm and raised a dusty, pleasant smell from the sawdust. She’d covered almost the entire row of vendors twice. There was one she had skipped. The booth to one side of theirs was empty, except for the standard table and two chairs. A cardboard placard read “Harper’s Toys.” She gave it a cursory search, but it provided no hiding places and held no food.

  Two booths away from the one for Bar None, she paused when she saw a familiar figure. Mike stood a head taller than the other two people he was with, a young woman and an older one.

  “No, I’m not sure where it is,” the younger woman was saying to the older one. An abundance of glossy black tresses tumbled below her shoulders and swung when she shook her head. She sounded stressed.

  “Your grandfather will kill you when he finds out you took that collar.” The other woman ran a hand up and down the strap to her shoulder bag. “He has enough on his mind right now and he thinks you’ve quit taking things that don’t belong to you.”

  “I know. Don’t tell him, okay? I’ll find it.” The black-haired woman turned and entered the tent behind her. The sign above the door said “Fortunes Read.”

  Chase approached Mike and the older woman.

  “Hi,” Mike said. “I want you to meet my aunt Betsy. She’s my dad’s sister.” So Betsy was a Ramos by birth. She was much shorter than Mike, but had his same deep brown eyes and dark curls, hers cut short to frame an oval face with only a few age lines.

  Anna came running up to the group. “Quincy isn’t all that’s missing, Charity. The Hula Bars—”

  “Mrs. Larson.” Mike smiled at Anna. “I’d like you to meet my aunt Betsy.”

  Anna halted and waited a few seconds until her breathy panting slowed down. “Pleased to meet you.” They shook hands. “We’re very fond of your nephew. But, Charity”—she turned to Chase—“Quincy got into the Hula Bars.”

  Chase gasped. “Are they ruined? How many? Are there any left?”

  “He destroyed ten boxes.”

  “He ate ten boxes of dessert bars?” Mike’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t think even Quincy could eat that much.”

  “No, no. He didn’t eat all of them, only ruined them. I can’t tell how many bars are completely gone, but those boxes can’t be sold. They’re clawed to pieces.”

  Chase’s heart dropped toward her sneakers. “Ten boxes? That’s almost all of the Hula Bars that we brought here. They’ve been our best seller since we introduced them. We needed those boxes to sell.”

  “We do have a ton of Harvest Bars, but you’re right. I guess we’ll have to make some more tonight.” Anna’s brow furrowed beneath her silver curls, and her blue eyes grew somber.

  “Thank goodness he didn’t destroy the Harvest Bars. Where is that rascal?” Chase clenched one fist inside the other until her knuckles were white.

  “He’ll come back. One of us has to start baking soon.” Anna gave Chase a look that said Chase should do it. “If you stay here, you’ll worry yourself to death over Quincy. I’ll finish setting up and you can look in on Inger.”

  Chase resisted the notion of leaving with Quincy on the loose, but Anna finally convinced her. She had searched everywhere and didn’t know what else she could do. “Okay, Anna. I’ll head back in a few minutes. Call me the second he shows up. “

  Anna agreed. They said good-bye to Mike’s Aunt Betsy and trudged toward their booth, leaving Mike chatting with his aunt. Chase assumed he’d tell her what a terrible cat owner Chase was, not able to control her animal’s weight, or even his whereabouts.

  Chase glanced back to see if they were whispering and pointing at her. But Aunt Betsy was walking away as Mike ducked into the fortune-teller’s booth. She wondered, briefly, what had been troubling the young woman, and how she knew Mike. The man had a talent for collecting attractive females.

  Before she left, she helped Anna finish unpacking the goods that weren’t ruined.

  “Anna, about that midmorning snack that Inger mentioned,” Chase started.

  “I made sure she was going to give him a Kitty Patty. It wasn’t anything he shouldn’t have.”

  “But he doesn’t need an infinite amount of those, you know. I usually give him one about midday, not midmorning.”

  Anna gave Chase a pained look and turned away to arrange their price list on a plastic stand. A stack of the fliers describing how to save dessert bars for the holidays lay beside the stand. Anna knocked a few of them off the top of the pile and Chase bent down to retrieve them.

  As she straightened, they both heard a scream. Chase threw the papers onto the table and she and Anna ran outside their booth to see what was going on.

  The butter sculpture building was on the far side of the fortune-teller’s booth and a jewelry kiosk, four booths away from the Bar None. Several people were running toward it. Anna and Chase followed the gathering crowd.

  A young man in a security uniform came up behind them and pushed his way through. “Excuse me,” he repeated. “Emergency, let me through.”

  Within minutes, the onsite ambulance pulled up, lights flashing, the siren giving short burps, and paramedics rushed into the structure. In a few more minutes, two policemen came running and entered the exhibit space as well. That exhibition space was more than a tent, since it had to be refrigerated to keep the butter from melting. It was temporary but had wooden walls and a door. The door was closed and no one could see in, although Chase tried to peek every time it opened to admit someone else. More police arrived. A woman stood sobbing outside the entrance. Her face was red and splotchy.

  Chase saw the young woman from the fortune-telling booth, the one Mike and his aunt had been talking to, at the opposite edge of the crowd. She chewed her knuckles with a worried look. She didn’t take her eyes from the closed door.

  After a very long time, it seemed, paramedics emerged from the butter sculpture building pushing a gurney. The figure on it was covered with a sheet. Chase’s hand flew to her mouth. Anna grabbed her other hand and they held on tight. How awful that someone had passed away the day before the fair started.

  The woman who had been outside the building now followed behind the gurney, silently weeping. She was dressed in a long, red, swishy skirt and cowgirl boots and had a stylishly shaped short hairdo. Chase surmised that someone had had a heart attack. Maybe a man, and this was his wife. Did butter sculptors eat a lot of butter? Were they an unhealthy bunch? The crowd parted to let them wheel the body to the ambulance, waiting a few feet away. The woman spoke with the pa
ramedics, who shook their heads at her and closed the back bay doors.

  The two policemen were the next to emerge. They led a tall, handsome man to their squad car. When he looked up to scan the crowd, he gave a shake of his head to the fortune-teller. Then he turned toward Chase. It was Mike Ramos!

  THREE

  Chase felt her knees weaken as she watched Mike being led away toward the police car.

  “Ma’am.” A policewoman appeared beside her, holding Quincy. “Dr. Ramos said this was your cat. He sure is a handsome fellow.”

  Taking the cat, Chase tried to speak, but couldn’t get any sounds out at first. “What . . . why . . .” She cleared her throat. “Is Dr. Ramos being arrested? What for?”

  “He’s being brought in for questioning.” The woman left abruptly before Chase could ask her anything more. What was going on? It was like he was being . . . What was a good word? Detained?

  Anna reached over to give the frightened cat in Chase’s arms a head rub. “Did you look inside there when we were searching for Quincy?” She nodded toward the building Mike Ramos had come from.

  “No. I didn’t see how he could get inside. The door was closed.” Quincy nuzzled against Chase’s arm and left a smear. He had something oily on his whiskers. Butter?

  “That doesn’t always stop Quincy,” Anna said. “But what’s happening to Mike Ramos?”

  Chase shook her head. It was all too bewildering.

  Another car pulled up onto the midway as the ambulance drove away with the body, leaving the weeping woman behind. Out of the newly arrived car stepped Detective Niles Olson.

  “Uh-oh, look who’s here,” Anna said. “That dead man must have been murdered.”

  “Figures he would show up,” Chase said. She had a strange relationship with the tall, good-looking homicide detective and a checkered history. Now she really wondered if Mike was being detained.

  The man’s impossibly dark blue eyes scanned the crowd, lingering on Chase for an extra second before he entered the building.