Cat on the Scent

            They bent over the story. A big photo of a golden retriever behind the wheel of a Dodge Ram made them giggle.

            Harry read aloud. “”Maxwell, a golden retriever owned by Stuart Robinson of Springfield, Massachusetts, received a ticket today for driving without a license. Robinson said the dog was in the cab of the truck when he got out at the gas station, leaving the motor running. He doesn’t know how but Maxwell drove the truck down the street, finally running into a mailbox.“”

            Miranda laughed. “Art Bushey will kidnap that dog and put him behind the wheel of a Ford.”

            They laughed harder.

            Pewter said, “I could drive a truck if I had to.”

            “You could not,” Tucker said. “You don’t have the strength to hold the steering wheel.”

            “I do so.”

            “She could.” Mrs. Murphy took Pewter’s part.

            “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

            After work the cats crawled into the parked truck and practiced.

            “This is harder than I thought,” Pewter confessed.

            “Yeah, and we aren’t even moving.” Murphy laughed until she rolled over.

            “Come on, let’s go over to Blair’s.”

            34

            The cats reached the deep creek separating Harry’s land from Blair’s before Tucker caught up with them.

            Running flat out, she skidded to a stop, her hind end whirling around, leaving a semicircle in the grass. “Cheaters!”

            “You were asleep.”

            “I was not. I was resting my eyes.”

            “Sure.” Pewter viewed the steep bank with zero enthusiasm, but vaulted over.

            Archie Ingram’s U-Haul was parked next to the divine Porsche.

            The animals inspected it thoroughly, then Murphy bounded onto the Porsche, leaving delicate paw prints on the hood and roof.

            “Babe magnet.” She leaned over from the roof and stared inside at the luscious leather.

            “He hardly needs that.” Tucker sniffed the tires. “He’s been over to Little Mim’s. That ridiculous Brittany spaniel of hers has marked it.”

            “You can’t stand him because he’s perfectly groomed.”

            “Murphy, that’s silly.” Tucker turned her back on the cat and walked to the house.

            “You can’t go in there without us.” Pewter fell in next to the dog.

            “Don’t go in,” Murphy commanded as she carefully slid off the car.

            “Why not?”

            “We’ll interrupt them.”

            “They won’t pay any attention to us. Blair will open the door, feed us something, and then go back to whatever he was doing.” Pewter pulled open his back porch door, which was easy since it was warped.

            “The truth comes out.” Murphy whapped her paw from the door. “Listen to me. Don’t you find it odd that Archie Ingram has pulled into Blair’s driveway with a U-Haul? You and I should climb up in the tree. We can see everything—the windows are open.”

            “You climb in the tree. I’m sitting on the kitchen windowsill.” Pewter walked to the window and jumped up on the sill.

            If there hadn’t been a screen in the window she would have vaulted into the kitchen.

            “What about me?”

            “Tucker, I’ll open the door for you a crack. Lie down with your nose in the door. You can see and hear everything that way. If they notice you, act glad to see them and go right in. I’m staying in the tree.”

            Pewter watched as Blair brewed coffee. His top-of-the-line machine cost more than the industrial Bunn at Market’s store. A pint of cream sat on the counter next to it. Archie was slumped in a chair at the table, his head resting in one hand.

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            “Come on, Arch, this will start your motor again.”

            Archie sighed, toying with his cup. “Yeah.”

            “Will you snap out of it? She didn’t shoot you. She isn’t running around town telling tales.” He handed him the cream. “You’re being given a vacation to sort things out.”

            “Yeah.” He drank some coffee.

            “Good?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Dazzle me, Arch. Vary your vocabulary. How about ”Yes‘?“

            The corner of Archie’s mouth curved up. “Yes.” He drank more coffee.

            “If this doesn’t enliven you we’ll have to look for cocaine,” Blair joked.