Chapter 10
Something wasn’t right. Walking through the door, it took Jamie a moment to put his finger on it.
Misty hadn’t greeted him as she usually did.
He called out to her but she still didn’t appear.
She was probably asleep. Slipping his shoes off, he made for the kitchen, pondering whether it was too early for alcohol.
After his morning, a beer would go down nicely.
It was lunchtime, he noted, checking his watch.
He’d have a beer and a sandwich and figure out what to do with the rest of his day—
He stopped short inside the kitchen doorway. His heart rate went through the roof. A man and a woman were sitting at the table tucked in the bay window. The man was no doubt what Violet had in mind when she thought of Scottish men. In a word – massive.
Stumbling to the side, Jamie’s instincts kicked in and he grabbed wildly at the stick leaning in the gap between the fridge and the wall. He lifted it in front of him like a weapon.
Except it was actually a mop. What was he going to do with a mop? Wipe them down?
Also, they didn’t look particularly threatening.
“It’s all right,” the woman said, while stroking Misty in her lap. “We’re friends of Moira.”
“Oh.” Feeling like a prize idiot, he lowered the cleaning equipment. “Moira’s away for a couple of months.”
“We know,” the large, bearded guy said, his voice low and gruff.
“You gave me a bit of a scare there,” he said, trying to relax his shoulders and look casual.
“It seemed like it,” the guy said, smirking.
“How did you get in?” Jamie asked. He’d thought his day couldn’t get any weirder but apparently he’d been wrong.
“I put the key in the lock and turned it,” the man said, amusement edging the rich timbre of his voice.
“We’re close to Moira,” the woman said, pushing her wavy blonde hair behind her shoulder while Misty nuzzled under her chin. “We both have keys.”
“Oh, right. I’m Jamie.” He glanced at the paper on the fridge door. “Are you Cal, by any chance?”
“Aye.” He nodded and tipped his head at the young woman in baggy jeans and oversized grey sweater with a faded tiger on the front. She was more like a girl really. Maybe still in her teens, possibly twenty. “This is Skye.”
Skye who has terrible taste in tea. He probably shouldn’t bring that up. “Nice to meet you,” he said, slouching against the counter. “What are you doing here?”
Cal shrugged. “We wanted to introduce ourselves, but you were out and it’s cold so we thought we’d wait in here. Also we wanted to check on Misty.”
“Right.”
“Where is she?” Cal asked.
Jamie’s gaze went to the cat in Skye’s lap. “Who?” he asked confused.
“Misty,” Cal said. “Moira didn’t mention you were bringing your own cat.”
“I don’t have a cat.” He stared at the black cat as she purred happily.
“Whose cat is this then?” Cal asked, reaching over to stroke the affectionate feline.
“I . . .” He closed his eyes briefly. “What . . .? That’s Misty.”
Cal’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Jamie before returning his gaze to the cat. “This isn’t Misty.”
“Of course it is.”
“Not a chance,” Cal said. “For one thing, Misty can’t stand me. She’d launch an attack if I even tried to stroke her.”
“That’s definitely Misty,” Jamie said.
Cal shook his head. “I’ve known Misty for seven years – since she was a kitten – and I’m telling you that isn’t her.”
“It must be.” Jamie crossed the room and ran his hand over the cat’s head.
Definitely the same creature he’d been feeding for the last week.
“Look!” he said, running his fingers along her neck to find her collar.
“She has a name tag.” Except . . . He swallowed hard as panic rippled up his spine. “Where’s her collar and name tag?”
“I’d imagine Misty’s tag is hanging around her neck.” Cal stared at Jamie. “Have you seriously lost her?”
“No.” He pointed. “This is the cat.”
“It’s a cat. I’m not debating that. It’s just not Moira’s cat.”
Jamie looked at the girl, then the cat on her knee. “This is Misty, right?”
“I don’t know Misty as well as Cal,” she said. “And all black cats tend to look the same to me. This cat is very affectionate, though. More so than Misty. And Misty does have a tag with her name on.”
“No way.” Jamie’s hand covered his mouth. “I’ve been looking after the wrong cat?”
“Have you been looking after this cat all along?” Cal asked.
“I don’t know. I remember seeing the name tag at some point.” He thought back to finding Misty outside, and how she’d let him pick her up so easily. He’d assumed it had just taken her time to get used to him but perhaps that wasn’t it at all. “You’re sure this isn’t Misty?”
“Without a doubt,” Cal said.
“I don’t understand it. I thought she’d followed me outside this morning .
. . Oh my god, did I just pick up a random cat?
Misty must still be here, though. She doesn’t like going out.
” He rushed out of the room to do a lap of the house, calling out to Misty as he went.
In his panic, he even went into Moira’s bedroom – the one room he’d kept out of so far.
No sign of Misty.
“I can’t find her,” he said, returning to the kitchen.
“Moira’s going to freak out,” Skye said.
“Bloody hell.” Jamie stalked across the kitchen and opened the back door, scanning the garden for Misty. “She can’t have gone far,” he muttered, turning back inside. “What shall I do with that cat?”
Cal shrugged. “I’m sure Misty will turn up at dinner time.
And this cat will leave when she feels like it.
That’s cats for you.” He leaned forwards, resting his thick forearms on the table.
“Sadly, this isn’t even close to being your biggest problem.
Moira is definitely going to be upset about her lost cat, but when she learns you’ve run her business into the ground, that’s really going to be the icing on the cake. ”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the old woman you killed with your dodgy repairs.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that,” Cal echoed. “We need to come up with a plan to clear your name.”
“That seems a little dramatic,” Jamie said. “I don’t think anyone thinks I caused her death.”
“Funny that. Because I have a contact in the police force who seems to think you’re high on a list of suspects.”
“Suspects?” He jutted his chin out. “They don’t seriously think someone set out to hurt her?”
“You claim you fixed the banister rail yesterday?” Cal asked.
“Yeah.”
“Right, well either you’re incompetent, or someone tampered with it.”
“Or someone shoved her against it with a lot of force,” Skye added sombrely.
Cal clicked his fingers and pointed at her. “Another good theory. Let’s keep that in mind and come back to it later.”
Nodding, Skye ushered Misty – or whoever the cat was – off her lap and picked up her backpack as she stood.
“Where are you going?” Jamie asked, surprisingly disappointed that they seemed to be gearing up to leave.
“I have to go to work,” Cal said. “Skye has studying to do. We’ll be back later and we can chat it all through properly then. Figure out our next move.”
“What sort of next move?” Jamie asked.
Cal shrugged, then lifted an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed it to Skye. “Moira wanted me to make sure you eat healthily.”
“Thanks,” she said, biting into it.
“That’s my food,” Jamie said, then glanced suspiciously at the cereal. Had they been coming in and eating his food? Surely not. He shook his head. “Never mind. What next move? What do you mean?”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Cal said. “I’ll bring dinner.”
“I don’t quite understand . . .” Jamie trailed off at the sound of the front door closing behind them.