A Body at Book Club: Myrtle Clover #6

Chapter Fourteen

"Miles! You found her!" Myrtle reached out to give Miles a hug, smashing a protesting Pasha in the process. "Here, come inside." She took the bundle from Miles's arms, crooning to it.

Miles brushed off some of the cat fur that had gotten on his clothes. "I'd be careful, Myrtle. She's scared. And she's fully armed with claws, you know."

"Poor Pasha," said Myrtle. She gently set down the bundle on the sofa and watched as Pasha fairly exploded from the covering, restlessly stalking around the room, stopping to sniff the furniture and Myrtle from time to time before finally settling down enough to sit on the floor and start grooming herself.

"However did you find her, Miles?" asked Myrtle, hurrying into the kitchen to pull out a can of tuna from her cabinet.

"I thought it through," said Miles. "Oh, and she's probably not going to want any tuna, although you can check and see."

"What do you mean, you thought it through?" asked Myrtle. She opened the can and put some on a paper plate. Pasha looked interested, so she put the plate down on the floor and watched as Pasha did a fine impression of a hungry cat.
Miles gazed thoughtfully at Pasha. "Maybe she's trying to make up for lost calories." He took off his glasses, cleaning them with his button-down shirt and then carefully putting them back on his face. "I'd read up on lost cats and their usual hiding places. They favor going under porches, under grills that are covered by tarps, under cars, behind those roll-out garbage bins...places like that. Apparently, they can hole up for long periods of time. Sometimes thirst drives them out. So I put out some old plastic containers with water in some likely spots."

Myrtle smiled down at Pasha as she quickly eliminated the tuna.

"When I saw which bowls were empty, I put a little smoked salmon at those stations later on," said Miles in his best scientific voice.

"Smoked salmon! Miles, that's horribly expensive. And you were likely feeding the town of Bradley's population of possums, raccoons, and squirrels."

"Possums and squirrels eat smoked salmon?" Miles raised his eyebrows at this.

"If they're hungry, why not? But go on, tell me more."

"Well, the smoked salmon kept disappearing at one particular location. It was a few blocks away from here, heading away from downtown. So I decided to hide down there after I set out the salmon. I had a blanket with me, so I could throw it over the cat and roll her up in it to transport her carefully here." He took off his glasses again and rubbed at what Myrtle suspected was a microscopic smudge.

"Or perhaps to prevent her from clawing you up?" asked Myrtle cannily.

"Perhaps. As I mentioned, she is fully armed."

Myrtle said in a wondering voice, "And you sat out in the dark like a burglar, waiting for a cat to show up?"

Miles cleared his throat. "I did actually tell the surrounding neighbors what I was doing. And Red. The neighbors I spoke with had seen the flyers, as a matter of fact. After all, I didn't think it would serve my purposes to be arrested for trespassing while I waited. Old Mrs. Adams even brought me a decaf coffee and a cookie. And a plastic yard chair to wait it out." Miles smiled. "It wasn't such a terrible experience. And now you've got Pasha."

Pasha was now licking her paw to clean the last vestiges of tuna off her face and whiskers.

"I still can't believe you shelled out that kind of money to find Pasha," mumbled Myrtle. "That must have cost...I can't even imagine. And to put food out it all over town like that."