Final Catcall: A Magical Cats Mystery by Sofie Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

front door, talking on her cell phone and carrying what looked like a canvas army satchel, bulging with papers.
    “That would be Eric,” Susan said with a grin. She swiped at her ear and licked the bit of cream off her finger. “He was getting pudding cake ready to serve, but he got a little sidetracked.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
    “Way, way more information than I needed,” I said, holding up my good hand.
    That just made her laugh. Then she cocked her head to one side and peered at me over the top of her cat-eye glasses. “Speaking of information, I’m going to need way, way more about Andrew.” She did the eyebrow thing again and started for the stairs.
    “Kathleen, I’m sorry I’m late,” Abigail said as she tucked her phone in her pocket. She set her bag on the circulation desk.
    “You’re not late.” I glanced at the clock. “How are things going with the festival?”
    She shook her head. “Kathleen, are you familiar with the play
Yesterday’s Children
?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “So you know some people think it’s . . . cursed, or jinxed?”
    “I know,” I said. “The theater burned down on the day before the very first production. A lighting tech broke his leg and I think one of the actors was in a car accident.”
    “
Yesterday’s Children
was originally on the schedule for the festival.”
    I nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. Ben’s not that superstitious, as far as I know.”
    Abigail shifted her bag on the counter, tucking a couple of loose papers inside. “There was some kind of problem with the rights and the play was dropped, but . . .” She let the end of the sentence trail off.
    I gave her a wry smile. “Let me guess. People are saying the fire in Red Wing was because of the so-called jinx.”
    “Exactly. Some of the actors are a little skittish. And it doesn’t help that this would have been the fourth year for the festival in Red Wing. Several of the tech people and a couple of the actors have done the festival before. People on the festival committee in Red Wing know them. I don’t know a single person involved and neither does anyone else here. It makes it that much harder for all of us.” She glanced quickly at her watch. “Has Ben Saroyan been in yet?”
    I nodded. “I know Ben. He’s worked with my mother. You’ll find him easy to get along with. He seems to think the gazebo will work fine, and I think there are enough chairs here so you won’t have to bring any down from the Stratton. And I got the okay from Everett, by the way.”
    “Thank you, Kathleen. You’re a godsend,” Abigail said. “I suppose Hugh wasn’t happy with the gazebo.”
    “He doesn’t seem that enthusiastic about having performances outside.”
    Her fingers played with the strap of the canvas satchel. “He’s still a control freak, I’ve discovered.”
    “Is there anything else I can do?” I said.
    She shook her head. “The biggest problem I have at the moment is that Young Harry took Elizabeth home to her other family. He won’t be back until next weekend.”
    Elizabeth was the daughter of my friend Harry Taylor Senior. She was the result of a relationship he’d had when his wife was dying. They’d just found each other in the past few months.
    “Why is that a problem? Oren’s around, isn’t he?” I glanced over at the wooden sunburst that Oren Kenyon had built, hanging above the library doors. It was a tribute to the library’s history as a Carnegie library.
    Abigail put a hand on top of her bulging bag. “He is, but I also have a long list of things I need him to do. I don’t suppose you know how to build a small octagonal stage, do you?”
    “Sorry. It’s not one of my skills.”
    “It’s one of mine,” a voice behind me said. I hadn’t seen Andrew come in and walk over to us. He looked at Abigail. “Seriously, I can do it. I’m a building contractor.”
    She gave him a long, appraising look. “An octagonal stage? Eight sides? You could build it?”
    He