Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 14 - Murder in a Casbah of Cats by Kent Conwell Read Free Book Online Page B

head emphatically and made the sign of the cross over her chest. “Me, I know what I know.” Taking her sandwich and soft drink, she pushed away from the table and left the kitchen.
    The slender butler gave me a wry smile. “She can be a little odd at times, but she’s a good worker.”
    After Henry left, I stood at the glass doors at the rear of the kitchen looking toward Frank Creek’s cottage and the storage shed.
    I spotted a gray cat streaking away from the house. Seconds later, he disappeared into the lush flower garden around the gazebo in the middle of the grounds. I only glimpsed him, but I would have sworn it was Hercules.
    No way, I told myself, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the cat off my mind. On impulse, I wandered the house, searching for the mackerel-colored cat. Going up the stairs, I met Gadrate coming down.
    She gave me a short nod. I decided not to ask her about Hercules. Instead, I returned her silent greeting. I searched the mansion, twice, and couldn’t find a trace of him. I counted the cats one by one, Abyssinian, Cornish Rex, Russian Blue, Balinese, and fifteen others. Each time, I came up with nineteen.
    I searched the library thoroughly, banging on the couch cushions, shaking the drapes in case he was sleeping above the valance, but there was no trace of that cat. I paused in front of the large fireplace, staring at the gas logs that had to be at least six feet long. I always preferred real logs, but as Scott Fitzgerald allegedly remarked, “The rich are different from you and me.” Besides, given the size of the fireplace, it would probably burn half a cord of wood every night.
    The logs blurred as my thoughts drifted back to the old man’s murder. I studied the oak-paneled walls. There had to be a way out. People just didn’t vanish, and there sure wasn’t a
Star Trek
ship around to beam the killer up.
    I drew a deep breath and decided to see if Eddie had responded to my request.
    As I closed the library door behind me, Karla bounced down the stairs wearing a white terry-cloth robe and rubber flip-flops. She stopped when she saw me, a look of contrition on her face. “Mr. Boudreaux. I want to apologize for being so hateful this morning. There’s no excuse for bad manners.”
    I replied. “No problem. Apology accepted.” I eyed her robe. “Taking a dip?”
    She smiled becomingly. Her long blonde hair lay over her shoulders. “Nothing else to do until Kevin gets back.” She grew serious. “You look bored. Why don’t you join me? Better than sitting around.”
    For a moment, I was tempted, but I wanted to see if Eddie had responded. “Maybe later. I didn’t bring my suit.”
    A sly smile played over her lips and a taunting glitter filled her eyes. “Oh, that’s too bad.”
    “Yeah. Another time.”
    She blew me a kiss and bounced across the foyer. I shook my head. The apology was nice, if she meant it. I started up the stairs, when I heard a clatter in the library. Puzzled, I looked inside. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, but then I noticed a poker from the tool set lay on the fireplace hearth.
    I looked around, searching for Hercules, although I had torn the place apart minutes earlier. Still puzzled, I replaced the poker and climbed the stairs to my room.
    On the third floor, I looked into the cats’ rooms. A dozen or so lay sleeping around. No Hercules.
    I stared at the menagerie of cats. I’d seen a lot bizarre sights in my life, but nothing like this. No telling how much Skylar J. Watkins spent on those cats.
    While I’d had Cat only a few days and AB for a couple of months, I had been around cats on my
grand-père
’s farm. They were independent creatures. One evening when I was helping Grand-père Moise milk the cows and his cats were all sitting around patiently waiting their turn for a spray of milk, he laughed and told me that cats have always believed that the sole purpose of humans on earth was to provide food and shelter for them. Oh yes, he