Theresa Weir - The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

Melody scratched his nose the way he liked. “Just you and me.”

But she sounded a little sad. Max almost wished he’d never found the gun.

Melody dropped a pile of folded T-shirts into a cardboard box. “It’s called purging,” she told Max.

The house was still filled with David’s stuff. His shirts and pants and jackets still hung in the bedroom closet, and his jogging shoes sat on the floor in a neat row, as if he would come home at any moment.

Max meowed and circled once, arching his back, legs stiff.

“I know it’s unsettling,” Melody told him, “but it’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

It had been too hard right after David was killed. It hadn’t seemed right. Almost like she was throwing him away. And then later it was hard for a different reason, almost as if saying she’d forgotten him.

But she hadn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But keeping his clothes in the closet was just plain weird. And maybe a little crazy.

Max’s health scare had been a wake-up call for Melody. It made her realize that she cared for Joe even though she hadn’t known him that long. His being there when she’d taken Max to the vet, and his support afterward, went a long way toward proving he might be the right guy for her. How many men would have been so concerned about Max? None. And how many would have called or stopped by every day until the blood tests came back negative? None.

She’d been hiding. Maybe not physically, but mentally. Burying herself in work and the occasional awful night out with friends that almost always ended up with a stranger and a hangover. That wasn’t who she was.

She had to move on.

A knock at the front door was followed by a “Hello!” and a “Just me!”

“In here!” Melody shouted over her shoulder.

“I have coffee. Oh, hi Max.” Melody’s sister sidestepped Max and offered Melody a carryout cup from the shop up the street called Java Train. “Looks like you’re making headway.” Lola was dressed in cuffed jeans and a bright print top that showed off the tattoos on her arms. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her head wrapped in a vintage orange scarf. You knew she was an artist the moment you saw her.

“The boxes are for Goodwill,” Melody said. “The trash bags-well, trash.”

Lola didn’t say it, but Melody sensed that her sister was relieved that this day had finally come. It was a concern that had gone unspoken among the whole family. They worried that Melody might never move on, might never be able to let go of David, even a little. Now the sisters chatted a while, drank their coffee, petted Max, then got down to business.

“Everything on the top shelf can stay.” Melody pointed. “I’ve already gone through it.”

“Is that David’s old laptop?” Lola pointed.

Melody nodded. She was an Apple girl, and the laptop was a Dell. More of a business model.

“Can I borrow it?” Lola asked. “Mine is in for repair, and it looks like it might be a while. They had to order a part.”

Melody reached up and retrieved the computer. “Go ahead.” She handed it to Lola. “You’ll have to charge it. It hasn’t been turned on since David died.”

The front door slammed again, and a male voice shouted, “Anybody home?”

Lola looked guilty. “I told him we were getting rid of some things, and he wanted to help.”

Their dad appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. Ben looked rugged and handsome with his wavy, graying hair, patched jeans, and leather sandals. They were a crew of bohemians, and unbelievably Melody was the most conservative of the bunch.

“I have the band’s van,” Ben said. “We can fill it up and I’ll take everything to wherever you want it to go.” He gave Melody a hug. He smelled like incense and secondhand smoke.

“Don’t you have a gig tonight?” she asked.

“We don’t load in until late afternoon. Either of you girls coming? You might like the opening band.”

It had been a while since Melody had gone to one of her dad’s shows. He was in several bands, and sometimes it was hard to keep up. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him play since David’s death. “I might do that.”

Once the purge was in motion, things moved quickly and in a matter of two hours the van was full.

That’s when Joe showed up.

As soon as he entered the house, it was easy to see he wanted to turn around and run. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, managing to pull himself together after unintentionally stepping into what was obviously a family gathering. “I stopped to see how Max was doing.”

Introductions were made. Of course father and sister were curious about Melody’s new guy, but that curiosity seemed to go especially deep for Ben who couldn’t quit staring at Joe. He finally broke down and said: “You look really familiar. Have we met somewhere?”

Joe shifted uneasily. “Not that I can recall.”

“Are you in a band?”

“No.”

“Dad’s a musician,” Melody explained. “Maybe he saw you at a show.”

Melody was once again reminded that she knew very little about Joe, not even what kind of music he listened to, if any. If he like country, the bad kind of country… Wow. That would be tough.

Joe left as soon as he possibly could without coming across as rude. Hands on his hips, Ben watched the younger man’s departure through the living room window. “I’ve seen him before.”

A feeling of unease crept through Melody.

Outside a car door slammed, an engine turned over, and Joe pulled away from the curb and roared down the street.

“Remember Chris, my old bandmate?” Ben turned around. “The one whose kid got tangled up with the gang that was busted for illegal firearms? I’m pretty sure your buddy Joe was involved in that somehow. He was hanging around some of those seedy people.”

Melody’s first reaction was one of disbelief. But then she started thinking about the very things that had been bugging her about Joe. If what her dad said was true, it would explain a lot. Why Joe never talked about himself. Why she’d never gone to his place. Maybe he was a drug dealer. Maybe he was dealing out of his house.

From the kitchen, water stopped splashing in the sink. A moment later Lola appeared, drying her hand on a white towel with pink cats. Her gaze shifted from Ben to Melody. “What’s this about Joe?”

“I thought he was just a nice guy who worked at a shelter.” Melody rubbed her forehead, trying to clear the muddle there. Joe. Was his name really Joe?

“Sorry to drop a bombshell like this, then leave,” Ben said. “But I’ve got to get home in time to load equipment.” He gave both of his daughters a quick kiss on the cheek, then took off, the screen door slamming behind him.

In the silence left by his departure, Lola draped the cat towel over her shoulder, put an arm around her sister, and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Just remember that this information is coming from the guy who once sat next to a woman he didn’t even know, thinking it was Mom.”

Lola was right. It wasn’t that their dad couldn’t see well, but he always had his head in the clouds, thinking about a song he was writing or an upcoming gig.

Lola plopped down in the red chair with the ruffle skirt. Max’s chair. “But what if Dad is right? And, what if Joe is involved in something shady? Illegal?”

Deep in thought, Melody frowned and pressed a finger to her lips. She nodded.

Melody picked up Max and gave him a good massage. “I wish you could talk. Has Joe been trying to sell you catnip?” She was kidding. Kind of.

“We could spy on Joe.” Lola wrapped an arm around her knee and pulled her foot close. “Turn the tables on him. That would be fun.”

Spying went completely against Melody’s nature, but in this case… “Maybe Max should decide. What do you think, Max?” Melody lifted Max above her head. “Should we spy on Joe?”

Max meowed in what seemed like agreement. Or maybe he just wanted down.

Lola clasped her hands under her chin, her expression decidedly wicked. “Max has spoken.”

The spy gig didn’t happen right away. First of all, Melody had to figure out where Joe lived. That required following him home one night. Turned out he lived in Midway, an area not all that far from her house. After that, there was a lot of discussion between the two sisters about a time and date for the spy gig. Max would lie in bed with Melody while she talked on the phone to Lola. Lola’s voice came out of the phone, so Max could hear both sides of the conversation.

“How can this be so hard?” Melody said, absentmindedly rubbing Max’s head. “When you work nights, it’s kind of tough to be a spy.”

“Why do we have to do it at night?” Lola said.

“We’re not going to catch him doing anything during daylight hours.”

Lola ended up having a three-hour window between her day job of waiting tables, and her evening job of deejaying at the Turf Club. They decided they would go straight from the library as soon as Melody got off for the evening. “I’ll have to bring Max,” she said.

“You can’t bring a cat to a stakeout.”

“It’s story night at the library,” Melody explained. “Max has become the star of story night. He won’t cause any trouble, will you Max?” She looked at him.

He wanted to say that she knew damn well he hated riding in the car, and she knew damn well he hated story night, but they would be going to Joe’s house, so that was okay. He’d always wanted to see Joe’s house.

“This is silly,” Melody said. “Nothing is going to happen.”

Lola’s voice came from the cell phone. “You never know. And it will be fun. And to make it more fun, we have to bring stuff.”

“Like what? A video camera?”

“Food. Snacks.”

Max perked up. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

*

Two nights later, Lola, Melody, and Max were parked down the street from Joe’s house. Lola was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Melody in her Alice in Wonderland outfit, and Max was decked out in a pink-and-black striped hat and striped sweater from his library gig as the Cheshire Cat. The night air was crisp, and Melody had announced that she would leave the costume on him so he wouldn’t get cold.

Hmmph.

Like he was some old fuddy-duddy of a cat who needed to be pampered. But he had to admit the soft garment was cozy as hell. If he came across it in a dark alley he’d feel the immediate need to milk it with both front paws. Nature.

And speaking of nature… Nobody had thought to bring his litter box. They’d been at the library for hours, and now in the car. Sometimes Max wondered who was the adult in this relationship. There they were, sisters, in the front seat, sipping the lattes they’d picked up at Ginkgo Coffeehouse. Eating candy, whispering and giggling like…well, like two girls. Not acting like spies at all. But Max would occasionally sense a wave of Melody’s sadness that probably came when she thought about why they were here. Joe.

Why had Max stuck his whiskers where they didn’t belong?

Matchmaking.

What had he been thinking?

He’d only wanted to make Melody feel better. Instead, he’d made her feel worse. And speaking of feeling bad…

His bladder was screaming. Maybe nobody would notice if he just-

“Max!” It was Melody, her voice coming from the front seat. “What are you doing?” She’d heard him digging in the corner.

“If that cat pees in my car…” Lola said.

“I was going to bring his litter box.” Melody balanced her latte on the dashboard and shifted in her seat. “Come here, Max. Do you need to go out?”

Out? As in pee in the grass? Was she crazy?

“Where’s your leash? What did I do with your leash?”

She found the wayward leash and snapped it to his collar, removed his silly hat, then scooped him up, opened the door, and stepped outside, putting him down in a nearby yard. Oh, the humiliation.

Grass. It would have to do.

Max figured the whole spy thing was just a way for Melody to come to terms with the situation. Because really, what would they see? Joe going into his house. Joe leaving his house.

Max did his business. While he was busy scratching around, Lola slipped out of the car. “Let’s walk past the house,” she whispered to Melody. For Lola, this was a party. Max wished she’d be a bit more sensitive.

To make matters more annoying, Max wasn’t much of a leash man. He hated the leash almost as much as he hated peeing outside.

“Come on, Max.” Melody gave the leash a small tug. Max considered sitting down and refusing to respond to such indignity, but in the end he decided to be a gentleman and try to make the evening easier for his mistress.