Free The Fashion Hound Murders by Elaine Viets Page B

answers popped into Josie’s head including, “The backstroke” and “Whatever it wants.”
    “It’s waiting for the city’s bulk-item pickup,” Josie said.
    “Couldn’t you give it to Goodwill?” Mrs. Mueller said.
    “I wouldn’t inflict that on the poor,” Josie said. “Maplewood has free bulk-item pickup. It will be disposed of properly.”
    “Not for a week! Remove that object immediately,” Mrs. Mueller said, pointing at the couch.
    “I can get Stan and Howie to carry the couch onto my front porch,” Josie said. “But I can’t guarantee they’ll move it after that. It could just stay there permanently. It would be cheaper than porch furniture and more comfortable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get our house ready for the new cat.” Josie sidled past Mrs. Mueller.
    “Cat!” shrieked Mrs. M.
    She knew it was wrong, but Josie couldn’t resist. Mrs. Mueller made Josie feel fifteen years younger, which turned her age back to sixteen, when Josie seemed to spend most of her young life in trouble. Her nosy neighbor spied on Josie and reported any infractions to her mother, Jane. Josie was kissing a boy at ten o’clock at night in his car. Josie was smoking cigarettes by the Dumpster. Josie was riding on a motorcycle with Joe, who dropped her off a block away from her home.
    Josie’s mother revered the old bat. Mrs. Mueller was the church power broker, controlling the choice committees.
    Amelia held open the front door for her mother. “She went ballistic when you mentioned the cat.”
    “That means you’ll have to be doubly careful,” Josie said. “If that cat ever gets out, Mrs. Mueller will have animal control here before his paws hit the yard.”
    “Can we get our home ready for Harry?” Amelia said.
    “We’re supposed to keep the new cat in a small room until he feels secure.”
    “How about my bathroom?” Amelia said. “I’ll shut the door when I go to school.”
    “Good,” Josie said. “That way, if Harry has an accident, it will be easy for you to clean up.”
    Amelia wrinkled her nose.
    Josie brought a soft, fluffy throw rug for the new cat to sleep on next to the bathroom radiator. She added the litter box but no litter. “We’re supposed to use shredded newspaper until his paws heal.”
    “Who’s going to chop up the newspaper?” Amelia asked.
    “Guess,” Josie said, and handed her the scissors.
    “I can’t wait until tomorrow when I see Harry.” Amelia dutifully cut up copies of the St. Louis City Gazette.
    When she finished, Josie handed her a bag. Amelia pulled out something that looked like a long-handled feather duster. “Am I supposed to dust the cat?” Amelia asked.
    “That’s a cat toy,” Josie said. “The saleswoman swears cats love it. The little mice are fake fur, not real. That’s a bag of yarn balls. Cats supposedly go crazy batting them around.”
    “Will the cat play with me when he has all these toys?” Amelia asked.
    “He’ll have to do something while you’re at school,” Josie said.
    “You didn’t buy them from that place, did you?”
    “They’re from a competitor.”
    “Good,” Amelia said. “I don’t think we should support them.”
    “Me, either,” Josie said.
    “I’d like to go to bed early,” Amelia said.
    “You would? Are you sick?”
    “No, it will make tomorrow come faster.”
    The next morning, she was up without Josie having to wake her. She fixed herself breakfast and was ready to leave for school on time. All the way to Barrington, Amelia talked about Harry. Josie waved good-bye to Amelia and went back home feeling happier than she had since Nate’s death. One small cat was making a big difference—if he survived the surgery.
    When the phone rang at ten a.m., Josie nearly tripped over a kitchen chair running to answer it. The call came from the wrong Harry. Her boss wanted her to mystery-shop three small pet boutiques.
    “Any puppy mill pets at these stores?” Josie asked.
    “They don’t sell