Free The Whole Cat and Caboodle: Second Chance Cat Mystery by Sofie Ryan Page A

work.”
    I led him over to the doors that led into the shop.
    “This is great,” he said as he stepped into the space. “Are you using both floors?”
    I shook my head. “No. I have an office upstairs and some more storage.”
    He nodded but one of the guitars on the wall had caught his eye. “That’s a Rickenbacker,” he said. “A ’sixty-five.”
    “Uh-huh. Sparkle inlays. All original.” I walked over and lifted the guitar off the wall. It was the deep russet color of an autumn leaf. “Try it,” I said.
    His eyes narrowed. “Seriously?”
    “Yes.” I held out the guitar. “You still play, don’t you?” I asked.
    He gave me a wry smile. “Not as much as I used to, but yeah, I still play.”
    “So play something for me,” I said.
    Nick took the guitar from me and sat down on the steps to the second floor. I leaned against the wall while he tuned the strings and played some chords. Then he looked over at me. “I don’t know,” he said a little self-consciously, “but maybe you remember this.” He bent his head and started to play.
    I did remember. It was the first song Nick had taught me to play on guitar. “Comin’ Back to You.” He played the bridge and then he started into the first verse, singing along softly with the music:
     
    I’m comin’ back to you,
    Somehow I always knew
    No matter what I do,
    All roads lead back to you.
     
    For a moment I was fifteen again, it was summertime and the night sky was filled with stars. The memory wrapped around me with the music. Nick played through to the end of the chorus, then looked up at me and smiled a bit sheepishly. “I’m a little rusty.”
    “You sounded great to me,” I said.
    “Do you play much?” he asked.
    I pushed away from the wall and shook my head. “I’ve been a little busy.”
    “That’s too bad.” He got to his feet again and his gaze darted to my face for a moment. “Mom told me about your radio show being canceled,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks,” I said.
    Nick didn’t say anything for a moment, as though maybe he was waiting for me to say something more. Then he held out the guitar. “It’s a nice instrument, Sarah. Thanks for letting me play it.”
    I raised an eyebrow at him as I took it, trying to lighten the mood a little. “You know, you qualify for the family discount.”
    He shrugged. “It should go to someone who would actually play it once in a while. I don’t have a lot of time these days.”
    “That’s too bad,” I said, copying his words and the tone of his voice from before.
    He smiled. “Touché.”
    I smiled back.
    “Speaking of family,” he said. “How’s yours?”
    “Good,” I said. “Dad’s teaching journalism now and still doing some writing, mostly longer pieces for magazines. Mom has a new book out next month.” My mother wrote a series for elementary school kids about a talking gerbil named Einstein. “And Liam’s pretty much focused on passive solar design now.”
    Nick nodded. “Yeah, he told me he’s gotten involved with the small-house movement.”
    “I didn’t know you guys stayed in touch,” I said. I wondered why Liam hadn’t told me.
    Nick shrugged. “Off and on.”
    I hung the guitar back on the wall and turned to face him. “I’m thinking the reason you’re here isn’t because you wanted a tour of the shop or to catch up on my family.”
    “Yeah, I do have a few questions.”
    Elvis had wandered in from wherever he’d been. He twisted around my legs and I bent down and picked him up. “No offense,” I said, “but isn’t that Michelle’s job?”
    Nick leaned over to give the cat a scratch under his chin, which pretty much earned him a friend for life. “It’s mine, too,” he said. “The police are trying to figure out whether or not a crime’s been committed. I’m trying to figure out how and why Mr. Fenety died. We overlap a little.”
    I explained about the workshop and Maddie not showing up. Elvis was leaning sideways, his