Lee needed to get out of there. The trouble was he wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
“Sit down and put your feet up,” he said, gesturing to her couch. And then he did a double-take. It was a vintage camel-back sofa with glossy ball claw legs and scrolled arms. The gold fabric was a little worn, but, otherwise, it was in excellent condition.
“What are you staring at?” She sounded edgy.
“Is that a Chippendale?” he found himself asking. Lee didn’t need to ask. He’d spent enough Saturdays as a kid going to antique shows with his mom to know. Before she’d gotten sick, of course.
“Yeah, so?”
“It’s justreallynice,” he said, knowing immediately that he sounded too surprised.
Wren folded her arms across her chest. “Dr. Hawthorne, correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, throwing his words back at him. Her green eyes flashed. “But it sort of sounds like you’re judging me.”
“No… I-I… know a little about antiques,” he stammered before recovering. “It’s a great piece.”
She moved to the sofa and sat, but she eyed him the whole time. “Well, I like beautiful things,” she said with a defensive shrug.
He hoped he could undo whatever offense he’d given. “You have excellent taste.”
“Thank you." Her tone was a little stiff. Wren picked up her feet and toed off her black ankle boots, one at a time. As soon as the second one hit the floor, a black, white, and orange blur shot out from under the couch and streaked through the room.
“I take it that was Agnes.”
Wren smirked. “Yeah, she’s suspicious of strangers.”
“I wonder where she gets that?” Lee said, unable to help himself.
Wren gave him the stink-eye, and he laughed. Loud mewling issued from the next room, which Lee guessed was the kitchen.
“If you tell me where to find her food, I’ll try to get on her good side.”
She gave him an amused look. “Good luck with that,” she said, settling back against the arm of her sofa. “Her food is in the cabinet under the sink, and her bowl is in the corner by the fridge. She’ll probably hide under my bed until you leave, but she’ll eat eventually.”
“Okay.” Lee turned and made his way to the kitchen. As soon as the cat saw him, she darted away through the opposite door, but when she heard him open the cabinet and shake the bag of Meow Mix, she ran back to her bowl. When Lee started to pour, Agnes did two, quick figure-eights through his legs before diving in.
“Oh my God, is that her eating?” Wren called from the living room, clearly surprised.
A grin broke across Lee’s face. “Yeah, I guess she’s a good judge of character.”
“Or she’s starving.”
He didn’t miss the dry tone in her reply. Lee picked up the cat’s water dish and brought it to the cast iron sink. He looked around the kitchen. Like most houses in the Saint Streets, Wren’s little duplex was old school. He guessed it had been built around the 30s or 40s. The cabinets were narrow and spare. There was no dishwasher, but the space was big enough to eat in. The enamel-top chrome rim table with its black vinyl chairs looked right at home. If it weren’t for her appliances, Wren’s kitchen could have made an authentic mid-century portrait.
He set down the cat’s water dish and popped his head back into the living room. “Don’t get up. Permission to do a perimeter sweep for poop bombs.”
Wren’s eyes went wide, and she seemed to suppress a laugh. “You’re serious about that, aren’t you?”
“I am. I just want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Wren gave a sigh. “Fine. If you must.”
“I must,” he confirmed before stepping back into the kitchen.
Agnes swished her tail as she ate, and Lee crossed to the other doorway, which led to a short hall. A utility room stood to his left and a bathroom to his right. The hall ended at Wren’s bedroom door.
Again, it was like stepping back in time. A Victorian iron bed with a long center spoke and brassSscrolls stood in the middle of the room. Pink rosebuds covered the quilt that lay across the mattress, and half-a-dozen pillows stuffed into vintage lace shams were stacked neatly against the headboard. The bed had been made with precision, and there wasn’t a cat turd in sight.
Lee found that he had the urge to step inside the bedroom, but, instead, he made himself turn toward the utility room where he’d spotted the litterbox. It needed emptying, so he cleaned it and bagged up the garbage. An exterior door in the utility room led to a second set of stairs, and Lee took them down to dump the trash. When he came back inside, he heard Wren calling from the front room.
