How to Paint a Cat (Cats and Curios Mystery) Read Free Page B

filmed the infamous cell phone footage.
    Regardless, the niece reflected as she rotated her head sideways to ease a stiffness in her neck, once Monty was ensconced at City Hall, he would be spending a lot less time in his Jackson Square art studio. Likely, he would have to shutter his shop while he pursued his daily mayoral duties.
    A mirage of Monty-free months stretched out across her future horizon. The prospect was almost too good to be true.
    She might even start to miss her crazy neighbor, she concluded with a blissful smile—at least until the next election.
    Suddenly, Monty slammed his charcoal pencil onto the easel’s bottom ledge, snapping the lead. Ripping off the top sheet from the sketchpad, he wadded it into a ball and threw it to the floor in disgust.
    Then again, the niece thought with a sigh—probably not.
    Isabella peered around the side of the easel. Twitching her whiskers, she gave her person a knowing look.
    “Mrao.”

Chapter 4
    THE FACE

    MONTY SCOOPED UP what was left of the charcoal pencil and tossed it into the air. He watched the slender stick tumble end over end. Then with a well-timed swipe, he caught it in his hand.
    Clutching the pencil in his fist, he set off on a frustrated circle through the showroom.
    “Every time I try to sketch this scene, it falls apart when I get to the face.” He blew air through his lips, causing them to vibrate. “I just can’t get it to come together properly. Something’s not right.” He gave the pencil another toss. “I’ve never had such difficulty capturing an image.”
    The niece gently dropped Rupert to the floor and stood from the recliner.
    “Which face?” she asked warily. “Rupert’s or mine?”
    Blinking sleepily, Rupert yawned himself awake. After a deep lunging stretch, he waddled beneath the easel to where Monty had thrown the crumpled piece of paper. His feather duster tail swished back and forth as he inspected the discarded drawing.
    Dropping his chin to the ground, Rupert slid a front paw forward, turned it sideways, and swatted at the balled-up paper, sending the wad skidding across the floor and under a display table.
    “Rupert isn’t the problem,” Monty said as he once more lobbed the pencil into the air. “I’ve got a perfect feline model.”
    He gazed warmly down at Rupert—or, at least, his fluffy rear end. The cat’s front half was wedged beneath the display table, where he was trying to reach the crumpled paper ball.
    Distracted by Rupert’s antics, Monty missed the pencil’s downward arc. It clattered onto the floor, instantly transforming into a new cat toy, one that was far easier to reach.
    As Rupert scooted after the pencil, Monty plopped onto the vacant leather chair and pulled the recline lever. With a creaking
whomp
, the seat shifted into its flattest horizontal position.
    “I think it’s the nose that’s bothering me,” Monty said, throwing his arms back and cupping his hands behind his head. “The shape is off.”
    The woman folded her arms in front of her chest. “What’s wrong with my nose?” she demanded testily.
    Rupert captured the wayward pencil. Holding it trapped beneath his paw, he gave it an investigative sniff. After tentatively mouthing the distasteful charcoal lead, he spat out the pencil and returned his attention to the crumpled paper.
    Sliding like a dust mop across the slick wood flooring, he reached once more beneath the display table. This time, he managed to tap the wad of paper with the tip of an extended front claw, sending it flying toward the recliner.
    The pudgy cat continued the chase, bumping into table legs and the bottom facing of a bookcase during an increasingly wild pursuit.
    Fully extended across the recliner, Monty crossed his legs at the ankles and squinted up at the ceiling.
    “Then there’s the chin,” he murmured thoughtfully. His face contorted into a sour expression as he envisioned the sketched image. “I just can’t get the dimple right.”
    “I