Who's Kitten Who? Read Free Page A

to our schedule and meet for our next rehearsal Monday at seven.”
    As the cast and production crew stood up and the room buzzed with their conversations, Betty turned to me. “Well?” she asked anxiously. “What did you think?”
    I just shook my head. “I’m sorry, Betty. I didn’t get much of a sense of who any of the other members of the company are or what their relationship with Simon was, not enough to even begin to guess who might have wanted him dead.”
    “Of course not. How could you?” Betty frowned. “I knew this wouldn’t be an actual rehearsal, but I didn’t think Derek would end it so quickly. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you came back another time, perhaps even to our next rehearsal on Monday evening. Would you be willing to come?”
    “Certainly,” I assured her. I pretended I was simply being polite. Somehow, admitting that I’d found the drama that had just unfolded before me surprisingly entertaining didn’t seem appropriate, given the circumstances. Not to mention that, though I didn’t want to worry Betty, the possibility that one of my dear friend’s castmates was a killer made me more than a little concerned for her safety.
    “Oh, thank you, Jessica! Let’s check with Derek to make sure he’s comfortable with having you there.”
    We walked over and waited while Derek continued the conversation he’d been having with a slim, forty-something woman.
    “We’ve lost our Amelia!” he wailed. “I can’t believe Aziza is doing this to us!”
    “We’ll figure something out,” the woman assured him. “Elena Brock is the obvious person to take over the lead. I’ll start working with her right away.”
    “Then who’ll take Elena’s role?” he asked, sounding just as woeful. “Who’ll play Anita?”
    The question remained unanswered as he let out a loud sigh, then turned and noticed Betty and me.
    “Derek,” Betty began, “if you have a moment, I’d like to introduce a friend of mine, Jessica Popper. Jessie is interested in coming to Monday night’s rehearsal—”
    I stuck out my hand to shake, expecting him to do the same. Instead, he just stared at me, his face lighting up as if Greta Garbo herself had just walked in.
    “Perfect!” he cried.
    Something about his sudden burst of enthusiasm made me nervous. “Uh, what’s perfect?”
    “You are! You’re perfect for the role of Anita Snook, the aviation pioneer who gave Amelia Earhart her first flying lesson.”
    “But I never—”
    “I won’t take no for an answer,” Derek insisted. “Whoever you are,
please
say you’ll join the cast!”

Chapter 2
    “I love cats because I love my home and after a while they become its visible soul.”
    —Jean Cocteau
    I was still trying to reconstruct exactly what had gone on in that theater as I steered my little red Volkswagen off Minnesauke Lane and bumped along the quarter-mile driveway leading to my stone cottage. My tiny hideaway was nestled among the trees that still covered much of the historic Tallmadge estate, a sprawling property that dated back to the early 1800s. The mansion and all the outbuildings had been built by the grandson of Major Benjamin Tallmadge, the head of the Culper Spy Ring, which, during the Revolutionary War, sent George Washington vital information about the British soldiers’ whereabouts. Tallmadge’s grandson had clearly taken to the capitalist system, and his success as a businessman had earned him an estate that was pretty impressive even by today’s standards.
    These days, four of us lived on the property. Betty and her fiancé, Winston Farnsworth, lived in the Big House, as I couldn’t resist calling the dignified mansion, with Winston’s dachshund, Frederick. And Nick and my animals and I holed up in the caretaker’s cottage, which made up for its lack of space with enough charm to rate its own show on the Home & Garden Channel.
    But coming home to such a cozy little cabin was only partly responsible for the feeling of relief