Curiosity Thrilled the Cat by Sofie Kelly

when something wasn’t right with one of us.
    “I’m fine.” Because really, I was, except for a sore arm and a detective who had the idea I may have killed someone.
    “I know you found that composer’s body,” she said flatly.
    I slid down in the chair and propped my feet on the footstool. “How did you know?”
    “I’m not a dinosaur, Katydid. I have a computer and I read the Mayville Heights Chronicle online every morning.”
    So it wasn’t mother radar that had caught me; it was the Internet. “You read the Mayville paper every day?”
    “Of course.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “I like to know what’s going on where you are.”
    “Well . . . that’s . . . nice,” I said.
    “Are you all right? Really?”
    My throat tightened and I felt that lump of homesickness in my chest again. “I am. Really.” I cleared my throat and tried to swallow down the lump.
    “He was a randy old goat, you know,” Mom said.
    “You knew Gregor Easton?” I probably shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother knew a lot of people in the arts. She’d been working in the theater since she started doing summer stock when she was sixteen.
    “Just by reputation,” she said. “Not that it was a good one.”
    “What do you mean?”
    She sighed. “Mostly it was whispers and stories—you understand. I heard he couldn’t keep his hands—and other body parts—to himself.”
    “Anything else?”
    “It seems he liked younger women.”
    I thought of what Ruby had said about Ami Lester.
    “He was there as the guest artist for your summer music festival, wasn’t he?”
    “Uh-huh. The Wild Rose Summer Music Festival. He was actually a last-minute replacement for someone else.” Owen came around the side of the footstool and sat next to my chair. I shifted a bit so I could pet him.
    “I’m surprised,” my mother said. “Why was a musician of Easton’s caliber at a small regional festival?”
    “I don’t know.” I hadn’t thought about it before, but she was right. Helping out from the goodness of his heart didn’t seem like something the man I’d met would do. Then again, we’d only met once—while the man was alive—and Owen had jumped on his head, so maybe he hadn’t been at his best.
    “How’s Dad?” I asked.
    “Annoying,” Mom said.
    “What happened?”
    “We’re having artistic differences.”
    “Over what?”
    “Over his interpretation of Nick Bottom. Your father is over-the-top.”
    I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh. “The character is kind of flamboyant,” I said.
    She snorted. “There’s a difference between flamboyant and flaming.”
    I couldn’t help it then. I laughed. “You’ll work it out, Mom,” I said.
    There was silence for a moment. Then she said, “I saw Andrew yesterday.”
    Andrew. Tall, sandy blond hair, blue eyes, muscles in all the right places and a smile that could melt the elastic in your undies.
    “That’s nice,” I said, working to keep my voice from giving away my feelings.
    “He said to say hello.”
    Andrew, who went to Maine on a two-week fishing trip after we’d had a major fight and came back married. And not to me.
    I swallowed. “How is he?”
    “He looks thin.”
    “This is his busy time of year,” I said. I checked my watch. “I’ve gotta go, Mom,” I said. “I have tai chi class.”
    “And you don’t want to talk about your ex-boyfriend,” she said. So maybe she did have mother radar after all.
    “You’re right. I don’t. But I really do have tai chi.”
    “I’ll let you go, then,” she said. “Call me soon, Katydid.”
    “I will,” I said. “Bye.”
    I hung up the phone, then bent down and picked up Owen. He sat on my lap and studied my face.
    “Andrew said hello,” I said.
    Owen tipped his head to one side and put a paw on my chest.
    “I’m all right,” I said. I scooped him into my arms and stood up.
    “You know, Andrew said I didn’t know how to be spontaneous,” I told the cat as we headed for