Chapter 5 The Cat Is A Co-conspirator

• I stared at the glowing phone screen in my hand. Beside the sink, Barnaby glared at the canned tuna with narrow blue eyes.
• I typed back instantly: Who is this?
• Three dots flashed on the screen, then text appeared: Elias Mercer.
• I rolled my eyes and typed: Prove it.
• The three dots bounced again.
• You are standing in a blue pajama shirt with a small hole near the left sleeve.
• Cold air hit my stomach. I looked down. A small frayed tear gaped near my left elbow.
• I sprinted to my balcony door and shoved it open. I looked left, right, and down at the street below. Nobody stood on the sidewalk. No cameras hung from the roof.
• My phone buzzed in my hand.
• Barnaby stepped on the sleeve yesterday, the text read. He tears delicate fabric when he wants attention.
• I let out a breath and rubbed my forehead. The answer made complete sense, which made me hate it even more.
• I typed: I am keeping the cat. He is critical evidence in an ongoing fraud investigation.
• What crime did my cat commit? Elias replied.
• The diamond collar is suspicious, I sent back.
• It is simply a collar, he wrote.
• It is a portable jewelry store, I typed.
• Barnaby likes shiny accessories, he answered.
• Cartels like shiny accessories too, I sent.
• The screen stayed blank for a full minute. No typing bubbles appeared.
• Finally, a message arrived: You think my cat is laundering money?
• I am keeping all options open, I replied.
• By Saturday morning, Barnaby made his position clear. I placed a ceramic bowl of standard dry cat food on the floor.
• Barnaby walked over, sniffed the edge once, and backed away with his ears flat.
• "Eat your food," I said, pointing at the bowl.
• Barnaby set one white paw against the ceramic rim. He looked directly into my eyes, then shoved the bowl sideways.
• It crashed against the baseboard. Dry food scattered across the wooden floorboards.
• Barnaby turned around and strolled away with his head high.
• "You are a criminal," I shouted after him.
• By Monday afternoon, my credit card statement looked like a disaster zone. Barnaby rejected basic canned food, expensive organic pate, and three brands of dry bites.
• My new running list was titled: Financial Losses Caused By One White Menace.
• I shared the link with Frank. Within an hour, half our department monitored the total.
• "He cost you eighty dollars in organic poultry yesterday?" Frank asked, leaning over my cubicle divider.
• "He only licked the gravy," I said, clicking through my queue.
• I took ten macro photos of the diamond collar and uploaded them directly into Mercer's compliance file under a new header: EXHIBIT H: POSSIBLE FELINE MONEY LAUNDERING DEVICE.
• A reply from Mercer's legal team popped up three minutes later: Miss Carson, please stop filing criminal reports against the pet.
• I ignored them and logged out for the day. I was grabbing my purse to head home when my cell phone rang on the desk.
• I picked up the call. "Your cat is a menace."
• "You bought the wrong salmon," Elias Mercer said without greeting me.
• "I almost hung up," I said, locking my bottom drawer. "He refused a twelve-dollar can of wild-caught fish."
• "Because it was farm-raised," Elias said, his voice deep and crisp through the speaker. "He smells the difference immediately."
• "He is a cat!" I said, walking toward the elevators.
• "He has standards," Elias replied.
• "He shoved a ceramic bowl into my baseboard," I said, stepping inside the empty elevator car. "That is property damage."
• "He was expressing legitimate concern over his diet," Elias said.
• "He knocked over my desk lamp last night!"
• "The lamp was top-heavy," Elias said. "It started the confrontation."
• Lisa and Frank stepped into the elevator right before the doors closed.
• "No, he cannot sleep on my silk pillow," I shouted into the phone.
• "He gets severe separation anxiety in strange rooms," Elias said.
• Frank leaned toward Lisa and whispered, "They sound like they have been married for fifteen years."
• I pulled a red pen from my purse and threw it directly at Frank's chest. He caught it with a grin.
• "I want my cat back, Miss Carson," Elias said as I walked out into the lobby. "Send him home."
• "The evidence remains in my custody," I said, pushing through the exit doors.
• "Barnaby is not evidence!"
• "He is central evidence!"
• "Evidence of what crime?" Elias asked.
• "I am still building the case," I said.
• A long silence stretched over the line.
• "You are unbelievable," Elias said softly.
• "Thank you," I replied.
• An hour later, I sat on my apartment floor with a paper bag from the pet store down the street. Barnaby lay stretched out on the sofa like a fur coat.
• "I bought the thirty-dollar fresh salmon," I told him, holding up a small jar. "If you knock this over, I am calling the city shelter."
• My phone rang again. I put it on speaker and set it on the coffee table.
• "I am sending a car to retrieve him tonight," Elias said.
• "I dare you," I said, opening the salmon jar. "My apartment building has security."
• "Miss Carson," he said, his tone dropping.
• "Mr. Mercer," I replied.
• "You cannot keep my pet forever."
• "Try me," I said, walking toward the living room window to pull the blinds shut.
• I stopped. My hand froze on the cord.
• Three identical, black SUVs rolled slowly down my quiet street. They pulled up to the curb directly in front of my building entry.
• One. Two. Three.
• They parked with precise spacing. All three engines shut off at the exact same second.
• My stomach dropped into my shoes.
• On the speakerphone, Elias let out a sharp breath. His voice lost all its playful tone.
• "Miss Carson," he said quietly. "Please tell me Barnaby is currently inside your apartment with you."