He was actually going to buy her things? Human things, not just cat food and treats. Alicia watched him, a little stunned. A cracked window in case she wanted to roam. He was trusting her not to run off. Initially she waited where she was and finished off the rest of the fish crackers and licked up the crumbs. Curiosity got the better of her and she made a brief excursion out to check the area and find the vending machine the crackers had come from. As she suspected the offerings from the machine were pretty basic and there were empty spots. Nothing in there looked good enough for her to put in a specific request.

She couldn’t tell how long he’d been gone, exactly. She hadn’t checked the clock until after she was already feeling a little antsy, but he came back before she got too anxious and Alicia made sure to be in the chair when he got back and made it look like she’d been lounging there unconcerned the whole time. What was in the bag had her curiosity. The simple contents of the bag had her stunned. It was more than she’d expected and betrayed a thoughtfulness in the scruffy detective. There was that, and then there was him fussing over her bruised arm. She’d gotten the nasty bruise as a cat when she’d been flung at a bookcase in the struggle. No broken bones, thankfully, but obviously he’d noticed how she was limping around because now he was trying to bandage her up. Alicia’s ears couldn’t make up their mind at first, up and alert in curiosity and then down flat in discomfort as he attached the popsicle split to her. Her ears settled on down and she sniffed at it. Fruity in that artificial way. She didn’t especially like it, but while watching him work there was an earnestness in his face that made her stay still, and which prevented her from shaking off the contraption immediately.

She would be bored out of her mind if she stayed even with the freedom of the window being cracked open. Plus, she was very curious now about which of Solomon’s relatives had cared to hire a detective to look into this. The clothes situation could wait until evening to properly talk over. There was no way she’d be able to talk him through women’s clothing sizes as a cat, ouija board or not. She nodded and hopped down and made her way to the door, her movements more awkward with the splint. At the door she meowed, indicating her decision to join him.

Roth nodded, and opened the door to let her out. The walk to the car was… interesting. It certainly felt more like walking with a person than it did walking with an animal. There was a directness and intention behind her movement that was decidedly more focused than the average house cat, though it wasn't so glaringly obvious as to arouse suspicion. He opened her door for her, allowed her to jump in, and shut it behind her, careful to mind her tail, and then went around to his side and slid across the squealing, groaning upholstery and fired the old car back to life. He was glad he had smoked outside the drug store when he had gone. Something about keeping the cat trapped in here with the smoke was much harder than it would have been had she been just another person.

The house they were going to was on the outskirts of the town, but by no means outside of it. It was a nice house. Probably had stayed in the family quite a while. Definitely not the kind of place someone with a little book shop could just buy, but it didn't exactly scream “old money” either. It sat, respectably, on the side of a little street that was dutifully attempting to climb a hill as straight as it could, and failing miserably at doing so. The cars were all plain, unremarkable sedans that intermittently provided just a little more than an obstacle on the meandering street, and Roth's car wasn't an exception once it was parked. Before they got out, Roth checked that he had packed the makeshift Ouija board in the back of the passenger seat, and then looked around. It didn't seem like anybody was around, so he quickly got out and picked Alicia up, setting her out on the ground before anyone could question why he was showing up with a cat.

He smoothed his hair a bit, and proceeded up the walk to the large front door. He gave the bell a ring, and rapped a few times out of habit. more than once he'd shown up to an older house like this, and the doorbells never seem to be hooked up to anything. He checked around to see if Alicia had followed him, or where she might have got to.

It was a little strange to be treated like a lady and not a cat after all this time. He actually opened the door for her. Sure, someone might do the same for a regular cat but there was a subtle difference in the way it was opened and held open. Besides that, he held open the passenger door for her even though she could have just as easily gotten in any door. He didn’t have to walk all the way around just to let her into the car. Alicia carefully settled in with the awkward splint and was purring by the time he had gotten to the driver’s side.

Unable to carry on a conversation like this Alicia just relaxed during the ride. She’d see what was going on soon enough, she hoped. She didn’t have a plan really, she just intended to see what the situation was like and what presented itself. When she felt the car stop she got up, ready to hop down but he picked her up. She made a surprised little meow and looked up at him. He looked nervous, maybe self conscious. Probably didn’t want to get locked up or fired for thinking a cat was a person even if it was the truth. Hard to blame him for that, she’d kept this to herself for the same kinds of reasons.

Rather than follow him directly Alicia padded along behind him for the first part of the walkway before diverting across the grass and toward the side of the house. She peered back around the corner at Detective Roth before continuing her search of the perimeter. She’d listen in too and find a convenient window near wherever they settled to eavesdrop from. She didn’t know the relatives by their houses, she hadn’t really left the shop before. She had overheard them on the phone or seen them come in, so she wasn’t sure who the house belonged to. They kept the grass mowed and the hedges trimmed though.

Margaret was a little surprised when she heard the knock at the door. She had been expecting the detective, of course, but it had completely slipped her mind at some point that morning. As she opened the door, she greeted him kindly. “Oh, Mr. Roth, right?” She said with a smile. “I hope you haven't been standing out here too long. Our doorbell isn't connected, I'm afraid.”

“I had a feeling,” the man said, and he gave a sort of self-referential smile. “May I come in?”

“Certainly,” Margaret replied, and stepped aside to allow him through. She couldn't help but notice that, as she closed the door, a momentary stiffness washed over him. Almost like a panic, but minor and fleeting. He must have caught the look of concern on her face, because he waved his hand in the air dismissively.

“Just thinking back to whether I brought everything I needed from the car,” he said. The moment vanished, and she led him in to the kitchen.

The room that held a sense of warmth and nostalgia. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns on the worn linoleum floor. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of homemade baked goods. It was a cozy space, where cherished memories were shared and comforting meals were prepared.

The kitchen itself was a reflection of years gone by. Cabinets adorned with floral patterns displayed an array of mismatched vintage dishes and glassware, each with its own story to tell. The countertops, although showing signs of wear and age, still held a certain charm. They bore faint marks from countless meals prepared with love and shared among family and friends.

A sturdy wooden table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by mismatched chairs that had been well-used over the years. The table's surface, once smooth and polished, now showcased faint scratches and stains, evidence of life's daily activities. A worn tea towel, hanging from a hook on the wall, added a touch of homeliness to the scene.

Margaret gestured for Mr. Roth to take a seat at the table, the worn chair creaking slightly under his weight. The walls, adorned with framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, told the story of a loving family. Smiling faces peered out from the images, reminding Margaret of the happy times they had shared.

As she reached for a coffee mug from the cabinet, her fingers brushed against a small ceramic cat figurine—a keepsake that had been her father's favorite. It brought back a flood of memories, of laughter and joy that once filled the kitchen.

Pouring steaming coffee into the mug, Margaret placed it gently in front of Mr. Roth, the aroma enveloping the air. The sunlight danced on the surface of the liquid, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. It streamed in through a large bay window, though some of the panes were cracked and the lattice was worn.

Taking a seat across from him, Margaret leaned back, observing the detective's presence in her family's cherished space. He seemed distinctly out of place,like a boulder of brown and beige in this cozy little corner of cream-colored wallpaper and delicate green floral prints.

“As I understand it, Miss Barnes… You're Solomon's daughter?” the detective began, hitting the red button on a small tape recorder.

How much should she snoop? Alicia didn’t want to pry too much, but she was curious. The back garden was home to some tomato plants and flowers. She only briefly looked over it before she continued wandering near the walls. The bushes provided nice cover, and it didn’t take long before she heard muffled voices.

This wasn’t going to cut it. She was too far with a wall between them, and there was just a little too much noise from the street between the animals, neighbors, and the occasional car. Alicia didn’t like the idea of jumping up on the windowsill for a better vantage point. It was tempting, but it might give the poor detective’s nerves a shock. He was handling this all pretty well but he was still uncertain about it all. Besides, Solomon’s relative might recognize her from the bookshop. If that happened might they try to keep her? That wouldn’t go over well at all. No, she didn’t want to risk being seen. Instead she abandoned her search of the perimeter and instead poked around at the underside of the porch.

It was fenced in with decorative diamond lattice work, but that had been put in a long time ago judging from the sorry state of it. It was easy enough to squeeze her way into a gap of rotted wood and slip under the porch, though it tore off the popsicle stick splint. Alicia left it and continued to sniff around the musty underside of the porch. As she thought there was an opening to access the crawl space under the house. It was closed up, but not very well. Whoever had worked on it last hadn’t bothered to screw anything in, so Alicia was able to pry it open even with paws.

The underside of the house was cold and smelled of earth. It was the delicate underbelly of the home, above her head were the various pipes and wires that snaked up into the walls to make the house comfortable. Down here they were filthy and covered in things Alicia only identified as stuff she definitely didn’t want in her fur. She kept a low profile, slinking around to find the voices again. This time the sound carried better and Alicia adjusted her ears to pick up what she could hear of their conversation. She figured this guy took enough notes that he could fill her in on anything important she missed while trying to find a good spot.

When it was clear he was about to leave Alicia made her way back out the way she had come and waited in the bush by the porch. That’s where she found the little splint. She was going to leave it behind, but on second thought she took up the sticks in her teeth to at least bring them to the car. It still smelled faintly of artificial fruit, but tasted mostly of wood.

Once she saw him leaving and heard the door close Alicia figured it was safe to come out and hurried along to be let back into the car. The moment she was back in the passenger seat she dropped the makeshift splint and started to lick her paw. She could still feel that staleness from the underside of the house in her fur.