Cat Trick

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For a second, I wasn’t sure that I was seeing what I seemed to be seeing, which was a small, round sesame water cracker topped with half a sardine in Louisiana hot sauce and a slice of black olive making its way across Marcus Gordon’s table seemingly under its own steam. I was tired. Was I just hallucinating? I pushed my bangs off my forehead, rubbed the space between my eyes with the heel of my hand and looked again. No, it was definitely moving, sliding across the speckled Formica tabletop like a slap shot from a hockey stick.

Or a swat from a cat’s paw. An invisible cat’s paw.

I leaned forward, snatching the cracker off the table as Marcus turned from the counter. It was too late to pretend I was just brushing away a few crumbs.

“I didn’t think you’d like those,” he said. There was a cute little furrow on the bridge of his nose, and a lock of dark wavy hair had fallen onto his forehead. I shook my head. This wasn’t a good time to get distracted by how Detective Marcus Gordon looked when he frowned . . . or smiled . . . or walked across a room. I’d stopped by so he could check out a chair I’d gotten from my neighbor Rebecca—Marcus was certain he could fix it—and accepted his offer of a glass of lemonade and what was looking like a rather unique take on crackers and cheese.

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