The Cats that Played the Market (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

Historical Museum, and I’m returning a few boxes of material belonging to your great aunt — items we didn’t use.”
    “What kind of items?”
    “Tons of photographs. I think your great aunt kept the Kodak people happy.”
    “Sure, I’m home now,” Katherine said. “Any time is fine.”
    The combination curator/financial advisor continued, “On behalf of the Erie Historical Society, I want to thank you for your outstanding donation of the late Orvenia and William Colfax’s memorabilia. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with how I plan to display them, but I need to ask you a few questions about certain items — just by way of clarification. I can be at your house in ten minutes. Okay, then,” he said, without giving Katherine time to answer. “I’ll see you shortly.”
    Before Katherine could answer, Robbie hung up.
    He’s the pushiest man I’ve ever met , she thought.
    Scout had jumped to the counter and was pawing the phone. “Waugh,” she cried irritably.
    “Scout, speak English, please. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me — other than you’re starving — but that was Mr. Motormouth. I’ve gotta feed you cats pronto, before he shows up.”
    *              *              *
    The new volunteer curator parked in front of the mansion. He drove a late-model four-door Lexus. Katherine met him at the door and let him in. He was holding what looked like a portfolio under his arm, and two cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other.
    “Hello, Robbie,” Katherine said. “You can set the boxes down anywhere.”
    He placed them on the floor inside the vestibule.
    Katherine asked curiously, “What’s in them?”
    “One box is full of family photographs we weren’t able to use. You should have them. But in the second box,” he said, reaching down and taking off the lid, “is a valuable antique you should keep.” He pulled out an ancient stock market ticker tape machine.
    “That’s really cool,” Katherine said. “When I cleaned out the attic, I don’t remember finding it.”
    “Oh, my mother had it. She said she got it from your great aunt in the Forties. Orvenia said she hated to look at it, because it brought back sad memories.  Your great uncle was supposedly obsessed with the machine.  Orvenia was going to throw it away, but my mother talked her into giving it to her.”
    “Interesting,” Katherine said. “I love these little tidbits of family history. I guess in modern times, it would be like your husband watching sports all the time, or constantly checking his cell phone.”
    “Exactly! My mother donated it to the museum, but Ms. Kendall, this machine is too valuable for our current insurance policy. I did preliminary research. It’s worth over ten thousand dollars.”
    Katherine’s mouth dropped. “Amazing. Maybe we should leave it in the box until I can find a place for it. I don’t want the cats to break it.”
    “Yes, because it’s the real McCoy,” Robbie said, then continued, “I absolutely love this house. When I was a little boy I used to spend hours playing in the attic while my mom and your great aunt chatted below. In fact, I’m the guilty one who carved his initials on the wall up there.”
    “I’ve never seen it,” she said. “Let me take your coat. We can sit in the living room,” she guided.
    The heavy-set man chose the rare, expensive Rococo Belter chair — the most fragile chair in the room. Katherine cringed and hoped it wouldn’t collapse. It was already too late to suggest a safer, less-expensive chair. Katherine hoped she didn’t have to add its demise to the growing list of broken or destroyed items. Mark Dunn required a list for insurance purposes. Katherine sat down opposite Robbie on the mauve-colored loveseat.
    Robbie smiled and asked, “For your great aunt and uncle’s exhibit, I was wondering if a graphic artist friend of mine could come over and photograph the two portraits in here?”
    “I