Scratch the Surface

little fawn-colored dog whose owner was filling out a form suddenly approached from Felicity’s right and jumped up on her leg. The dog’s owner, a pale, elderly woman, apologized. “Christine, that was very naughty!“ she told the dog. “Tell the lady you’re sorry!”
    Before Christine the dog even had time to obey, the woman with the rabbit left, and Felicity found herself facing a hefty young woman in one of the blue Angell shirts, who asked, “How may I help you?”
    “I need to check on my cats’ records,” Felicity said. “My cats used to belong to someone else, a man named Quinlan Coates. I want to make sure that the cats’ records are in my name now.”
    “You could have called us,” the woman said.
    “I did. But what if I were an imposter? Just claiming to own the cats now? I assumed that you’d need to see some identification.” Felicity fished in her shoulder bag, pulled out her driver’s license, and put it on the counter, mainly in the hope that the woman would read and recognize her name.
    “Are your cats currently hospitalized?” The woman ignored the license.
    “No. They’re at home. They’re fine. They’re healthy. One of them is a blood donor. That’s the other thing I want to check on.” In a place this big and complicated, no one would realize that she’d already spoken to someone about Edith’s participation in the program, or so Felicity told herself.
    “What did you want to know?”
    “What’s involved,” Felicity said impatiently. “What do I need to do to have her give blood.”
    “If you’ll give me your name and address, we’ll mail you the information. Let me see if you’re already in the computer. What’s your name?”
    Enunciating with great clarity and at unnecessarily high volume, Felicity said, “Felicity Pride.” She added, “The cats are Edith and Brigitte. They were owned by Quinlan Coates.”
    The woman was tapping at her keyboard and looking at her monitor. “They’re here,” she said. “Under your name. Is that all?”
    “When is Edith due to give blood again?”
    “Six to eight weeks after the last time. Let’s see. She was here on the third. So about five to seven weeks from now. No sooner than that. We’ll mail you all the information.”
    “Did you know Quinlan Coates? Is there anyone here who knows Edith?”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t remember everyone.”
    A young man in green scrubs with slicked-back hair and a pierced ear was standing nearby behind the counter and suddenly spoke up. “Is that Edith who gives blood? The Chartreux?”
    “Yes! I’m her new owner.”
    “Do you think you two could take this somewhere else,” the woman said. “There’s a line.”
    The man with the pierced ear gave a wry smile and gestured to Felicity to wait. In seconds, he appeared in the reception area and then led her through a half-door to a long corridor with a bench along one wall. He did not, however, take a seat. “I’m Eric,” he said. “Edith is a great cat. She has real character.”
    “Thank you. I’m just getting to know her.”
    “She’s beautiful. So is the other one. What’s her name?”
    “Brigitte. How do you know Brigitte?”
    “She boards here. I work there sometimes. And at the blood bank. I move around.” He waved his hand toward a large waiting room visible through an opening in the wall above the bench.
    “You do know that their owner was murdered.”
    “The police have been here. I talked to some guy, but I couldn’t tell him much. I’m the one who took Edith out to the owner, but I just gave Edith to him. That was all.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I don’t know. Five. Around five.”
    “Was anyone with him?”
    “Not that I saw. I gave Edith to him right here. There could’ve been someone out in the reception area. Probably not, though. He must’ve waited here for a while before I had a chance to get Edith for him.”
    “Is five the normal time to get a cat? After she’s given blood?”
    “It’s on the late side. The way it works is that we call when the animal’s ready to go home. With cats, we sedate them, so we have to wait until they’re awake and doing okay. And before you get the animal, you have to see the people out there where you were. So, that can take a while if we’re busy. It’s the same as if you were picking up an animal after a procedure. Except that you don’t pay. In fact, you get free cat food if you want it.”
    “Did Quinlan Coates do that? Edith’s