Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

“And you couldn’t get close enough to see much?”

“Nope. We were so far from the scene my photographer stood on someone’s shoulders to get the photo of Tom’s car we ran in the paper.”

“You didn’t see the dead man?” I said.

“Nope. Glad I didn’t, too. Chief Baca spoke to me and said, and I quote, ‘The driver died at the scene.’ They wouldn’t release his name, which is routine until family is notified. When I get the official word on his identity, we’ll print it.”

“I’ll make sure and get a paper, or… since you offered to help, you could get me a copy and do something else for me—for us,” I said.

“I’m game,” she said.

I handed her my shopping list.

She glanced at what I’d written. “This is easy enough, but can it wait until after I stop by my new house? I have to make sure they’re earning the pretty penny this home is costing me. I’d love to be in by Christmas.”

Kara’s house was being built on acreage at the edge of town. She’d used the money she’d inherited from John to buy the newspaper and build her first house.

“I’ll take Finn out for lunch, so there’s no rush on the groceries,” I said.

“I could pick up Dashiell if you and Tom are tied up,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll call you for help if Dashiell needs to leave the clinic by a certain time and I can’t make it,” I said.

She finished making the tea, took a travel mug from the cupboard and filled it with ice. She poured herself the tea she’d been craving and was ready to go. I hugged her tightly at the back door and again thanked her for everything.

I’d no sooner closed the door than my cell phone rang. I felt like I was living in Grand Central Station instead of my own little house in rural South Carolina.

It was Candace. Seemed Hilary just arrived at the police station and wanted to see her son.

“Bring Finn here, would you? Because I’m not telling this woman where her son is until I’ve asked her a few more questions.” She sounded like one unhappy deputy.

“Getting Finn to the station to see her might take some serious convincing,” I said.

“Tom came with me after we got the gun at his house. He was talking with the chief when I learned she’d arrived. You want to talk to him and see if he has any ideas on how to get Finn to talk to his mother?”

“No. I’ll tell Finn the truth and say Tom will be around as a buffer.”

“Thanks, Jillian. I’m so tired I can hardly think straight,” she said. “Come as soon as you can, okay?”

After she disconnected, I stood in my kitchen wondering how Finn would react when I told him his mother was in town.

No, I had a pretty good idea how he would react.

My fear was what he might do.

No surprise Finn balked at the idea of seeing his mother, so after nothing I said convinced him this would be a good idea, I called the police station and let Tom talk to him. After their chat, a reluctant Finn agreed to go with me, but we rode in stony silence to Mercy PD.

As we walked through the pristine corridors of the old courthouse to the police offices located at the back of the building, Finn remained quiet. However, when we passed a few of Mercy’s less-than-finest citizens hanging around on the benches and chairs outside the door labeled “Mercy Police Department,” his eyes grew wide.

He mumbled “Wow” under his breath.

The smell of unwashed bodies and the droopy-eyed looks of the alcoholics and drug addicts made me tug on Finn’s elbow and we went quickly through that door. A sleepy-looking B.J. was sitting at the desk to our left. He wore a headset and was talking on the phone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he was saying. “We do have a leash law. Let me give you county animal control’s number.”

Sitting on one of the two chairs in the small waiting area was Thelma Reese, a retiree with a big heart. She held a plate of scrumptious-looking coconut cupcakes. I smiled at her and said, “Hey, Thelma. Looks like someone was up early baking.”

“Hey there, Jillian,” she said. “I brought these for Morris, seeing as how he helped me out yesterday. Locked my keys in the Ford 150.”

“Uh-oh. I heard someone say Morris is off duty today,” I said.

Her face crumbled with disappointment. Rumor was Thelma locked her keys in the car on purpose at least once a month so Morris could come to her rescue.

B.J., now off the phone, said, “Take them on over to his place, Thelma. You know how he loves sweets.”

She perked up and rose. “You’re sure it would be all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” B.J. said.

She was out the door so fast I hardly got a whiff of those cupcakes.

Finn said, “Cupcakes? Really? Between that lady and the people outside the door, I feel like I’ve landed on another planet.”

“Not like on TV, huh?” I said.

B.J. said, “Let me buzz Deputy Carson—oops, don’t have to. Here she comes.”

Candace came out of the chief’s office and walked down the short hall in front of us, passing the closed doors I knew were the interrogation rooms.

“Thanks for coming, you two.” She looked at me. “I’ll take it from here.”

Finn stepped back and held up his hands. “Wait a minute. She’s staying with me, right? And where’s Tom? Tom told me—”

“Your mama’s been worried about you,” Candace said.

Finn shook his head. “She doesn’t worry about anyone but herself. Tom said she just wanted to see me, not talk to me.”

Candace narrowed her eyes and stared at Finn for a few seconds and then she nodded. “I understand. Come with me.”

Finn didn’t move. “Mrs. Hart, too?”

“Sure,” Candace said. I couldn’t read her expression because she was in total cop mode, but she sounded unbothered by Finn’s request.

“What did my mother tell you?” Finn said as we followed Candace through the ancient wooden gate separating the waiting area from the hall.

“Hang on,” she said, as she opened the door to the first interrogation room.

Before we went inside, I heard a woman call, “Finn. Oh my God, you are okay.”

She came running toward us. She must have been in Chief Baca’s office. She nearly toppled because of her super-high black heels, and was dressed all in black—black wool coat, black tights. Even her hair was such a dark brunette color it was nearly black.

Eyes averted, Finn started to back up, his face ghostly pale.

“Hang on, Finn,” Candace said. “I’ll handle this.” She stood squarely between Finn and the woman I assumed was his mother.

“He’s not ready to talk to you, Mrs. Roth,” Candace said.

Tom appeared in the door of the interrogation room we’d been about to enter. “Stay away from him, Hilary.”

Tom’s ex-wife stared at him in confusion at first and then said, “What happened to you, Tom? Were you in the car with Nolan when—”

“You know damn well what happened to me, Hilary. So—”

I held up a hand, my heart pounding in reaction to this confrontation. In a firm voice, I said, “Tom, why don’t you take Finn with you?”

“Jillian took the words right out of my mouth,” Candace said, nodding her head in the direction of the room Tom had emerged from.

Tom’s anger seemed to dissipate in an instant. He nodded and gestured Finn inside. The door shut after them and I felt as if I could breathe again.

Hilary Roth closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry if I caused a problem. I’m so glad to see that Finn is all right and so confused by everything that’s happened. I’ve already lost someone I love and—” Her eyes filled. Exquisite, big brown eyes. She raised a gloved hand to her crimson lips. “I’m sorry. I still can’t believe Nolan’s gone.”