Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

“I always knew what I wanted to do. Help people. Fix problems. I was long gone when she met her final husband, Gordon. Went to the police academy in Virginia and stayed out of her life. Stayed away from Bob and Charlie, too.”

“Y’all didn’t get along?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he said, adding a derisive laugh. “We beat each other up regularly. I stayed pretty angry with Bob. He was a shoplifter, plus he charmed every rich girl he could find. Charlie didn’t piss me off quite as much, but he was a do-nothing. Wouldn’t communicate with anyone, was flunking out of school and finally ran away to New York as soon as he could drive. If Mom had only been sober enough to see how much we were all hurting, maybe things would have been different.”

“But Gordon came along. Someone who finally helped your mother get sober, right?” I said.

“Yup. Don’t know how, but he did. Bob and Charlie and I had all left Mom on her own by then. She cared for Gordon, though I’m not sure she ever loved anyone as much as she loved my father. I’m not sure she even loves her own sons.”

“I don’t buy it, Tom,” I said. “I see how loving she can be—to you and to Finn. I guess that’s the reason I don’t understand her problems with Bob and Charlie.”

“Finn brought Mom and me back together. Like I said, Mom favored him. Loved him from the minute she met him. She finally had the grandchild she always wanted. Bob suddenly reappeared—like he realized he might be shut out, so he had to insert himself back into my mother’s life. Of course, what did he do? He stole the diamond earrings Gordon had given her.”

“Diamond earrings, huh? Are those what he referred to as rightfully his ?” I said.

“He’s so full of it. For some reason he believed Gordon didn’t buy them. He thought Mom bought the earrings herself, with money she got from his father. See, Bob even lies to himself. True enough, his father had money.” Tom shook his head sadly. “Great guy who eventually died of cirrhosis because he had a worse drinking problem than my mother. She did find out he was sick, tried to help him like Gordon helped her, but it was too late. He left Mom money in his will. More money than he left Bob and Charlie, from what I understand. She never said how much, and I never asked.”

“Bet the reading of the will didn’t go over too well. No wonder Bob’s resentful,” I said.

“The earring theft happened around the time Hilary and I split up. Mom came racing to town—I was in North Carolina by then— and got involved. She thought she’d lose Finn. Bob was living with her at the time—guy’s never had a job for longer than a month. She’d just bought her little house in Mercy. Anyway, he took the earrings while she was gone.”

“He admitted it?” I said.

“I was a cop at the time. I know how to make a suspect talk—and I did. Can’t say I’m proud of how I’ve handled the problems with Hilary or with Bob. I was proud of my mother, however, for throwing Bob out when she discovered her earrings were gone. They were a sobriety anniversary gift. We couldn’t get them back, either. The pawnbroker sold them for cash. No way to find the buyer.”

I said, “You didn’t have your brother arrested, I take it? Because Morris, who’s been around probably since Mercy was founded, never mentioned he even knew about Bob or any legal problems.”

“Bob spent very little time here, never got to know anyone. My mother didn’t want me to turn him in. I reluctantly went along with her.” Tom took a long hit off his soda and made a face like he’d just drank lemon juice. “This stuff is not for me. Anyway, notice she has my father’s name now? She changed it back about the same time she and Bob became estranged. It’s her time machine mentality I was talking about before. When my dad was alive, everything seemed perfect in her mind. She still talks about him like he was a saint. Maybe he was, but I don’t remember him. Obviously his death wounded her enough she went down a dark path for years afterward.”

I stroked the purring Chablis and noticed Syrah had taken his spot above my left shoulder on top of the couch. “When I lost John, I felt the same kind of grief. Wounded is the right word. But you talked earlier about how you failed. I don’t see what you could have done to make anyone in your family act differently.”

Tom stared down at the can he held with two hands. “I just wish I could have made things right.”

“Who wants to play with a time machine now?” I asked.

He looked at me and smiled slowly, as if something was shifting in his mind. “You’re right. Regrets are a wish for time travel, aren’t they?”

“Yes. You are a good man,” I said, matching his smile. “Time to let go of the should haves , don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer because the back door opened and Yoshi came racing in. Chablis took off like her tail was on fire, leaving a bleeding claw mark on my arm. The dog greeted me and then Tom by putting a paw on each of our legs, his stubby tail wagging ferociously.

I called, “There’s Dr Pepper in the fridge, Finn.”

He joined us, holding a can. When he saw what Tom was drinking, he said, “Isn’t this the best?”

Tom said, “Mmm. So good.”

I almost laughed. He was a terrible liar, but Finn didn’t seem to notice.

Finn said, “Did you know they make this in Texas? Every now and then, you can get it in little bottles made with the original recipe. With cane sugar. But this is dope even with the high-fructose whatever.” He held up the can and admired it.

“ Dope ? You’re using slang like that with an ex-cop in the room?” Tom said with a laugh.

“Okay,” Finn said. “It’s sick. How’s that?”

We all laughed.

My phone rang and I pulled it from my pocket.

The male voice said, “Tom’s got you on speed dial. You know what that means.” It was Bob—being Bob.

“You want to talk to Tom?” I said.

“Nope. Just tell him to come home pronto. His dumb cat got out again.”

Fearing Tom might deck Bob given half a chance, I decided to ride along and help find Dashiell. Maybe I could keep Tom focused on what was important. Too bad his poor kitty got outside again, not only because a cat shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark but because Tom had just been mellowing out, getting a lot of old business off his chest.

We left Finn with the security system armed and instructions not to open the door for anyone. I expected to see Bob outside with a flashlight looking for Dashiell, but he was sitting in Tom’s living room watching TV. I’d tried to understand Bob, had realized after Tom’s story he was probably a bitter man, but any morsel of compassion disappeared when I realized he felt no compunction to find Dashiell. Guess we should be grateful he’d made a phone call.

Tom, to his credit, only offered his brother a dirty look, not fighting words. I followed him into the kitchen and he found a couple flashlights. We went out the back door, which, I noted, was still ajar. Did Bob think Dashiell would come back if he left the door open?

“Be careful out here, Jillian. The drop-off to the creek is pretty steep.” He swept his flashlight left and right, revealing the sparkling, dewy lawn.

I pointed straight ahead. “Last time, I found him by a tree over there near the slope.”

We both hurried toward the creek. Tom’s neighbor to the left had a fence, and I went that way while Tom jogged in the opposite direction calling Dashiell’s name. Slowly we shined our lights over the grass and up into the trees.

I passed the spot where I’d found him last time. Not there. If he’d slipped into the creek, we’d need more than flashlights to find him. I pushed such a horrible thought to the back of mind. He wouldn’t go far, I wanted to believe. But if his blood sugar crashed, he could be lying unconscious anywhere.