Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

“A friend called me and said Finn ran away again,” Karen said. The muscles near her left eye began to twitch. “I’m sure Tom didn’t say anything because he thinks I’ll have another meltdown. But I am determined to stay strong, even though it’s difficult after two murders. You don’t think he’s been harmed, do you?”

“Like you, I’m worried. But from what we know, he left on his own. Maybe he just needs time to think about everything,” I said, hoping this was true.

“I trust you, Jillian. You’d tell me if you heard from him, wouldn’t you?” she said.

“Absolutely.” I squatted next to Dashiell and extended the back of my hand. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch. He got a little frightened, is all. Just like this guy.”

Dashiell rubbed my hand with the side of his face and began to purr. I said, “Why don’t you pour yourself a cup of coffee, go into the living room and I’ll take care of Dashiell?”

Karen thanked me again, got her coffee and left us. The glucose monitor kit was lying open on the counter and I lifted Tom’s tabby boy and carried him across the kitchen. He seemed heavier than just a few days ago, which was good. Diabetic cats can drop weight fast. Not wanting to set him on the countertop like I’d done when he was unconscious over at Tom’s the other day, I took him and the kit to the small kitchen table. I sat and simply held him for a moment, petting and soothing him. Then, without any trouble, I pricked his ear and tested his sugar level. It was one forty, a little high, but he’d had a rough morning and stress affects diabetic cats exactly the same way it affects humans. It raises their blood sugar. His insulin was probably already working.

He jumped off my lap, sat at my feet and began to groom himself. I pulled the monitor, needles and alcohol wipes all together, ready to return them to their little leather pouch. I’d previously set them all on a crumbled paper that had apparently been rescued from destruction. I picked up the paper and smoothed it out.

I realized it was a financial statement of some sort and I wouldn’t have paid it any mind if I hadn’t seen Finn’s name on the top. Did Karen know about Finn’s joint account with Tom? I pulled the sheet closer while putting the blood testing equipment away.

Finnian Gannon’s name was indeed on the top, but not paired with Tom’s name. The other person on this account was Karen Stewart. I wasn’t too surprised. No doubt she loved him, but it was the amount of money I saw near the bottom of the page that made me catch my breath. More than a million dollars .

Karen Stewart, who lived with our town junk collector in a cute and modest home, was wealthy. Or rather, she and Finn were wealthy. Wow .

“Interesting reading, huh?” came a voice from the kitchen entry. It was Bob.

I jumped at the sound of his voice and rested a hand on my chest. “You scared me. This paper was just sitting here and—”

“Made your eyes pop, didn’t it?” He walked into the kitchen and sat next to me.

I focused on putting the sugar testing things back in the leather case and zipped it up.

“You were taking a peek at the reason I’m so pissed off at my mother,” Bob said.

“T-this is none of my business,” I said, getting up.

“Oh, but you’re involved with my brother,” he said. “You really should know all the family secrets. See, until I came here and hacked into my mother’s computer, I wasn’t sure exactly how much money she owed me. Now I do.”

“I told you I don’t owe you anything, Robert.” Karen had arrived in the kitchen. Pretty hard not to hear everything that went on in this small house.

“We have a neutral party who can play mediator. Let’s hear Jillian’s opinion on this.” Bob picked up the paper and waved it in the air.

I shook my head vehemently. “No. Please don’t ask me to get involved.”

Karen was standing right in my path if I left through the dining room, and I was just about to say good-bye and make a dash for the back door when Dashiell leaped straight up and onto my shoulder. His claws dug into my back and I winced, but he retracted them almost at once. I held him steady and he began to purr. Poor guy had probably been listening to these two argue all morning.

“Jillian, the nice big numbers you see at the bottom of the paper here? See?” Bob pointed at the total. “This is money my father earned. This money belongs to me and Charlie, not to some onetime step-grandson from a cheating mother and a jailbird stepfather. Oops, I forgot. Nolan’s dead and so is Gannon.”

Karen took a deep breath. She sounded surprisingly calm when she said, “Your father left both you and Charlie a good amount of money. Money he thought would tide you over until you found employment. Money you squandered, Bob. It’s not Finn’s fault his share has grown because I saved it for him.”

Bob’s face flushed. “My dad left the money to you, Mom . Not to a kid who isn’t even related to us. This account should be part of an estate I inherit. See, I can wait until you die to get what’s mine. Or maybe I should say, I can hardly wait.”

Karen’s face paled. Mine probably did too after hearing him spew such scorn and disrespect.

He turned to me abruptly. “Doesn’t my solution make perfect sense, Jillian?”

“No,” I said softly but firmly. “Karen can do whatever she wants with her money. You came here to intimidate her, not visit Tom. Am I right?”

“Tom’s latched on to one smart lady,” Bob said with a sneer. “I’ve always envied him. You’re not only loyal to him and his cat, you’re loyal to his mother. But then you didn’t have to grow up with a woman who drank herself to sleep by midday. You didn’t have to be embarrassed when she lost her driver’s license—how many times was it, Mom? Like five times? Oh, and the number five matches how many times you got married. What a gal.”

I swallowed, wasn’t sure I should say anything more, but then felt I had to. “Things didn’t go well for you, Bob,” I said. “I understand your pain. But rather than being consumed by anger, perhaps you could get some professional help.”

He stared at me for a second, held up the paper and crumpled it into a ball. He tossed it at Karen and then stomped out through the back door.

I realized I was clutching Dashiell tightly, but he didn’t seem to mind. Nice to have a cat in my arms to help keep my blood pressure down.

Karen said, “I am so sorry you had to bear witness to our problems. I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I hurt Bob. I hurt all my boys by being irresponsible. But giving Bob money would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. See, I’m not the only one in this family battling addiction. Bob is clean now. After this morning, I only hope he stays that way.”

Bob is clean? I understood then. No wonder he couldn’t hold a job. “Has he been getting counseling, then?” I asked.

“Narcotics Anonymous,” she said. “I offered to pay for private therapy. He refused, says he’s cured. No one is ever cured of addiction, Jillian. We manage the disease, but we are never cured. I’m concerned about him.”

I gave Dashiell a tiny hug and set him down. Then I went and gave Karen a big hug. I tend to be a hugger and, in the past, Karen was always stiff when I embraced her to say hello or good-bye. But we held each other tightly for several seconds as she said thank you over and over into my shoulder.

Deciding Dashiell should go home with me was an easy call. I could set the basement guest room up for him like I’d done for cat visitors in the past. Karen’s stress would become Dashiell’s stress and his blood sugar would end up all over the chart.