Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

“You’re here. You’ve already helped.” I looked at Tom. “Do not let Morris see those donuts, or Candace will not be happy. They’ll distract him. I suggest you set them on the counter in an inconspicuous place until the evidence gathering is complete.”

“Rain might end that endeavor,” Tom said. “By the way, Kara tells me Scott Mortenson is happy to let her do the story and all the follow-ups.”

“Oh. That’s great,” I said, trying to sound like this was a wonderful development. But I had mixed emotions. From Kara’s smile, I knew she was thrilled. Despite settling in a small town, she had journalism in her blood. Her first Mercy bylines would be big ones. But would I be her first interview? That might be awkward. I hoped I got a chance to talk to Candace about being in the middle—between Kara and the investigation.

Kara said, “I saw the cop cars out front, and I was hoping—”

The doorbell rang. This time it was Nancy Shelton, but she wasn’t alone. A tall man with a shaved head, maybe midthirties, was with her. She wore her navy blue suit—but this one was different. She wore slacks, and the trim along the edges of her jacket was metallic blue. These suits she wore, with the gold buttons to match her badge, had to be custom-made. I knew plenty about fabrics and sewing. A skilled seamstress had been at work—and had done a marvelous job.

The man with her wore a summer-weight suit with a silk brown-and-pink-striped tie. I instantly envied his thick, dark eyelashes. He probably had a wonderful smile, but right now he looked as serious as a politician giving a concession speech.

When I ushered them into the living room, Nancy Shelton introduced him as Liam Brennan, the county assistant district attorney. “Mr. Brennan will be coordinating the joint efforts of both our towns’ law enforcement to solve this murder as soon as possible.”

She sounded like she was giving a press conference—especially since she was staring straight at Kara the whole time. Did she know Kara was journalist?

I made my introductions then. “This is Kara Hart and Tom Stewart.”

Brennan’s brown eyes were on Kara, too. “Aren’t you buying the newspaper?”

Yup, they know, I thought.

But I caught a flicker of surprise in Kara’s eyes. “Yes,” she said. “And though I’m Jillian’s stepdaughter, I need to be clear that I’m also here because of my connection to the Mercy Messenger .”

“I didn’t see any story in this morning’s paper,” Brennan said in an almost taunting way.

I glanced at Kara, feeling the need to protect her. “You will see a story. Isn’t that right, Kara?”

She was staring Brennan down, not appearing the least bit intimidated. I should have known she didn’t need any protection from me.

Kara said, “Since I’m already taking over many aspects of the newspaper’s day-to-day operations, you’ll be seeing my byline. A lot.”

Brennan smiled, and that smile was as charming as I’d imagined it would be. “Look forward to it.” He turned to Tom. “And you own a private security business. But weren’t you a police officer at one time, and then you—”

“Good for you. You’ve done your homework,” Tom said tersely.

The escalating tension in the room had my stomach churning. Those donuts smelled sickly sweet and unappealing now. I said, “Let me get Mike. He was trying to round up some underwater equipment.”

But Mike must have heard their arrival because he came in through the back door.

Suddenly I felt the need to sit before my legs gave out. For the first time, the enormity of what had happened overwhelmed me. I found the closest easy chair. All of this bantering and the apparent need for one-upmanship seemed ludicrous. A young woman was dead. And yet politics, news scoops and evidence collection were all anyone seemed to care about.

Kara addressed Mike as soon as he came into the living room. “Do you mind if I see the crime scene for myself?” She pulled a camera from the hobo-style bag slung over her shoulder.

“From a distance.”

Brennan held out a hand to Mike. “Good to see you again, Mike.”

The two shook hands, and Mike said, “Nancy told me you’d be involved—help us share information. Thanks for that.”

Brennan glanced back and forth between Tom and me. “You two please stay inside.” He turned to Mike. “Lead the way.”

When they were gone, Tom came over and took my hands. “You’re cold, not to mention pale as a polar bear. This isn’t what you signed up for when you told Shawn you’d help with Isis. Where are the cats, by the way?”

“I don’t know. Let’s find them,” I said. “I could use a cat in my lap right now.”

And find them we did. In my quilting room. And guess who was stuck in my sewing cabinet drawer while my three sat in a half circle staring at her latest dilemma.

I carefully extracted Isis from the cabinet drawer while Tom crouched beside me and petted my cats.

I said, “Isis apparently thinks she’s thinner than she actually is. Maybe her whiskers are too short. Whiskers should warn a cat about whether they’ll fit into a space.”

“I get the feeling that Isis does what Isis wants, regardless of the consequences,” he said. “Sounds like a little criminal, if you ask me.”

I held her up and looked into her green eyes. “Is he calling you names? Doesn’t he know you’re a goddess?” I smiled and set Isis down. She strolled away as if nothing had happened.

I said, “Why do cats act like they had no part of an embarrassing situation? Is it that little human section of their brain at work?”

“I haven’t gotten stuck in a wicker basket or a drawer lately, but I’d pretend it was no big deal if my peers were watching,” Tom said.

I laughed. “Guess I would, too.”

Chablis was attempting to climb up on his knees, probably because she’d been traumatized by last night’s events and was looking for any comfort she could find.

He picked her up and stood, scratching her around her neck where she liked it the most. She was purring so loud they probably heard her down at the lake.

The lake. The investigation. This stranger Brennan. I couldn’t wait for this morning to end. “How long do you think they’ll be hunting around in my yard?” I asked.

“You know Candace,” Tom said. “She’d do a grid search like when they’re looking for buried remains if it were up to her,” Tom said. “But with the assistant DA and Mike around, they’ll keep her on task. I’d say an hour or two.”

Isis reappeared and led the way as we walked back into the living room. She seemed to want to take over as top cat, and I wondered how long Syrah would put up with that. More reason for this cat to go home. But with Ritaestelle in the hospital, would that happen anytime soon?

“Have you had breakfast?” I asked.

“A donut. And you should have one. I got to the bakery the minute they opened. Those were still hot when they were boxed.”

“A bagel sounds better—if the ones I bought the other day aren’t as hard as hockey pucks by now.”

Turned out they were harder than hockey pucks, and I had a banana instead. Even the fruit didn’t set well. A small part of me wondered what they were doing outside, but a bigger part didn’t even want to look out the window. When Deputy Tony Martinez, who I knew usually worked the late shift, showed up dressed in shorts and carrying a camera case, I figured he must be the underwater specialist.

Kara came inside about fifteen minutes after his arrival. Tom had watched the goings-on through the kitchen window, but I stayed in the living room—surrounded by felines.