Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Quilt and the Corpse

“Oh yeah, that’s my job. Keeps me busy, too. And that’s why you won’t hear me complaining to the town council about that kinda stuff.” He grinned, and it was such an infectious, happy smile I found myself letting go a little inside. Funny how you never know how wound up you are until you begin to let go.

“Do you remember taking down my flyers last Friday? They had a picture of my lost amber cat along with my name and phone number,” I said.

He hooked his thumbs in his overalls, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “A lost cat, you say?”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Can’t say as I do recall. See, I just go about my business, rip ’em down and toss ’em out,” he said.

“Don’t you be lying, Ed Duffy,” a female voice said from behind us.

Candace and I turned. A woman who seemed to be about sixty years old stood in the doorway, her patent leather purse on one arm, her free hand on her hip. She was in full winter gear—gray wool coat, tall boots and black gloves. Her short dark hair was pulled away from her face and held in place by rhinestone-studded bobby pins.

Candace said, “Hi, Karen. Long time, no see. Karen, this is my friend Jillian.” She turned to look at me. “Karen is Ed’s closest, um, friend .”

She nodded. “What Candy means is that we usually spend the night together. I assume this is our widow, Ms. Hart, the one we have all heard so much about?”

“That’s me. Nice to meet you, Karen,” I said.

She eyed me with an inscrutable stare that made my stomach tighten up again. Finally she said, “You are not at all what I pictured. Why, you’re immensely attractive. I suppose I was expecting the devil incarnate after I heard about the murder.” The smile she offered came more from her deep blue eyes than from her lips.

Is this what people in town think of me? Candace came to my defense again. “She didn’t kill anyone.”

“I’m sure you are correct. She doesn’t look the least bit evil.” Now Karen smiled.

Ed said, “Sweet Pea, what brings you back?”

“Forgot my hat,” she said. “You two ladies can surely understand why a woman might forget something in this place. I would be more accurate saying I lost my hat and I am hoping it’s not been crushed under a pile of junk.”

Ed whipped out a black cloche from beneath the counter. “Would this be what you’re looking for, Sweet Pea?”

“You know it would. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I seem to have arrived at precisely the correct moment.” She looked at me. “God works in mysterious ways, and though I believed I came about a hat, it would seem I have arrived to keep an otherwise kind and honest man from presenting a falsehood to, of all people, a policeperson.”

Candace focused on Ed. “And what falsehood would that be?”

“Why, I have no idea what Miss Karen is talking about.” But his cheeks were flushed.

“Edwin Duffy, you tell the truth or I will be forced to do it for you,” Karen said.

He hung his head. “Okay, okay,” he said, hands held up in surrender. “I don’t toss the flyers.”

“There’s more,” Karen said. “God is offering you an opportunity to be forthright and you should honor His bidding.”

“What are you talking about?” Ed said.

Karen gave him a stern look. “You know I am perfectly aware of this affliction of yours, Ed. What exactly do you ‘toss’?”

He took his time answering, but at last, in barely a whisper, he said, “Nothing.”

“Oh my,” she cried. “I am so proud of you for speaking the truth out loud. So very proud.” And with that, she practically leaped over tables and toys and came around the counter. She hugged him for what seemed a very long time while Candace and I stood and watched. I didn’t know about Candace, but I was baffled.

After several kisses, which marked Ed’s mouth with Karen’s bright red lipstick, he turned to us. “I have the flyers. Just haven’t had time to sort through and file them.”

Karen offered a dismissive laugh and addressed us. “That filing system is a trunk in the back room. And when the trunk gets full, the flyers and whatever else he’s gathered from people’s lawns or out of ditches or what’s meant for the garbage collector is transferred to a cardboard box and dated.”

Ed squared his shoulders. “It is my belief that what is offered to me on the streets of Mercy is valuable, even though the city wants to throw it all out. See, you two have come searchin’ for something, and I believe that’s proof that I have collected an important piece of—well, I don’t know, but it’s something.”

I cocked my head. “You know what, Ed? You might just be right.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Please do not encourage the man.”

“That’s not our intent,” Candace said.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know that. It’s just that Ed and I have been working on his problem with him collecting stuff, mostly because we need to downsize. I read all about this downsizing idea in the money magazines. When you’re ready to retire, that’s one of the first steps.”

“Could we have a look at all the papers you’ve collected over the last few months?” I said.

“It’s only a bunch of paper,” Karen said.

“But what Ed’s collected might provide a clue as to who killed Flake Wilkerson,” Candace said. “Might tell us other people who’ve lost cats in the last few months. See, a few kitties were found in the house, and maybe somebody is sorely missing them.”

“Missing them enough to kill the man?” Karen asked.

“I’m not saying that for sure,” Candace explained. “But it’s a place to start.”

Ed turned on his amazing smile. “In that case, have at it, ladies.”

The two of them led us to a hallway to the right—no easy task with a treadmill and a slew of old computer monitors in the way. We had been standing in what must have been the living room of the old house, and now we passed a kitchen on our right—at least I thought I saw a refrigerator and a stove. But this had apparently become the kitchen item collection spot. Blenders, microwaves, tables, even sheets of Formica filled the space.

To the left, however, was a tidy and usable bathroom, and up ahead a bedroom that was neat and habitable.

Karen was quick to point out that this was her doing. “The man has to have facilities and a place to lay his head when he needs a nap. You two will find later on in life that naps are quite the necessity. Ed does take his meals with me, though. That kitchen here is too much for me to deal with. And that reminds me, I need to get home and fix his supper. Ed’s metabolism keeps him thin as a bed slat. He needs his meals.”

She told us good-bye and left.

We’d reached the end of the hall, and Ed was dragging around an old steamer trunk stacked with file boxes. Candace hurried in to help him, and together they pushed it into the hallway, where there was actually space for us to open it.

“What time period are we looking at with these particular contents?” I asked.

Ed squinted into the room at the file boxes. “Looks like last time I filed was the end of March.”

“Seven months’ worth of paper?” Candace said, sounding overwhelmed already.

“Trees died and men and women labored to make this paper, Candy. Destroying it just don’t seem right.”

An eco-friendly hoarder. In his peculiar and obstinate way, he made sense.

He said, “You two go ahead and look for what you want. Use my bedroom if you’re too cramped. Meanwhile I got all of Helen Harper’s costume jewelry from her daughter. She swapped it out for a new toaster oven. Did you know Helen passed two weeks ago, Candy?”