Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Quilt and the Corpse

“Look what our concerned citizen Ms. Hart brought to show me.” He handed her the pictures.

She glanced back and forth between them. Her eyes rested on the flyer. “Where did you get this, and why does it look all fuzzy and wavy?”

“Doesn’t matter where she got it,” Baca said. “Tell her about Diamond, because I think she’ll listen better to you than to me.”

Marian Mae cocked her head at Baca as if to say, “What does this have to do with anything?” but then she looked at me. “I lost Diamond last year, put up a few flyers. That’s what people do when something they love disappears.”

It sure seemed like plenty of cats had disappeared around here—and Shawn was probably the only one who’d cared. “And what happened? Did you get Diamond—is it a him or a her?—back?”

“Diamond is a beautiful little girl. But she did get herself lost for a day. She came home right away, though,” she said.

“Good news,” I said. “So this is her, too?” I held out the picture of Sophie.

Marian Mae looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “No. That’s not Diamond. Can’t you tell the difference?”

“I can,” I said. “But Chief Baca didn’t seem to have the same keen eye as the two of us. Of course, I have the advantage of knowing these two are not the same cat.”

“Is this some kind of game?” Marian Mae said, her sky blue eyes darkening. “Mike tells me you keep sticking your nose in police business, but that’s for him to handle. Just don’t bring me and my cat into this.”

I plucked the pictures away from her, not sure if I was irritated with her because of her attitude or upset with myself.

Baca put a hand on her shoulder and massaged the muscles. “It’s okay, hon.” He turned to me. “When Diamond disappeared, Mae was beside herself. I guess I should have been more sympathetic to your own situation with your cat, should have recalled how Mae reacted last year. So, please, take this as an apology.”

“Apology accepted,” I said. “Thanks for your time.”

Baca walked me to the door, but before he opened it, I said, “Know who that unidentified cat belongs to?” I said.

“As Mae pointed out, this isn’t a game. Just tell me,” he said. I’d bothered him on a weekend and upset his girlfriend. He was probably past exasperation by now.

I handed him the pictures. “These are for you to keep. See, that other cat, the one that looks so much like Diamond? She belonged to Daphne—before her father stole her. This has something to do with her cat, Sophie. I’m sure of it.”

I opened the door and walked out, but as I headed to my car I heard Baca call, “Stay away from the Pink House, Jillian. That woman could be dangerous.”

As I drove away from Baca’s house, I realized that mentioning Daphne hadn’t been the smartest move, since Baca already suspected her. And then I’d gone and asked questions about Marian Mae, the woman he loved. So what if I’d pieced a shredded flyer back together and it had me wondering about Marian Mae? I wasn’t accusing her of anything. But you’d have thought I was. The chief was practically living with a woman who’d lost a cat, and her flyer had ended up in Wilkerson’s shredded pile of paper. Wasn’t that important enough to question? Maybe not. Maybe Candace was right. How many other cat flyers had Wilkerson torn down and shredded? How many other people had the man stolen from? How many other suspects were there in Mercy?

Feeling low, but still not completely beaten into the ground, I decided to visit Shawn, find out what he might know about lost gray cats. If Marian Mae had done the same things I had when I lost Syrah, she might have gone to the Sanctuary hoping to find Diamond. Maybe she did get her cat back right away, but Shawn or Allison might know about the loss, could help me get a better read on Marian Mae Temple. Because despite only a flyer and two gray cats that looked a little alike, I couldn’t help but still suspect her, even if I didn’t know why. It was just instinct, and even Tom had said that instinct shouldn’t necessarily be ignored. Or maybe I was going to visit them because I needed to talk to people who understood how important this mystery was to me.

There was another car in the minuscule parking lot at Mercy Animal Sanctuary. I walked into the office and found a couple and their young son adopting a kitten. This is what’s good for the soul , I thought. This is what I need right now.

Snug the parrot seemed to mirror that idea, because he was bobbing and talking up a storm. Bringing a new pet into your life is one of the most special times ever, and the positive energy in the little room was almost palpable.

Shawn was attempting to coax the kitten away from the little boy, while Allison was taking care of the paperwork. She looked up and said, “Hi, Jillian. Be with you in a minute.”

“You know how you have to wear your seat belt?” Shawn said, kneeling in front of the child.

The kid nodded.

“Well, we have to keep your new kitty safe in the car by letting him ride in the box your mom and dad brought,” he said.

Safe . That reminded me I hadn’t checked on my crew in a while, so I opened my phone and brought up the cat-cam feed. I ended up nearly laughing out loud. I’d tuned in on a game of chase. I swear, those three could be the inspiration for a cartoon series. I was so intent on watching them that Allison had to ask me to move aside so the family could leave with their new baby.

“Sorry,” I said, stepping to my right. I looked at Shawn while Allison walked the family out to their car, motioned for him to have a look at what was happening at my house. He was smiling, too, after watching a few seconds of cat play. Syrah, as usual, was winning the race around the house.

“Fast cat,” Shawn said. “Handsome guy, your Syrah. Bet you’re relieved the Mercy catnapper is dead. I know I am.”

“Maybe relieved,” I said, “but sad, too. His murder was pretty darn brutal.”

“What goes around, as they say,” Shawn said. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m not completely sure. Mr. Wilkerson’s daughter is in town—but I think you were aware of that. Did you know her father stole her cat, too?”

“Oh yeah. First thing she did was rush to Mercy hoping to get Sophie back. She came here straightaway when her father told her he hadn’t taken the cat. We knew that wasn’t true. Anyway, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that a couple days before I’d had to call animal control for a dead gray long-haired. I figured Sophie escaped from Wilkerson—cats know when they need to get out of a situation—and got run over.”

“Wow. That’s not good.” My heart sank. Seemed simple explanations often escaped wannabe detectives. I’d brought in a set of my computer pictures and showed him Sophie first. “Was this the cat that you found, um . . . you know?” I didn’t even want to say the word, much less think about poor Sophie like that.

He glanced at the picture. “Daphne showed me a picture, too. Could be the cat in the road, but it was kinda hard to tell. See, I don’t take close-up looks at animals that have died for whatever reason. Can’t take it. I called that stupid, good-for-nothing animal control officer. It’s his job to take care of that kind of problem. I sat in my truck waiting five damn hours for him to show up.”

“You waited that long?” I said.

“You bet I did. He shoulda gotten his butt to town and picked up that cat right away. As it was, I had to steer cars around the poor thing more times than I want to remember.”

Hoping to distract him from the lazy animal control officer—who might not really be lazy but could have been extra busy that day—I showed him the pieced-together picture of Diamond.