Leann Sweeney - The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

“Whoa,” he said as he turned. “He’s not a regular tiger cat, is he?” He reached out his hand to let Syrah have a sniff, and my boy rubbed his head against Evan’s fingers.

“He’s an Abyssinian,” I said. “His name is Syrah.”

“Abyssinian. That means he’s descended from ancient Egypt, huh?” Evan said. “His big ears look like those cats in the Egyptian drawings in my old world history book.”

“That’s exactly right,” I said with a smile.

Syrah does like to be admired, and he climbed in Evan’s lap.

Merlot, who had been in the corner of the foyer when Evan arrived, had followed us into the living room and now came from behind Candace’s chair to claim his share of appreciation.

Evan looked so much younger tonight. Maybe he was only eighteen or nineteen rather than in his twenties.

He said, “How much does that one weigh?”

“Merlot weighs twenty pounds,” I said. “But getting back to why you came. You want the police to know certain things, right?”

“I was being a punk earlier. I came to apologize to you, Jillian. To explain. I’m not like Brandt or my mother or Doug. My family is a freak show. The biggest freak is dead, or at least that’s what people will say. But though it didn’t come across that way today, I loved my dad. He was just screwed up.”

“Chief Baca said you acted pretty belligerent. That you didn’t seem to care that your father’s been murdered,” Candace said.

“I was pretending not to care. But I do,” Evan said. “I want the police to find out who killed him. I didn’t do right by him while he was alive, so I can at least be on his side now.”

“How did you ‘not do right’ by your dad?” I said gently.

Evan stroked Syrah and didn’t answer for several seconds. “I ratted him out.” He looked at Candace. “No one but Brandt knows what I did.”

“And Brandt, not quite a lawyer, by the way, decided information should be withheld from the police?” Candace’s tone was hard.

That tone worried me. I was sure that getting angry with Evan wouldn’t help. Hoping to maintain the connection between Evan and me, I said, “Brandt seems to have a lot of power in your family. That must be difficult to deal with.”

Evan took a deep breath and blew out through his lips like he was inflating a balloon. “No kidding. He kept hammering into all of us that the relatives are always suspects and that we didn’t have to tell you anything.”

“You ‘ratted out’ your father,” Candace said. “What does that have to do with his murder?”

“I’m not sure, except that’s what led to him moving to that farm. See, I went to visit Dad in his lab about a year ago. The door was locked, but he’d given me the code, so I went in to surprise him. First thing I saw were these animal carriers, about five of them… and there were cats inside. My father was supposed to be doing research with ferrets and their immune system. But he had all these cats.”

“So you asked him what he was doing,” Candace said.

“Right,” he said. “But what I didn’t tell you today is that my dad was bipolar. He took medicine for it most of his life. He’d go off his meds every now and then, and I could tell that day in the lab that he was definitely off. It was his eyes, you know?”

Like the look he had in his eyes the day I met him at Robin’s farm? That’s what was wrong with him, I thought. “What about those cats?” I said. “Do you think he was researching their immune systems rather than working on the ferrets?”

Evan said, “I didn’t know what was up, but I got a bad feeling because the cats looked thin. Not really sick, just thin. Since my father was a cat lover, that seemed odd. And when I asked him about them, he told me to forget what I’d seen and keep my mouth shut. Said he had a plan that was better than winning the lottery.”

“Did you ask him what he meant by that?” Candace asked.

“He kept rambling on about amino acids and millions of dollars. He was obviously using the lab for something he shouldn’t, and he needed to get back on his medicine. That’s all I could think about.”

“What did you do, Evan?” Candace said.

“I told my brother. He said I had information about improper use of a research lab and that what my dad was doing was a crime. He said I had to tell the department head. God, I didn’t want to do that.”

Candace said, “Brandt tells you to ‘rat out’ your father and then tells you to not talk when the police ask about his murder. That’s messed-up thinking, Evan.”

“I know,” he said, his anger finally flaring. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Did you tell the department head about the cats?” I asked.

He took a deep breath, seemed to be trying hard to keep his emotions in check. “Brandt said I could do it anonymously. And rather than the department head, I sent a letter straight to the college president, thinking he’d know about my dad’s illness, help him get back on his meds and send him back to work.” His eyes grew moist, and his lips trembled with emotion. Syrah leaned his head back and looked up at Evan. He knew the kid was upset. “But that’s not what happened. They fired him. And all because of me.”

Syrah wasn’t the only one who could tell this was tearing Evan up inside. I saw it, too. Evan knew his father had been doing something wrong, but he still loved him.

“You felt guilty, huh?” I said.

“Oh yeah. So I decided to leave the dorm and move in with him, make sure he stayed on his meds. Mom always made sure he took them, but see, she’d left him, and Brandt had been away for years. He didn’t care if Dad took his pills or got in trouble or got fired. He hated him.”

“I’m trying to understand, but I’m not sure what this has to do with your father’s murder,” Candace said.

I made room for Merlot, who wanted to squeeze in next to me on the chair. “I think I get it. It explains why Professor VanKleet was in Mercy,” I said.

“Okay. That’s true.” Candace looked at Evan. “Please keep connecting the dots for me.”

Evan said, “My dad was still obsessed with his research idea, whatever it was. Said he could make it without the college lab.”

“That scared you, didn’t it?” I said. “You knew he wasn’t well enough for real research without his medication.”

“Definitely, and the next thing I know, he’d disappeared. A mentally ill man with an obsession fell off the face of the earth. And Mom and Brandt couldn’t have cared less.” He sighed. “That’s why he came here. To continue his research without Big Brother watching.”

“That much I get,” Candace said. “But there’s something else that you didn’t talk about at the station. You’ve had your own problems, right?”

“Brandt said you’d know all about it,” Evan said. He’d lifted his chin, and the hostility was back. “But what exactly do you know?”

Candace leaned toward him, her arms folded on her knees. She said, “I know you got arrested and kicked out of school, but I don’t know the details. Your father gets in trouble, then you. That’s what I’m seeing-a pattern.”

Evan rested his head back against the sofa, eyes to the ceiling. “We’re both criminals, huh? That’s what you see?”

“She’s got to explore the possibility, Evan,” I said. “If you’re telling us what you believe led up to your father’s death, you should tell it all,” I said.

“Like she said, I don’t see how it’s connected to his murder,” Evan said tersely.

He was shutting down. I had to get him back. I wanted to see that vulnerable, caring young man again. “Maybe it’s not connected, but you want the killer caught. That means you have to trust Candace to figure it out.”