Софи Келли - A Case Of Cat And Mouse

I hooked my thumb around my seatbelt and pulled it a little looser so I could shift sideways just a bit and get a better view of the red car. There was only one person inside, a man. All I could see was part of the back of his head, but something about him was familiar. As I continued to stare, the driver turned and glanced at something on the seat beside him.

It was Richard Kent. No, it couldn’t be, I told myself. It was someone who looked like Richard. I just thought I was seeing him because I had just been talking about the man. Then I noticed the driver’s right arm, propped on top of the steering wheel. He was wearing a black watch. A distinctive black watch. I was willing to bet it had a black rubber strap and a sapphire crystal.

“That is Richard,” I said to Owen.

He gave me a look that could best be described as, “Well, duh!” and then he sat down again and began to wash his face.

I leaned back against the seat. The traffic was starting to move. “What’s he doing up here?” I asked. The cat didn’t seem to know.

I had my turn signal on to make a left turn, down the hill toward home. I looked at the red car moving away down the street. “This is crazy,” I said, more to myself than to Owen.

The final car in the line passed by in front of me. There were no vehicles coming in the opposite direction. I started to pull out and at the last second went right instead of left. We were far enough back that I didn’t think Richard would notice us, but even if he did, I figured the last thing he would be expecting was for someone to be following him.

Owen finished washing his face and moved along the seat so he could look out of the passenger window. Even when the traffic thinned out a little it wasn’t hard to stay back and still keep the red car in sight.

It wasn’t until Richard flipped on his left turn signal that I realized where he was going. I kept two cars between us and crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t use the drive-thru.

Luck was with me. He didn’t. Richard pulled into a parking spot, and I found one that was out of his direct line of sight but still gave me a pretty good view of the inside of the McDonald’s we were at. I watched Richard go inside. I watched him order. I watched him take a seat and devour not one but two hot apple pies. He wasn’t famous enough yet that anyone recognized him.

What had my mother said? “He makes fantastic food and he also has a secret passion for McDonald’s apple pies.” I used my phone to take a couple of photos.

Owen moved across the seat and leaned against me. I looked down at him. “There’s no point in doing your cute face. We’re not getting anything.”

He made an annoyed sound and his tail flicked against the seat. Then he disappeared. It was his version of the silent treatment.

I backed out of the parking spot, pulled onto the street and started for home. There was nothing else I needed to see. I hadn’t taken Mom seriously when she’d mentioned Richard’s penchant for fast food. I could see how from his perspective it wouldn’t look good for a celebrity baker to have a secret love for that kind of food even though millions of people did. It probably wouldn’t be the kind of thing that he would want to get around.

Marcus had said that Richard was avoiding his questions. “Maybe that’s because he was here,” I said.

Owen still wasn’t talking or showing himself, so I didn’t get a response. “Maybe that’s why he keeps avoiding Marcus’s questions.” Still no furry response.

It wasn’t the strangest idea I had ever come up with.

As soon as I pulled into the driveway I got my phone out and called Marcus. “You said Richard has been avoiding your questions.”

“And I shouldn’t have,” he said.

Owen winked into sight. He walked across the seat and climbed onto my lap. Apparently all was forgiven, plus he probably wanted to be carried to the back door.

“This is going to sound, well, crazy, but I think I might know where he was the night that Kassie was killed.”

“I’m listening,” Marcus said.

I explained what Mom had told me on the phone and how I hadn’t taken it seriously. I told him how Owen had spotted Richard’s car and how we’d followed him. “There he was, sitting in the dining area wearing sunglasses and his five-thousand-dollar watch eating two hot apple pies. I have a couple of photos if you want them.”

“Send them to me. I think I’ll have another conversation with Mr. Kent. Maybe even tonight.”

“That’s it?” I said. I knew my theory was a little far-fetched.

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. The whole case is just weird enough for this to be true.” He told me he’d call me in the morning and let me know what he found out.

If I was right, we had just eliminated a suspect.

chapter 14

Marcus called while I was eating breakfast the next morning. My guess had been a good one. Richard had an alibi. He had been indulging in his love for fast-food pie at the time of the murder. Marcus had the time-stamped security video from the restaurant to confirm it.

“And I found my pen,” he said.

“Where was it?” I asked as I added just a tiny bit more brown sugar to my oatmeal.

“At the back of one of my desk drawers. But I still can’t find that missing thumb drive and I think Brady swiped the lighter I keep in the car.” Marcus was tidy in every aspect of his life except for his desk at the police station. I had a feeling the missing lighter and the missing thumb drive were either on the desk or in one of the drawers.

Mary Lowe was waiting for me at the bottom of the library steps. She was carrying a quilted bag that I fervently hoped held a container of her cinnamon rolls. She wore a bright yellow sweater with red tulips on the pockets and a giant bouquet of tulips on the back. Mary had a cardigan for every season and for every holiday. She had one for National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day. Turns out it’s a real thing. Happens every August. And who was I to quibble about a day that celebrated one of my favorite cookies?

“There are fifteen bales of hay in the gazebo,” she said as I came up the walkway.

“Please tell me that’s the title of Abigail’s new book,” I said.

Mary shook her head. “No such luck, kiddo.”

I blew out a breath and shook my head. “First the grader tire, now this. Do you think it’s the same people who are vandalizing the book drop?”

“I don’t,” she said. “The stuff with the book drop smacks of a group of kids egging each other on. Gum, slime, popcorn, it’s all been childish stuff. The gazebo on the other hand, that’s taken planning. You’ll see when you go take a look. Those hay bales are stacked precisely on top of each other: five, four, three, two, one.”

I let Mary into the building and then walked around to the back to see the gazebo for myself. Just as she’d described, the bales of hay were stacked neatly with five on the bottom all the way to one on the top. She was right. This had taken planning. And it was going to take planning to catch the culprit. I headed back inside to call Harry.

Harry came and collected the hay and we talked about what to do next. He suggested a security camera for the back of the building. “We are probably going to have to go that route,” I said. “But I hate to spend money on cameras that could be spent on books.”

“Let me check prices,” Harry said. “Maybe a little more information will help you make a decision.”

“Where would someone get all those hay bales this time of year?” I asked.

“Whoever it was probably swiped the hay from different places a bale at a time. It’s what I’d do.” He gave a slight shrug. “Not that I’m saying I’ve ever done something like that.”