Молли Фитц - Kitty Confidential

“I know you miss me while I’m at work, so I figured we could use this system to talk to each other,” I explained with an ingratiating smile, just in case he planned to argue this point. I was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t.

My iPad was part of Nan’s family network, while my phone was funded by Fulton, Thompson, and Associates, which thankfully meant I had two separate numbers. Earlier, I’d found that to be a pain, but it worked out quite well now that my talking cat needed his own line.

I sat with him for about half an hour, teaching him how to unlock the device, click on the FaceTime app, and press my photo to call me. We also practiced having me call him, so he could answer by stepping on the screen with his paw.

And he did it all splendidly.

Who said cats couldn’t be trained?

By the time I had to leave for work, Octo-Cat was pleasantly pre-occupied with a koi fish app he’d selected all on his own. He didn’t play the game quite right, but he sure had fun swiping at the fish on screen.

So, I left him to it and headed to the firm to see what more I could learn that day.

As it turned out, it wasn’t much. Mr. Thompson had taken Derek to court with him. Bethany refused to speak so much as a word to me, and I generally preferred to avoid Brad as a rule. That left a few of our less talkative associates, Mr. Fulton, and me.

For his part, my boss seemed far more composed today than he had earlier in the week. I wondered if he’d made up with Diane. I also wondered if Bethany had told him about our heated exchange last night in the parking lot, but if she had, he showed no signs of knowing I suspected him of anything unsavory, affair or otherwise.

He approached my desk and cleared his throat. “Angie,” he said, his mouth set in a firm line. “I need you to work on a special project for me today.”

I looked up from my keyboard and nodded. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

He rapped his fingers on the edge of my desk, and we both watched his hand as he spoke.

“I need you to search for some precedents about wills being thrown out due to the guarantors being of unsound mind at the time of signing. What were their arguments? What happened to the estate after the original will was discarded? How long did the cases take to settle?”

He paused, slipped both hands in his pockets, and glanced over his shoulder before continuing.

“But before that, could you, um, do a quick review of a petition for me and then send it through the courier? I’d really like it to go out today, please.”

“Yes, absolutely,” I answered without hesitation.

He broke out into a huge smile. “Great. That’ll be a huge help. I’ll email the petition shortly.” He turned and walked back to his office with a somewhat lighter gait than he’d used to approach.

It hardly took a minute for the document to pop up in my inbox. Curious, I clicked to download the attachment.

It was a petition for divorce.

His divorce from Diane.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

After a quick scan of the divorce petition, I snuck into the bathroom at work to call Octo-Cat. It took two tries before he answered, and when he did, I couldn’t see anything on the screen.

“Hello?” I asked, unsure about the stability of our connection.

“Hello,” he answered, his voice coming over loud and clear and full of pride. “I did it!”

I stared at the screen, still unable to make out his picture. “Why can’t I see you?”

“I don’t know,” came his befuddled response. “I mean, I’m sitting right on the thing!”

Well, that explained a lot. I’d have to gently remind him how the camera works later that night. For now, I was far too excited about the new information I had to share and preferred not to spoil it by getting in to a lengthy argument over proper iPad usage for cats.

I dropped my voice to a whisper to make sure no one else in the building could hear me. “Mr. Fulton is filing for a divorce. He also has me researching a bunch of old cases related to overturning wills. I think he might be our shrimp and salmon blend after all.”

“What does that mean?” Octo-Cat asked without the slightest hint of irony in his voice. Could he have really forgotten his own metaphor?

“Yesterday, you… Never mind.” I couldn’t get into this with him, not when we had far more important matters to discuss. Not when I already had a massive headache forming at the edges of my brain.

“ Just tell me this,” I said, determined to make something of this call. “What do you think it all means?”

Octo-Cat let out a loud and long yawn. “You’re right that it makes him seem guilty. Mr. Fulton, hmm… Which one is he again?”

I sighed and clutched my forehead in my hands. We were quickly heading to migraine status. “I’ll point him out at the funeral, okay?” I offered with a whimper.

“Sure.” He yawned again. “When is that again?”

I was seriously beginning to worry here. It’s like my cat’s entire mind had been wiped clean overnight. “Hey, um, are you okay?”

“I just woke up from a nap, so I’m a little out of sorts,” he admitted with another high-pitched yawn. “And the longer we talk, the warmer this thing is getting. It’s making me so sleepy.”

That’s what happens when you sit on your iPad, I thought. “Okay, well, I’ll let you go then. Enjoy your nap.”

“Oh, I shall,” he said right before I ended the call.

Well, that had accomplished nothing, other than telling me that FaceTime could possibly work as a method of communication for us with a bit more practice on Octo-Cat’s end.

I washed my hands and then stepped out of the bathroom, back into the main office.

Mr. Fulton was waiting just outside the door. “Did you finish that petition for me yet?” he asked anxiously.

“Just about,” I promised.

“Good.” He nodded, but continued to frown. “I need that research ASAP, too.”

“You’ve got it.” He looked like he wanted to say something more, so I stood awkwardly by and waited for him to gather his thoughts.

Mr. Fulton frowned as he regarded me, which I tried not to take personally. Even though I was trying to prove him guilty of murder, I was still great at my job as a paralegal.

“I’ll be headed out of the office soon and plan on taking tomorrow and Monday for personal affairs,” he informed me with a dismissive nod.

Affairs. I practically choked at his choices of words, but managed to hold it together well enough to say, “Okay, I’ll put everything else on hold until I get that done for you.”

Finally, he switched his expression to something less aggrieved and a bit more neutral. It still wasn’t quite a smile, but I’d take it. “Good. Thank you, Angie. See you next week.”

I watched him return to his office, then shut and lock the door. What could he possibly be hiding in there? And where was he headed for the long weekend?

I briefly debated calling Octo-Cat again, but the poor furball clearly needed his rest. Still, I needed someone to talk to, so I took a big gamble and headed to Bethany’s office, hoping enough time had passed that she’d at least be willing to talk with me.

I knocked softly at her door, wishing I had some kind of peace offering. For now, my apology would have to do.

“Go away, please,” she called without opening the door.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I pleaded into the cherry-stained wood. “I was hoping we could talk about it.”

The door flung open to reveal my still very clearly enraged coworker. “What’s there to talk about?” she demanded with a hand on her hip and a scowl on her face.

“I’m just worried about you and wanted to see if you needed to talk.” This much was true. If she was carousing with a murderer, she definitely needed to know that. As much as Bethany got on my nerves sometimes, I’d much rather have her on my team than playing against me.