Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Takes The Cake

Then another thought took her a different direction. Why on earth did Langton Hail and Van Snelson bother to alibi each other if they had actual alibis?

“You on a tight schedule?” Eddie’s words dripped skepticism.

“Not that. I just remembered something I need to do.”

These two stood there talking. That’s not how you took a walk, the cat knew. Taking a walk meant moving. It was cold out here and the annoyed tabby wanted to go inside and curl up on the soft chair. He shook himself to keep warm. That was when he noticed that the harness wasn’t fastened all the way. He wondered if he could get it off again and return home. He worked at it with his left hind leg, then his right hind leg. It was coming undone. Another little bit and he could start moving.

“Anyway, I think Hail is making a real effort to—” Eddie spun around at the same moment Chase felt the slack on the leash. “Your cat’s loose.”

“Yes, he certainly is.” Chase sighed. “It looks like he might be headed home, at least.”

“That would be a first, wouldn’t it?” Eddie said, taking off at full speed.

Eddie and Chase scrambled after the fleeing Quincy. A flash of ginger fur disappeared around the corner and they both sped up.

Chase started panting after half a block, but Eddie easily could run another twenty miles.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine.” It was annoying that she was winded after less than a block.

“You oughta join the gym I belong to. Working out is so good for your body.”

Talking while running wasn’t helping her at all. They raced down the short end of the block, then rounded another corner.

Chase held out her arm to bring Eddie to a halt. Quincy sat on his haunches half a block away, in front of an apartment building. She didn’t want to charge up and make him take off again. Chase held the empty harness tightly in her hand so that it wouldn’t jingle and walked slowly toward her cat. Eddie stayed a few steps behind her. She was relieved that he understood what she was doing and followed her lead.

“Hi there, Quincy Wincy,” she crooned.

He turned his head toward her, but stayed put.

When she was two feet away, a door opened and he took off.

“Well, hello. Charity Oliver, isn’t it?” Dickie Byrd said. He was coming from the apartments. With him was a much younger woman. Chase was pretty sure it was the person she’d seen him kissing a week ago. She was short, with ample curves. Chase hadn’t been able to tell how young she was last week at a distance. Dickie’s face turned red.

“Hi, Dickie. I have to go get my cat.”

“Dickie?” the woman said. “Really?” She looked at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Richard?”

Chase hesitated, curious about the two. Dickie didn’t say a word. After a brief glare at Chase and a glance at Eddie, he stared at the ground, his lips clamped tight.

“Gotta run,” Chase said, and hurried off.

Quincy came to a stop at the end of that block and let Chase put the harness back on. When she had to take off her gloves to make sure she got the harness fastened securely, she realized how cold it was. Her fingers were stiff as she pulled her holey gloves over them.

“Why did he stop?” Eddie asked. Chase noticed that he still wasn’t breathing hard. She was panting so much she could barely speak. All that health food probably was good for a person. It just wasn’t . . . good.

“Who knows why a cat does anything?” A couple more deep breaths, and she was back to normal.

“I’m telling you, a gym membership is the way to go. You get muscles without that scary steroid bulk.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. People like Bart Fender. He’s got that look. Those lumps between his neck and his shoulders, know what I mean?”

Yes, that’s what Bart was like. Lumpy. Very solid lumps, but unnatural.

“What was that all about?” Eddie asked.

“I think I didn’t get it fastened all the way. I was in a hurry—”

“No, I meant that business with Dickie Byrd and . . . whoever that was with him.”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“He wasn’t eager to introduce us, was he?”

“Have you ever seen her before?”

Eddie shook his head. “Maybe she’s his niece or something. Looks like she lives in those apartments.”

Or something. Chase was sure the voluptuous woman wasn’t Dickie Byrd’s niece.

TWENTY-THREE

Chase raised her face and closed her eyes, loving the baking aromas that always lingered in the Bar None. It was pleasant to be in the shop when no one else was there. She wandered through the kitchen into the salesroom. Even with the lights off, the clean glass in the display case glinted in the late afternoon light. The pink shelves held boxes of dessert bars, standing at attention and lined up like little pink-striped soldiers. Small round tables held stacked boxes, but the supplies there were low. She would have to remember to have either Inger or Mallory replenish them.

Quincy wound through her legs on her slow amble. It was chilly in the shop with the heat turned down for the day, so his furry rubs felt warm and nice.

She was at loose ends. Maybe she would get some work done in the office. Sitting at the computer, she pulled up the Bar None webpage to admire the handiwork of Tanner, then opened the screens she needed and got to work.

Chase paused partway through going over her inventory to think about Van Snelson and Langton Hail, the men she had considered the two best suspects for Ron North’s murder. They both had perfectly good alibis. The principal, even though he was part of a shady real estate exercise and was being blackmailed by Ron, probably for the real estate swindle, was at the high school all night. Chase had less and less respect for the man. Learning that he actually disliked the students and couldn’t stand to be around them contributed to her negative feelings. He might also be skimming money from the school system. But it didn’t look like he had murdered Ron.

Langton Hail, because he was also part of the real estate deal, and had probably roped Snelson into it with him, was such a good possibility. He, too, was being blackmailed, if they interpreted the notebook correctly. For the school funds or the real estate deals. But he had slept in his car that night.

So why had they given each other false alibis? Even to the extent of involving Snelson’s wife? Chase’s best guess on that was because they were trying to keep their true whereabouts hidden for other reasons. Van Snelson didn’t want it known yet that he was leaving the high school job. How did that tie in, though? Maybe his marriage was in trouble even then? Divorce seemed to matter more for a school principal than for some other folks. Hail wouldn’t want everyone to know that he was an alcoholic and had drunk too much to drive. At least he had the good sense not to take to the road when he was inebriated. Maybe he had lost his license in the past. He was truly trying to fight his addiction, according to Eddie Heath.

There was, she thought, still a slight chance that one of these two crooks had murdered Ron North, but it was becoming less and less likely. So who did that leave?

The name in the notebook under PRINCE (Principal Van Snelson) and PHOTO (real estate developer Langton Hail) was BIRD. Richard “Dickie” Byrd. He hadn’t started giving Ron blackmail money yet, it appeared, since no numbers accompanied his code name, but he was on the list. Maybe he was determined not to let himself be blackmailed and refused to fork over money? At this stage of his political career, a mistress wouldn’t do him any good. What was Dickie Byrd’s alibi?

Did his wife alibi him, too? Was Dickie with her? Would Detective Niles Olson tell her?