Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

“I guess you’ll be going home with Anna.” Chase caught herself and froze for a moment, then laughed. Was she having a conversation with a bird? She told the animal, “Bye bye.”

“Bye bye,” Grey replied.

Chase giggled at herself and left the room.

Mike was still talking, frowning and shaking his head slightly. She didn’t think he noticed her leaving. She would find out what was going on eventually, she hoped.

* * *

As she drove,she decided to call Bill Shandy first, as soon as she got home, then go to Inger’s family’s place and see what she could find out there. She was sure of one thing. Inger should not move back in with Anna. Anna was full up.

Bill answered on the first ring. “I thought you’d call about now, when the fair let out.”

Chase settled into her cinnamon-hued stuffed chair with a cup of steaming-hot tea.

“What was that all about at the fair?” he asked. “You were obviously trying to tell me something.”

“Bill, I’m worried about Anna.” She sipped, savoring the hint of jasmine in her drink.

“You think she’s overdoing it, letting Elsa and her sister stay with her? She’s doing fine, really.”

Chase laughed. “No, not worried about that. I don’t think that woman will ever run out of energy.” She grew serious. “I’m worried that she’s consorting with a murder suspect.” Quincy leapt softly into Chase’s lap.

“Hm. I guess you could be right.”

“What if Elsa is the one who killed Larry Oake? The spouse is always the most likely culprit, according to the mysteries I read.” Quincy butted the hand that held her mug, but Chase managed to keep the tea from spilling into her lap.

“Frankly, I don’t see her as a murderess. You think she killed him?”

“I have no clue, but if she did, I hate the idea of Anna hanging around with her. Why don’t you think she’s guilty?”

“Her own parrot. Anyone who’s nice to pets is a good person in my book. Lady Jane Grey is well taken care of and in very good health.”

Chase had to laugh. “I guess that makes sense, coming from a pet shop owner.”

“Besides,” Bill added, “even if she did kill her husband, she’s probably not a danger to anyone else. Anna’s not involved in their family matters. There had to have been a trigger, something the killer was passionate about. Otherwise Oake wouldn’t have been killed right there. It was a risky thing. The killer could easily have been caught if someone walked in at the wrong time.” Maybe Bill read mysteries, too.

“I sure hope you’re right.”

Chase didn’t feel that much better about what Anna was doing after she hung up. Bill hadn’t convinced her that Elsa didn’t kill her husband. Just that the killer was a daring person, able to take risks. Distracted, she plopped her cup on the side table and stood up. Quincy, who had been curled into a ball and comfy in her lap, protested the loss of his resting place with an annoyed mrow . He then stalked to his bowl and licked the remnants of his din din.

“Sorry, Quince. I forgot you were there.” She rubbed his head as she passed, on her way downstairs to look up Inger’s address.

* * *

When she gotto the address in Hopkins, she found a white clapboard ranch house with a driveway and a neat front yard. One large maple tree stood sentinel smack-dab in the middle, and trimmed bushes nestled close to the house. Chase left her car at the curb and climbed the three steps to the small front porch.

A red-faced man answered her second ring. He frowned at Chase.

“I’m here to speak to Inger,” she said. “I’m Chase Oli—”

“Inger isn’t here.” His voice was gruff and his frown menacing.

A small woman with wispy, graying hair appeared behind him. “Roger, let her in. She might know something.”

He gave Chase an annoyed look but opened the door wide.

Chase stepped into a wood-floored living room heated by a large brick fireplace. The space was furnished with matching yellow-and-orange chairs and a couch, and softened with brown area rugs. The woman motioned Chase to the couch, and the couple sat facing her in the chairs. The room smelled of lemony furniture polish.

“What do you know about Inger?” demanded the man.

“Roger, let me.” The woman’s voice was soft, but commanding. “How do you know our daughter? You said your name is Chase?”

“Yes, Chase Oliver. I’m her employer?” Had Inger never told her parents the name of her boss? “You do know she works for me, don’t you?”

They both gave her blank looks.

“At the Bar None.”

“You own the Bar None?” Roger sounded incredulous. “You look too young to be a business owner.”

Chase was going to ignore his rudeness. “Inger called me earlier today and now I can’t get in touch with her. She doesn’t answer her phone and I’m worried about her.” Knowing that you people kicked her out once , she added mentally. Chase had tried to call Inger again before she set out, but it rang to her voice mail. She didn’t leave a message, not having any idea what to say.

“We’re worried, too,” the woman said, twisting the edge of her cardigan into a knot. “She’s disappeared. We have no idea where she is.”

“Have you tried her friends?”

The couple exchanged looks. The woman answered. Apparently, Roger was going to let her handle this, as she had requested. “We don’t know any of her friends. Inger is a very private person.”

“She’s shy,” added her father. “Doesn’t run around much.”

“She spent all her time with Zack, until . . .”

“Until he was killed overseas.” Roger finished her sentence as his wife became too choked up to speak.

“No friends? None at all?” Chase wondered what that would be like. Poor Inger.

“Maybe.” The woman looked doubtful. “But we don’t know any of them.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

They both shrugged. They apparently didn’t keep track of their daughter any better than they communicated with her.

On her drive back to Dinkytown, she dialed Inger’s number twice more but got no answer either time. Chase shed a few tears for poor, lonely Inger.

FOURTEEN

Distracted by worries about Inger, and wondering how on earth to go about finding her, Chase trudged up the stairs to her apartment. It was getting late. She hoped Inger had found shelter somewhere, in her condition.

The door opened wide and no one stuck a foot in it so that the cat wouldn’t get out. He scampered through the opening and down the stairs, ignoring his name being called behind him. The tabby reached the bottom of the stairs, zipped through the door to the Bar None kitchen, and made a beeline for the front salesroom. When he got there, he slowed. He padded silently to the figure huddled in the corner, behind the sales counter, sobbing. He rubbed against her legs, which were bent against her body. She was clutching her shins tightly but let go and reached one hand out to stroke the cat’s soft back.

“There you are!” Chase flicked on the light switch when she heard Quincy’s loud purr. Then she saw Inger. “There you both are.” Her voice quavered with her sudden relief.

Chase dropped to the floor beside Inger. The young woman raised her head, and Chase saw that her gray eyes were red-rimmed, her face awash in tears. Chase couldn’t help letting some slide down her own cheeks. She stroked Inger’s curly, tangled hair and Inger leaned against her.

They sat on the floor behind the counter like that for at least fifteen minutes.

Someone rapped on the front window. Chase jumped up but couldn’t see outside. The lights inside threw her own reflection back at her and obscured whoever was knocking against the glass. She flicked off the light, gave herself a few seconds to adjust, then walked to the front.