Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

Chase could see that Detective Olson might call Minsky’s alibi weak. If all it depended on was the word of his very loyal daughter, it was shaky indeed. She still hadn’t told Detective Olson about her most recent encounter with the awful Karl Minsky and his threatening behavior.

Behind Mara, one of the sculptors opened the door and hurried out. Chase did a double take, peering inside the building.

Mara was starting to walk away, so Chase touched her sleeve. “Mara, did I just see Winn Cardiman inside there?” She had glimpsed that distinctive monkey-like face and those prominent ears.

She turned back to Chase. “You could have. He’s here.”

“I thought he took himself out of the competition and went home.”

“He did. Maybe he forgot some tools or something.”

Maybe he was returning to the scene of the crime, like murderers often did.

She ducked into the largest building on the fairgrounds and walked toward the back, where the vet clinic was. Before she rounded the corner, she heard two men’s voices.

“No, she couldn’t wear the collar, Papa.”

It was Peter Aronoff again, talking to Ivan, his wacky father. She stopped to listen.

“Yes, she can. It should be ours. Shadow should wear it. That company should not have cut you. It was wrong. They don’t know good people when they have them. They owe you for making us homeless.”

“I got a severance package, Papa. Picky Puss doesn’t owe me anything. I’ve told you a million times. Your talking is getting me into a lot of trouble.”

Chase didn’t catch Ivan’s grumbling response. Did this conversation mean that they actually had the collar and were arguing about using it in the competition?

“Anyway,” Peter said, “even if I’d gotten a better severance, we would have run through it by now. That fancy collar has nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with us. But it’s all you’re talking about. And now, because of your big mouth, that detective thinks I killed the guy. I don’t exactly have an alibi.”

Ivan grumbled again. The two men appeared from around the corner, and Chase started walking so they would think she had arrived a second ago. Ivan still wore his fur hat, but Peter’s was stuffed into his pocket, a bit of fur poking out.

“Hi there,” she said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Hi,” said Peter. “We were discussing the costume for Shadow.”

“Weren’t you doing Puss in Boots?” Chase said, with a glint of devilment in her eye.

“That is what I keep telling him,” Ivan said. “Puss in Boots. Perfect.” He flung his right arm out for punctuation.

“Thanks,” Peter said with an ironic twist to his mouth. It turned into a smile, though, so Chase knew he’d gotten her little joke. Ivan must not have remembered discussing it in front of her previously.

“But I’ll bet he’d look better as Batcat,” she said, not willing to side with Ivan against his son.

Now Peter gave her a full grin. Chase thought she might like Peter, in a little-brother sort of way, if she got to know him better.

“We go now,” Ivan said gruffly. The Aronoffs took off quickly. The son didn’t have an alibi? Did Detective Olson really think he was the killer? Or maybe the detective was good at giving all the people he questioned the impression that they were the prime suspects.

Elsa came hurrying up behind Chase after the two men left and before Chase could continue to the vet clinic. The older woman looked worried.

“My purse is gone,” she blurted when she was still fifteen feet away.

“Where did you lose it?”

“I have no idea! I would know where it was if I knew where I lost it, wouldn’t I?”

“What does it look like?” Chase vaguely remembered that she carried a red purse.

“It’s very expensive. Red tooled leather with my monogram in gold.” Elsa panted, but Chase thought it wasn’t from exertion. She was very worried about losing her purse. Chase would be, too, if she had lost hers. What a horror it would be, canceling credit cards and worrying about identity theft.

There was a metal bench in the hallway. Chase guided the distraught woman to it and sat beside her, trying to calm her down.

“We need to think of every place you’ve been today and when you noticed it missing.”

“Every place.” Elsa squinted and frowned. “We got here and dropped Grey off.”

“Yes, I was there for that. Ellie was with you.”

“And then we had something at the food court. I had it then because I paid. Ellie is very cheap that way. Always wants me to pay when we eat together.”

“What time was that?”

“Not too long ago. We looked at some exhibits first.”

“But you had it at the food court. And Ellie was with you. Where is she now?”

“She’s trying to retrace our steps.”

Chase wondered why they had split up but didn’t ask about it. “Then where did you go after you ate?”

“We came here”—she gestured toward Mike’s office—“to say hi to Grey.”

That couldn’t have been more than two hours after they had dropped off the parrot. “Then where did you go?”

“I went to the jewelry booth. When I wanted to buy a pair of earrings, I noticed my purse was gone.”

Thieves at the jewelry booth? “How big is it?”

“It’s very small.” She indicated six inches square or so with her hands. “Do you think the jewelry seller lifted it? Pickpockets are sometimes very clever.”

“You were at the vet’s right before you missed it. Have you looked there?”

“That was going to be my next stop.”

TWENTY

Mike’s aunt Betsy was on receptionist duty when Chase and the distraught Elsa entered Dr. Ramos’s clinic.

“He’s tending a sick sheep,” she told them.

Chase had never been here when Betsy was on duty, since she was usually dropping Quincy off early, picking him up late, or visiting during lunchtime. Betsy smiled at them.

“He should be almost finished,” she said. “Is he expecting you?” She looked at a mostly blank appointment book open on the desk.

Dr. Ramos opened the door to the examining room. He ushered a young man through the door, leading a sheep on a leash.

“Thanks, Doc,” the sheep owner said. “I was afraid I’d done something terrible, letting her have that gum.”

“You’re welcome,” Mike said. He leaned down to pat the sheep’s back and gave the boy a reassuring smile. The boy took off whistling, his sheep trotting behind him.

“Chase, come on back.” He said to his aunt, “She’s here to see her cat.”

And to see you, thought Chase, in case you haven’t noticed.

“Elsa wants to take a look for her purse, too,” Chase said.

Mike laughed. The deep, rich sound resonated somewhere deep inside Chase. “I was going to try to track you down.” He walked to the parrot’s cage and pointed. “Here’s your culprit. I think she grabbed it when you were here. I saw it after you left.”

He picked up the red purse and handed it to Elsa.

“It’s damaged,” she said. She pointed out two indentations in the soft leather.

“I think those are Grey’s bill marks. I found it in her cage and rescued it.”

Elsa’s worried expression finally left. She approached Grey’s cage with a little smile. “You naughty birdie. What are we going to do with you?” She stuck a finger through the bars, which were certainly wide enough to admit the slim purse. The bird was fast asleep and ignored her owner. “Thank you, Dr. Ramos.”

“No problem. I’m sorry you were concerned. I couldn’t get away and don’t have your phone number.”

She thanked him again and left without giving him her phone number.

Chase had been thinking Patrice might have stolen the purse, had even suspected the jewelry sales couple, so she was glad that neither of those had been the culprit.