Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat Spreads Out

The walk through the parking lot was short, and soon she was inside the large building. It was so well heated today, she had to set the crate down and unwind her scarf. “They don’t have to overcompensate for the cold outside by making it like a sauna in here,” she mumbled, picking Quincy up and trudging down the hallway. The place bustled with exhibitors and fairgoers alike who had arrived extra early to get in a full day.

She turned the knob on the door to the vet clinic. Nothing happened. Mike wasn’t here yet? That wasn’t like him. No sooner had she stuck her fist on her hip, wondering what to do next, than Mike’s aunt Betsy Youngren hurried up behind her. She looked so worried, Chase had to ask her if everything was all right.

“No, it’s not.” Her words quavered and the hand holding the key shook.

“What’s the matter?”

“They’ve arrested Michael.” Betsy bit her bottom lip.

“For what?”

“The murder of Larry Oake.”

If a chair had been behind Chase, she would have plopped into it. The wall was there, though, so she fell back against it. “But they questioned him and let him go.”

“I called to see what I could find out, and all they would tell me is that there’s new evidence.”

“Who did you speak to?”

“That detective. Olson.”

“But he wouldn’t tell you what the evidence is?”

Betsy shook her head. “Michael asked me to call a colleague of his in Edina to get a replacement in here for today.”

“You spoke with Mike?”

“No. I tried to, but they wouldn’t let me.” They , Chase assumed, being Niles Olson. “A lawyer named Gerrold something called me. Michael had asked him to.”

“Gerrold Gustafson?” Chase asked.

“That’s it.”

Gustafson was the man Julie had mentioned, a “little powerhouse,” she’d called him. Chase didn’t care how big or little the guy was, just that he be able to defend Mike. Mike hadn’t killed Oake!

Betsy unlocked the door and flipped the light switch on. “You might as well take your cat back to the cages. Dr. Drood should be here soon.” She busied herself taking off her outer garments and hanging them over the back of her chair.

Chase hesitated a moment, wanting to know more about Mike. Before she could ask, the outer door was flung open and a gaunt, stooped man shuffled into the room. He peered at the two women through thick, round glasses that magnified his eyes and gave Chase the impression of a staring owl. His expression wasn’t friendly. He seemed indifferent to Betsy and Chase.

“What have we here?” he said in a high, quavering voice, starting toward Quincy’s crate, which stood on the floor at Chase’s feet.

“Who are you?” Chase stepped in front of her cat, shielding him from this man.

“Are you Dr. Drood?” Betsy smiled at him as best she could, beneath her worried brow.

“I am,” he said, straightening slightly but remaining stooped.

Betsy came from behind the desk and opened the inner door. “Here’s the clinic. Please go in and make yourself at home.”

Dr. Drood stared at Quincy.

“I’ll send Ms. Oliver back in a moment.” Betsy was firm, clipping her words. Chase got the feeling Betsy disliked the man as much as she did, on first sight.

The man stared at them a moment longer, then opened the clinic door. “I’m ready anytime,” he said. He slammed the door behind him. Chase heard skritch ing noises from Quincy’s crate. The man had scared her cat slamming the door like that. What kind of an animal doctor was he?

“Where did you say he came from?” Chase whispered to Betsy.

“Mike said this colleague of his could get him someone at the last minute.”

“He didn’t say he could get anyone good, I guess.” Chase picked up the crate. “We might as well go in. I do have to drop Quincy off and get to the booth.”

She reopened the door, closing it quietly. She set the crate on the counter and started to unlatch it.

The doctor bumped her aside. “Wait just a minute.” The doctor’s breath smelled like fish and sweat socks. “I have to know something about this animal.”

Chase wondered what he needed to know. “His name is Quincy. He’s very clever. He’s on a diet, so I have his food and a treat here.” She drew the plastic bags from her tote and handed them to him.

He set them on the small desk. “What kind of animal is it?”

It? It? “This is a cat, and he’s a boy, not an it.”

“Breed?”

“I don’t really know. Plain old shorthair, I guess. I got him from the pound. His litter was rescued from the beach in Chicago.”

He stuck his face close to the case, peering into the slits.

“He stays in that cage during the day.” Chase pointed to the large enclosure. “I’m dropping him off, and I’ll pick him up tonight, though I’ll probably come see him during the day.”

“You can go.” He gave her an imperious look.

“I’ll put him in the cage first.” Chase bumped the doctor aside, just as he had done to her, quickly unlatched the carrier, and put Quincy into the cage. He didn’t curl up as he usually did. Instead, he crouched and kept his eyes on the doctor. Chase spoke to her cat. “You’ll be okay, babykins. I’ll be back soon.”

Elsa and Eleanor were coming in with Lady Jane Grey as she left. She had misgivings about Dr. Drood, but what could she do?

TWENTY-THREE

Quincy and Mike were both on Chase’s mind all morning as she made herself smile at a steady stream of cold customers coming into the heated booth to warm up and to satisfy the sweet tooth so many people at the fair had. She hoped her cat was in the cage and not wandering around loose. She should have warned Dr. Drood about how easily Quincy escaped from wherever he was. She should have mentioned, even more so, that Quincy and Grey were a lethal combination, probably able to unlatch each other’s cages.

Chase had told Anna what little she knew of Mike’s arrest. Anna said Julie and Jay were coming to the fair today, so Chase held off on calling Julie.

She felt her cell phone buzzing in her pocket every half hour. After checking the first two calls and seeing Tanner’s number, she ignored the rest. He had called early, before she left, asking for more data and another payment. She had grabbed her good camera and, during the morning, had succeeded in photographing all the dessert bar varieties she and Anna were selling at the fair. This was by no means their entire list, but it would be a start. Maybe they wouldn’t have to picture every single one, just the prettiest, and could list the rest.

Chase had definitely decided not to sell on the Internet, so the website would just be to entice people to the store. Bar None was not set up for remote merchandising or shipping, and it would take a lot of work to get to that point, if they ever did.

After the first two pictures Chase snapped, Anna asked her what she was doing.

“They’re so pretty, aren’t they? I just want to get pictures of all of them.” Chase stepped to the next batch on the table and took another shot. They weren’t nicely displayed in a glass case, like in the shop, but Chase was taking close-ups of the samples that were set out on paper plates to give the customers an idea of what they were selling. On reviewing her photographs, she thought they looked pretty good.

Julie and Jay showed up midmorning.

“Need a hand?” Julie asked.

“We sure do,” Anna said. “Can you give out samples like you did the last time? I think that helps business.”

Jay looked around at the booth, which was packed with people waiting to buy. “Looks like business doesn’t need that much help. Maybe we can take over and give you two a break.”