Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

She found Anna in the office, sitting at the computer with the financial spreadsheet open on the screen. She was frowning.

Chase took a seat in the chair next to the desk, wordlessly, waiting for Anna to tell her why she’d summoned her.

“There’s more,” Anna said. Her blue eyes, usually warm and cheerful, were troubled.

“More money? We have too much?”

“More pilfering. Less money.” Anna gritted her teeth, still staring at the screen.

“Have you talked to Ted?” Chase slipped her purse off her shoulder and set it on the corner of the desk. “I just had breakfast with Laci.”

Anna looked up at her now, questioning. Her eyes were still clouded.

“She called last night and asked to talk to me. She’s convinced Vi is spreading vicious rumors about him taking the cash and that Ted is innocent. And after we caught him red-handed stealing merchandise.”

“Yes, we did.” Anna spoke slowly. “He was, wasn’t he?” She studied the corner where the wall met the ceiling for a moment. “But he hasn’t been near the register since this last bunch went missing. Last bunch of money, not merchandise.”

“How much?”

“You don’t know?”

“Anna, I haven’t been doing the books. You have. How would I know?” What was Anna getting at? Could Anna be . . . No, that wasn’t possible.

Anna glanced away.

Then Chase got it. A coldness crept up her spine. “How long have you known me? Have I ever stolen anything?”

“Have you?”

“What?” Chase stood, trembling. “How can you ask me that?”

Anna’s head sank into her hands and her head nearly touched the computer screen. “Charity, darling, I’m not sure what to think. No, of course not. How could I have thought that? I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. But who could be stealing from us?”

Anna had thought Chase was the thief. The fact that she had thought that, even for a moment, turned something over inside Chase.

Chase stalked out and stomped up the stairs to her apartment. Her hands shook so she could barely get her key to work.

She stormed inside, slammed the door, and dialed Julie.

Julie answered right away and Chase let out a breath of relief. She needed to talk to her best friend so badly right now.

“You got a minute?” Chase asked.

“Maybe two. I’m due in a conference soon. Shoot.”

“You’re working on Saturday?”

“My huge case is coming up. We’re working all weekend to prep.”

“I don’t know how to say this. Anna . . . have you talked to her recently?”

“Sure. She came over for coffee last night. Oh. Is this about the missing money?”

“Julie, she thinks I took it.”

“What makes you think that?”

Should Chase interpret that last statement as a nondenial? “It’s obvious. Did you get that idea?”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Why is she doing this?”

Julie’s deep breath came over the airwaves clearly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Why would Julie hesitate to confide in her?

“Are you doing all right with money?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are the vet bills expensive?”

Chase frowned. “Not especially. Should they be? Do you think Dr. Ramos is giving me a special rate?”

“No, no. But, well, Violet has been talking to Grandma and now she thinks that you’re desperate for money to pay Quincy’s bills and that, maybe . . .”

“Maybe I’ve been dipping into the till?”

“I told her that was ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous. Anna doesn’t really believe Vi, does she?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to her about it for more than a few words. Chase, let’s talk about this later. I think that Grandma’s having some other problems, but she won’t talk about it. I gotta run, really. I’ll call after work.”

The cold that had entered Chase’s spine downstairs now spread inside her. Her very heart felt chilled. It seemed Anna didn’t find it hard to believe she would steal money from her business partner. From her own shop, for that matter.

Now she had to spend the entire day in Anna’s company, knowing she’d harbored those thoughts about her, and refereeing her incompatible employees. A few tears of self-pity escaped her nondescript blue-gray eyes. All she could see before her were Anna’s periwinkle blues, giving her a steely stare of suspicion.

She splashed cold water on her face and returned to the fray.

After a couple of hours of pure torture—working in her kitchen had never been this hard before—her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the ID, but it seemed official.

“Detective Olson here.” Niles Olson, the good-looking policeman working on the murder case of Gabe Naughtly.

“Can I help you?”

Anna started paying attention when Chase used that polite, formal tone. She stopped mixing dough and cocked her head toward the counter where Chase had been sprinkling coconut onto some cooled Lemon Coconut Bars.

“We need to ask you a few more questions, Miss Oliver. Could you make it down to the station today?”

“Not . . . not right now. We’re terribly busy.”

“After hours, then. Give me a time and I’ll be here.”

“We . . . we’re staying open late tonight. It’s one of our busiest days of the year.”

“What time?”

He was going to make her come to the station no matter what she said. “I’ll be there at eight.”

Could anything else go wrong today?

The cat was bored and hungry. He heard welcome sounds outside the office door. It sounded like a delivery person had entered the rear of the shop. That usually meant the back door would be propped open. The last time the older woman had darted in to leave him some cookie crumbs, the office door hadn’t shut properly. He’d bided his time to use this knowledge, but now was the right time.

Hooking a claw around the protruding bit of the door, he nudged it open, just far enough for him to slip out. Slinking along the wall, no one saw him until he was at the rear door. The commotion and din made him move faster and he dashed through it. The alley and parking lot beckoned.

“There goes Quincy,”said Anna. She pointed toward the back door with a spoon that dripped creamed butter and sugar.

“Not again.” Chase shook her head and dashed out the door the delivery man had come through. She almost knocked the boxes of cleaning supplies out of his arms. Twisting to help catch his wares, she felt her back wrench.

“Sorry, ’scuse me,” she called, scrambling after her cat. Right outside the door, she halted. He hadn’t gone far and she didn’t want to frighten him into running away. Quincy crouched next to the trash bin, peering at something beneath it. Chase tiptoed to him and scooped him up, wincing at the pain that shot through her spine, hoping rats weren’t under the bin staring out at her and Quincy, ready to invade her shop.

“Such a bad, bad boy,” she cooed, cradling him and stroking his back.

The sounds of an argument reached her from the other end of the parking lot. A man and a woman stood on the other side of a car, only their heads visible above the roof of a small Toyota. The woman raised her arms and chopped the air repeatedly, her voice rising. She had a cute, short haircut.

It was Vi! Chase strained to hear what was going on. Was this guy the source of her recent distress? Chase wondered if she should go confront the young man—he looked to be the age of a college student or younger—and tell him to quit upsetting Vi. But Chase was holding Quincy. She needed to put him in a safe place first.

Back inside the kitchen, she deposited Quincy in the office and made sure the door was latched securely.