Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

“I think that might be my fault.” Anna cringed. “I might not have closed the door hard enough when I came out.”

“When you came out from sneaking treats to him?”

Anna’s softened demeanor vanished and her hostility returned. She turned her back to Chase and hit the button on the mixer with a vicious stab.

Way to go, Chase . Anna had started to apologize and Chase had immediately put her on the defensive. “Anna?”

She raised her head, but didn’t look around and didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. We need to have a talk. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m all right.” Anna’s shoulders tightened and rose a notch, contradicting her words. “I just have some things to work out for myself. I seem to be taking it out on you.”

“I didn’t steal the money.”

“We do need to have a talk. I need to tell you—”

Vi burst through the back door. “Sorry, I had to duck out for a minute.” She hurried through the kitchen to the salesroom. Within seconds Laci rushed into the kitchen, sobbing.

“She’s so mean! I can’t work with her.”

Now what?

NINE

Chase didn’t get another chance to speak to Vi about the parking lot confrontation or to Anna about being suspicious of Chase before closing time at 7:30 PM. She’d soothed Laci by telling her she would give her a week off, starting Tuesday, when their rush would be over. Laci had considered that a whole week without seeing Violet Peters would be a much-needed balm for her. Chase hadn’t pointed out that, after the rush, there would be no need for them to work together until the holidays. By that time, Chase hoped to have stood up to Anna about the situation. She would have to make time to speak to Vi about her treatment of poor little Laci, though. Vi had told Chase that she’d seen Ted making out with someone else. Even if she had, there was no need to tell Laci that, knowing she’d go off the deep end.

At precisely 7:30, Chase shooed the two women out the front door and turned the sign on the door to say they were closed. She flicked the overhead lights off and leaned her poor aching back against the door, but only for a moment. The wood partitions for the little glass panes dug into her sore spine. She pushed away and strolled through the darkened shop humming “Tomorrow” from Annie . Stepping behind the counter, she pulled the trays from the display case, wincing each time she bent over. Most of them were empty, but three held a few bars that she would package and freeze to take to the homeless shelter when she had time.

Anna had left at 7:00, pleading an appointment, so Chase quickly did the cleanup that remained and headed for the police station. Walking through their parking lot at night was scarier than doing it during the day. The building was more forbidding, too. It loomed dark and gave her the chills.

She was buzzed through from the lobby to a sea of desks. Most were empty, but a lamp shed a pool of yellow on a desk at the far side of the room. Detective Olson’s chestnut hair caught an edge of the light as he bent over some paperwork. The sound of her echoing footsteps alerted him to her presence in the otherwise empty room and he waved her to a seat beside his desk. This was much better than the stuffy interrogation room she’d been in before, although the stale air held odors of sweat and, possibly, fear.

She sat and noticed that his dark blue eyes looked weary.

“I just have a few more questions. I know I said we were done, but I want to try something.”

She nodded. That didn’t sound too ominous.

“Close your eyes and think back to the day you discovered Gabe’s body.”

“Okay.” She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You’re searching for your cat, you said.”

“Right. Quincy is missing.”

“Where are you?” His soft, smooth voice soothed her. She felt tension seeping out of her body.

“I’m searching for him. Walking down the street. Coming to the condos.”

“Look around you. Is anyone else there?”

She shook her head. “I’m not looking for anyone, any people, I’m only looking for Quincy.”

“Go ahead.”

This felt almost like a hypnotism session she’d watched onstage in Chicago once. “There’s a door standing open.”

“Wide open?”

“No, just a crack. I walk up the steps and push it open.”

“Why do you do that?”

She let out a puff of impatience. “To see if Quincy is in there.” Why else would she enter a condo where she didn’t know the resident?

“Why do you think he might be?”

“The way the door is barely open. He likes to squeeze through narrow places. It’s a cat thing.” She opened her eyes and stared at him defiantly. “Why do you think I went in there? To kill Gabe Naughtly?”

“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else? No one on the sidewalk or across the street?”

“I didn’t kill him.” Her voice caught. If she started crying right now, she’d never forgive herself. “Just because I didn’t see his killer doesn’t mean I killed him. The killer had time to wipe his fingerprints off the knife. He probably left long before I got there.”

Detective Olson leveled those serious eyes at her.

“What? What did I say? You’re the one who told me about the fingerprints.”

He drew a deep breath. “There was a lot of blood on that knife. I’m sure you remember that.” Yes, she did. “That knife wasn’t wiped after the blood got there.”

“Oh.” Her mind worked on high speed. “So . . . the killer wore gloves.”

“Possibly.”

“But Gabe’s prints weren’t on it either?”

Detective Olson shook his head.

“Was it even his knife? Did you test it for onions?”

“Onions?” He looked at Chase like she was crazy. “He wasn’t killed by onions.”

“Did his meatloaf have onions in it? Or bell peppers? That’s what I put in mine. If the knife was his and was out of the knife block, he’d probably chopped onions with it. If not, maybe it’s not his.”

“Miss Oliver, I want you to concentrate on what you saw that night. Over the next few days, if anything occurs to you, let me know right away.”

“Why do you think I saw someone?”

He didn’t answer.

An idea popped into her head. “Because someone saw me , right? If they did, then they saw I didn’t have time to kill him, right? Right?”

He handed her his card. “Call me if you remember anything.”

On her way home, her hands started hurting from gripping the steering wheel so tight. She was livid, so angry at the detective she felt like squeezing his neck instead of the steering wheel. Why couldn’t he at least tell her exactly why he was suspicious of her? He seemed to think she was lying. She had to convince him she wasn’t. But how?

She called Julie as soon as she was in her bathrobe, settled in her favorite cinnamon-hued chair with a glass of red wine. She tucked a pillow behind her to ease her sprained back muscles. Chase held her breath as she listened to Julie’s cell phone ringing away, afraid she wouldn’t pick up. In the moment before it would have gone to voice mail, Julie answered, breathlessly. “I only have a minute. We’re down to the wire on some paperwork.”

“Two? Could I have two minutes? Please?”

Chase thought she must have sounded pitiful because Julie gave a light chuckle and said, “Aw, poor baby, what’s the problem?”

“I just got home from being cross-examined by that Detective Olson.”

“He has to question people, doesn’t he?”

“But he doesn’t have to suspect me of murder.”

“He thinks you killed Gabe Naughtly? For real?”