Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

“I came in early, before anyone else got here.” Julie was almost whispering.

“Won’t that look suspicious?”

“No, I still have lots to do today. I need to get an early start on that anyway.”

“So?”

“Yes, I found her.”

“Her? For some reason, I’ve been picturing a ‘him.’”

“The name is Hilda Bjorn. She lives almost directly across the street from Gabe Naughtly’s condo. If I’m not mistaken, she has a small house with a nice front porch. I think I’ve seen a rocker there. I’ll bet she’s as old as the hills and sits and watches everyone and everything.”

“I hope you’re right, that she sees everything. Then she’ll have seen Torvald Iversen, too. Mike says he was there quite a bit before I was. But if she’s too old, her memory might be bad.”

“Yah, there’s that. Let’s hope not. Are you going to talk to her?”

“I sure will. This should be a superbusy day in the shop. Maybe I’d better go over there right now.” She hadn’t worked up too much of a sweat. Her shower could be skipped and she could throw on her working clothes in a minute.

“Anything else interesting? Did you read Iversen’s statement?”

“I did. Nothing much to it. He states that he’s an investment broker, but it doesn’t say who any of his clients are. He made a point of saying he hadn’t been to the condo that day until he arrived and saw you with the dead body. The way this is written, it sounds like they don’t believe him. Let me know what you find out from the woman. I hear voices. Some of the others are showing up. Gotta go.”

“Thanks a million. Love you, Jules.”

Chase’s heart lifted as she stuck her phone into her jacket pocket. She turned around and rode her bike to the block where Gabe’s condo was. Iversen lied in his statement! Would an innocent person do that? Dr. Ramos had said he’d seen him there earlier. She’d have to think of a way to use this.

Meanwhile, she’d talk to Hilda Bjorn. Sure enough, right across the street was a cute little house, painted red, with a white wicker rocker on the porch. Chase leaned her bike against the railing and mounted the steps to knock on the front door. After an interval, she knocked again, but not a sound issued from inside the little red house. The front door of the neighboring house flew open. A harried young man with a disorderly mop of hair clattered down his steps, then noticed Chase on the porch.

“Are you looking for Hilda?” he asked, peering through thick glasses.

“Yes, Hilda Bjorn. Do you know when she’ll be here?”

His brow puckered in thought. “Don’t know. She’s in the hospital again. Sometimes she doesn’t stay long.”

Her hopes were dashed. She couldn’t invade an elderly woman’s hospital room to interrogate her. “Okay,” said Chase, descending the wooden steps.

“Do you want me to tell her you were here?” He seemed anxious to be helpful.

“No, no, I’ll catch her later.”

“She might appreciate a visit. She’s at the U Medical Center.”

Chase waved her thanks and hurried back to open up her shop. She pedaled across the parking lot behind her store and picked up her bike so she could carry it up the stairs. The pain meds seemed to be wearing off.

A movement caught her eye at the edge of the parking lot. The sun glinted off a head of blond hair. A tall man faced her, staring intently across the top of a sedan. The man turned and walked away quickly. Shaun Everly! He’d been standing behind a car, watching her. He knew where she lived. She unlocked her door with an unsteady hand and carried her bike in.

She was still breathing more quickly than usual when she came down to the shop with Quincy. Anna had gotten in before her and made coffee. After Chase deposited Quincy in the office and shut the door tightly, she saw Anna notice her tremor as she poured herself a cup. Well, if Anna could have secrets, so could she. Anna hadn’t told her why she’d left before closing the day before, what the appointment was for, or what was bothering her so much that she couldn’t look Chase in the eye this morning.

Soon, the Bar None was thrumming along and almost felt normal. Anna was mixing up batter for Amaretto Lemon Bars, Laci and Vi were swamped with customers, too busy to bicker, and Chase was humming “Circle of Life” from The Lion King and cutting up a batch of Cherry Oat Bars and placing them on a tray to slide into the display case in front.

The sight of Shaun, staring at her across the pavement, stayed with her, though. Every once in a while, she shivered and broke off her song. She had no idea what to do about his presence.

In the middle of the morning, the strident tones of Doris Naughtly drifted to the kitchen. Chase saw Anna’s back stiffen, but neither of them commented . . . until Chase heard Torvald Iversen’s disturbing, spooky voice no more than two minutes later. Doris raised hers, becoming even louder than usual. Was she upset? Chase wondered. She wouldn’t put anything past that horrible man.

Chase wiped her hands on her apron and poked her head through the double doors. Doris was backed up to the pink shelves on the side wall, hemmed in by Torvald. He stood over her, leaning in, his long, thin arms surrounding her, with his hands on the shelves. She wasn’t making an effort to escape. In fact, she was tilting her head and giving him coy looks. Evidently, thought Chase, she wasn’t wasting any time getting over the death of her husband.

Stealing up behind the man, Chase asked, “Can I help you?”

She stifled a smile when he jumped at her being so near without his detecting her arrival. He threw Chase a glare and straightened up. Doris smiled at Chase and smoothed her hair, although it was sprayed so vigorously that it couldn’t possibly be disarranged.

“Yes, please,” breathed Doris. She grabbed a carton of Lemon Bars from the shelf behind her. “I’d like these, please.”

“Violet will help you at the register, Mrs. Naughtly.” Chase gestured toward the sales counter in the rear of the shop.

Torvald had no choice but to step aside, glowering, and let Doris proceed to the cash register.

Chase kept her voice low. “I need to ask you a question.”

He gave her a haughty look, easy to do from his height.

“What were your dealings with Gabe? I know you and he were doing business together. I also know you weren’t there for a dinner meeting, like you told me.” It was a bluff. Would it work?

She seemed to have penetrated his armor. A line of worry appeared between his pale eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“I know he wanted to buy my shop. Were you helping him do that?”

“Ha.” It was a mere syllable, devoid of humor. “It’s none of your business.”

“Is that what you killed him over?”

“The man led me to believe he could pull his weight, financially. I was a fool to believe him. It was nothing worth killing over.”

He spun on his heel and left the shop.

Would Torvald be in hot water for not securing the deal for his client? Would it be worthwhile for him to kill Gabe? It didn’t seem too likely. But the man had lied to the police. Something was very off-kilter about that man.

Chase returned to the sales counter, where Vi was ringing up Mrs. Naughtly’s purchase.

“What was that about?” Chase asked her.

“That horrid man was coming on to me,” Doris Naughtly said. “He wanted to have dinner! And my husband still warm in his grave, poor soul.”

Chase shuddered. For one thing, she was sure the man in his grave was not still warm. Graves were cold places. For another, the thought of being hit on by Torvald Iversen made her skin itch. For yet another, Doris hadn’t acted upset about him until Chase had interrupted them.