Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

“There’s nothing more to tell. I’ve told you everything a thousand times.”

“Try this. Lean your head back and close your eyes.”

She laid her head against the leather back of the couch. If this was going to be another semi–hypnotism session, that might be good. Maybe she would remember something crucial, something that would get her off the hook. She felt herself beginning to relax already.

“You’re walking into the house. What do you see?”

“I see her living room.” Chase detailed going from room to room, thinking the house was empty. Lulled by his smooth voice, she got more and more relaxed and comfortable. It was, again, almost like being hypnotized, being right there at the scene. Then she got to the kitchen in the rear of the house. She shuddered, recalling Hilda on the floor, thinking she was dead.

“Exactly what do you see?” Was he trying to find some way to clear her? It almost seemed like it.

“I see her. At first I think she’s dead. But she isn’t. I’m glad she’s not bleeding too much. I see something blue. I also see a button by her head.”

“A button? What does it look like?”

“It’s . . . it’s purple.” Chase’s eyes opened and her hand flew to her mouth. It was Vi’s button. Or was it Laci’s? She couldn’t tell if it was cloth-covered or not.

“You recognize it?”

“No, no, I don’t. It’s only a . . . purple button.”

Mike had said there was a button at Torvald’s when Karla found him.

“Ms. Bjorn had another button just like it clutched in her hand. Tell me if you know where it came from.”

She couldn’t. Besides, she didn’t want Detective Olson to think Vi or Laci had attacked the old woman. He asked a few more times, trying to trip her up, she felt. Maybe trying to get her to tell him more, but she had no more to tell him.

“Has Doris Naughtly talked to you?” She remembered that she had urged the woman to voice her fears about her son to the authorities.

“I’ve talked to her. Several times. What do you mean?”

“She came here that rainy night—Tuesday, I think.”

“You think she has more information for me? She’s holding out?”

“Not that so much as she’s afraid her son might have motive to kill the two men. I don’t know what either one of them would have to do with Hilda Bjorn.”

“Maybe I’ll give Doris Naughtly another call. And her son, too.”

“Elinda, Torvald’s sister, came to see me today, here at the shop.”

That got his attention. “What did she want?”

“I’m not sure. She was Gabe’s mistress. Did you know that?”

Detective Olson gave her a look that said, Come on now . “Yes, we know that.”

“Have you ruled her out?”

He stood and left.

Later, Chase remembered that Elinda had been wearing a purple top. Had her blouse had purple buttons? Maybe.

For the rest of the evening, Chase vegetated, putting all her interviews with the detective out of her mind as much as she could, aided by a TV showing of Oklahoma! , and sipping a little more wine. She might have had one or two glasses too many, judging by the headache on Saturday morning.

Saturday, the shop was blessedly busy, keeping her from thinking about what had happened the night before. Although she did keep her glance on Vi’s blouse buttons a few times, thinking of Laci’s pastel buttons, too. Her head ached all day.

Once again, Anna was distracted. But this time, Chase thought she might know what was on her mind. She had mentioned she was seeing Bill that night. Bill was lucky to have someone who cared about him the way Anna did. She hoped he appreciated her.

After work, Chase’s spirits lifted as she changed clothes and primped for her dinner with Mike. Karla, even though she was, as advertised, cute, was much too old for Mike. Chase had worked herself into a fret for nothing over Karla. The redhead, on the other hand, was obviously not a bit too old for him, and prone to hugging.

THIRTY-THREE

Mike picked her up at her place and drove to the restaurant Anna used to take her to when she was much younger, Lord Fletcher’s on Lake Minnetonka. They made small talk on the way, Chase saying that she thought Quincy was going to be able to lose quite a bit of weight with her homemade Kitty Patties, Mike telling her a hilarious story about a dog owner who thought the dog’s dewclaws were tumors and should be removed.

Underlying the pleasant banter was the tension, for Chase, of knowing that, sometime during the evening, she would confront him about what had happened on Wednesday. Mike held the car door for her and they strolled through the parking lot in the soft twilight to the bright lights of the restaurant.

It was set up for the boat crowd, with a dock where boaters could moor their crafts and jump out and eat in bathing suits in the summertime. Now, with autumn upon them, the boaters were outnumbered by diners wearing considerably more clothing.

They were shown to indoor seats overlooking the water of the West Arm Bay of Lake Minnetonka. Mike ordered a half carafe of chardonnay and they sipped as the sun set in a spectacular array of golds and bronzes over the barely rippling water, calmed for dusk.

After a platter of selected artisan cheeses and charcuterie, and a second glass of wine, Chase felt brave enough to carry out her intended interrogation.

“So, tell me something.”

Mike gave her a sharp look. Something in her tone had alerted him that her question might not be casual. “Okay,” he said. “Tell you what?”

“When we were on the phone, your next appointment was just showing up, you said.”

“This was on Wednesday?”

“Yes, the day I found Hilda Bjorn unconscious on her kitchen floor.”

“I remember. I hung up because I heard the front door open.”

Chase had heard the noise over the phone. “You said your next appointment was there.”

Mike nodded and took another sip of wine. Or was it a gulp? Did he have a guilty conscience? Was he actually meeting the redhead at his office?

“So, if you had an appointment, how did you get to Hilda’s house so quickly? You were there right after I got to her place.”

“My next appointment didn’t show up. The front door was the postman delivering my mail.”

Just as Anna had said. Chase let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. No redheaded assignation. At least not that day, at that time.

“I left to come home for lunch soon after we hung up and I saw the commotion right away. Somehow, every time there’s commotion on my street, you’re involved. I guess that’s why I decided to check out what was going on.” He grinned. “Sure enough, there you were, in the thick of it. You and Quincy.”

The waiter arrived to take their entrée orders. After Mike ordered king crab legs for them to split, with Caesar salads to start, Chase gave him a big smile. “You know, I’m very glad you did show up. I don’t know what to do with Quincy every time I get arrested.”

Mike frowned. “Do the police seriously suspect you had anything to do with that poor woman’s attack?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes the detective acts like he does, and sometimes he acts like he doesn’t. But he keeps questioning me.”

“I don’t like that one bit.”

“I don’t either!” She toyed with her wineglass as another thought occurred. “I don’t understand how the police got there just seconds after I dialed nine one one at Hilda’s house.”

“When I got there, I heard Hilda’s neighbor, the guy who rides the bike—”

“Professor Fear?”

“Yes, that’s him. He was talking to a policeman in front of the house. He said he’d called when he saw a suspicious person run out the back door.”