Джанет Кантрелл - Fat Cat At Large

“That’s crazy,” said Chase, pushing her yogurt carton away, no longer hungry. “There aren’t any rats, and if there were, Laci wouldn’t be involved.”

“You should see those two,” said Vi. “I had to tell Ted not to come behind the counter. He’s got his hands all over her.”

“It doesn’t sound like Laci needs to curry his favor, then.”

Chase wondered if Vi was jealous. After all, Laci had a steady beau and she had none. That was probably because, as Vi had told them, she dumped every guy she dated after a few weeks. Anna thought Vi was waiting for one with a lot of money, trying them out to see how deep their pockets were.

The phone sounded in the office and Chase gladly quit the conversation to answer it. It was a paper-product supplier trying to get her business, and she made short work of the call.

While she was there, she opened the business spreadsheets to double-check something she thought she’d seen last time she balanced the books. Chase frowned. That was odd. Something wasn’t adding up.

As she quickly reached for the door to have Anna look at the computer, she heard Vi speaking in the kitchen, near the closed office door.

“I’m talking about the money. It’s not there. No, I don’t have it, Felix.”

She seemed to be speaking on her cell phone, probably unaware of how little soundproofing the office door provided.

“No, I can’t. She’s the owner. . . . Okay, co-owner. Same thing. I need to talk to you.”

Did Vi know something about missing money? Which co-owner was she referring to? Anna? Herself?

“Yes, I know it happened, but I can’t prove it.”

The door was thin enough that Chase heard Vi let out an exasperated breath, then stomp away. Chase cracked the door open after another minute and Vi was gone. She picked up her iced-tea glass from the counter. Anna had finished the dishes and was slipping another batch of bars into the oven.

Chase didn’t dare speak about the rats—or the accounts—with Anna when either of the sales workers could come in at any time and catch them. She’d ask her later if she was sure no one saw her returning the vermin this morning.

Anna had come back from the pet shop this morning saying that the owner hadn’t sold any rats lately, but he’d taken them from her. Anna and Chase wondered if they should bother to find out where they’d come from. Had the owner told someone else that the rats had been in their kitchen?

“No,” Anna had said. “He promised to keep quiet. He was upset about the dirty trick someone played on us.” The man had gone to high school with Anna and she trusted him.

Now Chase wondered if Anna’s trust had been misplaced and he’d let it slip somehow.

Anna went into the office to give Quincy some petting and keep him company for a few minutes between batches.

Vi pushed the doors open and returned to the kitchen. “There’s a guy out there,” she said.

“And?”

“He says he’s an environmental something.”

Chase gasped. “Environmental health inspector.”

“Oh.” Vi’s eyes grew wide. “What should we do?”

“Business as usual. Let him wander around wherever he wants.”

Vi turned to go.

“And Vi, don’t talk to him at all. Act like he’s not there.”

Anna emerged from the office. Chase ran over to her and inspected her for cat hairs. She plucked three off Anna’s shoulder and stuck them into the wastebasket. “Health inspector’s here,” she whispered.

“Oh, that’s just great. I hope everyone out front isn’t discussing you-know-what.”

“Me, too!”

In a few minutes, the man entered the kitchen, clutching a leather folder and a pad of paper with a pen clipped to it.

“Harold Johnson,” he said, heading for the sink. He was tall and thin with a full mustache, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt. His round glasses emphasized his large, wide eyes.

All the better to see your rats with went through Chase’s mind, and she gave a slight shudder.

After scrubbing his hands, he peeked into the tiny employees-only restroom in the corner. He emerged with a slight frown, then rescrubbed his hands. He went straight to the oven and whipped a fancy thermometer from his fanny pack.

Chase tried not to hold her breath or appear nervous. She had the idea that a health inspector could smell fear. When she imagined telling Anna or Julie about that, she smiled. They would probably point out that, despite the large bristly growth under his nose, the man was not a bear.

In fact, he was extremely polite and didn’t write a thing on his pad of paper. After he’d taken the temperature of the oven (which Anna had cleaned first thing in the morning, scrubbing the rack thoroughly) and the refrigeration unit (which had been emptied and cleaned last week) and poked around among all the shelves, he nodded, gave them a smile, and left.

Chase and Anna toasted each other with Sprite to celebrate. Not that they knew for sure they’d passed the inspection, but if Harold hadn’t made any notes, that was a very good sign.

Yesterday, at the scene of the crime, Chase had been told to come into the police station at two o’clock the next day to give a statement. It was well after one, so she left the shop in the hands of Anna, Laci, and Vi and drove to the Second Precinct building. She found a shady parking space on the street, before the imposing stone-faced brick building. She walked past the Eastside Guardian statue, three figures representing police officers and a lost child. The authority figures in the sculpture, although they were a bit bigger than life-size, didn’t seem forbidding. That reassured Chase, who was irrationally nervous about being in a police station. Or maybe not that irrationally. After all, there may have been outstanding warrants for her in Chicago.

After a brief wait in an outer room, she was ushered into a small, green-painted room with one table and four straight-backed chairs. The detective from last night sat in one chair and pointed her into one across the table from him.

She hadn’t noticed much about him last night at Gabe’s condo. Now she could see that he wasn’t as old as she’d thought, and was better looking than she remembered. The cut of his light brown hair was shorter than Chase thought looked good, but his very dark blue eyes, giving her an earnest but not unfriendly expression, were compelling.

Almost mechanically, Chase recited again what she’d told over and over the evening before. She’d gone out searching for her cat. The condo door was ajar. She’d entered and found her cat, and the dead body of Gabe Naughtly. Yes, the knife was already in his chest. Yes, she touched it. Yes, it was bloody. But she hadn’t killed him.

She fidgeted a bit while she talked, trying to find a comfortable place for her hands. She put them in her lap, on the table, and then ended up sitting on them.

The detective, who told her his name was Niles Olson, was almost gentle with his questions, apologizing for making her go over everything she’d said one more time.

“This will be the last time,” he said. “You’re doing well. I appreciate the effort.”

“I’ll never have to tell this story again?” Chase immediately regretted using the word story . It made her recitation sound like it might be made up.

Detective Olson gave her his clear, direct gaze again. “I won’t say never. You might have to testify in court. The defense might want to see if what you say when you’re in court matches your statement today.”

Chase wasn’t worried about that. “I could never forget a bit of what happened. It’s etched into my mind, like it’s carved into a piece of stone.” She shuddered.

Detective Olson leaned forward and raised his hand. She thought he might be thinking about patting her shoulder. She realized she wouldn’t mind if he did. His hand dropped before touching her.