Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter And The Canary

She looked up, her lips parted slightly. “Well, I said you were smart, didn’t I? But you’re wrong about one thing: I didn’t ignore my husband’s body. It was the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to me…”

There was a tiny wisp of yellow down clinging to the arm of the sofa next to her. She picked it up between her thumb and forefinger and studied it closely. “It had to be done, though. It was only a matter of time. Those men were after him … but they would have killed us both. The only way I could save myself was to help them find him.”

I could barely believe she’d changed her tune so quickly, without even a moment’s hesitation. For a split second, I thought perhaps she was mocking me.

I said, “So … it’s true?”

She looked down at her hands. “Albert’s always in his study, so I knew that was where he’d be that afternoon, and they promised it would be fast … and painless. I just didn’t plan on that shipment. I sent Rajinder to the pharmacy to get him out of the house. I didn’t want poor Raji to get hurt too.”

I said, “Lucky him. I’m guessing the gunman showed up a little early, or otherwise you’d have already sent me into that office with your husband.”

She raised her eyes and stared at me imploringly. “Dixie, I swear I don’t know a thing about any kind of plot involving you or those two other women. Think about it. If I’d meant for you to be killed, why would I have brought you over here to the pool house?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. But then, why did you bring me here at all, when you knew those gunmen were on their way?”

She looked at Jane and sighed. “I needed a witness.”

“A witness ?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I really am, but I didn’t have a choice. I knew they’d suspect me first. Who else? Other than a handful of U.S. marshals, I’m the only person alive who could’ve told Albert’s enemies where he was, so I had to do everything I could to look innocent. For one, I knew I had to be here when it happened. It would’ve looked suspicious if I’d left the house right before. And I knew I had to act as if it was just another regular day.”

I put my hands on my hips. “So you brought me over here so I could tell everyone how normal you seemed right before the murder…”

She nodded.

“… and how shocked you were after.”

“That was the idea, yes. Pretending to have Jane in the room with Albert was just an extra precaution on my part. I figured no one would think I’d leave her in there if I’d known what was about to happen. Everyone knows how much I love her.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about her story that just didn’t add up. I said, “No. You’re lying. You planned on sending me into that room to be killed with your husband, and you knew they were going to put that note on my body after. I can see it in your eyes. I think you chickened out at the last minute and didn’t want the blood of one more innocent victim on your hands, or maybe that gunman arrived earlier than planned. Either way, it doesn’t matter—in the eyes of the law, you’ve conspired to commit murder. I’m sorry, Elba, but you’re going to jail.”

She took a deep breath and then smiled sadly. “No. I’m not going anywhere. Nobody saw me come out of that room but you, Dixie. I was already standing in the hallway when that deputy burst through the front door. I’ll just tell everyone you got it wrong, that Jane’s cage wasn’t hanging in Albert’s office at all. It was in the guest room the whole time.”

I shook my head. “No. There was blood on that cage. I saw it when you came out, and I’m sure the deputy saw it too. How will you explain that?”

She tilted her head to one side. “Good point. Oh, I just remembered! I ran into Albert’s office first and grabbed his arm to see if he was alive, and then I ran into the guest room. When I grabbed Jane’s cage, I realized there was blood on my hands…” Her eyes traveled down my body and then back up again, as if she was judging a piece of cheap furniture. “See how that works? Trust me, honey. I’ll win. There’s no one on earth who would take a cat sitter’s word over mine.”

Her words stung, even though, at that point, I had a pretty good reason to think she was wrong. My voice low, I said, “How can you possibly live with yourself after this?”

She flicked her hand dismissively and then slid Jane’s cage closer. “Oh my God, you’re so judgmental. Walk a mile in my shoes and then let’s talk. And, anyway, I learned a long time ago, the best way to enjoy this world is to lower your standards.” She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “You should try it. You’d be a lot more fun if you did.”

I took a deep breath. There are a lot of things I could have said at that point, like, “No one will believe you,” or “You’ll never get away with this,” but in a strange way, I felt sorry for the woman, despite the fact that she’d had a hand in two murders, three if you counted her husband, four if you factored in how close I’d come to …

But I didn’t want to think about that.

Instead, I turned away without saying another word and went to the door. Before I left, I took one last look at the Scarlet Woman of Siesta Key. She was slumped in the couch again, except now Jane’s cage was in her lap, and she was pulling her hair down in strings over her face. I figured she probably wanted to look as pitiful as possible when Detective Carthage came in to talk to her.

He was waiting outside by the pool with his hands thrust down in his jean pockets and his long blond bangs pushed to one side. There were creases in the space between his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, and I wondered if he had any idea how much this job would age him.

He said, “What happened?”

I shrugged slightly. “She told me no one would take my word over hers, so…”

I reached into the side pocket of my cargo shorts and carefully pulled out his phone, which still had the cartoon image of a microphone on its screen, along with the little red timer underneath … counting off the minutes it had been recording.

29

By the time I poured myself into the driver’s seat of the Bronco and headed home, it was almost five o’clock in the afternoon. I stared at the road in a kind of stupor, practically letting the car drive herself. Hung low in the pale blue sky to the east was a daytime moon—or what my grandmother always called a child’s moon, since kids should be fast asleep when the moon is usually out. To the west, the sun had stained the clouds crimson, while ribbons of tangerine and yellow ochre burned like embers along the ocean’s horizon.

I switched on the radio and sped through all the classic rock and Christian talk shows until I landed on one of our only remaining local stations, WULB. Officially, their broadcast range doesn’t extend much farther than six or seven miles—the length of Long Boat Key, their home island north of here—but on a clear day, even the Bronco’s finicky old antenna can pick it up loud and clear. Billie Holiday was on, reaching out through the airwaves with her glimmering voice, singing directly to me. Or, at least, that’s how it felt …

The way your smile just beams,

the way you sing off key.

The way you haunt my dreams …

No, no! They can’t take that away from me!

Just then, I looked down and saw something in the space between the center console and the passenger seat … It was yellow. At first, I thought it was one of Jane’s feathers, which would have been perfectly reasonable since Jane was in the backseat, fluttering to balance herself inside her cheap purple birdcage. I’d strapped it in good and snug with the seat belt, but I think the ride was still a little too bumpy for her liking. Every once in a while she’d catch my eye in the rearview mirror and give me a haughty, indignant look.