Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives

There, in a diagonal line across the countertop, was a row of red splotches, each about the size of a quarter and spaced a few inches apart. My stomach tightened into a fist as I realized—it was blood.

McKenzie said, “The cash register is empty, and just before you arrived, Mr. Hoskins’s daughter called the station. The doorman in his apartment building said he never came home last night.”

My legs were beginning to feel like jelly. I looked at her and said, “I was just here. I was here last night before he closed up.”

She nodded at the check. “Yes, I figured as much.”

I looked down at the book in my hand, and then my eyes followed the central corridor to the round claw-foot table in the center of the store, but it was too dark to see anything farther back.

I said, “Is he … is he back there?”

McKenzie shook her head slowly. “No. We don’t know where he is. I was hoping you might be able to help with that.”

I hugged myself and sighed with relief. Just then, one of the deputies waiting outside tapped on the door and pushed it open slightly.

“Ma’am,” he said, “there’s something out here you should see.”

She turned to me. “Dixie, would you mind waiting a bit?”

I nodded mutely and then just stood there in a daze. I think I was still trying to process exactly what was going on.

She smiled slightly and said, “Um, outside, if you don’t mind?”

I reached for the door, but she slid in front of me. “Let me get that for you.”

She nodded at the deputy, and he pushed the door open. I noticed he was wearing blue latex gloves. I looked down at McKenzie’s hands and realized she was, too. It was only then that it dawned on me that this wasn’t just Beezy’s Bookstore anymore. It wasn’t just a place to come and explore, to lie on the carpet with my head resting on a stack of books and forget about the world outside. It was a crime scene, and everything inside was potential evidence.

The deputy led McKenzie past the big display window to the edge of the building and lifted up the police tape for her. Before she went under, she turned back and said, “Dixie, I know you’re busy, so I won’t be long, but I do have a few more questions for you.”

I nodded. Even though she hadn’t asked me any questions yet, I knew I’d already answered some. Guidry had taught me that you can sometimes learn more from watching a person’s first reaction to a crime scene than you can from a hundred hours of interrogation. I was sure McKenzie had taken note of my every move, what my eyes had lingered on inside the store, how my breathing had changed, where I put my hands, what my first words had been.

I was standing with my back to the street, but I could see the reflection of two of the deputies in the display window as they inspected Mr. Hoskins’s van. Another one of the deputies was across the street with a woman in a white apron, probably someone from the market. I figured they were interviewing every shop owner on the street to find out if anyone had seen anything suspicious.

I looked at the stack of dictionaries in the far corner of the display, half hoping Cosmo would be there, snoozing away safe and sound in his favorite spot. If he was there, I’d know this whole thing was just one big misunderstanding, that there was an explanation for everything and that Mr. Hoskins was totally fine. If he was there, I’d know I hadn’t stepped right into another big pile of crazy.

Of course, he wasn’t there.

9

I’d probably only been standing in front of Beezy’s Bookstore for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I was beginning to wonder if McKenzie was planning on leaving me there to stare into the display window all day long, but she finally appeared in front of the butcher shop a few doors down, accompanied by the deputy who had interrupted us earlier. For some reason I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and flipped it open, pretending to study something very important on it, like a text message from Prince Charles or a phone call from the state lottery board.

I don’t know why, but there was something about Detective McKenzie that always made me a tad nervous. Well, more than just a tad. She was thin-boned and plain, but I could tell by the way people treated her that she was a power to be reckoned with. I pictured her brain like the interior of an intricately designed clock, with all its cogs and wheels spinning full speed, sending off little sparks and bits of metal. She walked behind me, putting her latex gloves back on, and as I made one last check of the blank screen on my phone, she opened the door to the bookstore and the little bell over the door rang again.

She said, “Shall we?”

There was an eerie silence inside the store, like the silence inside a shell after its owner has abandoned it. Like a silence you can hear.

McKenzie said, “Sorry for the wait. I just had a very interesting conversation with the butcher.”

“No problem.” I nodded absentmindedly. “I do have a few more pets I need to check on this morning, but they can wait.”

“I’d just like you to take a look around and tell me if anything seems different.”

“Different?”

“From the way you remember it. Just anything you notice, no matter how small.”

She walked around behind the counter and flicked on several light switches. Now I could see all the way to the back of the store, and everything seemed the same. I could even see the box on the floor at the very last aisle where I’d found my gardening book.

I said, “I don’t notice anything.”

“And what time did you say you were here?”

I realized I hadn’t ever told her a time, but I let it go. “It was exactly 6:04. I know because I remember looking at my watch. Mr. Hoskins was just closing when I arrived.”

“Did you see anyone else in the store?”

“No. In fact, he locked the door right after I came in.”

She flipped through a couple of pages on her silver clipboard and then pulled a ballpoint pen from one of the pockets on the front of her skirt.

I said, “Detective McKenzie, do you think Mr. Hoskins…” but my voice trailed off.

She shook her head, “I can’t say for certain, but it doesn’t look good. We have an unlocked shop, we have a missing shopkeeper, we have blood across the shop’s front counter, and we have a person smeared with blood leaving the scene. So were you shopping for any one book in particular?”

My eyes widened. “A person smeared with blood?”

McKenzie nodded, “Yes. Leaving the scene. It was last night after most of the shops were closed. The butcher was locking up when he saw a woman leave the bookstore and get in her car. She took off her jacket, and he noticed her clothes underneath were stained with blood. Normally I wouldn’t be so quick to believe someone could identify bloody clothing in low light from a distance of thirty feet or so. But a butcher…”

“That was me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, that was me.”

She nodded nonchalantly. “Yes, I explained to the butcher about the car accident, but he wasn’t convinced. He didn’t think anybody who’d just dragged a body away from a head-on collision would be crazy enough to go shopping right afterward.”

I could feel my ears turning red. I’d only had a handful of conversations with McKenzie in the past, but they generally left me feeling like I’d been tossed out of a roller coaster.

I said, “The whole reason I was in the neighborhood was to buy a book, and I’ve been coming here since I was little. And they had the road blocked off so I couldn’t go anywhere. I figured while I was waiting I’d run in and get a book. I put the jacket on over my clothes so I wouldn’t freak anybody out.”