Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Cradle

Kenny nodded. “You have to promise me one thing, though. That message I left on your machine. When I said I was about to do something big, I was talking about leaving town. I was going to leave those letters, say good-bye to Becca, and disappear.”

“It’s okay. I figured that out.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. If the police get ahold of that tape, they’ll think it’s a confession. They’ll think I planned it all along. They can’t ever hear it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I believed everything he had told us, or at least, I believed he believed everything he had told us. I believed his father had disappeared in the ocean when he was a child. I believed his mother had committed suicide on the beach where his father had disappeared a decade earlier. I think I even believed that his father was in fact Mr. Harwick. Still, there was a rage in Kenny, bubbling just beneath the surface, that I had never seen before. I couldn’t be sure that even he was aware of the kind of power that rage might have over him—the kind of power that could make him capable of murder.

Ethan cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, this is where I come in. As an attorney, I can tell you without a doubt that you won’t be doing yourself any favors if you try to hide anything from the police. I’m sure Dixie would love to make that promise to you right now, but you’ve got to face the facts: If the detectives don’t already have a record of every phone call you made in the days leading up to the murder, they soon will. They’ll see right through it. You’ll just be digging yourself in a hole that you can’t get out of.”

Kenny looked at me, and I tried to reassure him with a smile and a nod, but inside I was thinking, Yeah. What he said.

* * *

By the time Ethan and I watched Kenny descend the stairs down to the driveway and disappear into the night, it was just after 4:00 A.M., my normal rise and shine. I looked up at the moon and said a little prayer of thanks to the powers that be for giving me the forethought to ask Pete Madeira to cover my pet visits for the morning. We stepped back inside and shut the French doors. I looked at Ethan and he looked at me, and we both let out a huge sigh of relief.

I said, “Well, there’s not much point in you going home now. The sun will be up soon.”

He collapsed onto the couch. “I have to be at work in a few hours, and we still have to get your car.”

“But it’s Saturday. You still have to go to work?”

“Yep. Unfortunately.”

“Well, I can bike into town later and get my car, so don’t worry about that.” I sat down on the edge of the coffee table and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For getting you involved in all this.”

He grinned. “Dixie, how long have we known each other?”

“I don’t know. A long time.”

He reached out and pulled me toward him. “Yeah. Long enough for me to know better.”

20

I opened my front door a crack and squinted at the bright morning light slanting in through the trees. Michael and Paco were sitting out on the deck at the table my grandfather built when we were kids. They had laid out a breakfast fit for a king. There was hot coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice, a bowl of locally grown strawberries and blackberries, and a platter heaped with glistening slices of cantaloupe, mango, and kiwi. Holding court at the center of the table was a basket of Michael’s freshly baked scones, still warm from the oven. I was only just a little bit disappointed not to see a platter of bacon, but since I was apparently going to be seeing more of Ethan from now on, I figured I could do without it. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, my grandmother always said.

It all looked so good I practically skipped down the stairs and across the deck to the table. I could tell by their empty plates that Michael and Paco had already eaten, but waiting at my seat was an absolutely yummy-looking slice of spinach and mushroom quiche, lying on a bed of bright green baby lettuce. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to stay in bed this late, and I was pretty confident Michael and Paco had both been fast asleep when Ethan left for work. Not that I was trying to hide anything. I can do what I want. I’m a grown, mature woman, sort of.

In fact, Michael and Paco had been encouraging me to go out with Ethan for months, so I knew they’d probably be pretty happy about it, but I just wasn’t in the mood to be bombarded with a hundred and one questions.

Turns out I was out of luck. The moment I saw the looks on their faces, not to mention the stack of newspapers spread out in front of them, I knew I was in for a good ol’ session of Q and A with M and P.

Of course they had read all about Mr. Harwick’s death, and now there were a number of articles in the paper with my name in them, and a quote from the police department saying there was a search under way for the primary person of interest: Kenny Newman, the Harwicks’ pool man. I told Michael and Paco the whole story of everything that had happened, excluding Kenny’s revelation about his father. I did tell them that Becca had revealed to me that she was pregnant, and that both of them had been missing ever since Mr. Harwick’s body was discovered.

Michael and Paco sat quietly and listened, except when I was describing the ordeal of pulling Mr. Harwick out of the pool and trying to revive him. I must have looked pretty shaken, because Michael got up and came around the table and put his hands on my shoulders.

When I was finished, we all sat for a while in silence. Finally Paco said, “So, Michael, I think we should all agree right now to not ever say ‘I told you so’ about Kenny Newman.”

Michael squeezed my shoulders and said, “Yeah. I totally agree, we should definitely not ever say ‘I told you so’ about that guy.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Hilarious,” but I knew their teasing was only meant to make me feel better about the whole thing. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised that Michael wasn’t more upset—I hoped it meant that he was beginning to feel a little less responsible for looking out for me all the time. He had a few gray hairs mixed in with the blond, and I knew every one of them had my name on it.

Paco said, “So still no sign of him, huh?”

“Not exactly.”

Michael said, “What do you mean, not exactly? You know where he is?”

I took a bite of quiche and reveled in its buttery, cheesy deliciousness for a couple of moments. “Not really, but he paid me a visit last night.”

Michael’s voice rose. “What? He was here? Goddammit, Dixie, what were you thinking?”

“Michael, I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I just don’t think Kenny Newman is a dangerous person.”

Michael started to interrupt, but I cut him off. “I know what you guys think about him, and I agree it doesn’t look good that he disappeared after Mr. Harwick died, but he has an explanation for all of it, and I think I believe him.”

Michael took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. So what did he want with you?”

“He wanted to talk to me about a message he left on my answering machine the night before I found Mr. Harwick. He was worried that if I turned it over to the police, they’d think it was a confession.”

I could tell Michael was getting a little more agitated. He rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, great. I can’t wait to hear this. What was the message?”

I sighed. “He said he was about to do something. Something big. And that he was sorry.”

Michael sat back down and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Dixie…”