Theresa Weir: The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

“I backed it up.”

“What?”

“The files. I backed up all of the files.”

“I should have shot him,” Joe said. “But I’ve never shot anybody. Ever. And I don’t like guns. I have to carry one, but I don’t like them.”

“That’s so funny,” Melody said.

Max was thinking the same thing.

“Holy hell.” Joe’s voice shook as he cradled Melody’s face in both of his hands, leaned closer, and kissed her. A lot. And before Max knew it, they were lying on the floor, and then they were tugging at clothes and kissing and laughing.

It wasn’t until much later that Melody and Joe headed to Joe’s house in order to access his computer and the cloud server Melody used for her backup files. Now they were in his cozy office with his books and albums, sitting side by side in front of his desktop computer.

Melody entered her password, then, with a series of clicks, opened the first file. “I don’t understand,” she said, squinting at the screen. “It’s just a lot of dates and names.”

Joe hit the keys, opening one file after another until he’d quickly perused them all. Then he explained: “For the past three years, confiscated drugs have gone missing from the police department. I mean a lot of drugs. Like millions of dollars worth. There were some people who thought David might actually be involved in the thefts.”

Melody gasped. “He would never-”

“I know, I know. I think he was a convenient scapegoat. A red herring, probably planted by Cameron. Another reason suspicion fell on David was that he was getting close to fingering the dirty cop. These are records of all the comings and goings in the department. Who was working, who logged in and out of the evidence room. It’s all here. He was slowly and methodically building a case against Cameron.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“David’s death wasn’t a random break-in gone bad. It was a hit.”

For two years, she’d thought David had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. To find out his death might have been deliberate… She felt both confused and outraged. “Why now? If Cameron was searching for David’s computer, why now?”

“I’ve been doing a little snooping of my own, looking into David’s murder. Some things just didn’t add up. My investigation stirred up a trail that led back to the night of David’s death. I actually made an inquiry about David’s personal computer, fully expecting it to have been confiscated as possible evidence. At that point, I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret within the department. Several people knew I was looking into his death. I never suspected an inside job.”

“And your shooting? Do you think it was connected?” Melody asked.

“I think I was getting too curious. But that’s just a theory at this point. I may never be able to connect Cameron to that job. But David’s death is another matter. And I’ve got Cameron’s gun. It’s a long shot, but worth pursuing.”

Joe pulled out his cell phone and keyed in a number. “Got a favor to ask,” he said once the person at the other end answered. “Need ballistics run on a gun. But I don’t want the data to go through the department.” Joe gave him the details and the match he was hoping for, then hung up. “An unorthodox request, but he owes me one.”

Two days later, just after Melody got home from work, Joe called with the ballistic results. His voice was strained and sober. “Melody, David was killed by Frank Cameron’s gun.”

She put a hand to her mouth, but didn’t say a word. So many emotions ran through her, all at the same time. Shock that someone in such a position of power could do such a thing, relief that he’d been caught, pride that David had investigated, pride that Joe had picked up the thread and carried it through to the end.

“We now have indisputable evidence,” Joe said. “The ballistics report, along with David’s files, will be enough to put Cameron away for a long time. Maybe forever.”

She bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded even though Joe couldn’t see her.

“Are you okay? I shouldn’t have told you over the phone, but I have to get this paperwork downtown so a warrant can be issued today. I don’t want Cameron to catch wind of this.”

“No, I understand.” She pulled in a deep breath. She straightened her shoulders. “I’m fine. Do what you have to do.”

A few hours later, Joe called to let her know that Cameron had been arrested at his home. “Handcuffed and stuffed into the back of a police car, like any other criminal.”

By 10:00 p.m., news of the arrest hit all three local stations, and by morning it was on the front page of the Star Tribune and Pioneer Press . And of course they worked Max into the story, reminding readers and listeners that the officer who’d been murdered was none other than the cat lady’s late husband and Max’s original owner.

Melody smoothed her black-and-white floral skirt, adjusted her pink sweater with red trim, knocked on Joe’s door, then stepped back and waited for him to answer. “I brought you some daisies.” She held them out with one hand. The cut ends were soaked in wet paper towels and wrapped in a plastic bag. “And a cupcake.” She handed him a pale blue cupcake with a black cat face.

“Want to come in?” Joe asked.

She followed him inside, all the way to the kitchen where he opened the cupboard, got out a glass, filled it with water, and arranged the white and yellow daisies. He placed the container in the window behind the porcelain sink.

Beautiful. If she’d had her camera, she would have taken a picture. She hadn’t taken any pictures since David’s death.

Joe rotated the cupcake in his hand. “This looks too good to eat.” He was dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled a couple of turns, as if he’d been doing dishes. His dark hair was disheveled, and his feet were bare.

“I want to thank you for everything,” she said. “For catching David’s killer. For endangering your life.”

“Most people would have done the same thing,” he said. “Anybody decent.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t go dark on me,” he said with a bit of a teasing smile. But she could see the worry in his eyes. Knowing that she’d mostly likely come to tell him goodbye again.

He began peeling the paper from the cupcake, slowly, giving it much more attention than it deserved. Then he lifted the dessert to his mouth and took a bite. His eyes widened in surprise.

“You like it? It has buttered rum and cayenne pepper in it.”

He wiped a tiny bit of blue frosting from his lip. “I’m not sure what I think about it.” His brow crinkled in puzzlement. “I think I like it.” He took another bite, letting the flavor dissolve in his mouth.

“The frosting also has a little zing,” she said.

“It looks so innocent.”

“I know. Right?”

“Wanna taste?” He held it out, and she took a bite.

He laughed. She wasn’t sure why he laughed, but she liked the sound.

“The frosting is good too,” he said. “So fluffy.”

They finished off the cupcake. Then it was time for Melody to move on to the next step. And it was a big one.

“I wanted to tell you something.” She stood in the middle of the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter.

“I would never want you to give up who you are for me. I love that you made the offer and were willing to leave something you love, something you’re good at, for me. But it would never work.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

She kept talking. “You’d end up resenting me. And then you might even start to hate me. And you…you would no longer be you. So no, that won’t work. That’s nothing we should even consider.”