by Linda Reilly
As if on cue, a hefty-sized black-and-white kitty with long white whiskers strutted into the kitchen. He issued a loud meow, then reached up and rested his forepaws on Lara’s leg. Munster yawned in his face but didn’t budge from Lara’s lap.
“Well, Panda, you’re just in time.” Lara rubbed the cat’s head. “If you didn’t come down for adoption day, I was going to come looking for you.”
Panda purred, but then decided to check out the food bowls resting along one wall of the kitchen.
“I’ve got to bring Sienna and Amber down, too,” Lara said.
“Or you could wait to see if we get any visitors,” Aunt Fran suggested. “Last Saturday only one family showed up.”
“I know. That was disappointing. But it snowed that day, and the roads were bad. It’s freezing out today, but at least the roads are clear.”
Her cell rang again. When she saw the caller, she snatched it up in an instant. “Gideon? Hi, I was—”
“Lara, sorry to interrupt, but I have some news.”
Lara swallowed. “Sounds serious.”
“It is. Megan’s been taken in for questioning by the police. Her ex-boss was found dead this morning in a snowbank, right beneath the second-story balcony of his home. Apparently, she showed up at his home last night—his wife was throwing a birthday party for him—and Megan created a scene in front of a few dozen witnesses.” His voice sounded taut with frustration.
For a moment, Lara was speechless. Then, “Gideon, that’s awful. But why would the police want to question her? It must’ve been an accident, right? Maybe he drank too much and fell off his balcony.”
“Didn’t sound that way. The police are talking possible foul play. Anyway, I just found out about it a few minutes ago. Megan hasn’t been charged with anything—yet. I’m heading over to Bakewell now to see what I can find out.”
Lara felt her limbs go numb. For a woman he supposedly had nothing in common with, he was sure rushing to her aid awfully fast.
“I understand,” she said, trying to keep her voice from quaking. “Call me when you know more, okay?”
“Will do,” he said, then, “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She disconnected and dropped her cell on the table.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Aunt Fran said. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“That was Gideon,” Lara said. “That woman who went to see him yesterday—Megan? Well, get this. She was taken in by the police for questioning this morning. Her boss, I mean her ex-boss, was found dead outside in the snow, right under the balcony of his home.”
“Oh…my,” Aunt Fran said. “Do they think someone pushed him off?”
“Gideon wasn’t sure.” Lara took in a long breath, forcing back the lump forming in her throat. “He’s going over to the police station now to see what he can find out.”
Aunt Fran looked away, her expression grim. Lara knew exactly what her aunt was thinking because she was thinking the same thing.
Another murder in our midst.
Chapter 4
Only one person showed up for adoptions on Saturday afternoon. A woman looking for a pet for her grandson’s birthday thought she could pop in, pick up a kitten like it was a stuffed toy, and drive it over to him in a giant gift bag. She’d even purchased a colorful bag and brought it into the shelter with her.
First, Lara had calmly explained to her that it wasn’t kitten season. While kittens were sometimes born during the winter, it was far more common for female cats to give birth anywhere from March through late fall. Lara next lectured her—tactfully, she thought—as to why a kitten shouldn’t be treated simply as a toy to be added to a child’s collection.
The woman left looking a bit overwhelmed, but she agreed to read over the brochure Lara gave her about their “read to a cat” Sundays.
It was late Saturday evening before Lara heard back from Gideon. He’d apparently spent several hours at the police station in Bakewell. After that he’d driven Megan to her aunt and uncle’s home to be sure she got home safely.
“So,” Lara said, when he finally called, “they didn’t detain her overnight?”
Gideon sighed into the phone. “Thankfully, no. There’s no direct evidence tying her to her ex-boss’s death. Only a lot of witnesses reporting that Megan crashed the party and accused him of all sorts of things.”
Lara quietly digested this information. “Do they know yet how he died?”
“No. That’s turned into a bit of a puzzler. At first it looked like he might have had a heart attack, but a few other things didn’t add up. He’d also vomited—sorry to be graphic—and they’re suspecting it might have been some kind of poison. Problem is, they haven’t identified the source. No one else at the party even got sick.”
“Poison?” The thought made Lara clutch her stomach. “How awful. The poor man.”
“I agree. If that’s how he died, it was not a pleasant way to go. One big problem, though: There was so much food and drink at Chancer’s birthday party last night that the poison could’ve been in almost anything. The crime scene people have literally removed the entire contents of his fridge, along with everything left over from the party, including the trash bags.”
“Does he have a wife? A family?” Lara asked.
“He has a wife, Karen. No kids. Here’s the thing—until they figure out how the poison was administered, they can’t even begin to narrow down the suspects.”
Lara’s head spun. “How is Megan taking all this?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, but she knew a touch of snark had crept into her tone.
“Um…not good. By the time I got to the police station, she was nearly hysterical. A female officer helped calm her down with some chamomile tea and yogurt.”
“Sounds like a kind woman.”
“She is. In fact, all the officers involved were exceptionally respectful with her. Oh, guess who’s taking the lead in the investigation for the state police? Your old pal, Conrad Cutler.”
Lieutenant Conrad Cutler. Lara’s insides churned with the memory. He’d been a tough interrogator the summer before, after the local health inspector was murdered. Once the culprit was in custody, however, his attitude toward Lara had changed. He’d transformed into an almost decent guy. Almost.
“If that’s the case, then I feel bad for Megan,” Lara said. Unless she killed Chancer.
“I know Cutler’s tough, Lara, but he’s fair.”
Lara asked the question to which she dreaded the answer. “How do things stand now?”
“Right now, things are in limbo with Megan. In spite of her stunt at the party last night and her bad blood with the victim, there’s nothing yet that ties her directly to the murder. Unfortunately, this is only the beginning.”
Only the beginning.
“I assume she’ll be getting a lawyer,” Lara said. “Are you going to work with whoever represents her?”
“Absolutely not. She’s already contacted someone at her old firm in Concord—a crackerjack criminal lawyer. I’m out of it entirely.”
Lara breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. “If Chancer really was poisoned, I hope they land on his killer soon.”
After a long pause Gideon said, “I do, too.”
Something in Gideon’s tone set off an alarm. Did he think Megan might be guilty? Did he know more about her than he was letting on?
“Lara, I miss you. I hated that you didn’t stay at my place last night.”
“I did, too,” she admitted.
“Orca and Pearl kept watching the door,” he said. “They have an uncanny sense of timing, you know. They know when it’s Friday. I’m sure they expected you to walk in any minute.”
“I missed them, too,” Lara said, smiling.
“Is it okay if I show up tomorrow for ‘read to a cat’ day? I can help make hot cocoa, or whatev
er you’re serving the kids.”
Lara laughed. It felt good. “You sure can. And don’t worry. I’ll put you to work.”
After they said good night, a huge wave of relief washed over Lara. She didn’t want things to be weird between them. She wanted things to be the way they were before.
At least for now.
Deep inside, though, she had a sick feeling. Something told her that this mess with Megan wasn’t over.
Gideon said he was out of it entirely, but was he? If Megan was arrested, what if she tried to suck him back in? What if she begged him to help her?
Knowing Gideon, he wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Chapter 5
“Read to a Cat Sunday” was busier than ever.
Five children had scheduled half-hour sessions with cats, three with Munster and two with Panda. Munster wore a blue collar to show that he wasn’t available for adoption.
Panda, the shelter’s most recent resident, was an enigma. When he’d first come into the shelter, Amy had estimated him to be about three years old. He’d been found hanging around the parking area of a local auto body shop. The woman who’d been doing their bookkeeping had been feeding him, but as winter approached, she knew the cat shouldn’t stay outside any longer. High Cliff was asked if they had room to take him in, and Lara and Fran happily said yes.
Their weekly visitor, Nathan, arrived with his grandmother right at one thirty. The little boy, who adored cats, lived with his folks and two sisters in a small apartment. His parents were against taking in a cat, for financial as well as space reasons. It warmed Lara’s heart to see Nathan curled up on a beanbag chair with Panda plopped in his lap and a book in his hands. Lara noticed that Nathan’s reading skills had improved over the past few months. Reading to Panda gave him the confidence to read aloud that he didn’t have in school.
“Long afternoon,” Lara said, smiling over Gideon’s elbow. He was standing at the sink, sweater sleeves rolled up, rinsing out cocoa cups and snack dishes. The sight tugged at Lara.
“Yeah, but a fun one. It’s a great way to wind down after a stressful week.”
Lara nodded. She didn’t want to give voice to the source of the stress.
“That Nathan,” Gideon went on, rising off his hands. “He’s so cute, isn’t he? He’d take Panda home in a minute if he could.”
“I know.” Lara handed him a clean dish towel. “When the day comes that Panda gets adopted, he’s going to be so disappointed. He can still read to a cat, but he’s really bonded with Panda.”
They made cocoa for themselves, then sat at the kitchen table. Aunt Fran was in the large parlor watching an old movie. Lara suspected she’d made herself scarce to give Lara and Gideon a chance to chat alone.
Gideon took a sip of his marshmallow-topped cocoa, then reached his hand over and touched Lara’s. “Lara, are we okay? I mean, really okay?”
Lara swallowed. She wrapped her fingers around his. “We are,” she said softly. “But…this thing, with Megan. It’s not going to go away if she’s arrested for murder.”
“I’m out of it, Lara. I made that clear to her.”
“I know you did.”
The question Lara really wanted to ask stuck like a blob of glue in her throat. Does Megan want to start seeing you again?
Immediately, she chided herself. She had complete faith in Gideon, and they loved each other. Megan’s sudden reappearance in his life didn’t change that.
“How much do you know about the man who was murdered?” Lara asked.
Gideon blew out a long sigh. “Megan told me some, but I checked him out online myself. I learned a lot just from reading his Facebook and Twitter posts. To say that the man was an egotistical braggart is putting it mildly. I don’t like to speak ill of someone whose life was cut short, but from what I read online, Chancer was his own biggest fan.”
“What about his family?”
“Chancer’s married—was married—to a woman named Karen. She takes up very little space on his social media pages, but she has her own Facebook page. She has a small business of her own. She makes gourmet jams and jellies and sells them to a local shop.
“Karen’s dad is a fellow named Gary Becker. He’s a Realtor, has his own agency in Bakewell. From what I gleaned, the police are talking to him as well. Becker supposedly despised Chancer. He’d been trying for years to get his daughter to divorce him.”
“Interesting,” Lara said. “Do you think Chancer was abusive?”
“Reading between the lines—the police were being careful—I gathered that he was mostly a philanderer. And he didn’t try too hard to hide it. The main thing I learned, and this is a general observation, is that Chancer had few friends and a slew of enemies. The man was not well-liked.”
“Which means the suspect pool should be rather large,” Lara commented. “Gid, what’s your gut feeling about this? I mean, is it possible Megan is guilty?”
He sat back, his face unreadable. “I’m not sure how to answer that. People can surprise you. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
As have I, Lara thought grimly. But Gideon was holding back something. Lara felt sure of it.
“My gut feeling? Megan doesn’t have it in her to commit premeditated murder. If Chancer was poisoned, and that hasn’t been confirmed, most likely it was planned in advance.” He reached over and squeezed Lara’s hand. “I am so grateful that you’re not involved in this, Lara. I don’t think my heart could withstand your getting tangled up in another murder investigation.”
She laughed. “I’m with you there. I’ve had enough murder to last me through nine lives.”
But even as she said it, she had a bad feeling. Any icy shiver trickled down her spine, making her rub her arms against a sudden chill.
She wondered if it had anything to do with the blue-eyed Ragdoll cat staring at her from across the table. The cat no one else could see.
* * * *
After Gideon left, Lara went into the large parlor. She gave her aunt a brief account of everything Gideon had told her.
“Oh my, what a mess,” Aunt Fran said. “If Megan is actually innocent, then I feel very bad for her.”
“Yeah, if she’s innocent,” Lara repeated.
Panda strutted into the room and gazed up at Lara. In the next instant he was curled up in her lap, purring a steady drumroll.
“You’re a lovebug, you know that?” Lara said, looking over at her aunt. “So, how’s the book coming?”
Aunt Fran smiled. “Slowly but surely, as they say. I’m thinking of joining an online critique group, but I’ll need to ratchet up my courage a bit first.”
“Well, I’ll be glad to offer my opinion any time, when you’re ready to share. No pressure, though.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Aunt Fran reached for the remote. “It’s nearly six. Do we dare turn on the news?”
“May as well,” Lara said, though a big part of her dreaded it.
As she’d expected, the news was all about the murder. A female reporter wearing a padded maroon coat and a matching hat stood on a sidewalk holding a microphone. She looked a bit frozen. The camera then panned to the home behind her—a lovely white colonial with black shutters, its wide balcony supported by four broad columns. A layer of snow coated the roof. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across the yard in front of the house, wrapping around to the back.
Her expression grim, the usually perky reporter spoke soberly of the untimely death of local attorney Wayne Chancer. With each earnest word, her breath came out in puffs. “Wayne Chancer was well known to the community, and his loss will be deeply felt. At this time, the police have not made any arrests. They are, however, questioning a number of people, including a former employee.”
A former employee.
Megan, no doubt.
A photo of Chancer flashed on the screen. Big an
d burly, with a handsome face and a practiced grin, he wore the expression of a man who thought he owned the world.
Lara was grateful when the news switched to the local weather report. The reporter hadn’t mentioned how Chancer had died, so presumably the police weren’t able to confirm it yet. Either that or they didn’t want to reveal it.
Gideon had mentioned poison. Lara shuddered. What a horrible way to die. Taking in any poison had to be terribly painful. She’d read of people swallowing things like cyanide or strychnine. The results had not been pretty.
“I think I’ll go check on Sienna and Amber,” Lara said. “Neither of them has come downstairs much today.”
“It might be because it’s warmer up there. Go ahead. I’m going to read for a while.”
Lara kissed her aunt’s cheek and headed up to her bedroom. Munster and Sienna were snoozing on her chenille bedspread, Munster’s chubby orange-and-white form curled protectively around his lovable new bud.
Amber was on the cat tree. Her huge gold eyes followed Lara as she approached her and tickled her under the chin. Amber rarely purred, but Lara hoped that would change.
“Hey, sweetie, how’re you doing up there? Are you getting a bird’s-eye view of everything?”
Amber blinked and closed her eyes.
Half an hour later, Lara tried to do the same, but sleep eluded her until the middle of the night. By morning, her eyelids felt glued together.
Her cell ringing at 6:47 AM jolted them apart.
She fumbled for the phone. “Sherry?” she grumbled. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling so early?”
“Oh, Lara,” Sherry blubbered. “I think David and I are going to have to elope!”
Chapter 6
“Thank God Jill’s working today,” Sherry sobbed into a flimsy napkin. “No way I can keep my act together today. No way.”
They sat on stools, huddled in a corner of the coffee shop’s kitchen. Daisy stood at the stove, flipping pancakes and cracking eggs.
“You’ve only got three more weeks,” Daisy reminded her daughter. “Less, actually. After that, you’re golden. You and David will be married and on your honeymoon.”
