by Linda Reilly
“How did you know about the texts?” Lara asked.
Megan slid her fingers through Panda’s fur. “He used to leave his cell phone on his desk whenever he went to the, you know, john,” she said, blushing. “Look, I’m embarrassed to admit I did this, but there were days when he acted real testy, like he was mad at something. I was afraid it was me he was mad at, that I’d screwed something up, so I peeked at his phone. That’s when I discovered he’d been text-stalking Tina.”
Lara felt ill. What a lowlife. “Did Tina respond?”
“At first, she told him to stop bothering her, but that only made him escalate. Finally, she texted something like ‘does the term restraining order mean anything to you?’ It infuriated him. The Band-Aid incident happened shortly after that. Lara, I’m almost sure it was a setup. I think that Band-Aid was planted.”
If Megan was telling the truth, then Wayne Chancer was truly the lowest of the low, in Lara’s mind. It also meant that Tina Tanaka had good reason to loathe the man. Even so, it might have had nothing to do with his death.
“There’s still something I don’t understand,” Lara said. “After those creepy texts your ex-boss sent to Tina, wasn’t it a conflict of interest for him to represent the plaintiff in the tainted soup matter? Seems like any judge with his head on straight would’ve removed him from the case.”
“Maybe, but the Tanakas never told anyone about those awful texts. Even though Tina was the victim, I think they were afraid of what people might say about her. Like I said before, they’re super old-fashioned, and very protective. That’s why I wish they’d gotten their own attorney.”
“Have the police spoken to Tina?” Lara asked. “I mean, they must have looked at Wayne’s cell phone, right?”
“I’m not sure. So far, my attorney hasn’t shared that with me. Plus, if Wayne did set up the Tanakas, it’s possible he deleted the texts first.”
Lara knew the authorities had ways to retrieve deleted texts, but they had to have reason to suspect something first. With so many potential culprits, Lara couldn’t help wondering why the police were so focused on Megan. Or were they? Was it possible that Megan had exaggerated her situation in order to gain sympathy from Gideon?
The thought had no sooner left her mind when Megan said, in a wobbly voice, “Lara, after I crashed Wayne’s birthday party and screamed all sorts of accusations at him, I said a really dumb thing. I told him he’d better watch what he ate and drank because nearly every guest in that room had reason to want him dead.”
Chapter 8
“Talk about being your own worst enemy,” Aunt Fran said, absently petting the long-haired black cat curled in her lap.
“I know. For someone who’s clearly quite bright, she did a very dumb thing.” It made Lara wonder what else Megan might have done to harm her own case.
“I don’t see that you can do much to help her.” Aunt Fran gave her a wry smile. “This is one murder you can leave to the police. Thank heaven for that,” she added.
Lara nodded, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Blue. Why had her spirit cat landed almost on Megan’s shoulder? And why had the Ragdoll given Lara that enigmatic look, as if to say, You need to think about why I’m here.
Lara went into the storage room and pulled out a large container of kitty litter.
“Now, back to Sherry’s problem,” Aunt Fran said when she returned. “Are you going to speak to Pastor Folger?”
“I think so,” Lara said. “Sherry’s no shrinking violet, but I think she feels weird approaching him because she doesn’t really go to church.”
It was one of the many things on Lara’s agenda for the day, if the pastor was available, that was.
A car door slammed in the parking area near the shelter entrance.
Lara grinned. “Yay. That must be Kayla.”
A minute later, Kayla knocked on the kitchen door, then let herself in. She’d gotten so comfortable with Lara and her aunt that she didn’t need to wait for them to answer.
“God, it’s freakin’ cold out there,” she grumbled. “My glasses are even fogged up.”
Lara hugged her. “Take off your things. Want some tea?”
“I’d love some,” Kayla said. She draped her puffy jacket and accessories over a chair. “I’ve missed you guys! Exams were like, brutal, but I think I did pretty well. Time will tell, right?”
“I’m sure you aced them,” Aunt Fran said with conviction. “So, you’re on vacation from school this week?”
“Glory, yes,” Kayla exclaimed. “I can spend as much time as I want here. Well, as long as you want me around.”
At the sound of Kayla’s voice, Panda strutted into the kitchen.
“Hey, there’s my buddy,” Kayla said, scooping the black-and-white feline into her arms. “Ooh, I’ve missed you. I think your whiskers are even longer than they were last week!” She tucked Panda’s head under her chin and sat down, setting the cat in her lap. “Quick cup of tea, then we’ll get to work, right?”
“Right,” Lara agreed. “Let’s change the litter boxes first and then go on to the grooming. After that I want to see if we can work up something for the local paper. I’ve been thinking about writing an editorial urging people not to abandon cats in dumb places, especially in this freezing weather.”
“Amen to that,” Kayla said.
A thought tickled Lara’s brain. The one thing she hadn’t yet bought for Sherry’s wedding were the shoes to match her teal-blue maid-of-honor dress. Because she wore a narrow size, she had better luck finding shoes online than she did in the stores.
Ivory would be perfect, especially if she could find a pair of low heels in satin. She’d tried finding something online that appealed to her, but hadn’t landed on anything she liked enough to risk buying them without trying them on.
Hmmm. Hadn’t Megan said that Tina Tanaka worked at a bridal shop in Bakewell?
Keeping that little tidbit to herself, she chatted with Kayla for a bit over a cup of tea, and then they got to work.
“So, how’re things in the dating world?” Lara said while they were changing the litter boxes upstairs.
Kayla had recently met someone who’d transferred to one of her classes. According to Kayla, he loved cats as much as she did. They’d had a few “coffee” dates, but so far that was it.
Kayla’s face brightened. She pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “Um, hard to say, but I think it’s progressing. I’m not counting my chickens…yet,” she added. “But at least he has his head on straight, which is more than you-know-who did.”
The summer before, Kayla had started dating a man who’d come out of a dysfunctional marriage. While he’d been sweet and respectful toward Kayla, his pain over losing his ex was still too raw. They’d parted on good terms, but Lara knew Kayla had been hurt.
“What about you?” Kayla asked, deftly switching gears. She mimicked tilting her ear toward downtown Whisker Jog. “Are those wedding bells I hear tinkling from the coffee shop?”
Lara chuckled, but a piece of her heart ached. It seemed she and Gideon were even further than ever from making that final commitment.
“Those are Sherry and David’s wedding bells,” Lara said firmly, trying to sound casual. “And I, for one, can’t wait to see them tie the knot.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m so psyched that Sherry invited me to the wedding. Hey, did you ever find shoes to go with your dress? I’ve been out of the loop for almost a week.”
Lara tied up a trash bag and set it down in a corner of the upstairs hallway. “No, but someone told me there’s a bridal shop in Bakewell. I’m thinking of taking a drive over there to see what I can find.”
“Bakewell.” Kayla pulled her cell out of her jeans pocket and tapped at it. “Oh my God. That’s where I heard about Bakewell recently. Some guy was found dead in the snow at his house a few nights ago. The cops a
re saying it was not an accident.” She looked at Lara. “Did you know about it?”
Lara winced. “Unfortunately, yes. One of the people the police are looking closely at just happens to be an old girlfriend of Gideon’s.”
Kayla’s eyes widened. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.” Lara sighed. “She came to see me, a little while ago.”
“Who came to see you?” Kayla squeaked. “Gideon’s old girlfriend?”
Lara nodded. “Let’s take the trash out. I’ll tell you about it while we brush the cats.”
They took they trash bags downstairs. Lara ran outside and dumped them in the outside barrel.
Aunt Fran was at the kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her. She looked deep in thought, and merely waved at them as they trotted back upstairs.
In Lara’s bedroom, they each took a cat and began brushing. Sienna looked blissful, but Amber, as always, was a bit skittish. Once Kayla began cooing to her and softly running the brush over her fur, Amber closed her eyes and submitted to the grooming.
Lara told Kayla everything. She began with Megan stopping at the coffee shop for directions on Friday, right through her visit to Lara that morning.
Kayla looked stunned. “What did Gideon say about all this?”
“He doesn’t know about Megan’s visit here this morning.” And I’m on the fence about sharing. “He told me yesterday that he’s washed his hands of any involvement with her. He helped her out on Saturday when she was in a pinch, but she’s already hired a criminal lawyer to represent her so he’s out of it.” Completely, I hope.
“You’re not seriously thinking of helping her, are you?” Kayla said. She tickled Amber under the chin.
Lara gazed down at Sienna. “Kayla, I honestly don’t know what to do. When Megan was here this morning, Panda jumped right into her lap on the sofa. But then…I looked over and saw Blue nestled up against her shoulder. Blue was staring at me, like she was trying to get some point across. I know that sounds crazy, but—”
“Not to me, it doesn’t.”
Other than Aunt Fran and Gideon, Kayla was the only person in whom Lara had confided about her spirit cat. In fact, she’d been the first one to learn about her.
Kayla removed Amber’s hair from the rubber brush and looked at Lara. “I know you wanted to work on that editorial today, but I’ll be back tomorrow so we can work on it then. I think you and I should take a ride to Bakewell this afternoon and look for those shoes.”
Lara smiled. “Maybe to a certain bridal shop?”
Chapter 9
Bakewell turned out to be about a forty-minute drive from Aunt Fran’s. The town center was longer than Whisker Jog’s, and, Lara had to admit, a bit more picturesque.
Despite the cold, and the dreary feel of winter, the sidewalks looked meticulously maintained.
Lara pulled the Saturn into the parking lot of an eatery dubbed Joey’s Diner. Housed in an old-fashioned railroad car, it looked both quaint and inviting. Since it was mid-afternoon, only a few cars dotted the lot.
“Are you hungry all of a sudden?” Kayla smiled over at Lara.
“Not really. I just wanted to park somewhere to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Did you figure out the name of the bridal shop?”
Kayla tapped at her cell phone. “I had it a minute ago. Yup. Here it is. Valeria’s Bridal Salon. Forty-two Main.” She pointed at the windshield. “Should be in the next block, according to Google Maps.”
“Good ol’ Google,” Lara said, grinning. She pulled out of the diner’s parking lot and headed up the street. Luckily, the bridal shop had its own parking area behind the pastel-painted building.
“Wait a minute,” Lara said, passing by the bridal place. “Does that sign up ahead say the Peach Crate—Gourmet Delights?”
Kayla squinted through the windshield toward the right side of the street. “Um…yeah, it does, but you just went past the bridal shop. What’s so important about the Peach Crate?”
“Gideon said that Chancer’s wife sold her jams and jellies at a gourmet shop in Bakewell. How much you want to bet…?” She raised her eyebrows at Kayla.
“Now I know why you catch so many killers,” Kayla said dryly. “You think of things that never would’ve crossed my mind.”
“I don’t really catch killers,” Lara insisted. “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lara lucked out by finding a diagonal parking spot directly in front of the shop. She angled the Saturn into the space and killed the engine.
“So, what are we trying to find out?” Kayla said.
“I’m not sure, so let’s play it by ear. Maybe we can subtly work Karen Chancer’s name into the conversation with whoever’s working there.”
“Roger.” Kayla gave her a two-fingered salute.
A bell tinkled over the door when they stepped inside the shop. A heavenly scent immediately drifted over them—a combo of vanilla and peach, Lara thought.
Wooden shelves stacked with all sorts of goodies were placed strategically throughout the store. Terrified she might accidentally break something, Lara pulled her elbows close to her ribs as they strolled among the shelves. At the back of the store, an elderly woman stood behind a counter that was designed to look like a wooden peach crate. It had to have been handmade, and by someone quite clever with a hammer and nails.
“Good afternoon,” the woman called to them. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with. Everything in here is homemade in New Hampshire.”
With that opening, Lara went over to her. A heart-shaped crystal bowl filled with chocolate candies wrapped in red foil rested on the counter. Resisting them, Lara said, “This is a darling shop you have here. So, everything is made in New Hampshire?”
The woman, slim and petite with a helmet of dove-gray hair, nodded vigorously. “Yes they are, and I’m so proud of that. My vendors are all top-notch chefs and bakers. Their goods are vetted before they’re allowed to display here.”
A sharp businesswoman, Lara thought.
“Also,” the woman said, pulling her green cardigan closer around her chest, “the pottery on that shelf along the wall is locally made. I’m Felicia Tristany, by the way. I own the shop.” Her pink-tinted smile was kind and genuine.
Lara and Kayla introduced themselves, but Lara was careful to disclose only her given name.
“Are you here for anything in particular?” Felicia asked.
“No, but I can never resist homemade goodies. When I spotted your sign, I just had to come in.” She could almost feel Kayla rolling her eyes behind her.
Felicia nodded. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Take your time and look around.”
And look around they did.
One entire shelf was devoted to homemade shortbread cookies of every shape and design. Lara snagged a wire basket from the front of the store and placed two packages of almond-flavored shortbread inside. They’d be perfect for adoption days, especially since the shelter occasionally ran out of Daisy’s adorable cat-shaped cookies.
Kayla strolled the aisles, wide-eyed. Lara knew she had a wicked sweet tooth, so she was probably deciding how to treat herself without overspending.
“Kayla, I’m treating to whatever we buy today.”
“No! You don’t have to—”
“I insist,” Lara said quietly. “I’m grateful that you came here with me. I didn’t really want to do it alone.”
Kayla gave in and plucked a stack of cellophane-wrapped, raspberry-filled cookies from one of the shelves.
Lara sidled over to a shelf where jams and jellies were displayed. One brand in particular caught her eye—Karen’s Fruit Spreads. She lifted a jar labeled Karen’s Peachy Fine Spread. It was a mason jar covered with a swatch of orange-checkered cloth and tied with a length of twine. Lara read the label: Made with
love by Karen Chancer. All comments welcome. Below that, a link to a Web site was shown. Lara placed the jar into her basket and glanced over the other flavors.
Kayla came up behind her. “Oh, ugh,” she said, a bit too loudly. She pointed at a jar containing an olive-green spread. “Who would want to eat avocado jam?”
“Lots of people, probably,” Lara said, worried that Felicia might’ve heard her. “Avocado is very healthy, you know.”
Kayla wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass.” She reached for a jar of cherry fruit spread. “Gram will love this. She goes nuts for anything with cherries.”
Gideon also loved cherry-flavored anything. Lara grabbed a jar for herself.
Felicia came up behind them. “I see you’ve found Karen Chancer’s products.” She shook her head sadly. “Poor woman. You may have heard about it on the news. Her husband—”
“Was murdered!” Kayla blurted. “Yeah, I watched it last night. The cops still don’t know what killed him, though, right?”
Lara appreciated Kayla’s zeal, but wished she’d tone it down a bit.
“That’s right,” Felicia said. “In my opinion, he probably had a plain old heart attack. But for some reason the police seem to suspect foul play. Wayne was a…big man. Husky, with a large belly. While I certainly didn’t know him very well, I suspect he indulged in foods that weren’t exactly the healthiest.”
“Well, we all do that at times,” Lara said. “How well do you know Mrs. Chancer?”
Felicia smiled. “Actually, I know her quite well. She’s a lovely lady, the total opposite of her—” Felicia pursed her lips. “Never mind. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead. I was raised better than that.”
“I understand,” Lara said somberly. “This must be a tough time for Mrs. Chancer. Does she have family close by?”
“Only her dad,” Felicia said. “She was an only child. Her mom died some time ago. Her dad’s a local Realtor—Gary Becker. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
