The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo

by Linda Reilly

  “You were,” Lara said, the words “his one and only” clinging to her heart. “But you were hurting, and you weren’t thinking straight.” After a lengthy pause, Lara said quietly, “Megan, tell me about the tattoo.”

  Megan gave her a surprised look, then her shoulders sagged. Her voice grew soft. “When I was sixteen, a boy at school invited me to the prom. I’d never really dated, so it took me kind of by surprise. He was sort of cute, though, in a nerdy way. Anyway, I said yes, even though I knew my father would probably go bonkers.”

  “He didn’t want you to date?”

  She shook her head. “He never trusted me. He always assumed the worst, that I’d get myself into trouble.” Her eyes filled. “I wasn’t that kind of girl, Lara. My own father didn’t even know me.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Secretly she was on my side, but she was afraid to speak up to him. Looking back, I realize what a bully he was. When he finally agreed I could go to the prom, he insisted on driving to the mall with Mom and me to pick out my prom dress. He wanted to be sure it was suitable for a girl my age.”

  “Oh, Megan.”

  Megan took in a deep breath. “Anyway, when we got inside the mall, we happened to pass by a pet shop. In the window was this adorable black-and-white kitten. All alone, he was meowing his little heart out. I bent down to talk to him through the glass, and he reached up with his paw and clawed at the window.” She swallowed. “I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry. I begged my father to let me adopt him. I told him I’d skip the prom if I could just have the kitten.”

  Lara was afraid to hear the rest.

  “He laughed at me, literally. Told me he wasn’t going to have some filthy animal living in his home. He said cats belonged in barns, killing mice. And then”—she swallowed—“he flicked his fingers at the glass to frighten the kitten. The poor little thing flinched. The look on that sad little face broke my heart. I ran out to the car, bawling my eyes out.”

  Lara felt her own eyes filling with tears. What a horrible man.

  “The next day, I went to the only tattoo parlor I knew of and asked if I could get a small tattoo of a kitten on my wrist. It was my first attempt at defying my father. They refused, though, because I wasn’t eighteen. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I went back there and got this tattoo.” She held out her wrist. “It’s like, a tribute to that sweet kitten I saw that day. It’s also a reminder of the promise I made to myself, that someday I’ll have a kitten just like this one.”

  Lara went over and hugged her. “Megan, thank you for sharing that with me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. But when you finally got your own place, why didn’t you adopt a kitten?”

  Megan shrugged. “Seems like every place I lived they didn’t allow pets. The one place where they did allow them, I had a roommate who was allergic.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lara said. She couldn’t help thinking of the resemblance between Panda and the kitten tattooed on Megan’s wrist.

  Megan gulped down the remaining dregs of hot chocolate in her mug. “I’d better go. I won’t darken your door again, I promise.” She gave out a little laugh.

  Lara rose and escorted her back to the large parlor. Megan had left her coat on the sofa next to her purse, and Panda had made a cozy little bed from it. He gazed up at Megan and yawned.

  “Oh, gosh, he looks so cute, doesn’t he?” Megan said. She leaned down and hugged the cat, then slid her coat out from under him.

  Lara smiled. “You’re definitely one of his favorite visitors,” she said, hoping to make her feel a little better. “Megan, before you go, have the police found out anything new about Wayne’s cause of death? Was it definitely poison?”

  Megan stuck her arm in a sleeve. “I guess it’s looking that way. My attorney said they’ve ruled out most of the food, since so many other people had shared it. If he was poisoned, someone had to have added it directly to whatever he ate. Knowing Wayne, that was probably just about everything. The only thing he indulged in that no one else did was the cigar he smoked after the party. He’d gone outside to smoke it—Karen was a stickler about that. She didn’t allow smoking in the house.”

  “Interesting,” Lara said. “Did he already have the cigars, or were they a birthday present?”

  “You’re pretty sharp to ask that,” Megan said. “Turned out the cigars had been delivered that morning, wrapped in a beautiful container. They’re being tested at the state police crime lab now.”

  “Was there a note with the cigars?”

  “I’ve told you everything I know, Lara,” Megan said, sounding exasperated now. She buttoned her coat and grabbed her purse off the sofa, then her shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. You and your aunt have been very nice to me. Whatever happens, I won’t forget you, either of you.”

  Lara walked her to the door and wished her luck. The words “if there’s anything I can do…” lingered on her tongue, but she snatched them back. Megan looked as if she wanted to hug Lara, but then quickly turned and left.

  Peering through the front window, Lara watched as Megan trudged out to her car. With her head down and her arms wrapped around herself, she looked like a lost soul.

  Lara went back to the meet-and-greet room and tidied up the table. It was almost eleven. She’d promised to meet Gideon at his office at one.

  Even if she started now, there wasn’t enough time to whip up a batch of scones with the cherry fruit spread inside. She’d have to save that for another day.

  If there was another day.

  A feeling of doom fell over her. Her meeting with Gideon was going to be pivotal. After today, their relationship would turn in one direction or another.

  There would be no in-between.

  Chapter 21

  Before she headed to Gideon’s office, Lara made up two ham and cheese sandwiches with lettuce and tomato. She stuck them in a grocery bag, along with two wrapped dill pickle spears and a large bag of chips. Gideon always had water and coffee in his office, so she didn’t pack any drinks. Remembering the shortbread cookies she’d bought at Felicia’s store a few days earlier, she added those to the bag as well.

  Ten minutes later, she knocked lightly on the door to Gideon’s office and poked her head inside. “Hey,” she said, when she saw him hunched over his desk.

  He looked up sharply but didn’t smile. “Lara, I didn’t even hear the front door open.” He rose quickly and dashed over to take her bag and her jacket. “Still freezing out?”

  She smiled, a gesture he did not return. “Well, it made it all the way into the thirties, so I guess that’s progress. It was seventeen degrees when I woke up. You looked like you were lost in thought there. Busy day?”

  He nodded. “Isn’t it always?”

  My, we’re chatty today, aren’t we?

  It seemed as if things were devolving even before their conversation began. She took a seat in the chair opposite Gideon’s desk and set her tote on the floor.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “I made two huge ham and cheese sandwiches, and I also brought along some shortbread cookies.”

  “Shortbread?” He looked perplexed. “Did you make the cookies?”

  “No, I bought them.” She decided not to reveal where. So far, Gideon’s demeanor hadn’t been too encouraging.

  His face reddened. “Um, actually, Lara, I already had a quick bite for lunch. Marina grabbed a tuna wrap from the coffee shop for me before she left.”

  Lara’s stomach dropped. Hadn’t she mentioned she’d be bringing sandwiches? Or had she left it vague? She couldn’t recall now.

  “That’s okay. Save them for a snack later, or for supper if you’d like.”

  Gideon didn’t bother asking Lara if she was hungry, or if she wanted one of the sandwiches. He plunged right in. “I understand you had a visitor this morni
ng.”

  “I…we, how did you know?”

  He released a long sigh. “I decided to stop by your house around nine thirty. I thought maybe you’d had a few free minutes, and we could talk there instead of here.”

  A few free minutes? Did he think that was all it would take to resolve their differences?

  “But,” he went on, an edge to his tone, “I saw a familiar red car in your driveway, so I didn’t bother to stop.”

  Oh no. Talk about lousy timing.

  “She stopped by uninvited, Gideon,” Lara said, unable to keep the snark out of her own voice. “We talked, and I told her that I couldn’t help her. She opened up about a few things she’d lied about. I guess she wanted to get everything off her chest, so to speak. Bottom line, I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again. Besides, I’m not even sure she’s a prime suspect anymore. Plenty of other people hated Wayne Chancer.”

  Gideon met her gaze with a level one of his own. For the first time since she’d arrived, Lara realized how tired and drawn he looked. Even his eyes were a bit bloodshot. She felt a sudden urge to leap off her chair, rush over to him, and wrap him in a hug.

  But something else, some unseen force, kept her rooted to her seat—the sinking feeling that no matter what she said, or did, it was not going to move him.

  “‘Plenty of other people’,” he repeated, his voice taut. “How do you know that? Who else have you been talking to?”

  Anger, mixed with disappointment, rose inside her like a rogue wave. “I already told you who I talked to, Gideon. Tina Tanaka asked me to meet her at the diner because she wanted to talk about a matter totally unrelated to Megan, or to Wayne Chancer. I’m not going to tell you what it was, because I promised Tina I wouldn’t. It’s private, and it’s confidential. As a lawyer, you should understand that.”

  Gideon’s jaw lowered slightly, and his face paled. He couldn’t have looked more shocked if Lara had physically slapped him.

  More quietly now, Lara said, “I happened to meet Karen Chancer’s dad when I was chatting with Tina, but it was totally inadvertent. I went back to the gourmet food shop because I wanted to buy a few more things—the goodies there are mind-boggling. When Kayla and I were there on Monday, we didn’t really have enough time to browse.”

  Even as she said it, Lara realized how lame it all sounded. And she hadn’t even mentioned her encounter with Karen Chancer yet. Should she spill everything? Or had she done enough damage to their relationship?

  Gideon looked away, his gaze fixed on the watercolor Lara had painted for him. Was he thinking this was the end? That they wouldn’t be seeing each other anymore?

  He turned slightly and folded his hands over his blue desk blotter. “I appreciate your being up front with me, Lara, but I still think you’re holding something back.” His voice was hoarse. “You’ve gone to Bakewell twice, now, and I suspect you’ll go back again. This isn’t just about shoes, or about gourmet treats, is it? Something else is going on.”

  Lara closed her eyes, contemplating her answer. When she opened them, she said, “Think about it, Gideon. If I hadn’t gone to Bakewell on Monday, I’d still be looking for shoes to go with my dress, and Sherry would still be agonizing over her wedding favors. As it is, we’ve resolved both problems—minor though they were in the scheme of things. All I’m saying is, things happen for a reason. You and I have talked about that in the past.”

  “Yes, we have.” He blew out a breath. “So, what’s next?”

  “What’s next? I’m not even sure what you mean by that.” She thought about telling him that Pastor Folger was going to co-officiate Sherry and David’s wedding ceremony, but she held back. With the attitude he was displaying, he didn’t deserve to know. “Right now, I’m focused on doing everything I can to help Sherry with her wedding prep.”

  His smile was flat. “Which includes going back to Bakewell to pick up shoes and fortune cookies. How convenient.”

  Lara felt her stomach do a backflip. “That’s so unfair of you, Gideon. I can’t even believe you said that.”

  He lowered his head but said nothing. Lara saw his eyes water.

  “When you feel like talking—I mean, really talking, which includes listening—please let me know. You know how to reach me.”

  She bent down and grabbed her tote, then went toward the door.

  Gideon came after her. Her hand was already on the doorknob when he gently took her arm. “Lara, wait. Before you go, I need to say something. I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I’ve been able to express.” His voice faltered. “I’m just so afraid that one day something will happen, like before, and I won’t be able to get there in time to help you. It’s my worst fear.”

  Something inside Lara melted, and a tear leaked from her eye. “I totally get that. Honestly, I do. I know I’ve gotten myself into a few…scrapes in the past.”

  “‘Scrapes’?” He gaped at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “Is that what you call them?”

  “Okay, it was worse than that,” she admitted. “But think of the good that came from them. Think of the bad guys sitting behind bars right now who might otherwise be walking the streets.”

  He shook his head. He released her arm, and with his thumb blotted the tear crawling down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Lara, but I just can’t see it that way. I don’t understand why you have to be a one-woman crusader for justice.”

  “My God, is that how you see me?”

  He held out his arms and shrugged. “Okay, maybe that was too strong. But please, Lara, please try to see things from where I’m standing.” He took her hand in his. “Just try, okay?”

  She closed her eyes, but not to do as he asked. She had to figure out where to go from here.

  Lara squeezed his hand and pulled in a calming breath. “After the wedding, we’ll have plenty of time to sit down and work things out. Right now, I don’t want to see anything happen that could spoil Sherry’s special day. Can we at least agree on that?”

  Slowly, he removed his hand from hers and gave her a brisk nod, his eyes full of pain. “Yes, we can,” he said quietly.

  Afraid of bursting into tears, Lara kissed him lightly on the cheek and hurried outside. She thought she heard him calling her name, but if he did, it was too late.

  He’d asked her to try to see his point of view and she’d blatantly ignored him. If he’d done that to her, she’d be furious.

  Lara drove back to the shelter, slowing to a near-crawl to allow for her blurry vision. The moment she pulled into the driveway, her phone pinged with a text. She dug it out of her tote, praying it was from Gideon begging her to return to his office.

  Her stomach clenched when she saw the name.

  Karen Chancer.

  Lara read the text.

  Lara, would you mind if I called you? I want to ask a favor from you.

  Her finger hovered above the text. Delete it, she told herself. Pretend you never saw it.

  She tapped the Reply box.

  Sure. Call any time.

  Chapter 22

  Lara groaned and dropped her head on the kitchen table. “Oh God, Aunt Fran. She wants me to go to her husband’s memorial service with her on Monday. When I saw her at the Peach Crate yesterday, she never even mentioned a service.” In her lap, Munster let out a squeak of alarm. “Sorry, sweetie, did I scare you?” She bent and kissed his furry orange head. He closed his eyes and purred to let her know he was okay.

  “But why?” Aunt Fran asked. “You only met her once, and you’re not a friend of the family. I really think she’s taking advantage of your generous nature.”

  “I know. I know.” Lara moaned again, this time careful not to disturb her lap cat. “She said that half the town thinks she poisoned her husband. She’s afraid everyone will be gossiping about her and pointing fingers at her.”

  Aunt Fran pushed her
laptop aside and took a slow sip of her fragrant tea—one of the specialty flavors Lara had picked up at the Peach Crate. “But her dad will be there, won’t he? Isn’t that better than having a near-stranger accompany you?”

  Lara sighed. “She said her dad will be ‘running interference,’ as she put it. She wants me there for moral support. I get the sense that she doesn’t have a huge support group of friends.”

  The more Lara thought about it, the more she wished she’d grown a backbone and refused Karen Chancer’s request. No way did she want to attend that memorial service. Besides, she had no right to be there. She never knew the man, and so far, she hadn’t met anyone who’d had a kind word to say about him.

  “Maybe between now and then the police will have caught the killer,” Aunt Fran said.

  “That would be wonderful,” Lara said, “but I’m not hanging my hopes on it.”

  “Lara, not to bring up a touchy subject, but how did things go with Gideon this morning?”

  Lara shook her head. “Not good. He said he didn’t understand why I had to be a ‘one-woman crusader for justice.’ That’s exactly how he worded it.”

  “Oh, Lara. This breaks my heart.”

  Mine, too, Lara thought, but didn’t dare voice it for fear of spilling more tears.

  “We agreed that we’ll let things stay in a lull until after the wedding. But then, we have some serious things to work out.” If they can ever be worked out.

  Aunt Fran absently stroked the black cat nestled in her lap. Her expression grew pensive, as if she was debating with herself whether or not to speak her mind. Then, “Lara, there’s something I never told you about my husband’s death.”

  Lara stared at her. “I always assumed it was too difficult for you to talk about it.”

  “The memory still hurts, but not as much as it once did. Brian died in the midst of a raging snowstorm. He stopped on the highway to help a stranded motorist and a plow hit him straight-on.” Her eyes welled.