by Linda Reilly
Sally pressed her fingers to her lips, and her husband picked up on the cue.
“Her father, my brother-in-law,” Art piped in, “was not a very loving father. He’d wanted a boy, and their only child turned out to be a girl.” He frowned in disapproval. “I don’t think a day went by when he didn’t let her know it.”
Sally pulled in a deep breath and picked up the thread. “Nothing our niece did was ever good enough for him,” she said. “If she got an A on a math test, he’d demand to know why she hadn’t scored an A-plus. One time—oh, it was awful—he even demanded that the teacher show him a list of the test scores of all the other students in the class. He wanted to see how they compared to Megan’s.”
Lara nearly gasped. “The teacher didn’t do it, I hope.”
“No, of course she didn’t. She had more integrity than that, and she saw exactly what my brother was trying to do—humiliate his own daughter.”
Lara felt suddenly heartsick. It confirmed what Megan had implied about her dad, that he was a controlling bully. “What about Megan’s mom? Didn’t she have any say in all this?”
Sally gave her husband a pained look, and then, “No, I’m sorry to say she was as bullied by my brother as Megan was. We tried to gently intervene whenever we could, but we had to be careful. With my brother, it would’ve been easy to make matters worse.”
“Truth be told,” Art said quietly, “we’d have raised Megan ourselves, if we could have.”
“Art and I were never able to have children,” Sally added.
“At one point, we even consulted an attorney,” Art went on. “The problem was, as we were told, her father’s treatment didn’t rise to the level of abuse. He was strict and demanding, but he only wanted the best for his daughter. Plus, Megan excelled in school, so her parents’ upbringing didn’t throw up any red flags.”
Megan was trying so hard to please them, Lara thought sadly, she didn’t dare not score good grades.
“Once or twice, we tried to gently suggest having Megan come and live with us.” Sally’s lips pursed. “The look my brother gave us would’ve stopped a charging bull in its tracks.”
“Does Megan ever see her mom and dad? I mean, do they live close by?”
Again, the exchange of looks.
Finally, Sally spoke. “They moved to Hollis several years ago, but Megan rarely sees them. In fact, she spends all her holidays with us. Her parents don’t even invite her anymore. They’re too busy trying to impress their fancy friends.” Her words, spoken through tight lips, had an undertone of bitterness.
How awful, Lara thought. “She’s not even close to her mom?”
Art spoke this time. “Her mom is—how can I put this—a puppet of my brother-in-law. He controls the strings. She dances.”
Kayla appeared in the doorway carrying a tray. Lara suspected she’d overheard at least part of their conversation. She came in and set down a flowered teapot, along with mugs, spoons, cream, sugar, lemon wedges, and a small pile of napkins.
“Oh, this looks lovely,” Sally chirped. “You didn’t need to do all this.”
“We’re happy to do it,” Kayla said, sliding onto the one free chair. “Please, help yourselves.”
Sally fixed herself a cup of tea with sugar and cream, but her husband declined. Kayla made up a mug for both herself and Lara.
“Mr. and Mrs. Emerson—” Lara began.
“Please, it’s Sally and Art.” Sally took a tiny sip from her mug.
“Okay. Sally and Art, I’m sorry to hear about Megan’s troubles as a child, and I can see how much she means to you, but I’m still not sure why you’re here.”
Art’s face flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to ramble.”
“As you know, Megan is living with us now,” Sally said, then smiled. “We’d have her live with us forever, if we could, but it’s not what’s right for her. For her own sake, Megan needs to make her own way in the world, find her own brand of happiness.”
Such kind, good people, Lara thought. She couldn’t help wondering, if Megan had been raised in their household, would she have developed more self-esteem? Lara suspected that Megan’s self-destructive tendencies were, at least partly, the result of her stern upbringing.
It was Sally’s turn to flush. “Lara, we…have a confession. We are here about a cat, but we have some news to share first.”
Art sighed. “Around eleven o’clock last night, the police caught Megan snooping around Wayne Chancer’s locked office. She was arrested and charged with unlawful entry.”
Chapter 26
“What?” Lara said. “Did they hold her?”
Art shook his head. “No, fortunately. They released her to our custody. Here’s the thing—technically, Megan had a key to the office, since she used to work there. When Chancer fired her, he didn’t think to ask for it back.”
“Megan mailed the key back to him about a week later, but before she did, she had a copy made.”
Not good, Lara thought. Megan was getting herself in deeper trouble, when she should be trying hard to do the opposite.
“Did she say why she did it?” Lara asked wearily.
“She said she was looking for something, a phone number,” Art explained. “She remembered a call Chancer had gotten shortly before he fired her. Something the caller said had scared him, badly, and Megan wanted to find that number. She was hoping it might still be on the caller ID. If she could find it, she thought it might help lead to his killer. She told the police she was only trying to help them.”
But Megan worked as a paralegal. She had to know that was the wrong way to go about it.
“Did she take anything?” Lara asked, dreading the answer.
“No, thank the Lord.” Art smiled weakly and crossed himself. “That worked in Megan’s favor. Her lawyer’s working on getting the charges dropped, so probably nothing will come of it. Problem is, it gives the police yet another reason to look more closely at her for Chancer’s death.”
Lara felt as if her head was going to explode. What Megan was doing to herself was bad enough. But with every day that passed, she was dragging Lara further into the nightmare that was Wayne Chancer’s death. She couldn’t help wondering if she was being manipulated. Did Megan send these kindly people here to lobby on her behalf?
Sally must have sensed Lara’s frustration. “Lara, I know we’ve rambled on for a long time, so we’ll get to the real reason we’re here.” She waggled a forefinger at her husband’s shirt. “Show her the pictures, hon.”
Art reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. He extracted a short stack of photos and gave them to Lara. “This is our old cat, Maisie. She died back in, oh, let’s see, was it two thousand thirteen, Sal?”
“That’s right,” Sally confirmed. “She’d been living outside until we took her in. Our vet’s best guess is that she was fourteen or fifteen when she died.” She blinked back tears.
“The other photos are of our other cats. They go way back.”
Lara smiled at the photos. Maisie had been a pure black cat with large gold eyes. The pictures of the other two cats were fuzzy, but one was clearly a calico.
“Lara,” Art said, “I’ll cut to the chase. We, Sally and I, would like to adopt your black-and-white cat, Panda.”
The mouthful of tea Lara had just swallowed rose up in her throat. Choking, she grabbed a napkin and coughed into it, trying to get back her breath. She was surprised to feel a small but firm hand clapping her on the back.
“There, there,” Sally said. “Are you okay now?”
Lara nodded. “Sorry. I must’ve choked on something.”
Sally sat down again. “I think something went down the wrong pipe.”
Kayla gave Lara an alarmed look. Lara didn’t know if it was because she’d nearly choked, or because the Emersons wanted to adopt a cat they
hadn’t even met.
Where to begin.
While Lara didn’t doubt the couple’s sincerity, she was wary of their motive. She smiled at the pair. “May I ask why? You haven’t even met Panda, and I’m afraid I can’t help wondering about the timing.”
Sally nodded, and Art reddened and cleared his throat. “We understand, totally,” he said. “But we’ve had cats before, and I know the vet we used in the past would vouch for us. We…we want to do it for Megan’s sake, as well as for our own. She’s taken quite a liking to Panda.”
Lara floundered for a response. Finally, she said, “We’ll be glad to introduce you to Panda, but forgive me for asking: Would Panda be your cat or Megan’s?”
Sally and Art shot each other another odd look. “He would be ours, certainly,” Sally said, hedging a bit. “The thing is, at some point in the future, if Megan can get her life together and find a good job, we’ll help her find a nice place of her own to live. If she does, we’d be willing to let Panda go with her. It would help her emotionally, and we know she’d give him a loving home.”
Lara suppressed a groan. So many things were wrong with this scenario.
She didn’t doubt for a moment that the Emersons were gentle people who could give Panda a loving home. The issue was that they wanted to adopt him for the wrong reasons. By their own admission, they’d be willing to uproot the kitty and turn him over to Megan to help her get her act together, so to speak.
The kitten tattoo on Megan’s wrist suddenly popped into her mind. Its resemblance to Panda had been startling. Lara remembered the sadness in Megan’s expression when she’d related the tattoo story. But Lara’s first responsibility was to Panda. She needed to be sure he went to a stable home.
“Art, Sally,” Lara said, “I really have to give some thought to this, and I’d like to talk to my aunt as well. She’s the co-owner of the shelter.”
Sally’s face fell. “You…don’t think we’re good enough to adopt Panda?”
“Oh no, I do, absolutely,” Lara said, feeling terrible that she’d offended them. “It’s just—”
In the next instant, a flutter of movement caught Lara’s eye. She looked over to see Blue sitting placidly at Sally’s elbow, her turquoise gaze fixed on Art. Lara started to say something, but the words got trapped in her throat and she lost the thread of her thought. She saw Kayla staring at her with a worried expression.
For several seconds, time seemed to freeze. Then, with a flick of her furry tail, Blue was gone.
“Lara,” Art said, sending a silent message to his wife, “we understand your hesitation, honestly we do. We don’t have to meet Panda today, but please give some thought to our request. We’re well aware that this”—his lip curled—“situation with Chancer isn’t over yet. But when it is, and the police find the real killer, we’re going to see to it that Megan gets all the help she needs to start over. We only want the best for her. We always have.”
“I know you do,” Lara said, believing it with all her heart. These were good people dealing with a dicey situation.
As Art and Sally began shrugging on their coats, something jingled in Sally’s pocket. Looking at her husband, she fished out an old-fashioned flip phone and opened it. When she saw who the caller was, she paled slightly. “Hello?”
Her husband watched her anxiously as he buttoned his coat.
“That’s…interesting news,” Sally told the caller, “I actually can’t talk right now. Can I call you back in an hour or so?”
After several more seconds, Sally closed the phone and slipped it back into her pocket.
“Was that Meggie?” Art asked her, looking concerned. “Is she okay?”
“No, it wasn’t Megan. It’s nothing important. I’ll tell you in the car.”
Lara’s heart wrenched. These two people loved Megan so much. They’d do anything for her—she felt sure of it.
Sally hugged Lara and Kayla before they left. “We’ll be in touch,” she whispered in Lara’s ear.
After the Emersons had pulled out of the driveway, Kayla dropped her head on the table. “My God, that was excruciating.”
“I know.” Lara cupped her hand over her forehead. “Megan’s lucky to have such a caring aunt and uncle, but she’s still doing crazy things.”
Kayla lifted her head and shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t so crazy.” She swallowed the last dregs of her tea. “Tell you the truth, Lara, if I were in her place, I might’ve used my key to check out Chancer’s office, too.”
“Seriously?” Lara said, shocked. “Kayla, she’s getting herself in deeper and deeper. She needs to let the police do their job. That’s the only way the murder is ever going to be resolved.”
“Come on, even you don’t believe that.” She plunked the dirty mugs and spoons onto the tray and rose from her chair.
Lara groaned and followed her into the kitchen. Munster, who’d been loitering near the door to the meet-and-greet room, trailed behind them.
“Kayla, I’m not getting any more involved in this,” Lara said with more conviction than she felt. “I’m done.”
“What are you talking about? You’re involved up to your eyeballs! You’ve been to Bakewell twice, and now you’re going to the memorial service.”
Lara remained silent. Everything Kayla said was true.
While Kayla finished up the dishes, Lara added a few treats to each of the cat bowls. Panda, with his bat-like hearing, came running into the kitchen.
Kayla dried her hands on a paper towel. “Lara, I’m sorry if I sounded like I was attacking you. I guess I can be a little blunt at times.”
Lara shook her head. “You weren’t attacking me. If there’s one thing I can always count on from you it’s honesty, and I appreciate that. But this murder business, it’s getting old, you know?”
“I know,” Kayla said softly. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be so flip about Blue before. I won’t mention her again.”
Lara smiled at her. She and Aunt Fran had grown so close to Kayla. Kayla had started out as a shelter assistant, and then turned into a friend, both to her and Aunt Fran. Now she was more like a member of the family. “Kayla, you can mention Blue any time you want. It actually helps me to feel, you know, validated—like I’m not going totally nuts.”
“You’re not going nuts. Don’t ever think that.” Kayla shot a glance at the clock. “Shoot. I forgot to tell you, I have to leave at three today. There’s a memorial mass for my grandpa tonight at six, and I have to take my gram.”
“Not a problem,” Lara said, then an idea struck her. “Since no one’s here right now, can I get your thoughts on something? It won’t take very long.”
“You bet,” Kayla said.
“Great. Be right back.”
Lara went into her studio and retrieved the photos Amy had sent her of the farmhouse. She returned to the kitchen and spread them out on the table, then pushed the first one toward Kayla.
“This is the photo Amy gave me when she first asked me to do the watercolor for her.”
Kayla sat down and pulled her chair closer to the table. Panda scooted underneath the table and slipped silently onto her lap.
“Oh, I just love Amy’s house,” Kayla gushed. “That’s my dream, you know, to live in a big old farmhouse where I can adopt cats to my heart’s content.”
Lara laughed. “I can absolutely picture that.” She slid the other two photos over to Kayla. “These two pics are more recent—Amy took them a day or two ago. All three photos were taken in the winter, but there’s something in the first one that’s different. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Hmmm.” Kayla studied the photos, her brow wrinkled in concentration. Then her eyes lit up. “Did you see the cardinal in this one? He’s not in the others.”
“I did see it,” Lara said. “Isn’t it amazing the way he appeared suddenly the second pic?
”
Kayla nodded slowly, studying all the photos. “The only thing I can think of, and I might be imagining it, is that the patches of dried leaves along the border of the house look different in the first picture. Although it’s hard to really see that through the bits of snow cover. My eyes might be playing a trick on me.”
Animated now, Lara snatched the photos back and turned them around. “Good glory, I think you’re right.” She held up a finger. “Be back in a sec.”
Lara went back to her studio and returned holding up a magnifying glass. “My handy-dandy spyglass.” She sat down again and examined the photos.
Kayla rubbed Panda’s head, triggering a turbo-charged purr. “Can I ask why it’s so important?”
Lara sighed. “At least twice, now, Blue has tried to make me look harder at the first photo.”
Kayla sat up straighter, and her eyes flew open wider. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. In one of these photos, there has to be a clue she’s trying to get across to you.”
Gazing again through the magnifying glass, Lara studied the original photo. “I think you’re right. The leaves are different in this one. They’re just a tad larger.” She moved the magnifier over to the other two photos. “In these two pictures, the leaves are smaller, but the frozen stems are more visible.”
“Yeah,” Kayla said. “They remind me of my gram’s petunias last October, after the frost finally did them in. She should have dug them out of the flower boxes sooner, but she never got around to it, and I’m not much of a gardener.”
With an exasperated sigh, Lara set down the magnifier. “Listen to us. We sound like a couple of characters out of a kids’ detective story.” Lara laughed and gathered up the photos. “Hey, thanks for your input. I don’t see how the dried leaves can mean anything, but I’ll ask Amy about it anyway.”
Kayla glanced at the clock again and made a face. “I guess I’d better go. Adoption hours are almost over, anyway. What do you think you’ll do about the Emersons?”
“I seriously don’t know. I want to talk to Aunt Fran about it. There’s no reason why we have to make an instant decision.”
