The Girl with the Kitten Tattoo

by Linda Reilly

  “That’s fine. I’m happy that you found her a great home. Can I drop off Holly and Noella to you tomorrow, or is that too soon?” Glenna ventured.

  Holly and Noella. What adorable names! “That’ll be perfect,” Lara agreed.

  “Terrific. I’m dying to see your shelter, too. I think it could be a model for others to follow, if they have the right kind of home and the resources.”

  They set up an appointment for ten on Sunday morning. Several children had set up times to read to a cat in the afternoon, so the timing would be perfect.

  Lara went into the kitchen to tell Aunt Fran.

  “Oh, that’s marvelous,” her aunt said. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Yeah, me, too. The woman from the shelter was so grateful.”

  For the next half hour or so, Lara prepared the isolation room for Holly and Noella. Glenna hadn’t described the cats, so she was anxious to see them. In spite of both cats having clean bills of health, Lara thought it would be best to give them their own space for a few days. That way she could spend some quality time alone with them and assess their personalities. After that she’d introduce them to the rest of the household. She didn’t anticipate any problems, unless Panda decided to get territorial.

  Lara suddenly realized she was starving. The excitement over the new cats had taken her mind off her troubles, and her stomach.

  “Hey,” she said to her aunt when she was back in the kitchen, “want to have pizza for supper? I’ll have it delivered, so we don’t have to trek out in the cold to pick it up.”

  Aunt Fran pushed aside her laptop. “I’ve done a lot of work on my book today, and you’ve made arrangements to take in two new cats. Yes, I think we deserve a pizza.”

  “Good. It’s my treat, so don’t start pulling out your wallet.”

  Her aunt laughed, while Lara called in an order for a pepperoni and onion pizza. They set out plates and napkins, and the pizza arrived thirty minutes later. They both dug in right away so they could eat it nice and hot.

  “Have you heard from Gideon today?” Aunt Fran asked, after swallowing a bite of the cheesy pie.

  Lara shook her head. “I have not,” she said, picking off a pepperoni round. “And honestly, I don’t even want to think about it. I’ve decided that what will be, will be. I’m getting quite fatalistic in my old age.” She popped the pepperoni slice into her mouth.

  Aunt Fran nodded but kept her expression blank.

  They chatted about the incoming cats, and how fun it was going to be to have some fresh feline faces in the house. Then Lara remembered Kayla’s text with the links she’d sent earlier. She told Aunt Fran what she’d learned when she followed the links.

  “Well, that adds to the picture, doesn’t it?” Her aunt’s brow furrowed with worry. “All the more reason for you to stay out of it, Lara. If there’s any connection to Chancer’s past, I’m sure the police are already on top of it.”

  She was probably right. Knowing State Police Lieutenant Conrad Cutler, he’d probably already examined every detail of Chancer’s life, from birth until his sad demise.

  But what if he hadn’t? The charges against the “unnamed juvenile” had been dropped, she recalled from the article. If that had, indeed, been Chancer, did that mean his juvenile records had been sealed, or that they simply didn’t exist? If they’d been sealed, could the police still obtain a copy? Lara would normally pose the question to Gideon, but things between them lately were far from normal.

  She was wiping up the table when her cell rang. She dropped the sponge and slid her phone out of her pocket. Gideon’s smiling face appeared on the screen.

  “Hi, Gideon,” she said, hearing her voice crack.

  “Hi, Lara, can you talk for a few?”

  “Of course. Always,” she said, heading into her studio for privacy.

  She closed the door. “Okay, I’m in my studio.”

  “Lara, I hate what’s happening between us. This isn’t right. It isn’t us.”

  She swallowed. “I know. I agree.” She pulled in a calming breath. “So, what do we do about it?”

  His voice grew quiet. “I called to ask if you would agree to my attending the memorial service with you on Monday.”

  Lara was stunned. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “You want to go with me?”

  “I do,” he said. “I would feel much better if you didn’t go to Bakewell on your own. I know Karen Chancer thinks of you as a friend, so I would, of course, treat her with the utmost courtesy and respect.”

  “You didn’t even have to say that, Gid. I know you would.”

  Lara thought about it for a moment. Would Karen object if Gideon came along with her? Did she even have a right to object? Not really, since Lara was doing her the favor by accompanying her to the memorial service.

  “You know what? That sounds good to me. Only thing is, after the service I have to go to the bridal shop to pick up my shoes.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll even treat you to lunch afterward. And I’ll do the driving, if that’s okay.”

  In truth, Lara was relieved. Not only that she’d have his company at the service, but that he was anxious for things to get back to the way they were.

  “Are you sure you have time for this, Gideon? You don’t exactly have a light schedule.”

  “There’s always time for the most important things. I’ll go to my office tomorrow and play catch-up on a few things—that’ll help. On Monday I’ll ask Marina to juggle my schedule. It’ll all work out. I promise.”

  Lara smiled, feeling her heart swell. “Then let’s make it a plan.”

  After she hung up, she felt her entire body relax. The emotional weight she’d been lugging around like a ship anchor lifted from her shoulders. She imagined seeing it float to the ceiling and drift out of sight.

  For the rest of the evening, she worked on Amy’s sketches. She didn’t typically spend so much prep time on a commissioned watercolor, but Amy Glindell was a special friend. She’d helped get them through so many feline crises, it was the least she deserved. By Monday afternoon, Lara would be ready to present the sketches to the veterinarian. After Amy chose her favorite, Lara would begin painting the watercolor.

  Chapter 32

  Glenna Tyler showed up early on Sunday morning. Petite, with a shock of short black curls and an engaging smile, she had light brown eyes that danced with excitement when she walked into the meet-and-greet room. In one hand she carried a humongous pet carrier.

  “I’m sooo glad to meet you,” she told Lara, giving her an impetuous, one-armed hug.

  Lara laughed. “And I’m delighted to meet you.” She kneeled and peeked into the carrier. Two darling gold-and-white faces gazed up at her. “Oh, look at them. I’m so glad you brought them here. Come on, I’ll show you where they’re going to stay for the first day or two.”

  She led Glenna and company through the downstairs portion of the house, and then upstairs to the isolation room. Munster and Panda followed like furry bodyguards, more curious than worried about any intruding newcomers. It took a few tries, but they managed to get into the isolation room without any feline ushers.

  “This whole place is great,” Glenna gushed. “The way you care for the cats—it’s even nicer than I thought. And I can’t believe this room. You’ve made it so welcoming for them.”

  Lara had set out an oversized cat bed for the pair, along with food bowls, a fresh water dispenser, and a clean litter box. “This is only temporary. After a day or two I’ll introduce them to the rest of the household. I want them to get used to our smells and sounds first.”

  “Excellent idea.” Glenna opened the carrier door. Two pink noses lifted simultaneously, but the cats remained inside. “Let’s chat for a few. Give them a chance to check out their surroundings.”

  The more Lara learned about Glenna, the mor
e she liked her. Aside from holding a full-time day job, she worked tirelessly as a shelter volunteer. Last winter, she’d single-handedly rescued a community of seven feral cats from a dilapidated shed. The cats were now all neutered and vaccinated, and three were living in comfy homes.

  A furry face emerged slowly from the carrier, her big green eyes alight with curiosity. She gazed all around, then sauntered over to the food bowl.

  “That’s Noella,” Glenna said softly. “Her face has more gold than Holly’s.”

  “I love the names,” Lara said.

  Glenna grinned. “You can thank their foster mom for that. She got them last December, hence the Christmasy names.”

  A minute later Holly followed her sister, joining her at the food bowl. Lara’s heart melted at the sight. “I won’t try to pick them up right away. I’ll let them get used to me gradually.”

  “Good idea. They’re not thrilled about being held, but I think that’ll change over time.” Glenna gave Lara a worried look. “You’ll…you’ll make sure they get good homes, right? Their foster mom can’t keep them any longer.”

  “You have my word,” Lara said. “And I’ll keep you informed, too.”

  They slipped out quietly and closed the door. After a tour of the rest of the house, Lara introduced Glenna to her aunt, who was reading the paper in the kitchen.

  “It’s so nice to meet another cat lady,” Aunt Fran said kindly.

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Glenna said, her brown eyes beaming. “Hey, if it’s okay, I’ve really gotta run. I’ve got lots of other cat duties today. And…thank you, both. It’s obvious I’ve left Holly and Noella with the right people.”

  * * * *

  Lara and Aunt Fran arrived at Saint Lucy’s church in time for the twelve o’clock service. After the final blessing, Lara whispered to her aunt, “Do you mind if I wait until everyone leaves so I can chat with the pastor for a few? I just want to thank him for helping out Sherry and David.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  As the pastor strolled slowly along the aisle, greeting his parishioners, Lara and Aunt Fran waited for him in front of the door leading to the vestibule.

  His eyes lit up when he spotted them. “Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite people,” he said, taking Aunt Fran’s hand and squeezing it.

  “Good morning, Pastor,” Lara said. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping out my friends Sherry and David. They’re so thrilled that you’re going to be co-officiating their wedding ceremony.”

  He nodded. “I’m equally pleased. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.” He leaned over and in a faux-whisper said, “I do hope the wedding cake will be chocolate.”

  “Well, you might just get your wish,” Lara said cryptically, “but I can’t reveal any more than that.”

  After chatting for a few more minutes, Lara and Aunt Fran headed home. Five children had made appointments to read to a cat that afternoon. They wanted to be ready.

  Things are looking up, Lara thought to herself, angling the Saturn into the driveway.

  Sherry’s wedding plans were proceeding smoothly. Lara and Gideon had patched their differences—at least for now. Their future was still hazy, but she’d deal with that in due time.

  Once inside the house, Lara made a beeline for Holly and Noella. Both cats padded over to her the moment she stepped into the room. It was a good sign—they were adjusting well to their new digs. She played with both kitties for a while and gave them a good brushing. Tomorrow, after she got back from Bakewell, she’d open the door to the isolation room and encourage them to explore the house.

  In the next instant, Lara remembered the links Kayla had sent her yesterday. Lara hadn’t pursued them any further. Maybe a quick look wouldn’t hurt before the kids arrived. If she could glean something helpful before attending Chancer’s memorial service, she’d be more than happy to turn it over to Lieutenant Cutler.

  She fetched her tablet from her bedroom and carried it downstairs. Aunt Fran was busy baking brownies, and a delectable aroma filled the kitchen.

  Lara sat at the table. The link she wanted to reread was the one about Jarrod Dandreau’s death. She forwarded Kayla’s link to her email in-box, and then pulled it up on her iPad.

  Jarrod had been a studious but well-liked boy, according to the news article. An avid chess player, he was also a member of his high school’s drama club. On the day his life was so tragically taken, he’d been on his way home from his school’s production of Beauty and the Beast, in which he’d had a minor role. His grief-stricken mother told the reporter that Jarrod was a wonderful, brilliant child whose death would never be forgotten.

  Outside, on the shelter side of the house, a car door slammed.

  “One of the kids must be here,” Aunt Fran said, pulling a pan out of the oven.

  Lara glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes before two. “Must be Nathan with his folks. I’ll let them in.”

  The remainder of the afternoon passed by in a blur. Kids came and went, and the cats learned all about Green Eggs and Ham, among other delights.

  After a hearty supper of veggie frittata and roasted red potatoes, Lara headed upstairs, where she spent more time with Holly and Noella. Both cats were bonding nicely with her. By the time next Sunday rolled around, she hoped they’d be ready to take part in “read to a cat” Sunday.

  Lara decided to hit the hay early, since Gideon planned to pick her up at eight forty-five for the drive to Bakewell. She’d already chosen her outfit—her navy pantsuit with a plain white blouse—and her low-heeled leather boots.

  She texted with Gideon for a while before turning off her light.

  After that, surrounded by cats, she allowed sleep to carry her off into dreamless oblivion.

  Chapter 33

  Lara glanced at her phone for the tenth time. It was 9:12, and Gideon still hadn’t arrived.

  “That’s not like Gideon,” Aunt Fran said, her brow creased with worry. “Did you text him?”

  “I did, twice.” Lara looked at her phone again. She was just about to call him when it rang. “Gideon?”

  “Hi, Lara. Oh boy, I’ve got some bad news. I’m afraid I won’t be able to go to Bakewell with you this morning. I was practically out the door when I got a call from the assisted living place. Uncle Amico fell. He’s on his way to the hospital.”

  “Oh no. The poor man! Is he okay? Did he break anything? It’s not his heart, is it?” She was so frantic she didn’t know which question to ask first.

  She heard Gideon take in a long breath. “Not heart-related, as far as I know, but he might have broken his hip. At this point, they’re not sure. Lara, I don’t want you to worry. They said he has some pain, but he’s in good spirits. He was even joking with the EMTs as they were loading him into the ambulance.”

  Lara sagged. That much was a relief.

  “Honey, listen, I’m not going to ask you to cancel your plans for the memorial service. I know Karen Chancer is counting on you. But please, please be careful. And will you do me a favor? If you see Cutler, try to stick close to him. I’m sure he’ll be hanging around somewhere. By the time the service is over, I should have more info on Uncle Amico. I’ll keep in touch, but you do the same, okay?”

  “I will,” Lara promised. “Please give Uncle Amico my best, okay? Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “You got it. Love you, Lara.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Lara disconnected, feeling immensely frustrated. If only she could get out of going to the memorial service—she could head to the hospital and be with Gideon and Uncle Amico.

  With a sinking heart, she was telling Aunt Fran what had happened when her cell rang again. Lara grabbed it quickly, thinking it might be Gideon. She was dismayed to see that it was Karen Chancer.

  “Hey, I just wanted to touch base,” K
aren said in a halting voice. “A limo from the funeral parlor is going to pick up me and Dad at nine thirty. Can you meet us at the Peaceful Valley Funeral Home between ten fifteen and ten thirty? I was going to ask you to come to the house, but that same awful reporter’s been haunting me, so we’re going to sneak out. The limo’s going to wait for us in a neighbor’s driveway.”

  “Karen, I…here’s the thing. I—”

  “Oh my God, you’re still going to the service with me, right?” Her voice came out in a high-pitched plea.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m still going. But my uncle just broke his hip, and—”

  “Oh, thank God. For a minute I thought you were changing your mind. I don’t think I could bear it if you did.”

  Could she be any more dramatic? Lara thought irritably, but then scolded herself. The woman’s husband had been horribly murdered. She had a right to act out.

  Lara would go to the service and get it over with. Instead of picking up her shoes, she’d head straight to the hospital where Uncle Amico had been taken. She’d ask the bridal salon to ship her shoes to her—no biggie there.

  Once Chancer’s funeral was over, Bakewell would be out of her life forever.

  * * * *

  Lara felt like an interloper. She had no right to be sitting next to Karen, as if she belonged with the family. Even Gary Becker had stared questioningly at her. Didn’t he realize she was there only at his daughter’s request? Hadn’t Karen told him anything?

  An elderly couple sat on the other side of Lara. The woman, who was well into her seventies, had deep-set brown eyes and a face leathery from overexposure to the sun. An old-fashioned black chapel veil sat atop her thinning white hair. Her husband—Chancer’s stepdad, Lara learned—sat beside his wife in a wheelchair. One side of his face drooped, and his entire body sagged to the left. His expression was sadly vacant. If they were curious as to who Lara was, they never asked.

  The parlor itself was ornately appointed, plush blue carpeting stretching the length of the humongous room. Beige, velvet-covered chairs sat in neat rows for the mourners. Near the entrance, a guest book was propped on a mahogany platform. Chancer’s closed coffin was surrounded by a sea of colorful flower arrangements. A massive, heart-shaped wreath made from white roses was propped on an easel behind the coffin. A banner stretching across its center bore the message Beloved Husband.