Claws of Action

by Linda Reilly

  Blue lights flashed outside. Within seconds, a pair of uniformed responders were inside the house, checking both women to be sure they were okay. “Ambulance is on its way,” one of them said.

  “Jenny needs one, but I’m okay,” Lara told him.

  “Let’s wait and see,” he said, humoring her.

  The next face she saw was Aunt Fran’s, striding toward her with outstretched arms. Lara ran to her aunt and squeezed her hard, tears squashing against both their cheeks.

  After a few minutes, her aunt still clutching her arm, she was led by the younger of the two officers into a different room—a parlor. Bright and sunny compared to the dining room, it was amazingly bird-free. He steered her over to a flowered sofa and tucked a fluffy lilac pillow under her arm.

  “Stay here for a while, miss,” the officer instructed kindly. “We’ll need to take a statement from you. Can I get you anything? Some water?”

  Lara sniffled hard. “No, I’m fine, but you need to find Charlie Backstrom. He killed Evonda Fray and he’s getting away.”

  The officer’s jaw hardened. “Believe me, we’re on it. He won’t get far.” He went off to join the others.

  “Aunt Fran, how…why, I mean—”

  “That text you sent to Gideon. He was just pulling into our driveway when he got it. He’d come over to update us on Brian’s arrest, but when he read your text, he ran into the house, wanting to know where you’d gone.”

  “But you didn’t know!”

  Aunt Fran fixed her with a mock stern look. “That’s right, because you didn’t tell me. I had to do a little detective work. I went into your studio and saw your iPad sitting on your table. You must have looked up Evonda’s address, because the directions were staring right up at me.”

  But I didn’t look up Evonda’s address. I knew exactly where she lived.

  “Um…”

  “Gideon called the police, and then I jumped into his car and we raced over here. Lara, did I hear you say Charlie Backstrom killed Evonda?”

  “He did, but it’s a very long story. I’ll catch you up on everything later. Where is Gideon, by the way?”

  “The police detained him outside. He must be ready to—”

  “Lara!”

  Gideon covered the distance in one long stride and dropped onto the sofa beside her. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her close. “My God, Lara, are you okay? What on earth happened?”

  She gave him a quick summary with a promise to fill in the details later.

  Red lights flashed in the window. Lara glanced over and saw the tail end of an ambulance pulling away from the house. She looked down at her hands. “Someone should call her husband.”

  Gideon nodded. “They will. Don’t worry.”

  A face appeared in the doorway, one Lara had hoped never to see again. She felt her muscles tense.

  Wearing khaki Dockers and a green golf shirt, Lieutenant Cutler said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to take Ms. Caphart’s statement.”

  “We’ll be waiting right outside,” Gideon said, and then left with Aunt Fran.

  Cutler sat down in an armchair next to Lara. “I hear you’ve had quite the afternoon,” he said quietly, the kindness in his eyes surprising her.

  She took in a shaky breath. “You’re right. I have.” She looked him directly in the eye. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he suggested. “And we’ll go on from there.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The following morning, they sat around Aunt Fran’s kitchen table, Lara cupping Fritter to her chest. With one hand, she slid the photo of their sixth-grade class over to Gideon. “Now look at this picture,” she challenged, “and see if you can find Charlie Backstrom.”

  Gideon, clutching Aden to his shirt for dear life, pulled the photo closer. He studied it for at least a full minute, then shook his head. “Nope. I can’t pick him out. I do, however, see an adorable girl with curly red hair, freckles on her nose, and an impish smile. Now that girl I remember.” He faked a puzzled look. “I wonder whatever happened to her.”

  “Hmmm. Last I heard, she was helping her aunt run a cat shelter. Not to mention driving a local lawyer crazy.”

  Gideon laughed, and Aunt Fran smiled at their exchange. “So, all this time, Charlie Backstrom was Chuck L. from your class.”

  “Chuck Larrabee,” Gideon confirmed. “I have a pretty good memory, but even I didn’t remember that. We never saw him again after sixth grade. He moved to Vermont with his mom and her third husband and took the stepfather’s name. It was a transformation for him. Chuck L. becomes Charlie Backstrom. New dad, new school, new friends.”

  “I know one person who never forgot him,” Lara said.

  Aunt Fran nodded. “Jenny Fray. Née Cooper.”

  Two hours after Charlie had tried to escape, the state police pulled him over near the entrance ramp to Route 93. He was arrested without incident, according to Sunday evening’s news report.

  Lara picked up Fritter with both hands and tucked her gently under her chin. The kitten’s tiny mewling sounds clutched at her heart.

  She couldn’t imagine how Tim Fray was feeling right now. It had to be devastating, learning that his wife had been having an affair with the man who ended up killing his mom.

  And then there was Nina. Lara felt terrible for her. Would she stand by Charlie at his trial? Or would she completely wash her hands of him? Either way, their marriage was shattered. Lara had no doubt that Nina’s family would welcome her back to the fold—so long as she lived the rest of her life sans Charlie.

  There were still a few things about yesterday’s nightmare that baffled Lara. Aunt Fran had found her iPad open to the directions to Evonda’s house. But Lara was sure she hadn’t looked them up. When she’d left to meet Tim yesterday, she knew exactly how to find her way there.

  No, something else had been afoot. Or on four feet, to be exact. A guardian cat with powerful protective instincts who’d once again intervened.

  There was something else Lara remembered, something that clinched her earlier suspicion. During the chat she’d had with Nina at the clam shack a few nights ago, Nina had mentioned that Charlie still used a flip phone. He was totally helpless with a smartphone.

  Lara had never sent her text to Gideon yesterday because she’d never gotten the chance. Unwittingly, Charlie had sent it himself when he was stabbing at her phone, trying to turn it off.

  “By the way,” Gideon said, “I canceled my appointment with Trevor Johnson this morning. We’ve rescheduled for Thursday morning.”

  “He’s willing to wait that long?” Aunt Fran reached over and gently took Fritter from Lara.

  “Not really, but I didn’t give him a choice. He’s a strange guy. He’s more concerned about getting his job back than he was about being a murder suspect. Talk about single-minded.”

  A strange guy indeed, Lara thought. But at least he’s not a murderer.

  Gideon and Aunt Fran exchanged glances. “Um, Lara,” Gideon said. “Do you know how those figurines ended up smashed all over Evonda’s dining-room floor? Jenny Fray insists she had nothing to do with it. When the police pressed her on it, she looked almost frightened.”

  A flush heated Lara’s cheeks. “Jenny never went near those figurines. That much I can confirm.” She sent him a meaningful look. “Sometimes things happen out of the blue that we can’t explain, right?”

  Like the painting of the crow that popped up on her tablet in place of the Renoir.

  Gideon gave up a tiny smile. “Message received. Of course, that’s not exactly an answer I can take to the state police.”

  Once again, Lara wondered why Gideon was privy to all the police goings-on. Was there something he wasn’t telling her?


  Luckily, Cutler had believed her when she gave him her hazy account of how the Krahe painting appeared on her tablet. One minute she was looking at Dance in the Country and the next a different painting appeared. Who can make sense of these Web sites? she’d asked him with an innocent shrug.

  Aunt Fran stared at her. “Lara, are you saying that Blue was there yesterday? At Evonda’s?”

  “She was. She distracted Charlie by knocking all those crows to the floor. He thought it was Evonda’s ghost, coming after him from the grave.”

  “Is that when you ran outside?”

  “Exactly. All I knew was, I had to get out of there.” She frowned when something else occurred to her. “Gideon, do you think Jenny will be charged with anything?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She made a bad choice, having an affair with Charlie, but she didn’t have anything to do with killing her mother-in-law, or with covering it up.”

  “Another thing I meant to ask you. Do they know the name of the neighbor who helped me yesterday? I’d like to thank him personally.”

  “I’ll find out for you,” Gideon said. “He gave his statement to the police.”

  “Hey.” A tap at the screen door.

  Aunt Fran’s face brightened. “Brian. Come in, please.”

  Garbed in cargo shorts and a wrinkled tee, Brian Downing stepped into the kitchen. His face drooped with fatigue, but his eyes shone with the relief of being freed from a murder charge.

  “Brian, good to see you,” Gideon said. “You’re looking much better today.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Yesterday I was looking at murder one and today I’m a free man. You helped me a lot, man. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” Gideon rose off his chair and transferred Aden to Lara. “Hey, I’ve absolutely got to run. Today’s going to be a little crazy.” With a promise to see the women later, he kissed Lara on the temple and waved goodbye to everyone.

  Brian smiled and rubbed his hands together. “That’s a supergood guy you got there, Lara. Better hold on to him.” His smile faded, and his gaze drifted sideways. Was he thinking of his ex-wife?

  “Aw, geez, you guys have kittens now?”

  “Yep.” Lara grinned. “Four new little angels. Hey, can I get you a drink? We were just having some lemonade.”

  “Nah. Thanks anyway. You guys have done enough. I’ve been nothing but a big pain in the posterior. I just came to get my dude. And pay you for taking care of him.”

  The sound of Brian’s voice attracted a crowd. A crowd of two, that is.

  Smuggles lumbered into the kitchen and sauntered over to his dad. Snowball followed close behind, unwilling to let her newly acquired BFF out of her sight.

  Brian crouched down and held out his arms. “Hey, big guy, did you miss me?” He swept the gray cat into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

  Snowball looked up and meowed. Gazing down at his bestie, Smuggles squirmed in Brian’s clutches. “Hey, what’s wrong, Smugs? Don’t you remember me?”

  Lara looked at her aunt, whose brow furrowed in dismay. She knew they were thinking the same thing.

  “Brian, isn’t this the day you were supposed to move?” Lara asked him.

  “That’s off the table,” he said. “I’m going to work something out with Tim Fray to keep my apartment.”

  Lara was surprised. “Did you call him?”

  “Nope. He called me.” Brian distracted Smuggles with a tickle under the chin. “Said it didn’t make sense for him to let go of a good tenant. The apartment house is his now, so he can do what he wants.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Aunt Fran said. She looked pointedly at Lara. “Brian, can you spare a few minutes to chat with us?”

  His face fell. “Uh-oh. I knew it. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Lara assured him. “Nothing’s wrong. But something’s changed. Sit for a few, okay?”

  Brian set his cat gently on the floor, then pulled out a chair and sat. Smuggles immediately went over and joined Snowball, who rubbed her chin against his ears.

  “You can probably guess,” Lara began, “that Smuggles has gotten very attached to one of our shelter kitties.” She explained how Smuggles and Snowball had bonded over the past several days. How the two were nearly inseparable.

  “Wow. Of all the things you could’ve said, I never expected that.” He drummed his fingers on the table and looked at the pair. They’d flopped together on the kitchen floor like a pair of mismatched rugs. “But now that you say that,” Brian went on, “I noticed the change in Smuggles the second he walked into the kitchen. It’s almost like…like he got younger while he was here instead of older. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Lara smiled. “That often happens when a younger cat is introduced to a senior one.” She glanced over at the fluffy Ragdoll cat who’d leaped onto the chair next to Brian. Blue gazed up at Brian with heartfelt approval.

  A grin split Brian’s face. “Well, I think there’s an easy solution.”

  “We think so, too,” Aunt Fran said. “But…you’d have to fill out an application, and we’ll need to approve it. That means checking references.”

  Brian’s grin slipped away. His face reddened. “Listen, I know the cops talked to some of my coworkers, and I know most of them didn’t exactly sing my praises. I get it. I’m not the easiest guy to work with.”

  “But I’m guessing you weren’t always that way,” Lara said.

  “You’re right. My divorce did a number on me. I should’ve gotten counseling then, but I didn’t. I got Smuggles instead.” He offered a crooked smile.

  “And that was a wonderful thing,” Aunt Fran said. “But sometimes it helps to talk to someone, too. There’s a lot of good that can come from it.”

  “I know. When I was sitting in that holding cell yesterday, I got to thinking about stuff like that. I’m definitely going for counseling, as soon as my cats are settled in.” Eyebrows raised, he flashed them both a hopeful smile.

  “I have a suggestion,” Lara said. “Why don’t you leave both cats here for a few more days. It’ll give you time to work things out with Tim and get ready for a new member of the household.”

  Brian’s smile widened. “Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all morning. You got yourself a deal.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lara gazed around the new reading room, unable to stop grinning.

  Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves painted sky blue, stocked with children’s books, lined two of the walls. Sunlight streamed through the insulated windows that faced the backyard. Large floor cushions and comfy kitty beds nestled among low, child-size chairs.

  “I’ve got goodies,” Kayla announced from the doorway. Balancing a tray covered with plastic wrap on one shoulder, she pushed her glasses higher on her nose with the other. She stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Oh, they look yummy!” Lara said, taking the tray from her. She set it down on the long table they’d brought into the reading room.

  An eye-popping selection of appetizers covered the tray—cherry tomatoes stuffed with goat cheese, antipasto skewers, and other delights. Tucked among them were seedless grapes and rose-shaped radishes. The deli department at the Shop-Along had outdone itself.

  “There’s another tray in my car,” Kayla said. “I’ll stash it in the fridge until we’re ready for it.”

  Kayla looked especially nice today. Her lips shone with gloss, and she’d swiped a bit of color over her cheekbones. She wore a loose-fitting pink top over black capris, with espadrilles on her feet.

  “Kayla, you look terrific,” Lara told her.

  “I do?” Kayla blushed shyly at the compliment. “Um, gee…thanks, Lara.” She retrieved the second tray and delivered it to the fridge.

  With Kayla’s help, Lara put together the champagne punch she’d been itching to make. Fruity, go
lden, and bubbly, it looked like the nectar of the gods in Aunt Fran’s cut-glass punch bowl.

  Speaking of whom, where was Aunt Fran?

  Lara knew her aunt had spent half the morning hollowing out half a watermelon and filling it with melon balls, pineapple chunks, strawberries, and blueberries. Shaped like a basket, it rested on one corner of the table. The other corner boasted a tray heaping with Daisy’s cat-shaped sugar cookies.

  Kayla glanced through the doorway. “Oh my gosh, Brooke’s here already!”

  The Westons were one of Lara’s favorite families. Brooke Weston was an occasional volunteer at the shelter, when she wasn’t off on a babysitting job. Her mom, Heather, and brother, Darryl, strode in holding a wrapped package.

  Heather hugged Lara. “Nothing special. Just a few new books,” she said, presenting the gift.

  “Much appreciated,” Lara said. She set it on the floor under the table.

  “I can’t wait to read to a cat!” Darryl said.

  Lara thought back to the day she first met Darryl. In a way, all of this had started with him. He’d struggled to read aloud until a certain Ragdoll cat sat beside him, after which he began zooming through books. It was a while before Lara understood what she’d witnessed that day—the guardian cat no one else could see, who’d been with her since she was a child.

  Guests and gifts kept arriving. Brian Downing had declined their invitation, but he’d sent them a generous check. Three days earlier, he’d taken both cats to his apartment. He’d already sent Lara and Aunt Fran about a thousand pictures. Lara missed Snowball horribly, but the sweet white kitty had found her forever home and given Smuggles a fresh outlook on life.

  Lara went into the kitchen for some extra napkins just as her aunt came downstairs.

  “People are here already?” Aunt Fran said. “I’ll have to give myself a tardy check mark.”

  Her aunt looked radiant in a cabbage-colored silk blouse, white slacks, and emerald-green sandals. Her dark hair, threaded with gray, fanned away from her face in soft waves.