What the Cat Dragged In

by Miranda James

  “It’s far-fetched, I know,” I said, ignoring this byplay, “and he did seem like the fussy type. He was also a little too pushy. I didn’t care for him, so I find it easy to cast him as the murderer.”

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Stewart said.

  I looked at Haskell. “I think the word is facetious, not fastidious.”

  Haskell laughed, something I rarely saw him do. “That too,” he said.

  Stewart, in mock annoyance, snatched up Haskell’s plate and took it to the sink. “Really,” he said. He grinned at us.

  Haskell pushed back his chair and took his mug and silverware to the sink. He set them down and wrapped his arm around Stewart. He whispered something, and Stewart replied.

  Haskell released Stewart and bade me good night. “Seems like days since I had a full night’s sleep.”

  “Rest well,” I said, and he nodded as he walked into the hall.

  “I’ll finish with that,” I told Stewart. “You go on upstairs.”

  Stewart flashed me a grateful smile. “You’re a prince, Charlie. See you in the morning.”

  He hurried after his partner.

  I scraped the chicken bones and bits of rice and congealing gravy into the garbage beneath the sink, and then I rinsed the plate before putting it into the dishwasher. I took care of the mug and the silverware and made sure the coffeemaker was off.

  Ramses watched me the entire time. He was ever hopeful, I thought.

  “Come along, you little beggar,” I said to him as I turned off the lights in the kitchen. “Let’s go upstairs and get in bed. I’m going to read, and you can do whatever you like.”

  He raced up the stairs ahead of me, but to my surprise he wasn’t in my room when I got there. I suspected he had gone in search of Diesel, now that there was no food on offer. Alissa must have left her door lightly ajar, because I didn’t hear Ramses scratching at it.

  After my nightly ablutions, I picked up the Donna Andrews book, intent on finishing it before I turned out the light. I had read about twenty more pages before my phone rang. It was Sean.

  “Hi, son, what’s up?”

  “I found out the name of the lawyer that Hale consulted about trying to sue to keep the estate,” Sean said. “She had the nerve to call me today and ask if I knew how to contact Hale’s mother.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Good grief,” I said. “Is this person anyone you know?”

  Sean laughed. “Unfortunately, yes. She’s one of the ethically challenged attorneys I alluded to the other day. Gloria Batson. She runs after every ambulance she sees.”

  “Not good,” I said. “I’m sure you brushed her off.”

  “Tried to,” Sean replied. “She’s the limpet kind, however. Did Hale’s sister arrive? Is she there with you?”

  “She’s here. At first she was hostile, insisted on going out to the farmhouse, but I managed to calm her down. Diesel, Ramses, and Dante did the rest. She loves animals.” I laughed a little self-consciously. “Apparently, I remind her of her stepfather, whom she loved.”

  “That’s good,” Sean said. “That means she’ll talk to you. Have you managed to find out anything useful?”

  I told him about the conversation I’d had with her and Stewart, then went on to give him a summary of the interview with Kanesha and Haskell.

  When I had finished, Sean said, “That doesn’t give us much to go on. Before I forget, I looked at your grandfather’s will again for the names of his witnesses. I didn’t recognize them. I’ll see if I can track the men down, but they could well be dead by now, if they were contemporaries of your grandfather.”

  “I’ll give Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce a call. Melba too. Maybe they can come up with somebody who knew my grandfather pretty well all those years ago.”

  “Good idea,” Sean said. “I’ve got to go, Dad. I’m getting reminded that it’s time for me to help Alex with the dishes. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Give Alex my love,” I said before he ended the call.

  I set the phone aside and picked up my book. I read until Helen Louise called me around ten. We talked for about fifteen minutes, until she declared her intention of getting into bed before midnight at least one night during her vacation. I still hadn’t mentioned the murder, because I didn’t want to distract her from her time with her friends. She’d be home on Sunday. I could tell her everything then.

  Time for lights-out, I decided. I turned onto my left side, and Ramses, who had appeared a few minutes ago, wiggled into position by my stomach. This was his favorite place to sleep lately. Before long we were both asleep.

  * * *

  • • •

  When I woke the next morning, I found Ramses still curled up next to me. Diesel had joined us at some point during the night. He lay stretched out near Ramses, his head on his pillow. I smiled at the sight of them, one so large and the other much smaller in comparison. Ramses would soon be a year old, yet he looked a mere kitten next to his big brother.

  Downstairs a quarter of an hour later, accompanied by the cats, I smelled the welcome scents of coffee and bacon wafting from the kitchen. To my surprise, I found Alissa seated at the table chatting to Azalea. The young woman had a mug of coffee in front of her.

  “Good morning, ladies,” I said during a brief pause in their conversation. I helped myself to coffee, had a few sips, then set my mug on the table. “I’m going to get the paper.”

  Diesel and Ramses remained in the kitchen, their attention devoted to Azalea and Alissa.

  Out in the morning sunshine on what already promised to be another hot, muggy August day, I found the newspaper next to one of the flower beds along the front of the house. I opened the paper and scanned the headlines on the front page. As I had expected, there was another article about young Martin Hale’s murder. I perused it quickly as I made my way back inside, out of the heat.

  Nothing new. There was no mention of the bones Diesel and I had found in the attic this time. I supposed the paper considered the murder more important. There wouldn’t have been anything new to write about, though. Evidently Kanesha had not released the news about the missing body parts to the press. Not until Dewey Seton and his cadaver dog managed to discover something, I figured.

  I took my seat at the table and laid the paper aside. Alissa looked at it for a moment. “Is there anything in it about Marty?”

  “Yes, there’s an article on the front page,” I said. “You’re welcome to the paper.”

  She nodded and reached for it. I watched her with concern while she read. I hoped there wouldn’t be anything in it to upset her, other than the fact of her brother’s death.

  Her expression remained impassive, however. She set the paper aside and picked up her apple. Then I saw her wipe a tear away.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Diesel meowed and placed a paw on her leg. Alissa nodded. “It just makes it so real, seeing it in the paper. Last night I dreamed about Marty, and we were laughing and having fun. At the beach we liked to go to sometimes.”

  “That’s what you think about,” Azalea said, turning from the stove. “You think about the good things. Don’t let the bad stuff in. I’ll be praying for you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Alissa said. “I’ll do that.”

  Azalea set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast in front of me. I waited for her to do the same for Alissa, but she didn’t.

  Alissa noticed that I wasn’t eating, and she frowned. “Oh, I don’t ever eat much for breakfast. Especially not today.” Her face clouded. “I don’t want to be sick. You know.”

  “Yes, I know. Would you like me to go with you?”

  “No, I’ll be okay. I have to do this for Marty,” she said. “But maybe afterward, we could go out to the farm? I really don’t remember it, but I’d like to see it.”

>   “I’ll be glad to take you,” I said.

  While I ate breakfast, doling out bits of bacon to the cats, I listened to Azalea chatting with the young woman about California. Azalea had never been there and was curious about it. Alissa lived in the central part of the state, not far from San Luis Obispo, where her stepfather had worked on one of the ranches. This surprised me, because when I thought of California, it was always of Los Angeles or the Bay Area.

  I remembered that a terrific series of mysteries that I loved, the Benni Harper books by Earlene Fowler, were set in that area, and I asked Alissa if she had read them.

  “Every one of them. It’s fun to read about places you know,” she said, smiling. “I met the author one time when she came to the library, and she was so nice. I love to read, but these days I don’t have much time because of work. I haven’t been to the library in over a year.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said.

  Alissa shrugged. “One of these days, things will be better.”

  Azalea and I exchanged glances. The sympathy in her gaze no doubt mirrored mine. I felt so bad for this young woman, who seemed to have a life of drudgery back in California.

  “Aren’t you going to the library today?” Azalea asked me.

  “No, remember, it’s one of my off days.” A couple of months ago, after my grandson’s first birthday, I had decided to cut back my volunteer hours at the public library. I wanted more time to see my grandchildren. Instead of working every Friday, I now worked the first and third Fridays of the month. Today was the fourth Friday.

  “Maybe we could go to the library, too?” Alissa looked hopefully at me.

  “We can,” I said, “but if you’re looking for books to read, I practically have a library myself. You’re welcome to go through it and find a book to read.”

  I pushed my chair back, although I hadn’t quite finished breakfast. “Come with me.”

  Azalea picked up my plate and set it on the stove to keep it warm, and Alissa, along with the cats, followed me down the hall to the den. Alissa took one look at the overflowing shelves that covered two walls, and she gasped.

  “You must be rich to have all these books,” she said.

  “No, not rich, but I’ve been collecting books since before I was your age. I’m a librarian, too, and I’ve always loved books and reading. Look around and see if there’s anything you’d like to read.” I pointed to the mysteries. “You might want to start there.”

  She turned shining eyes in my direction. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Can I do it now?”

  “Go right ahead,” I said. “I’m going back to finish my breakfast.” I checked my watch. “You still have over an hour before a deputy will be here to pick you up.”

  I watched her for a moment. She gently ran a hand along the spines of the books on one shelf. I smiled again and left her to her exploration.

  Azalea replaced my plate when I sat, and I thanked her for keeping it warm. “She may be in there awhile. She seemed entranced by all the books.”

  “That poor child has been telling me about her family. That mother of hers ought to whipped, if you ask me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her but selfishness. She’s bone-deep lazy. And her brother wasn’t much better. Putting all the burden on this child.” Azalea rarely got angry, but she was now.

  “While she’s here, we’ll take good care of her,” I said. I reserved judgment on Alissa’s mother, because I didn’t know the particulars of her case. She could well be in no condition to hold down a job. In the late Marty’s case, Azalea was probably right. I had known men like him before.

  Alissa hadn’t returned by the time I finished eating. I went back upstairs to shower and dress for the day. When I came back to the kitchen for more coffee, it was a quarter to nine. Alissa sat at the table, engrossed in an old paperback whose cover I couldn’t see. Ramses and Diesel lay stretched out on either side of her chair. There was no sign of Azalea.

  I watched Alissa as I refilled my mug. She didn’t seem to notice me, not even when I sat at the table. I continued to observe her as I sipped my coffee. A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and she flinched and looked up. Her eyes widened in alarm.

  “That must be for me.” She laid the book carefully aside, and I saw that it was an older novel by Elizabeth Peters, the second Amelia Peabody book. Alissa certainly had good taste.

  “I’ll answer the door,” I said, rising. “You wait here.”

  The deputy waiting on the stoop was the same young woman who had delivered Alissa last night. I invited her to step inside, but she declined politely.

  “If Ms. Hale is ready,” she said, “I’ll wait for her here.”

  “She’ll be right out.” I closed the door and walked back to the kitchen.

  “It is for you. The same deputy as last night,” I said.

  Alissa drew a deep breath and stood. “That’s good. She was nice to me.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” I had no wish to visit the morgue, but I felt protective of the young woman, so obviously dreading the coming encounter with her brother’s corpse.

  Alissa shook her head. “No, I’ll be okay.” She gave me a brief, trembling smile, then resolutely headed for the door. I remained in the kitchen.

  Now would be a good time to give Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce a call, I decided. They were early risers, and I wanted to catch them before they left home. They had many obligations around town, owing to the various charities they supported and the organizations to which they devoted their time.

  I always called Miss An’gel. As the elder sister, she assumed it as her right to be the one who everyone talked to first. I knew the proper protocol.

  “Good morning,” I said. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, then, “Do you have a few minutes to chat?”

  “Yes, I do,” Miss An’gel replied. “I assume you have questions for me.”

  I chuckled, and I knew Miss An’gel would be smiling. “You know me too well. I do. Sean and I are trying to track down anyone in the area who might have been a friend of my grandfather’s. I know it’s a long shot, but it would help if we could ask friends of his a few questions.”

  “Have you run across Asa Luckney yet?” Miss An’gel said.

  “I met him yesterday, as a matter of fact,” I replied, somewhat startled.

  “Asa worked on your grandfather’s farm from the time he was a boy, and your grandfather took a great interest in him,” Miss An’gel said. “He probably knew your grandfather as well as anyone. If your grandfather had any secrets, Asa probably knew them.”

  “I had no idea that Mr. Luckney knew my grandfather so well. He’s been leasing land from Martin Hale for about twenty years, he told me.”

  “I always found it odd that your grandfather gave Hale a life lease to the property,” Miss An’gel said. “I really expected he would have done that for Asa, or at least have left him some of the land outright, once your father made it clear he didn’t want to farm.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” I said.

  “I know,” Miss An’gel said. “People at the time thought it strange. Martin Hale went strutting around town, telling everyone he met about it. He was always puffing himself up like that.”

  “He worked for my grandfather, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “Yes. Your grandfather kept him on, despite Hale’s drunken escapades. He felt sorry for Hale’s family. He respected Hale’s father and felt sorry for Hale’s wife and son.”

  “You said my grandfather took a great interest in Mr. Luckney,” I said. “Why would he favor Hale over Mr. Luckney, do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Miss An’gel said. “I hesitate to say it, but somehow I think Hale must have talked your grandfather into it.”

  “Or else he threatened my grandfather in some way if he didn’t,” I said slo
wly.

  “That’s possible. I’m sorry, Charlie. I know this must be hard for you.”

  Neither of us mentioned the bones in the attic, but I knew she must be thinking of them as much as I was. Hale’s hold over my grandfather might have had something to do with those bones.

  Was my grandfather a killer after all?

  TWENTY-TWO

  I decided that if my grandfather had been responsible for those bones, I would have to face up to it. He couldn’t have been the one to put them in the attic, though, surely? That must have been done long after he died.

  I had my hopes pinned on Dewey Seton and his dog for finding the original resting place of the person whose bones they were. I prayed that today’s search would yield clues that would lead to the truth.

  Belatedly, I remembered that Miss An’gel was still on the call with me. “I’m sorry, I spaced out for a moment.”

  “No need to apologize,” Miss An’gel replied warmly. “I understand what you must be thinking about. Don’t make up your mind yet. There is still so much that’s unknown. Remember that.”

  “I will, thank you.” I took a calming breath. “Is there anyone besides Mr. Luckney that I could talk to?”

  “I’ll have to think about that, and I’ll ask Sister to as well,” Miss An’gel replied. “That was a long time ago, after all.”

  “I appreciate anyone you might come up with,” I said. “I’ll let you go now.”

  “Take care, Charlie,” Miss An’gel said.

  I set the phone down. I wanted to find Asa Luckney and talk to him right away, but I knew Kanesha would not want me to do that. At least, not until she had thoroughly questioned him herself. Then she might not mind if I talked to him about my grandfather.

  Had she talked to him at all about any of this? Would he have spoken with her openly? Would he open up more to me because I was his mentor’s grandson? Maybe I should suggest that to Kanesha.

  Too many questions crowded my brain, making me restless and wanting action. The lack of progress frustrated the heck out of me. Kanesha might have made progress, though, that I hadn’t heard about, and that added to my irritation. I hated being kept in the dark, even though I realized I didn’t have any official status in this investigation.