The Cat That Was Bigger Than You

by Fiona Snyckers

What did they have in common? What was the link between them?

  Obviously, they were all quite elderly, but what did that have to do with anything? It was difficult to imagine a serial killer who simply hated people for being old. There had to be more to it than that.

  And still, at the back of Fay’s mind was the thought that she might be wrong about everything – including the fact that any of the deaths were suspicious. They could all have been perfectly natural, right down to Dr. Farlow’s recent brush with mortality.

  Fay fell asleep second-guessing herself.

  “What time does the library open?” Fay asked Morwen as they worked side by side preparing breakfast the next morning.

  “Nine o’clock, I guess. Why?”

  “I need to speak to Mrs. Tribble. She was one of the last people to see Mrs. Binnie alive the evening before she died. She might be an important witness.”

  “Does she still do that thing where she takes a trolley of books to the old folks? That’s good of her. I bet they enjoy it.”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “If you’re going to the library, won’t you return my books? They’re in a pile next to my bed. And please choose me something nice and bloodthirsty for the week. You know the kind of thing I like.”

  “Sure.”

  Morwen loved thrillers, the gorier the better. Her taste in books was far too gruesome for Fay. When it came to TV, Fay’s preferences ran to cerebral Scandinavian noir. But the books she enjoyed were strictly cozy mysteries - starting with the original and greatest cozy sleuth, Miss Marple.

  After breakfast, Fay gathered her and Morwen’s library books and set off for the village. She glanced into the surgery as she passed and saw a waiting room full of patients. She hoped that Dr. Farlow had had a peaceful night and was doing better that morning. She also hoped that David’s ECG and ultrasound had revealed the cause of the cardiac incident. Hopefully it was something that could be easily treated and had nothing to do with the deaths at Sunset Acres. She would love to be proved wrong in her serial killer theory.

  The Bluebell Village library was one of Fay’s favorite places on the island. It was amazingly well stocked for a village library, largely thanks to the efforts of Mrs. Tribble and the generations of librarians that had come before her. A culture of reading was alive and well in the village. The islanders were thrifty people who didn’t believe in splashing out money on new books when they had a perfectly good library right on their doorsteps.

  The village council allocated the library a healthy budget and Mrs. Tribble made sure that most of it went towards new book purchases.

  No one grumbled too much about having to pay library fines, because they knew the money would be spent on ensuring that the latest best-sellers were available in the library almost as soon as they were released.

  “Morning, Fay love,” said Mrs. Tribble as Fay brought her pile of books to the returns counter.

  “Morning, Mrs. Tribble.” Fay caught the librarian’s eye and added, “And good morning, Mr. Macavity.”

  The large grey cat squeezed his eyes at her and began to purr. He purred even louder when she bent to stroke him. Then he hopped onto his own personal armchair and settled there to have a wash. The chair had an embroidered sign on it saying, “This chair belongs to Mr. Macavity. Please don’t sit here”.

  Mrs. Binnie was in here yesterday afternoon,” said Mrs. Tribble. “She said you would be stopping by to talk about her poor mother-in-law. I know who killed her, you know.”

  Chapter 11

  Fay had heard this one before, so she managed to contain her excitement. Whenever someone died, there were always those with theories about who was to blame. But sometimes even in the wildest speculations there was a nugget of truth, which was why she never disregarded them.

  “That sounds interesting, Mrs. Tribble. What do you think happened to Mrs. Binnie?”

  “It’s all the fault of that matron who runs the place. She is constantly cutting costs to try to save the owners money. You see what comes of it? You can’t run a hospital like a bargain basement discount store. People will die because they’re not receiving adequate care.”

  “The thing is, Mrs. T, it’s not exactly a hospital. It’s just the frail-care unit of a retirement estate.”

  The librarian sniffed. “Same thing. There are wards and nurses and a matron, aren’t there? Hospital care is what those patients are paying for and hospital care is what they have the right to expect. Do you know what that Matron Sale did?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Every evening after I’ve done my rounds with the books trolley, I’d have a cup of tea and a cookie at the tea station. Usually, Penny Sweet and I would have it together. Sometimes the nurses would join us, as well as some of the more mobile patients. It was a pleasant way to end off the evening. A cup of tea and a cookie – sounds perfectly harmless, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Fay was not at all sure where this was going.

  “Well, guess what happened a week ago when I went to pour my tea? There was a big sign up at the tea station saying that the tea and cookies were strictly reserved for the use of the patients and frail-care staff only. ‘Strictly reserved!’ Can you believe that?

  “I must say, that does sound a little … parsimonious.”

  “That’s a polite word for miserly and penny-pinching. When I think of all the service I have given to Sunset Acres over the past years, it is absolutely shocking that they begrudge me so much as a cup of tea and a Rich Tea biscuit. It’s disgusting. Disgraceful.”

  Fay was sympathetic, but she didn’t quite see how this justified Mrs. Tribble’s belief that Matron Sale was killing off patients with her cost-cutting ways. She was about to point this out when a group of women appeared at the counter with books to check out. Fay recognized them as one of the island’s many book clubs. Mrs. Tribble went to attend to them, and Fay took the opportunity to choose some books for herself and Morwen. For Morwen she chose a Val McDermid, a James Patterson, a Nicci French, and a Stephen King. Morwen’s tastes tended towards thrillers, but she always appreciated a contribution from the master of horror.

  For herself, Fay chose a Joanne Fluke, the latest Agatha Raisin book by MC Beaton, and one of The Cat Who series by Lilian Jackson Braun. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she chose a Miss Marple too. It was an early one – The Moving Finger. The pile of books at her bedside never felt complete without a Miss Marple. She knew who all the murderers were by now, but she could never resist the way that Agatha Christie laid out the clues on the page.

  Sometimes Fay asked herself why she preferred her mysteries to be cozy and bloodless. She thought it had to do with her former life as a homicide detective with the NYPD. She had seen enough real blood and violence to last her a lifetime. It was the gang killings that upset her the most, because of the waste of young lives they represented. Cozy mysteries fed her love of a good puzzle, while containing it within a safe and orderly world.

  Fay noticed that the book-club ladies had left, and that Mrs. Tribble was free again. She took her books to the checkout counter.

  “Have you noticed any cost-cutting measures at Sunset Acres that might actually endanger the patients, Mrs. Tribble?” she asked as the librarian stamped her books. “Not just the tea and snacks, but something that could affect the standard of care they are getting?”

  Mrs. Tribble gave this some thought. “I know there used to be three nurses in the unit at night, and now there are only two. That might be enough to give the patients proper care, or it might not. All I know is that it wasn’t always that way. I’ve also noticed that the collection of hazardous waste materials from the unit has gone down from twice a week to once a week.”

  “What sort of materials would those be?”

  “Sharps, like needles and blades – that kind of thing. Also, any chemical substances that have to be disposed of in a certain way by law. I’m not sure what else.”

  “Anything else you’v
e noticed?”

  “Not in particular, no.”

  “What about the evening before Mrs. Binnie died? Did you notice anything unusual in the unit that night? Anyone doing anything in her ward? Any unusual visitors?”

  “I remember that she was in good spirits, the poor lady. That new doctor who is standing in for young Dr. Dyer told her she could go home within twenty-four hours. She was so happy about that. And I remember that she was coughing less than the night before. I don’t recall whether she had any visitors, as such. Family and friends are free to come and go throughout the day, but Matron discourages visitors after seven at night. She makes exceptions for people who really can’t see the patients at any other time, but mostly she likes to have the unit locked down at night.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “As for who went into her ward, I remember seeing the new doctor going in, as well as the male nurse – Mr. Court - and Penny with her trolley of candy and snacks. They all just seemed to be doing their jobs.”

  “Was there nothing preying on Mrs. Binnie’s mind? Nothing that she mentioned to you?”

  “Now that you mention it, she did say that she was having pain in her chest. I said something about how it was probably from the bronchitis and all the coughing she had been doing, but she said it was something new - like a kind of tightness. She felt as though something were pressing on her chest. That’s all I can remember.”

  “That’s very helpful,” said Fay, gathering up her books. “Thanks, Mrs. Tribble.”

  By the time Fay had finished her errands in the village, it was lunchtime. She knew that Isobel usually kept the hour between one and two pm free so that the doctors could have a lunch break. Now might be a good time to pop in and enquire how Dr. Farlow was doing.

  As she arrived at the surgery, David and Laetitia came out, obviously on their way out to lunch.

  “You again?” said Laetitia, who was famous for her brusque manner. “It seems as though every time I turn a corner in this village, there you are.”

  “Fay was here yesterday when Ben Farlow had his attack,” said David. “I imagine that’s why she’s here, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. I’m heading home for lunch. I thought I’d look in and see how he’s doing.”

  “Much better, actually. He’s a little tired, but it’s almost as though the incident never happened. I’ve run several tests on him, but I can’t find any sign of a blockage or clot that might have caused the attack. In fact, I can’t account for it at all.”

  “When will he be well enough for me to speak to him?”

  “Any time you like. He’s insisting on doing the afternoon consultations. I told him it’s not necessary, but he gets paid according to the hours he works, and he says he needs the money. Bizarrely enough, he really does seem to be fully recovered.”

  “Then perhaps I’ll see if I can catch him after his last patient this afternoon. Are you two off to lunch?”

  “We thought we’d go to Pappa’s,” said David. “I’m in the mood for a spaghetti aglio olio.”

  “And their salads are not bad at all,” said Laetitia.

  “Well, enjoy. Give my love to Vito and Luigi.”

  As they continued down the hill, Fay heard Laetitia say quite audibly, “I don’t know why people say she’s so pretty. I don’t see it myself.”

  The silence that followed suggested that David was struggling to come up with a response to this.

  Shaking her head, Fay continued up the road towards Penrose House.

  She got home to find that they had a guest for lunch.

  “Hello, Duncan,” she said.

  “Hiya, Fay. I hope you don’t mind that Maggie invited me.”

  “Of course not. Everyone who works at the Cat’s Paw is free to invite whoever they like for lunch. How have you been?”

  Duncan McCloud was Maggie’s … something. Either boyfriend or extremely good friend. Fay suspected that at some point in the last few weeks good friend had transitioned into boyfriend. The last Fay had heard, Duncan was still working as a packer and loader at the docks.

  “I’m doing well, thanks Fay. Learning to live without my aunt’s influence. I think it’s a good thing. I keep remembering the things she taught me and realizing how they really weren’t right at all.”

  Duncan’s aunt was currently in Truro awaiting trial for various crimes. She was being held without bail.

  “Are you working the afternoon shift at the docks?”

  “Oh, I’m not working at the docks anymore. I got taken on as an apprentice by Island Electrical. It’s the perfect situation. I get paid while I learn the trade.”

  “That’s fantastic, Duncan love,” said Morwen. “How long will it take you to become a fully qualified electrician?”

  “Between one and four years, depending on what kind of qualification I want to end up with. At first, I thought I’d just do the one-year course, but now I’m thinking that I’d like to go all the way. That way I’d be qualified to work on both domestic and commercial projects. I could get contracted to some really big construction sites.”

  Glowing with pride, Maggie gave him a hug. “He’s so ambitious. Isn’t it great?”

  “It really is,” said Fay. And when she remembered Duncan’s history of bad luck, poor choices, and even a stint in prison – largely influenced by his awful aunt – she felt delighted that he was embarking on such a positive course in his life.

  Morwen sent them all to wash their hands before they sat down to lunch at the big oak table in the kitchen.

  “How are you and your family holding up since your gran passed away?” Fay asked Maggie as she passed her the chicken curry.

  “We’re all really sad and upset. It was such a shock, you know? It’s a big comfort to Mum and Dad that you’re on the case, Fay. They really trust you. Mum says you phoned her this morning and brought her up to date on everything you’ve done and still want to do.”

  Fay smiled and nodded, but the truth was that she hadn’t told Mrs. Binnie everything. She wasn’t about to cause an island-wide panic by saying the words ‘serial killer’ out loud. She had assured Mrs. Binnie that she was looking into the deaths of both her mother-in-law and Mrs. Busby. But she hadn’t said a word about Mr. Tait and Mr. Chandler.

  “We were at Sunset Acres earlier today for a minor job,” said Duncan. “That matron that works there was yelling at someone something fierce.”

  Chapter 12

  Fay pricked up her ears. “Who was she shouting at?”

  “Can’t rightly say,” said Duncan. “She was talking on the phone. All I know is that it was about money.”

  “Is that so?” Fay drummed her fingers on the table. “Mrs. Tribble at the library told me that Matron Sale has been worried about funding lately. She’s had to do a lot of cost-cutting. Mrs. Tribble thought it might have affected the quality of care that the patients were getting.”

  “Is that why my grandmother died?” demanded Maggie. “Because they were cutting costs? That’s awful! We would have had her to stay at our place while she was ill if we’d known about that. She might still have been alive today.”

  Maggie’s voice broke and tears rolled down her cheeks. Duncan put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Fay. “Mrs. Tribble could be mistaken. Duncan, can you remember what the matron was talking about?”

  “Something about needing another hundred thousand pounds to ‘bring this place up to scratch’. I remember her using those words exactly. The other person was obviously saying no or arguing with her because she just lost it. She started screaming at them about how she couldn’t be expected to do her job in these circumstances. She said that she was going to hold that person responsible when everything went wrong.” Duncan paused to think. “I think that was the end of it. Or at least, I didn’t hear any more.”

  “Who owns Sunset Acres?” Fay asked. “I know there’s a parent company, but I can’t remember what
they’re called.”

  “It’s Argyle Holdings,” said Morwen. “They’re a local company. They’re always looking out for the next money-making venture. I remember it was all over the news when they decided to build a retirement estate here. Everyone thought it was a good thing that Argyle were behind it because that meant it would be upmarket and well run. They’re the sort of company that inspires confidence.”

  Fay looked thoughtful. “Something must have gone wrong then. A bitter fight about money is not what any health-care provider wants.”

  Maggie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Will you find out what happened, Fay? Will you find out if my grandmother died because some businessman wanted to maximize his profits?”

  Fay looked at Maggie’s angry, tear-stained face and wished she could take her pain away.

  “I promise you I will investigate every avenue. I told your mother this morning and I’m telling you now that I will continue this investigation until your family is completely satisfied that they have all the answers. But please don’t go home and tell your mom and dad that your gran died because Argyle Holdings were cutting costs. We have absolutely no reason to think that.”

  “Okay …”

  “I’ll speak to Argyle as soon as I can, but that’s just one of several leads I’m following.”

  The angry flush faded out of Maggie’s face. She nodded, almost against her will. “Okay … I understand. I promise I won’t do that. I never knew before how angry a death in the family could make you. I just want someone to blame. I want someone to hate for the waste of my gran’s life.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable.” Fay had seen this before.

  “But I also don’t want to upset my parents,” said Maggie. “I don’t want to get them all riled up over wild speculation. The reason I’m still coming in to work is to get away from the endless what-ifs that my family keep going over. I know you would give me time off if I asked for it, but I feel like I need a break from home.”