Kittens Can Kill: A Pru Marlowe Pet Noir

by Clea Simon

  “True enough, Growler.” I suppressed a smile. The tiny animal had enough insults to his dignity. “Want to head down to the river?”

  His satisfied chuff didn’t need a translation, and I let him enjoy the rest of his outing in doggie peace.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The service was about to start by the time I made it to the church, and a few annoyed eyes turned to me as I creaked open the heavy door. A reasonable crowd, about two-thirds full, spoke either to Canaday’s popularity or, more likely, his influence. Canaday had been a big deal, I had gathered. Old lady Horlick’s snark about his money had woken some images—things overheard or half-remembered. He’d been a mover and shaker, a town figure. And a hard ass, I now recalled—the kind who was always railing about something. The kind I and my set avoided when we could.

  By all accounts, David Canaday was a man my mother would have admired—all law and order, a family that toed the line. For a moment, I had to wonder if there might have been more. My mother had outlived the lawyer’s wife, I gathered, and I was gone for a few years. I was pretty sure she was done with men by then, though. Not that other women wouldn’t have set their caps for him. A rich lawyer in our town? That would explain the crowd. The church was full of female mourners. With their hard-set faces and short, practical hair, they even reminded me of my mother—the woman she was before I left, at any rate. Then again, looking around, I wondered if their interest had been romantic or even mercenary. Some people believe in a certain order. Not me, but I knew it was true. And maybe there was a reason he had stuck to his daughters for companionship.

  Maybe it was those women. Maybe because it was a funeral, but a look around made me think of her. My mom, back in the day. This hadn’t been our church—as much as my family had a house of worship—but she had dragged me to services at the lower-end church across town often enough in her attempt to win me from my father’s influence early on. I still remembered the setup and the routine, and that proved useful now. Without much thought, I smiled and bobbed my head as I slipped into a back pew.

  As the organ music came to a wheezy end, I spotted Creighton—that short blond crop stood out—and in front of him, the raven black hair of Judith Canaday, a flashy bird among the sparrows. She seemed almost alone in that front pew, but then I saw, off to her left, a dark head dulled with gray. Jackie. It didn’t look like the sibs were giving each other any comfort. Trying not to be too obvious, I leaned forward. Jill, the youngest sister, had to be there somewhere, but I’d meet her soon enough. What I wanted to find out was if there were any other family members. Anyone slightly separate from the drama. Someone who lived in town, ideally. I had an outstanding invoice—and a kitten to re-house as soon as I could. A friendly cousin or brother with his own family would save me a lot of bother up front.

  That first pew was hard to see, with people shifting on the hard wood, and the rustling of pages around me alerted me to the fact that I’d missed some cue. On either side of me, people were opening black-bound books, and one woman with a face like a battle-ax nodded to the seatback in front of me. I pulled out a prayer book just in time to hear the minister announce a psalm. Switching volumes, I thumbed through to the correct number, all the while feeling my neighbor’s eyes on me.

  “Do you know who the family is?” I asked. The singing had begun, but as long as my neighbor was paying attention to me, rather than the service, I might as well take advantage of that.

  “Shh!” A small, close-faced woman seated in front of me turned with an angry hiss.

  “Well, do you?” I was mouthing the words now. Surely the old biddy ahead of me couldn’t be bothered by that.

  “You are in a church.” Staring lady mouthed the words back to me with such care and clarity, I could have read her lips. Since I didn’t have to, I only shrugged. She had started it.

  “Three girls?” I held up three fingers, and she batted them down. Call me stubborn: that just made me more determined. “Anyone else?” If she wanted me to stop, the fastest way was to answer me. The woman in front of me, the little one, shifted. Around us, the singing had trailed off, and the minister began to talk.

  “Bother,” said the woman to my left. Or “father,” but I couldn’t see that as a possibility.

  “Father?” I mouthed back. It was worth a shot.

  “Partner.” Her stage whisper came just as the minister’s voice had died away, and this time she was the target of the death glare. I sat back with a nod. This being Beauville, I assumed she meant a business partner, rather than anything more domestic, and that was good news for me. Surely, another lawyer would not be too grief-stricken to take care of the estate’s outstanding bills.

  “Please rise.” We all did, which gave me a better chance to peek through the pews. Yes, up front, a suit sitting near Jackie and Judith. Leaning toward another dark-haired female. Nice suit, from what I could make out. To pass the time, I pegged him for the lawyer. Maybe an old law school buddy of the deceased. The families had vacationed together, and—I was being creative here—the partners covered for each other’s affairs. No, I don’t have a particularly rosy view of my own species. It’s never given me any reason for one.

  Mixing and matching the congregation kept me so busy that when the service ended some forty minutes later, I almost missed my cue.

  “Peace be with you.” The hard little number in front of me was saying to her neighbor. I turned to my source, but the look in her eye stopped me from repeating the same.

  “Pru, there you are.” Creighton, standing in the aisle, broke into her basilisk stare. “And here I was thinking that you couldn’t bring yourself to enter.”

  “It’s garlic that keeps me away. Garlic and silver crosses.” I sidled over to him, probably closer than necessary. Churches affect me that way. He stepped back, but he was smiling.

  I took that as a green light. “Hey, do you know Canaday’s business partner?” I was looking over his shoulder, but the nicely dressed gent had disappeared. “Think you could get me a name?”

  “I can do better.” He rested one hand ever so lightly on my arm, turning me around and toward the door. “I can introduce you. You were planning on joining me graveside, weren’t you?”

  ***

  We took two cars—Creighton knew better than to protest—and he was waiting for me by the parking area when I pulled in.

  “Thought you’d bailed.” He leaned in as I walked up.

  “I had a call to make,” I explained. I’d tried Wilkins again and left another message. “The partner?”

  “After,” he said, his voice soft. Already a small crowd had gathered by the open grave. A green cloth, looking suspiciously like Astroturf, covered the mound of earth that would soon fill it. But before I could spout off about the hypocrisy of such camouflage, Creighton took my hand. Not out of affection—with a squeeze he directed my attention to the woman sitting in a folding chair by the grave. Jackie Canaday had the worn-down look of a long-term caregiver. Primary mourner, too, I figured from the way everyone seemed to be treating her, greeting her with gentle coos and pats.

  Everybody except her middle sister, that is. Judith was standing by Jackie’s chair. Up close, the family resemblance was undeniable. Although Jackie no longer had her sister’s glossy hair, the two shared a certain bone structure. On Judith, it was striking: sharp cheekbones and a profile that would have looked masculine on a lesser beauty. Jackie’s jaw had gone a little slack—I put her close to forty. Closer than I was, at any rate, though the matronly dress didn’t help. The puffiness of tears had softened the overall contours, but side-by-side you could see the family resemblance.

  You could also see the animosity. Maybe it was the sharpness, the line of pink along those cheekbones, the firm set of the mouth, but Judith looked furious, glaring down at her sister like she was going to attack her. The third Canaday girl, Jill, had to be here somewhere, but I had no idea wha
t she looked like, and she seemed to have no part in the drama being acted out before me.

  “Jackie,” Another woman—a stranger—bent over the older sister, confirming my suspicion. “I’m so sorry….” Other words followed, muted by distance, moving from Jackie to Judith in dutiful order. I couldn’t hear the sisters’ responses, but I knew the routine. At least the condolence line was keeping the two women separate. I could almost feel Judith’s glare from back here.

  “Grateful…” Someone else was talking now. Why the hell did people always use that word? Judith’s mood was beginning to make sense to me. Grateful for what? A man came up next. The suit—the one from the church. Jackie took his hand when he offered it and pulled him down closer. Greedy, I thought. Or anxious.

  “Is that the partner?” I nudged Creighton and nodded to the couple.

  “Uh huh,” he murmured back. Behind them, a woman was talking, her voice low and urgent. “Grateful they could even have a funeral…” Her voice had risen in excitement, and I turned to look. “From what I heard…” Another voice chimed in.

  “Pru.” There was a warning note in Creighton’s voice.

  “Shall we?” The minister’s quiet command hushed us all. “If the family would take their places.”

  “Jill, over here.” Another woman—the busybody from the church—gestured toward the chairs.

  “Jim?” I was still mulling over that strange comment when the woman from church turned to face us all.

  “Please,” she said. “We’re going to start.”

  I turned to see whom she had addressed. Another woman was approaching the chairs. As black-haired as Judith, but with the softer face of Jackie, this had to be Jill, the baby of the family.

  Seating herself between the two sisters, she pulled Judith into a chair. Only then did she turn toward her older sister to give her a friendly pat. It wasn’t appreciated. Even from here, I could see how Judith recoiled. See her glare.

  “Our father,” the minister began. All three women turned as one, making the family resemblance clear and giving me a chance to think about what could have set the sisters at odds.

  I didn’t have long to muse. The graveside service was blessedly short. As grateful as I was to be outdoors on a lovely spring day, I was quite happy to join in a general “amen.”

  Creighton’s arm stopped me, though, as I took a step.

  “Not yet,” he said. Sure enough, I’d forgotten this part.

  Two hefty men in dirt-stained work clothes stood back, waiting. I imagined they wanted to get on with it. Have a smoke. Get home. But the minister made one more little speech and then picked a spotless shovel—and things got weird.

  Jackie, I could see, had begun to cry at some point during the service. Her head hung down on her chest even as her shoulders bobbed. Jill was fussing over her now. As I watched, she dug a tissue out of her bag and handed it over. With one look at her two siblings, Judith stood, ready to do the honors and, just maybe, show up her big sister one last time.

  “Father Paul?” She reached out.

  “No!” Jackie stood—flinging off Jill, who sat back with a thud—and strode forward, taking the spade from the surprised minister’s hands.

  “Jackie.” Jill scrambled behind her, reaching for the wooden handle.

  “I’m the one who took care of him.” Jackie spun around, glared at Judith and then turned to take in Jill, as she brandished the shovel like a weapon. “You didn’t know.” She spit the words at them, her voice shrill. “You weren’t here. Neither of you. But you— Judith—”

  “I what?” Color had flooded Judith’s face, outlining those cheekbones in crimson.

  “You know what you did.” Jackie’s eyes were already puffed, but now they narrowed into slits. Her knuckles, I could see, were turning white as she tightened her grip on the spade. “If it hadn’t been for you, bringing that cat…”

  “If you had taken better care of him.” Judith hissed back, her own hands forming fists at her side. “Made him take his meds. Read the damned labels. If you hadn’t left him…”

  “I told you.” Jackie’s voice rising to hysteria. “I had an appointment!”

  “Ladies, please.” The man in the suit—the partner—stepped in ahead of Jill, who stood frozen at the spot.

  Jackie turned toward him, sputtering—“an appointment, and I waited”—but he managed to calm her down. “Yes, you did, Jackie. Nobody’s saying you didn’t.”

  It was an odd kind of reassurance, but it seemed to be working. Jackie’s mouth closed. I could see her choking back the tears, but she let him take the spade from her.

  “Please, ladies.” His voice was soothing and calm. “This is a horrible day. For all of us.”

  Judith glared, but she let it go, and he settled them both back into their seats.

  “Thank you—thank you,” said the minister, his face glowing with sweat. “I believe we should now proceed directly to the final blessing. Thank you, Mr. Wilkins.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Wilkins?” I turned toward Creighton in surprise, my other questions momentarily forgotten. “That’s Laurence Wilkins?”

  “If you’d please…!” Another glare, accompanied by a lipstick scowl. What was it with women and religion? I shook off the memories of my mother and drew my beau aside.

  “Jim, why didn’t you tell me?” I hissed my question into his ear, as the minister began to drone once more.

  “Tell you what?” Creighton drew back and looked at me. “Canaday and Laurence Wilkins had a practice together downtown. Biggest legal firm in town. After your time, I guess.”

  “He’s a client,” I explained. “Or, rather, he’s supposed to be. I’ve been trying to reach him for days now.”

  Creighton shrugged. “I would imagine he’s been busy. But, hey, I said I’d introduce you.”

  With a nod, I followed as he walked into the crowd. Despite the drama—or because of it—the assembly was quiet and attentive, and the minister made the most of it, building to crescendo with his final blessing. A sigh—of relief or disappointment—followed, and people began to mill about. As they did, voices climbed to normal volume again, and I strained for any tidbits. Twice I thought I heard “pending,” once “tests,” but each time I turned, the speakers dropped their voices. Maybe it wasn’t me. With sweeping gestures, the minister tried to move the small crowd back toward the parking area. The two workmen, I could see, were waiting for his cue.

  “Laurence Wilkins.” Creighton’s voice called me back, and I turned as he addressed the silver-haired lawyer. As tall as Creighton, though not as broad in the shoulder, he looked older up close. “I’d like you to meet Pru Marlowe.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I recited the formula as I took his outstretched hand. Large and cool, it closed easily around mine and held it for a moment longer than I would have liked. “And I’m sorry to have bothered you at such a time.”

  “Marlowe, that’s right.” He nodded, gray eyes locked on mine. “You’ve left me several messages.”

  “I responded to your request.” I’m okay with being polite, I don’t like being put on the spot. “You called about the squirrels?”

  “Yes, of course.” Satisfied, he let go of my hand. “I received your estimate and was planning on calling you tomorrow.”

  “If you like, I can come by tomorrow.” I didn’t bother to correct him. I provide a service for a fee—not an estimate. “I can put up some one-way gates and in a few days, your problem should be solved.”

  “Will the work be…” He paused, as if considering his next words. “Disruptive?”

  “No more than having animals scurry over your head is.” I was getting sick of this guy. Either he wanted my help or he didn’t. I made myself think of the money. Swallowed. Tried again. “I’ll need to examine the rest of your roof, but as long as I have your permission, I
can go ahead. I should be able to put the gates up in an hour or so.”

  He thought about that. “That might be practicable. I’ve got clients coming over tomorrow morning.”

  The shingle. “You work out of your home?”

  His nod confirmed it. “I do now. I’m still only semi-retired,” Wilkins continued. “Despite anything David could do about it.”

  As if hearing the implications of his own words, he waved his hands in the air. “No, I don’t mean anything by that. It’s just that he was ready to let go. To retire—at least from the practice.” The lawyer shook his head. “We’ve been—we were partners forever. My wife and I didn’t have kids, and his daughters were like, well…I watched those girls grow up. When he became ill and decided to take things easier—to focus on his charity work—I was in the midst of remodeling. So I just turned it around—made the new wing into a home office. I’d been thinking of it as a satellite, but then we gave up the office downtown, and I now see clients in my home office.”

  “Well, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.” Over his shoulder, I could see the rest of the crowd dispersing. “And if you have any questions, you can call me.”

  “I will.” He was clearly the sort to want the last word. But, no, there was something else. He put a hand out, as if to stop me. “In fact, I wanted to ask you something—”

  “Tomorrow.” With a smile, I brushed past him. Judith seemed to have disappeared, but Jackie was still receiving condolences. I made my way over.

  “Jackie?” She looked up, her face swollen and blotchy, and I caught myself. There was no way I could talk to this woman about a kitten. Not now. “Pru Marlowe,” I reminded her. “The animal expert? I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

  She nodded, but I sensed something beyond a fatigued acknowledgment. Maybe it was the way her mouth tightened up. “If only you’d come sooner,” she said, after a pause. The words fell out as if she could not longer restrain them. “If you’d removed that— that animal.”