Calico Confusion

by Katherine Hayton

  The group sat at an outside table and waited for the menus to arrive. “What’s the big day off in celebration of?” Braden asked and Marjorie fumbled for an answer.

  “I came in for a business meeting, about the café. I saw your husband in the office,” she said, turning to Candace and hoping to take the attention off herself.

  “Connor?” For the first time, emotions spread across Candace’s face. Unfortunately, they wavered between annoyed and angry. “In whose office?”

  “Shaun Hayes. I think they mentioned you needed to sign something.”

  “Oh, that.” Candace lost interest and frowned down at the table, picking at the splintered edge.

  “Goodness, fancy bumping into you again,” Teal Armistead said in a loud voice, giving Candace a kiss on the cheek in welcome. “And you too, Marjorie. You’ll be pleased to know, Rascal is fitting in at home very well. I’ve just dropped him off at the vet’s office to have a good check-up.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Marjorie said, mentally adjusting the name of the tabby cat from Nimble. “And I’m sure your vet will find everything in order.”

  “Did you get the calico?” Teal asked and when Candace stared at her blankly, added, “Your aunt’s kitten. I remember you were going on and on about how you couldn’t find it anywhere and how dreadful it would be if it had run away.”

  “I don’t care about her cat,” Candace said, frowning.

  “Yes, you do. I remember how pleased I was to see her at the kitten café, and I ran back to the community centre to tell you. What made you change your mind?”

  “I’m not feeling very well.” Candace shoved her chair back, the steel legs squealing on the paving stones. “I think I’ll skip breakfast, after all.”

  “You’re welcome to take the kitten home,” Marjorie blurted. “She’s at the café so anyone can adopt her, so long as they pass the standard checks. It’s no trouble for me to set her aside for you.”

  “I told you, I don’t want a cat.” Candace slammed her palm down on the table, then winced and pulled it back.

  Marjorie saw a bright spot of blood on the side of her hand and fished a packet of tissues out of her purse. “Here, you’re bleeding.”

  “Silly cut,” Candace said, her lower lip trembling as she pressed the tissue to the side. “It keeps breaking open.”

  “Please sit down,” Marjorie said, standing herself. “I shouldn’t have invited myself along to your private breakfast. You were obviously just being polite.”

  Candace remained standing. “I just want to go home.”

  “But we were meeting about—” Braden broke off as Candace stalked away from the table, her fingers clenched around her purse strap.

  “Did I put my foot in something?” Teal asked, fiddling with a pearl button at the top of her blouse. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it was me.” Braden sighed. “Candace wanted to speak to me privately and I insisted on taking her out in the fresh air. She just looked so pale I wanted to sit her out in the sun.”

  “I’d better get back to the café,” Marjorie mumbled, trying to tuck her flyaway hair behind her ears as the wind picked up. “Esme will be glad if I return early.”

  As she walked back to her car, she saw Candace sitting on a public bench nearby, jabbering on her mobile phone. She still had a tissue pressed against her hand and the wound made Marjorie frown.

  The cut was on the side of the palm, exactly where a hand would encounter a glass fragment left in a windowpane as they steadied themselves to jump down.

  Chapter Eleven

  Braden dropped by the café just before closing. “I wanted to apologise for this morning,” he said as Marjorie greeted him with a smile, passing across a kitten named Chaplin. The young rag-doll was cream fur with brown tips but had an unfortunately placed spot of black right under his nose.

  “There’s no need,” she said, keying his order into the side of her coffee machine and waiting for the beans to grind before speaking again. “Just because I always want a full cooked English breakfast doesn’t mean I should have one.”

  “You don’t need to watch your weight,” Braden said with a wink. “If I worked here, I’d be the size of a truck.”

  “Hm. Anyway, I feel like the person who needs the apology is Candace. I’m the one who gate-crashed.”

  “Only because I invited you and I’ve already grovelled to her and arranged a new meeting.” He rolled his eyes. “I already know what it’ll be about. She wants me to talk her husband into doing something he doesn’t want to.”

  “Really?” Marjorie’s eyes widened. “When I saw them at Esme’s dinner, it seemed Candace had her husband wrapped around her little finger.”

  “Only in relationship matters. I’m willing to bet this is something to do with business and that’s why Connor has put his foot down.” Braden shrugged. “It’s not as though I have any sway with him. I’m sure Candace only came to me because I’m one of the few people she knows.”

  “Does that mean I should expect a call next?” Marjorie said with a laugh. “Or don’t I count?”

  “You count to me, but I’d think yourself lucky if you escape this one. Ever since her investments went south, she’s become very demanding.”

  “I thought she was rich. Didn’t Connor say she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth?”

  “Was is the operative word there.” Braden stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, then dispatched the rest of his coffee. “Her husband probably has the finest business brain in all of Hanmer, but Candace is too proud to ask his advice. She’s made one wrong move after another.”

  “Why doesn’t he step in? I don’t think I’d just let things ride if someone spent all of my hard-earned money.”

  Braden spluttered, his eyes turning red while he fetched a handkerchief out of his pocket to cough into. “Sorry, you caught me by surprise. There’s no way in Hades that Connor would let his wife near his finances, no matter how many compliments he pays her in public. No, she lost all her money. His is still safe.”

  Marjorie stared at him, baffled. “But what’s the point of being married if you keep everything separate?”

  Braden held up his hands. “Hey, don’t ask me. I couldn’t make my own marriages work so I’m hardly qualified to weigh in on someone else’s.”

  “Does this mean she’ll be turfed out of the home as well? I presume separate residences apply.”

  “Oh, now that does sound more like my marriages,” Braden said, his eyes twinkling. “But I’m sorry to burst your bubble. The Butlers live together.”

  “Hm.” Marjorie shook her head, laughing when Monkey Business repeated the gesture. “It’s nice to see you disapprove, as well.”

  “Did you get anywhere with Shaun Hayes?” Braden said with a startling change of subject. “I presume you confronted him about the recording.”

  “Am I that obvious?” Marjorie drummed her fingers on the table. “I didn’t get anywhere. He wouldn’t even plug the drive into his computer.” She leaned back and glanced over her shoulder at the view. “And it doesn’t sound like he’ll budge on developing a café next to mine. He even had the gall to offer me pointers on how I should rearrange my existing property to better effect.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “Something along the lines of turning my home and business upside down, then he wouldn’t be building me out of the view.”

  Braden scanned the room, a small frown creasing his brow. “I don’t know how much it would cost to move the machines and stuff upstairs—”

  “I’d have to build an outside staircase. Given the median age of my clientele, I can assure you they’d take one look at that, and never return.”

  “Was it before he offered you the use of his ‘specialty builders’ while they’re in town?” Braden asked with a snort. “I’ve heard Hayes trots that one out at almost every meeting. He must be desperate to defray the costs.”

  “Do you think so?” Marjorie chewed on
the corner of her lip. “Perhaps if he can’t afford the builders, he might give up on all his ambitious plans and move on to another town.”

  “I think he was close to doing that when Angelica refused to sell him the land he needed for his new development. Now…” Braden shrugged.

  Marjorie took a stab at the rest. “Candace is selling him the property to make up for her money woes.”

  “Yeah.”

  They stared at each other glumly for a moment. Marjorie cleared her throat and stared down at the tabletop, tracing a knot in the wood with her fingertip. “The other night, with the intruder… I don’t suppose you got a look at them when they jumped out of the upstairs window.”

  “If I had, I would’ve told you and the police by now. Why?”

  “Just a thought.” The image of the cut on Candace’s hand swam into Marjorie’s memory but she didn’t want to lay an accusation. Not without more evidence. At least, not to Braden.

  “I need to go,” she said, getting to her feet and clearing away the dishes. “There’s someone in town I have to see.”

  “Busy, busy.” A smile curled up the corner of Braden’s mouth, forming a small dimple. “I’ll let you get back to your hectic lifestyle.”

  Marjorie waved as Regina pulled into the carpark of the café, running over to unlock the front doors. Around her, the kittens played or dozed, their evening meals digesting in their little bellies.

  “I’m so glad you could come and see me off-duty,” Marjorie said as Regina walked inside. “This isn’t something I felt comfortable sharing at the station until I know what you think.”

  “Go on.”

  “Just a minute.” Marjorie ran behind the counter where she’d stored up the leftovers from the day. She also pushed the button to warm up the coffee machine. “What’d you feel like? If I’m picking your work brain out of hours, I should at least pay you in kind.”

  “A hot chocolate would be nice. I can’t have caffeine this late in the day or I’ll be awake half the night.”

  Marjorie soon placed the order down with a flourish. “Okay. I don’t want to come off like I’m making rampant accusations, so if it seems like I’m going down that path, you have permission to stop me.”

  Since Regina had a mouthful of cheese scone, she waved in acknowledgement. A yawning Marmalade wandered over to see what was what, slumping down at their feet when he didn’t find anything of interest.

  “Candace Butler has a cut on the side of her hand,” Marjorie said, deciding that the incontrovertible facts would be the best starting place. She tapped the edge of her own palm, then jerked her head towards the upstairs room. “It matches where someone would get cut if they were jumping out of a window.”

  “Go on,” Regina said with an inscrutable expression on her face. “For as long as these scones last, I’m listening.”

  “Teal Armistead and her husband Gregory adopted a kitten earlier in the week. When they came to pick him up, she remarked on Sweet Callie being here. That’s the name I gave Angelica’s kitten. From what she said, Candace had been desperate to get hold of her. But when Teal said the same thing to her face, this morning, she denied it.”

  Regina nodded her head. “I told you Connor didn’t want a bar of it. He wouldn’t even drop by to see the kitten.”

  “I don’t think she wanted the kitten at all,” Marjorie continued. “I believe she was interested in the tag around its neck.”

  “Why?” Regina’s brows knitted together. “It implicates Shaun Hayes in the crime, not her.”

  “She probably doesn’t know that.” Marjorie clenched her hands together. This was headed into conjecture land and it made her stomach feel unsettled. “If she found out about the video’s existence without knowing the details, she might think it’s something far different than it is.”

  “And what far different thing would that be?”

  “I’m not sure.” Marjorie stared over Regina’s shoulder, her gaze vacant. “Maybe just some details she doesn’t want revealed about the proposed development?”

  Regina gave a noncommittal grunt and shifted on her seat. “We can test out the theory about your upstairs window, easily enough. If she’s willing to give up a blood sample, we can compare it to the DNA profile from the blood on the shard of glass.”

  “What happens if she refuses?”

  “Without any other evidence pointing towards her from the crime? Nothing. I don’t think we’d have enough for a court order.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Go ahead.” Regina’s lips curled into a smile as she broke off another piece of scone. “The real question is will I answer.”

  “True enough. Okay.” Marjorie placed her palms flat on the table. “Most of the town think Angelica was stabbed to death.” She checked Regina’s face from the corner of her eye, seeing no reaction. “But I think she was poisoned.”

  It had come to her during the day, the reason why she felt the first theory was off base. At the time she’d visited Angelica’s home, Regina and the sergeant had exchanged an excited glance when she mentioned the poisonous plant out the back.

  The same excitement had been present when Marjorie talked about Leah dropping off an apology gift of honey.

  “Did someone come forward with a pottle of honey with traces of poison? Is that why you arrested Leah Parish?”

  Again, no facial reaction but Marjorie caught the faintest hint of a nod.

  “Was the person who led you to the pottle name Candace Butler, by any chance?”

  Regina blew out a breath and sat back, pushing the plate of food away from her. “If anyone asks, you guessed it and I did nothing to confirm or deny your theory, okay?”

  “I swear.” Marjorie held a scout salute to her forehead.

  “Then, yeah. You’re right on the money. On the night we arrested Leah, Candace called us on the emergency number, saying she’d chased someone from her aunt’s property. We’d only just cleared it for release back to the family.”

  “And you caught Leah running away?”

  “No. We went to her home later to arrest her. What we found at the scene was a jar of honey with traces of cyanide inside and Leah’s fingerprints on the outside.”

  “You thought she’d gone back to the house to retrieve the pot when the police moved away?”

  Regina inclined her head. “She had no alibi for the time in question and Candace’s description matched to what she was wearing. Between that and the murder weapon, we thought it was a perfect match.” She paused for a moment, frowning at the table. “It might still be a match.”

  “Except whoever planted the poison for Angelica didn’t need to come back to the house.” Marjorie tapped a finger on the back of her wrist, staring down into the driveway. “They’d cleaned up after themselves at the time of the murder. Don’t you remember the dishwasher was on?”

  “I don’t but it’ll be in the crime scene notes if it was.” Regina glared across the table. “How do you know that?”

  Marjorie made a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t step inside the house, not at all. I could just see it from the doorway, I swear.”

  Regina sat back, rubbing her elbows as though the café was cold. “The pathologist thought the most likely scenario was that Angelica crushed her pills together in a mortar, then swallowed them with a spoonful of honey. Anybody knowing that would be able to manipulate the situation.”

  “But how could Leah find that information out? She barely spoke to the woman until they had the falling out over the land development. If Angelica didn’t like honey, she might have poisoned someone completely different if she gave the pottle away. Or nobody at all if she just threw it out.”

  Regina rubbed her eyelid before letting her head rest on her cupped hands. “But why else would we find the poison in the honey?”

  Marjorie put a hand on Regina’s shoulder. “Because someone was setting Leah up to take the blame. The only person who’d know what poison to use is the person who killed her
.”

  “But why? What possible motive does Candace have?”

  “Money. I bet if you looked into the property deal with Mr Hayes, there’ll be a kickback to Candace from getting Angelica to sign. It’s obvious she didn’t trust the man. After all, she went on record saying he’d likely killed her.”

  “Candace and Connor Butler don’t need money. They’re the richest couple in town.”

  “Except they keep separate finances and Candace is broke.”

  Regina stared into space for a moment longer, then got to her feet. “There are holes large enough to drive a tractor through, but I think it’s worth putting to Sergeant Matthewson. Want to come along for the ride? It’s your theory.”

  A knot formed in Marjorie’s stomach. “He won’t listen to me, will he? I don’t have the slightest idea what to say.”

  “He’ll listen. I did.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sergeant Matthewson might act like a grumpy old man but it didn’t take long for Marjorie to see his softer side. After throwing a few pointed questions her way, he stopped to ask her if she’d like a cup of tea. Only after refreshments had been provided did he harangue her about the nitty-gritty of her evidence again.

  All Marjorie learned in return was that a sugar bowl was on the list of items in the dishwasher at the time the police entered Angelica Carmel’s house.

  “Who was that lawyer who said she had the details of the will?” the sergeant asked Regina after an hour had passed. “It was the lady next door, wasn’t it?”

  “Angelica’s neighbour is called Evie Swan,” Marjorie said, glad of the chance to be certain of an answer. “If that’s who you mean.”

  Matthewson snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.” He opened his mouth to ask Regina another question, then snapped it shut again. “Thanks for coming in today, Ms Hardaway. We’re always very grateful for any information in an ongoing case.”

  He might have sounded polite, but the words were a dismissal all the same. As Regina led her out to the front of the station, Marjorie wrung her hands together. “How will I know what’s going on?”