The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret

by Leann Sweeney

  As four cats vied over who had the best bowl of wet food, I plopped down on my new microfiber sofa—a fabric cats don’t particularly like to dig their claws into because there is no weave. The chaise longue end was so comfortable and designed to be big enough to fit both Tom and me. I leaned into the brown tufted pillow and sighed. I was exhausted. This day had been packed with good and bad, happy and sad . . . okay, those were corny song lyrics, but they sure fit my conflicted mood.

  I must have dozed off, because I awoke to the sound of Tom greeting the cats—all except Chablis, who was resting on my legs. I sat up and blinked several times. Chablis jumped down and I stretched as my empty stomach gurgled in protest. I’d had very little to eat today.

  “Hey there.” I stood and walked into Tom’s open arms. “I am so glad to see you. A lot has happened since this morning.”

  “I heard. It’s all over the radio. I have plenty of time to listen to the news when I’m staking out cheating husbands and wives. I got my photos and I’m done with that particular job, thank goodness.” He squeezed me tighter and kissed the top of my head. “Are you ready for what are probably dried-out burgers and fries, thanks to me being so late?”

  “I am.” I squinted at the clock on the stove. “My gosh, it’s almost eight o’clock. Where’s Finn?”

  “He’s not here?” Tom stepped away. “Maybe he’s still at the shelter.”

  “No. He’s not.” Something felt wrong inside. A little knot of fear replaced my hunger.

  Tom, being one of the most perceptive people I know, picked up on this immediately. “Jillian, what’s wrong?”

  “I—I think I made a big mistake.”

  “What are you talking about?” He sounded concerned, but he didn’t appear as worried as I felt.

  I told him about leaving Finn at the diner with Lindsey Marner. But then I had to explain who she was, and by the time he understood all the things that had happened today, we were sitting side by side on the barstools by the breakfast counter.

  “He’s twenty years old, Jillian. And he’s a smart kid. Maybe he went to lend her support at her home.”

  “Could you call him? Don’t let on I told you I saw him with Lindsey, though. I don’t want him to think I’ve broken his trust.”

  Tom rested a hand on my cheek and offered a sweet smile. “Sure. But I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. He has a friend who needs him.”

  “I trust Finn—but Lindsey? That’s a troubled girl and . . . I just have this sick feeling in my gut.”

  Tom pulled out his phone. “I’m phoning right now, okay?” But after listening for several seconds, he said, “Finn, give me a call when you get a chance. We’ve got some dried-out burgers and withered fries waiting for you and I know you won’t want to miss out.”

  He repocketed his phone and stood. “He might not want supper, but I sure do. Let’s see what we can salvage out of this meal.”

  While we ate, I filled Tom in on everything I’d seen and heard today concerning the murder. Though he tried to hide it, I could tell he was growing more concerned as the minutes ticked by. We moved to the sofa and sat close on the chaise, his arm around me. He left two more voice mails and a couple of text messages on Finn’s phone. We played with the cats, watched a couple of TV shows that we couldn’t really get into and naturally kept checking for texts and waiting for the phone to ring.

  Finally he said, “If you want to go to bed, I’ll stay here until he arrives. I promise not to let on that I know everything.”

  “That’s the least of our worries right now. I would never be able to sleep anyway. We need to call Candace. Maybe Lindsey has a history of running away and maybe this time she’s taken Finn with her. It’s not like he’s unfamiliar with that way to cope when things get tough.” My first encounter with Finn had been after he’d run away from his birth mother’s home several years ago in search of Tom.

  Tom sighed heavily. “The kid needs his independence, but you’re right. This isn’t like Finn. Plus, there’s been a murder in this town and as far as we know, the killer hasn’t been caught.”

  A niggling of relief eased the knot in my stomach. “Good. I’m calling her.”

  When Candace answered, she sounded as if she’d been awake for days. “Hey there. Why are you calling so late?”

  I could hear B.J.’s and Morris’s voices in the background, so they were all still at the station. During a big case, they didn’t leave and usually took turns catching naps on the old couch in Morris’s office. “I should have called you before, but I was giving Finn the benefit of the doubt and, well, trying to hang on to his trust, but apparently that was the absolute wrong thing—”

  “Jillian, what in heck are you talking about?”

  I explained how I’d seen Lindsey and Finn together at the diner, and then confessed that I’d overheard Seth’s fear that she was missing.

  “Do you know where she is now?” Her tone had an urgency that made that tiny seed of fear burst and grow. I started to tremble and couldn’t seem to find my voice.

  Tom took the phone from my shaking hand. He said his hello to Candace, and then as he listened, I saw his brows knit with worry. Every ounce of guilt at keeping this information to myself transformed to dread.

  Tom said, “All we know is that she and Finn were together earlier. If we hear anything, we’ll get back to you right away. Finn’s a smart kid. He’ll make good choices.” Once he disconnected, he handed me my phone. “Apparently Lindsey’s brother is the only one who’s concerned. Her mother told Candace she’s been a troubled kid for a long time. What bothers me is that Finn could be swept up in all this—and even if the girl’s father just died—”

  We both turned at the sound of the back door opening and then Finn saying, “Dad? Jillian?”

  Tom and I met him in the kitchen, and right behind him was Lindsey Marner. Her red-rimmed eyes told me either she was very tired or she’d been crying. As soon as she saw me looking at her, she lowered her gaze, the cuffs of her black hoodie clutched tightly in her fists.

  “Hey there, Lindsey,” I said quietly. “Come on in.” I so wanted to wrap her in my arms. Her grief and distress filled my kitchen like a living, breathing entity. Maybe that was why I felt the need to touch her, comfort her.

  “Son, what’s going on?” Tom’s focus was on Finn, his tone gentle.

  “Lindsey won’t go home. I’ve tried to talk her into it, but she’s a stubborn girl. Could she crash here? Just for tonight?”

  “What about her family? Aren’t they concerned for her?” Tom asked.

  It was Lindsey who spoke. “They don’t give a flying flip where I am or who I’m with. It’s all about the money now that Daddy’s gone.” She lifted her eyes and looked into mine. The sadness hadn’t left, but I noted a glint of anger, too.

  “I’m not sure that’s true. Seth appeared very upset that you were missing.” This seemed like such a delicate subject to broach with a girl who was a relative stranger. But she needed someone to help her, of that much I was sure.

  “What do you know about my brother?” It sounded like an accusation.

  “I happened to be at the police station when he came in looking for help to find you.”

  “Oh. Well, I texted him. Told him to chill and I’d be home soon. He gets it. He knows.”

  “But what about your mother, Lindsey?” I said. “Even if you two don’t get along, I know—”

  She cut me off, saying, “My mother hasn’t called. She told Seth to take care of the Lindsey problem. She’s busy comforting Zoe.” Full-blown anger had now taken the place of sorrow.

  “That would upset me, too,” Tom said. “Jillian, do you have room for Lindsey here?”

  “Of course.” I noted relief wash over Finn. I guessed he had worried about what my reaction would be to him bringing Lindsey here. But Tom knew I would never refuse.r />
  “Are you two hungry?” I asked. “I couldn’t salvage those hamburgers I brought home earlier, but there’s always PBJs.”

  Lindsey almost smiled. “That would be okay.”

  While I got busy setting bread, peanut butter and jam on the counter so they could fix their sandwiches, Finn introduced his friend to the four sleepy cats who had wandered into the kitchen from the far corners of the house. Cats’ hearing, though not as acute as their canine counterparts’, is far better than any human’s. They’d heard voices and were ready to offer Lindsey the comfort that I wished I could give her myself.

  Then I saw from the corner of my eye that Tom was headed into the other room, phone in hand. I knew who he was about to call and wondered how he would explain this to Finn and Lindsey. Tom was an ex-cop who felt certain decisions just made sense. He probably felt he didn’t need to explain. I could hear the phrases in my head he often repeated: “The right thing is the right thing. Simple as that.”

  But was he calling Lindsey’s mother or the police?

  Eleven

  Finn and Lindsey were finishing up their late-night meal of chips, sandwiches and milk when Candace’s familiar rap sounded on the back door. She often walked right in afterward without waiting for me to come to the door, but not this time. This was not a social call.

  But Finn recognized the knock and looked at me with hurt in eyes. “You called her? Really, Jillian? You called Candace?”

  “I called her,” Tom said. I was grateful for this small attempt to rescue me from being labeled the betrayer of Finn’s trust. “Lindsey needs to talk to the police. Seth wasn’t the only one looking for her.”

  Lindsey slid off the barstool and glanced around as if searching for a way to escape. But Tom was already at the door ushering Candace into the kitchen. And so were all four cats. Magpie sure fit right in here. All visitors must be vetted.

  Candace knelt and petted them while looking Lindsey’s way. “I’m Deputy Carson and I take it you’re Rhett Marner’s daughter. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Lindsey had become a little more animated in the minutes before Candace’s arrival, but her anguish seemed to return. “Don’t be. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy.” She turned to me. “And I guess I won’t be staying here after all.”

  In the calmest voice I could muster, I said, “I hope you change your mind. Candace only wants to talk to you and you’re more than welcome to stay.” I glanced Candace’s way. “You just want to talk, right?”

  Candace stood. “Yes, ma’am, that’s all. Just a few minutes of Lindsey’s time is all I need. It’s been a long, rough day.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to jail?”

  This seemed to take Candace aback—and she wasn’t the only one. Silence hung in the air like a shadow over all of us—and hung for a second too long.

  But the girl’s next words explained her comment. “Oh, you mean my mother hasn’t thrown me under the bus yet? Well, that’s a first.”

  Candace gestured toward my living room. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about what happened today?”

  But Lindsey had returned to full-blown sullen form. “Do I have a choice?” In true petulant teen mode she swung around and marched into my adjoining living area, shrugging off Finn’s comforting hand on her shoulder. She plopped onto a chair facing the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her.

  Candace sat opposite from her on the sofa, adjusting a police belt laden by her holstered weapon, a baton and her cell phone holder. “I’m not much older than you, Lindsey. You’re nineteen, is that right?”

  Lindsey nodded and snuck a peek at Candace’s face. I’d never thought of how close in age these two were—Candace was only in her mid-twenties—probably because Lindsey seemed so much younger. She might have been nineteen but could easily have been mistaken for thirteen or fourteen.

  “I’m not here to take you to jail or even take you home. You’re old enough to decide where you want to stay right now. I need a few answers, that’s all.”

  Magpie suddenly jumped in Lindsey’s lap and put her paws on the girl’s chest so she could rub the side of her head along Lindsey’s jaw. I’d been busying myself by clearing off the counter with Finn’s help, but when I saw Magpie go to Lindsey’s rescue, tears burned behind my eyes.

  The girl’s shoulders relaxed and her hands came out of hiding to stroke the kitty. Now that she had Lindsey’s attention, the cat curled up in her lap and looked right at Candace.

  Lindsey said, “Ask your questions, Officer.”

  “Call me Candace.” She glanced at Magpie. “I’ve met that cat before. Did you know that?”

  “Finn told me.”

  “She’s awful sweet.” Candace paused, tilting her head, probably hoping to get a glimpse into Lindsey’s eyes. But that wasn’t happening.

  “That’s not a question,” Lindsey said. “Can you get to the point?”

  I tensed and as if sensing my discomfort, Tom put his arm around me.

  “Okay, who told you about your father’s death?”

  Lindsey looked up and stared at Candace. “Why does that matter?”

  Candace, her hands clasped between her knees, leaned forward and didn’t say a word.

  “Okay, okay. First I got a text from my mother, and then Finn called me.”

  Candace sat back and both Tom and I looked at Finn.

  He said, “I can explain. At the shelter, this man came in to pick up his lost Lab and he said he’d seen all these people hanging around that office building construction site and that both Mr. Marner’s wives were there and when he saw the other Mrs. Marner—not Lindsey’s mother, the new one—anyway, she fainted. Then—”

  Candace held up a hand. “I get the picture.” She focused on Lindsey again, who had begun to rock ever so slightly. “You haven’t talked to your mother?”

  “Like I said, she texted me. I guess that’s supposed to count as talking. And I don’t even know how he died—just that someone killed him.”

  I stifled a gasp, tried to keep my face from revealing my shock. I guessed it hadn’t registered when she said her mother texted her about the murder. My Pollyanna brain decided the message was asking Lindsey to come right away. Instead this poor kid heard about her father’s death via text message? I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hug her, make this better, but I was certain touching her right now wouldn’t be received well. Lindsey trusted Finn, and that was about it.

  “What she did is not cool,” Candace said. “Before I ask a few more questions, would you feel more comfortable if Tom, Jillian and Finn left the room?”

  Lindsey’s response was swift. “Are you kidding me? These people are normal. They’re actually nice.”

  Candace held up a hand. “Okay, I’m fine with it if you are.”

  I saw Lindsey steal a glance at Finn, noticed her eyes had filled. But she blinked several times and said to Candace, “Do you think I killed him?”

  “Did you?”

  “I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Please tell me how he died. Please someone tell me.” She glanced around at all of us. The tears came then, streaming down her face and making mascara-stained inroads through her makeup.

  Magpie awoke, looked back at her. She again climbed Lindsey’s chest to rub her own face against the cheek of this sad, sad child. And she was a child. We all became children when someone we love left us forever. I wiped away a tear of my own.

  Quietly, Candace said, “He was shot.”

  Finn left the barstool and knelt by Lindsey, covering one of her hands that clung to Magpie. She continued to cry, shoulders shaking, but she remained restrained by her fear of being too vulnerable in a room filled with people who were practically strangers.

  After a minute, Lindsey swiped under her eyes with the heel of her hand, leaving dark-tinted semicircles on her cheeks.

 
; Magpie left her then, leaping onto the floor. She sauntered away with a backward glance as if to say, “My work for now is done.”

  Finn stayed, gripping Lindsey’s wrists and pulling her hands away from her face. “I am so, so sorry.”

  “I didn’t even like him, so I don’t know why I’m crying.” Her tone held a hint of defiance along with the wonder of feeling an emotion she wasn’t yet ready to accept—grief.

  “Like and love are two very different things,” Candace said. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Maybe three days ago—could have been four. He doesn’t come around much. He has a new family. But then you and everyone else know that.”

  “He came to your house?” Candace asked.

  “Yeah, I needed money for a textbook and my dear, sweet mother said that wasn’t her responsibility.”

  “He seemed normal? Not upset about anything?”

  “In a hurry, and what could be more normal than that?” Her sarcasm had returned in full force, but I noted she didn’t pull away from Finn, who now held both her hands in his. That was encouraging, because this girl needed someone to hold on to her.

  “Did he say anything out of the ordinary? Anything that seemed different to you? Because you, I can tell, are a very observant person.”

  Lindsey squinted into the past. “Now that you mention it, he seemed like . . .” She looked straight at Candace for the first time. “Like he’d had too much coffee. Jittery, you know?”

  “Talking fast?”

  “Yeah. I think he said something about everyone needing money right now.” She thought for a second. “Yes. I felt guilty for asking for the money because he said everyone thought he was an ATM.”

  “And you think he’d had too much coffee?”

  “Not really. It was different—and when he hugged me, he didn’t have coffee breath like usual, and believe me, my daddy has the worst—” She pulled a hand free from Finn’s grasp and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. He’s gone and I was such a brat. I pulled away when he hugged me, gave him attitude and—”