The Cat, the Sneak and the Secret

by Leann Sweeney

  But where was Merlot’s partner in crime?

  I checked the camera feeds on my phone again. I didn’t see her, and the bedrooms had no cameras. I started toward my room at the end of the hall, but the guest room door was open and there she was, sitting on the bed. Somehow she’d gotten Lindsey’s bag open and the second she saw me, she grabbed a few items and took off. This girl was more than a little shrewd, not to mention fast.

  I followed her toward the living room, expecting her to make a run for the basement, where she kept her stash, but a dog in her path stopped her dead. She looked at Yoshi, standing next to the breakfast bar blocking the way into the kitchen and the basement door. She glanced up at me and decided I was the safer option. But this time, I was ready for her. Before she could get by me, I scooped her up.

  She continued to hold on to her latest steals, so I took them from her mouth—a sock and a tiny little leather folding object—maybe for a driver’s license or ID card?

  Magpie squirmed free and ran down the hall toward the bedroom, probably to join Merlot in their freshly made bed of fabric.

  Finn was grinning from ear to ear as he came toward me. “What did she find this time?”

  I looked down at the small wallet. “Could be Lindsey’s ID. Shouldn’t she have this with her?”

  “Let’s find out.” Finn grabbed it before I could protest.

  He appeared confused after he opened it and said, “Oh. A baby picture. Weird.” Then he turned it to show me. “Guess I’ll return this to her room.”

  “Wait.” A flutter in my stomach gave me pause. I wanted a closer look, but this belonged to Lindsey. It was her business.

  “What’s going on, Jillian?”

  But I did look closer. And I was right about what I’d seen. “I recognize this picture.”

  He telegraphed more confusion by staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What are you talking about? Did you see the same picture at her house?”

  “I was never in her house, Finn. But I did see this same picture inside that locket. And this baby looks familiar.”

  He stared at the tiny face for a few seconds. “That’s because the baby looks like Lindsey. It’s her. Same chin.”

  “As of right now, I can’t explain why this bothers me, but it does.”

  “She’s got her baby picture. It means something to her.” He closed his eyes. “Uh-oh. The locket. The blood. Her father’s blood, right?”

  “That’s part of it, yes. And what young person carries around her baby picture, Finn?”

  “You’re right. So I’ll ask her.” Finn closed the picture holder and started toward the hall to replace what Magpie had stolen.

  “Let me talk to Candace about this first, okay?” I sounded as if I was pleading—and maybe I was.

  “She didn’t do anything to her father, Jillian.” He sounded upset as he left the room.

  “I’m not saying she did,” I called after him. How I wished I could share what I knew. But that was Lindsey’s secret to keep or to share.

  Finn took Yoshi to his basement bedroom and after about thirty minutes he came back upstairs carrying Magpie. Yoshi was at his heels. Finn hugged me and said we were “cool” and he was sorry for being a little argumentative, as he put it. But I heard no promise that he wouldn’t talk to Lindsey about the picture and I wasn’t about to bring it up again. Finn would do what he thought was right.

  Tom picked me up at six p.m. wearing a freshly ironed blue shirt and a tie under a beige cardigan.

  “You look . . . preppy, Dad.” Finn then looked at what I’d chosen, wool slacks and a sweater. “You two going to a frat party or something?”

  Tom petted the exuberant Yoshi as well as the cat crew. “We are preppy. And yes, that’s exactly where we’re going.”

  “Then be home by midnight and no pot smoking.” Finn offered a droll grin.

  Earlier in the day, he’d texted me the name of the place we were going, Hagerty’s. Once in the car, I told him that from what I’d seen from pictures of the restaurant online, he could lose the tie.

  “Really? Because from the credit card statement I saw, Mike dropped a small fortune at this place. I figured it was fancy enough to pull the tie out of mothballs.”

  “It’s a nice place when you’re used to pizza and Main Street Diner fare, but the customers I saw in the online pics weren’t all that dressed up and the ad line read ‘Casual Dining and Award-Winning Chef.’”

  “Best news I’ve had all day. Loosen this thing for me, would you?” He pulled at the tie. “I hate ties. What are they for, anyway?”

  I wiggled at the knot while he kept his eyes on the road. “The male equivalent of panty hose, maybe? No, panty hose are far worse. And don’t get me started on Spanx.”

  “What are Spanx? Sounds intriguing.” He grinned.

  “You don’t need to know.” I freed him from the tie and we continued on for almost an hour to Jones Hill, a more upscale town than Mercy and on the way to Columbia.

  Hagerty’s Restaurant welcomed diners with a pleasant and dim atmosphere. I smelled good things like fresh bread and grilled fish the minute the hostess greeted us. After seating us, she gave us menus and handed Tom the wine list. “Nora is your server this evening and she’ll be right with you.”

  She turned to leave us, but Tom stopped her with a “Pardon me, ma’am.”

  “Yes, sir?” The hostess couldn’t have been more than twenty, with dark waves framing her ebony face. She was stunningly beautiful and certainly not of the “ma’am” age yet—but this was South Carolina.

  Tom had his phone already opened to a picture of himself and Mike together taken at our engagement celebration this past summer.

  “Has the man in this picture ever been in here that you can recall?” Tom widened the picture to make Mike’s face bigger.

  She stared at the photo and shook her head. “I don’t remember him, sir.” She started to leave but turned back, her curiosity getting the better of her. “May I ask why you want to know?”

  Tom pulled his sweater aside to reveal the badge on his belt—his brand-new shiny gold shield.

  The hostess’s mouth formed a circle and she said, “Oh,” followed by “Anything else I can help you with?”

  Tom thanked her and she hurried away, but I had the feeling that word would travel through this place about the cop sitting near the window as fast as Yoshi could lick a dish.

  I, for one, was not here to work, so I took the wine list from Tom, who was paying absolutely no attention to it. He was scanning the room. On the job. I wondered if he knew something about the people working here that I didn’t.

  “To honor one of the smartest cats I know, I’ll have a glass of the house wine—which happens to be Syrah. What about you?”

  “Can’t drink tonight.”

  I sighed. “That’s right. Well, once we’re married, we need to come back for a date night. We will have date nights, you know.”

  I had his attention then. “Yes, we will.” He smiled. “My guess is, you’ve had thoughts about postponing the wedding because of all that’s happened this week. Don’t even go there. We will be at that church and you’ll be my wife in a couple days. We’ve waited too long already. Mike would curse me out from heaven if I said we were too busy solving murders to take time out for what will be the best day of my life. But it’s a good thing we’re waiting until spring for our honeymoon. That might well have gotten lost in this murderous shuffle.” He reached across the table, palms open, and I put my hands in his.

  “It promises to be the best day of my life, too. Besides, who am I to argue with a man wearing a badge?” I said. “And when did you get that, by the way?”

  “The mayor came and swore me in right after you left the station. Got the badge then.”

  Nora arrived at our table with a basket of warm bread and little s
culpted pieces of pale butter on a china plate. She looked thirty-something, with tied-back tawny hair and a small starched white apron over her black clothes. After we’d placed our orders, Tom showed her the photo.

  “May I?” She gestured toward the phone and he handed it to her.

  She moved the phone under the Tiffany lamp above our table. “Was he a police officer, too? Because you seem to be friends with him.”

  I was right. Everyone knew a cop was here.

  Tom said, “He was police. Have you seen him?”

  “I have. Mr. Baca, I believe. Very nice man.”

  Tom smiled, a smile that lit his eyes and diluted the dark circles of fatigue beneath them. “Was he alone?”

  “Never.” She returned Tom’s smile and hers was a knowing one. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, so if—”

  “Mr. Baca—Police Chief Baca—is dead. You can’t get him in more trouble than that. Do you know who he was with? Or did he come here with more than one person at different times? See, we know from his credit card statements this was a favorite place for him to dine.”

  She glanced around, lowered her voice. “It was always the same woman. But I don’t remember him saying her name while I was at the table, so I can’t help you with that.”

  “But you can describe her.” Tom didn’t state this as a question. He expected she would know, and she did. She gave a very detailed description.

  I was left reeling because I knew exactly who she was talking about. Tom kept his reaction to himself until she left to get our drinks. I would need that glass of wine and I was sure Tom wished he could share it with me, because the person Nora had just described was Rebecca Marner.

  Twenty-two

  Once we were on our way home, stuffed with bread, delicious fish grilled to perfection and a shared sliver of cheesecake, Tom said, “I never would have put Rebecca and Mike together. Okay, maybe I would, but why the heck didn’t she show up and ask what happened to him once the story broke that he died?”

  “I’m not surprised. The word narcissist comes to mind when I think of her. I mean, she doesn’t even seem to care about her own daughter.”

  “Mike never found the right person. How could such a smart guy make mistake after mistake when it came to women?”

  “We all have a story, one that stays with us from childhood to the grave,” I said. “It was Mike, it was part of his story and we can’t know why he made the choices he did.”

  Tom glanced at me, his face half illuminated by the blue and white dashboard lights. “You’re right. Unfortunately this particular choice might have gotten him killed.”

  “I guess you’ll be bringing her in for more questions right away.”

  “You bet. This evening, as a matter of fact.” The set of his jaw told me anger was setting in. Rebecca Marner had withheld important information—but why? Was she embarrassed about her relationship with Mike or was there a more sinister explanation?

  “I’ll probably be seeing Lindsey very soon. Should I say anything about what we learned about her mother tonight?”

  “I have no idea what Lois, Morris and Candace may have learned when they went to their respective restaurants. What if Mike was seeing a string of women? Maybe Rebecca Marner’s involvement with him was just a fling among flings? Her daughter certainly wouldn’t want to hear about that.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.” A thought came to me. “But Lindsey might know something about Mike, might have seen him at her house.”

  He seemed to consider this. “True. You could ask her, but from what I’ve heard from you as well as others, that girl is super quick to anger. And even though I understand you’ve taken her under your wing, remember she’s considered a suspect until we can nail down the timeline and see if she has an alibi. See, we don’t know exactly when her father died. The stomach contents are our best lead right now—but we have to find out what he ate and when. That line of questioning was derailed by Mike’s death. We asked the coroner to get us the complete autopsy report today but they are backed up.”

  “Tom, that girl did not kill her father.” I sounded like Finn now. “And you shouldn’t spoil memories of a wonderful meal by talking about autopsies and stomach contents. Yuck.”

  He patted my knee. “Sorry. That’s my focus right now, but I’ll try to be more sensitive in the future.”

  “There is something interesting that Magpie showed me today that might be helpful.”

  “The cat showed you something? Really?” I caught his grin.

  “Did Candace mention the baby picture in the locket?”

  “I vaguely remember she’d bagged the jewelry and photo as evidence.”

  “Lindsey brought that same picture with her to my house—and she brought so few items it has to be important. Probably her baby, right? Born when she was fourteen?”

  “You’re accepting the most logical explanation now? That the special school was indeed a specialty school for pregnant teenagers.”

  “Maybe, but gosh, she was so young.”

  “Trouble is,” he said, sounding serious, “if the baby picture was so important to her and a necklace with the same picture ended up in contact with her father’s dead body, what do those two things mean? Was she there when he died? Had he been kept in the dark about the pregnancy? Did that lead to an argument? Looks like I’ll have to pull her in for another interview sooner than I thought.”

  “Why bring her to the station? She’s probably at my house right now and seems to feel more comfortable with Finn and me present. Talk to her tonight.”

  He didn’t say anything for what seemed like forever, but it was probably more like thirty seconds. “Maybe.”

  I changed the subject and asked Tom if he’d had time to pack his stuff yet for the big move. He told me no but had decided that since he had no need for his old furniture, he’d donate it to the charity store where Rebecca was in charge. Maybe with the furniture as an excuse he could persuade a volunteer or two to talk about Rebecca and her relationship with Mike Baca.

  So much for changing the subject. I told him I was betting the volunteers knew plenty and I’d be happy to head there in the morning on the pretext of seeing what procedures they had for getting furniture from his house to the store. He agreed this might be a good idea, since the workers might be more candid with me than with the new police chief.

  After Tom pulled up to the back of my house, he hesitated and stared at Lindsey’s car parked near the garage up ahead. “Lindsey might open up if we do talk here. From what I understand, she didn’t say much at all when Candace questioned her right after her father’s body was found. But it was a very brief conversation. Can’t blame the kid for being upset after hearing about her father’s death via text message. No matter what, she was already on the list for a more extensive interview.”

  “Y’all have been so overwhelmed. I don’t know how you’ve accomplished as much as you have.”

  Tom let us in the back door, saying he was pleased Finn had engaged the alarm and locked up. “Someone murdered two people in town this week—and one of them was Lindsey’s father. If she’s innocent but knows something she’s failed to mention, she could be in danger.”

  “Who’s in danger?” Finn was waiting right there in the kitchen with the cats, ready to greet us.

  I sure hoped Finn had only heard the danger part, because he wouldn’t have appreciated the “if she’s innocent” remark.

  Tom smiled, probably thinking the same thing. “I can tell you who’s not in danger. You. Thank you for locking up the house.”

  All four cats and the dog became the welcoming committee and it took several minutes for us both to give them all an adequate greeting. Tom then patted his chest and held his arms open. Yoshi jumped up into them.

  Lindsey sat curled in one of the big living room chairs, a textbook open on her lap. She smiled briefl
y and offered a quiet hello.

  “I asked her about the baby picture,” Finn announced.

  Deep down, I knew he would. I just wished he’d waited.

  Tom and I sat on the sofa across from her and Finn took a spot on the floor next to Lindsey’s feet. He looked both protective and anxious. That body language was all Yoshi needed to join him and rest his head on Finn’s crossed leg.

  He said, “Lindsey, you want to tell them or do you want me to explain?”

  “I can speak for myself.” She looked straight at Tom. “I had a baby, gave her up for adoption. End of story.” The wall was up, a hostile shield that seemed even more impenetrable than the first time we’d met at her front door.

  “Okay.” Tom’s voice was gentle. “Stuff like that happens. And it’s not easy. It’s also none of my business—our business really.” He gestured at me and then Finn. “What is my business is solving your father’s murder. A locket was found. That locket has your father’s blood on it. I’m told the picture inside is the same as the one you brought with you here.”

  “So?” She lifted her chin. “That means I killed him, right? Because he had my locket?”

  Tom was steady and calm in response to her defensiveness. “Why do you believe your father had this locket?”

  The question seemed to throw her off, and a bit of her guard went down in her confusion. “I—I don’t know. Because it was found where he probably died—on that sofa Finn told me about?”

  Tom glanced at Finn before his next question. “When was the last time you saw the necklace?”

  “That’s the thing. I lost it. And I have no idea where or when that happened.”

  Tom nodded. “I believe you. But we need your help, Lindsey. Can you think on this? Try really hard to remember anything about the last time you saw it.”