Kitty Litter Killer

by Candice Speare Prentice

  “Okay, and I love you, too.” I hung up and stuck the phone in my pocket.

  Quite awhile later, at the sheriff ’s office, a deputy walked me to an interview room. Having been involved with two other murder investigations, I knew the drill. But the bad thing was, I’d finally gotten used to Detective Eric Scott, and he wasn’t there. I was going to have to deal with someone new.

  I waited for a few minutes, biting my nails, wondering where Abbie was. Then the woman I’d seen exiting her car at the church hall rolled into the room like a Mack truck, shutting the door behind her. She carried Abbie’s book in a plastic bag.

  The skin on her face had seen more sun than moisturizer or makeup. I imagined she intimidated most people with her size and her attitude. When I meet someone with a chip on their shoulder, I always want to knock it off, and hers was so large, it would be a fun challenge.

  I had a sudden, vivid memory from high school, when I rumbled with a girl who reminded me of this woman. She had insulted Abbie, who was shy and wouldn’t stand up for herself. Although bruised and a little bloody, I’d prevailed in the fight, despite our differences in size, much to my delight and my parents’ chagrin.

  Given that I felt the same way about the woman standing in front of me right now, I could tell the Lord still had a lot of stuff to work out of me.

  “Mrs. Cunningham?”

  I stared up at her. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for waiting for me. I’m Detective Reid with the state police. We’re temporarily using the sheriff ’s office for interviews.”

  “You’re welcome.” Like I had a choice? My antenna was up. Her eyes were flat and unemotional, and she eyed me like a praying mantis would size up its prey. She was a force to be reckoned with, and I hoped I was up for the job.

  She yanked out a chair and sat down. Then she pulled out a notebook and pen from her pocket. She ran the tip of the pen slowly down several pages, as though reading her notes. I knew she was faking.

  “So, Mrs. Cunningham.” She glanced up quickly. “Did you know the deceased?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  She stared at me. “How did you know him?’

  “He is. . .was. . .the ex-husband of my best friend, Abbie Grenville.”

  “Uh-huh.” She ran her pen down the list again. Then stared at me from eyes untouched by makeup. “How well did you know him?”

  I shrugged. “I hadn’t seen him in years. So—not well anymore, I guess.”

  “Years,” she repeated. “So that means you haven’t seen him lately?”

  “Yes. That’s what that means.” I wished with all my heart that Eric would walk into the room and take over the questioning.

  “Were you aware of his recent whereabouts?”

  “If by that you mean, was I aware that he was in town? Yes. But I hadn’t seen him.”

  She continued her interrogation, asking me detailed questions about my steps from the time I arrived at the church to the time the first deputy came on the scene. I had to describe Philip’s body and what Abbie had done when we were outside.

  When I was done with my recitation, she inhaled and exhaled slowly and then dangled Abbie’s novel in the plastic bag in front of my eyes. “Is this yours?”

  “No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

  It wasn’t Abbie’s. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t my mother’s. Whose was it? I wondered if the detective was going to read it. If so, it wasn’t going to look good for Abbie. An ex-spouse shooting an ex-spouse?

  “What time did you arrive at the church hall?” she snapped.

  “Around four,” I said.

  “When you arrived, was Abbie Grenville there?”

  “No,” I said.

  “When did she arrive?”

  “About fifteen minutes after my mom and I got there.” I met Detective Reid’s cold, watchful gaze.

  “And had she been there earlier?”

  “Yes,” I said. My thoughts dropped in-line like playing cards in a game of solitaire. Of course Abbie had been there earlier. That meant she theoretically could have killed Philip.

  The detective stood. “Thank you. That will be all.”

  Chapter Five

  When I was finally driven back to my car in the church fellowship hall parking lot, it was dark. I was shaking. I’d been interviewed before—after both murder investigations I was involved in—but Eric was a whole different kind of person than Detective Reid. He at least had an innate kindness. She seemed to have no soul.

  My mother had called my cell and left me a message that she was headed home after her interview at the sheriff ’s office to make dinner and that she’d called Max and invited him. He’d accepted, to my relief. I needed to be around my family. All of them.

  Abbie’s car was still in the parking lot. That wasn’t good news. Inside my SUV, I called Eric’s cell phone and left a message for him. Then I tried to reach Abbie, but she didn’t answer.

  As I drove to my folks’ house, my mind continued to turn questions over again and again so rapidly, I felt nauseated. What had Philip been doing back in town? And why had he been trying to talk to Abbie? Why was he at the church? What time had he been shot? Was it murder or an accident? And, the very worst thought, was Abbie a suspect?

  When I pulled up to the farm, Max wasn’t there yet. Daddy was walking from the barn to the house illuminated by the lights he’d installed on the outbuildings. He met me and pulled me into a bear hug as soon as I got out of my vehicle. My purse banged against our legs.

  “Sugar Bug, you managed to get involved in trouble again.”

  I snuggled against him, feeling his warmth against the cold fall air. “Not me this time, Daddy,” I said into his shoulder. “Ma found Philip. And it’s Abbie I’m worried about.”

  He sighed. The scent of the outside lingered in his heavy coat, reminding me of childhood and safety and good things. How I wished right now that Abbie and I were still kids and she was visiting me. We’d go running up to my bedroom to share secrets. And we’d be ignorant of what it was like to be adults.

  “I’m praying for her,” Daddy said. “Your mother was pretty upset—and not just about finding Philip. She overheard someone say something about evidence pointing at Abbie.” He backed up and took my chin in his hand. “Sugar Bug, we’ve all got good reason to be upset. There’s something you should know.”

  I frowned up at him.

  “And if the police ask me, I’ll have to tell the truth.”

  I felt my breath come faster. “What is it?”

  He took a deep breath. “When Abbie was writing her book, she asked me to help her learn about guns. Remember?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I helped her learn to shoot a thirty-aught-six.”

  I thought about Daddy’s rifles, which he kept in a cabinet in the barn. “That’s your favorite hunting rifle, and. . .” I realized where he was going. “That’s the kind of gun she used in her book.” I felt my voice growing shrill. “I don’t know what Philip was shot with.”

  Daddy rubbed his arms. “Hopefully it wasn’t a rifle like that. And maybe no one will ask me about it. But I think I’m in the acknowledgments of her book.”

  My earlier anxiety returned and gripped me like a vise. “I have to try to reach Eric again.” I pulled away from Daddy and reached into my purse.

  Daddy patted my arm. “Trish, you’ve got to remember that God is in control.”

  “Right.”

  I wondered if he heard the sarcasm in my voice. Daddy said nothing, just patted me one more time then headed for the house, which was good, because I didn’t want him to know my momentary angry thoughts. Like why had God allowed this to happen? Abbie finally had a chance to be happy with a new man, and along comes her ex-husband to ruin her life again by getting killed. Not that he’d done it on purpose.

  I forced myself to breathe deeply while I punched in Eric’s number. This time he answered.

  “Trish? Is Abbie okay? I haven’t been able to reach her. Tell me
what’s happened.”

  “Didn’t Corporal Fletcher tell you?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I want to hear it from you.”

  His voice had a desperate edge that made me shiver in the cold air. I forced my voice to remain calm. “Ma found Philip dead behind the church hall. Abbie and I were there. We were all taken to the sheriff ’s office for questioning by a bulldog state police detective.”

  “Reid,” he said.

  “Yep. You know her?”

  “Of her,” he said. “So what happened exactly?”

  I explained everything. “And I’m really worried about Abbie.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because she moved the body to check his pulse. And because of the book on the counter that didn’t belong to her or me or Ma—”

  “Whose book was it? Do you know?”

  “I have no idea, but, Eric. . .she could have done it. She was there alone before Ma and I got there. And you know what her latest book is about, don’t you?”

  I heard him groan.

  “Eric, Abbie told me that—”

  “Stop,” he snapped. “Don’t tell me anything she said to you. If I know and it’s something they haven’t discovered yet, I’ll have to tell them. And I can’t deal with all of this from out here. I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll see her then.”

  “Yes. Okay.” The awkward position Eric was in finally hit me. Torn between two worlds. His occupation and his fiancée. His job was to support the men and women investigating this case, even at the expense of people’s comfort. But he wanted more than anything to protect Abbie. How could he do both?

  He made me promise to get in touch with him if anything else happened. He also requested that I watch over Abbie—something both of us knew he didn’t have to ask.

  As I put my phone in my pocket, I realized I hadn’t seen Buddy, my father’s dog. Usually he’d have greeted me with enthusiasm. I wondered where he was. I shivered again, but before I could head for the house and warmth, Max and the kids arrived.

  I waited. Charlie and Sammie scrambled from the car, and Karen took Chris from his car seat and followed more slowly. They all greeted me with a chorus of “Hi, Mom” and went inside.

  When Max got out, I threw myself into his arms like Sammie does. The problem is, I’m not as small as our daughter, so Max fell back against the car.

  “Hey, hey,” he said when he’d regained his balance. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. Then he lifted my chin and made me meet his gaze.

  “So how are you? Okay? You survived questioning?”

  “Yes. They had to turn everything over to the state police since Abbie is engaged to Eric.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “How is she?”

  “I haven’t talked to her since they separated us at the fellowship hall.” I took his arm, and we walked toward the house.

  “Did you tell the kids?” I asked.

  “I said something to Karen but not to the little kids.” He shook his head. “I wanted to wait until we knew more details. I’m not sure how much they really need to know.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m really worried about Abbie.”

  He glanced down at me. “Why?”

  “They were questioning her at the sheriff ’s office, and that detective woman is awful.” I gave him the abbreviated version as we stepped through the back door and into the mudroom. There we shucked off our coats and headed into the kitchen, where my mother was working.

  The steamy, warm, delicious-smelling air seemed completely at odds with the icy worry that had wrapped itself around my heart.

  “This sounds pretty serious for Abbie,” Max said when I was finished.

  “Oh, it’s serious,” my mother piped up. She was cooking a spread worthy of Thanksgiving and Christmas combined. Her solution for any kind of calamity is food and lots of it.

  Max glanced from her to me. “I can get Abbie a lawyer if she needs one.” He knows lots of great lawyers. Tough, Harvard-educated lawyers.

  I felt a sense of relief. “Thank you, honey.”

  He kissed me again and then greeted Ma with a kiss on her cheek.

  Daddy walked into the kitchen, followed by Charlie and Sammie. “Hello, Max.”

  “Simon,” Max said and gripped Daddy in a quick guy hug. Sammie rushed Max and grabbed him around the hips. “We’re going out to look at some new calves. Wanna come?”

  “You bet,” Max said. Then he turned to me. “You gonna be okay, baby?”

  I waved him on. “Yep. You go. I need to help Ma here.” Charlie chased Sammie out to the mudroom, where they pulled on their coats. I heard Chris in the other room where Karen was watching television. Daddy and Max followed more slowly, putting on their outer garments.

  “Have you talked to Abbie?” Ma asked as soon as the back door was shut.

  “No. I can’t reach her. I’m really worried. Especially since I talked to Eric and Corporal Fletcher. Both of them sound worried.” I explained to her what they had said to me.

  Ma sighed.

  “So you’re sure he was murdered, and you think they suspect her?” I asked.

  “Yes. Especially the way they took her out of there. And then you know they found Philip’s car just up the road.”

  “They did? Why didn’t we see it?”

  “The other direction. None of us passed it on the way to the hall.”

  “How do you know this?” I asked.

  “I overheard them talking in another room.” Ma smiled for the first time since I’d arrived. “People assume since I have gray hair I can’t hear.”

  Assuming anything about my mother is a mistake. And it was my opinion that her hearing was finely tuned by daily practice at the shop. How else would she be able to pick up the choice bits of gossip she did, if she didn’t have the hearing of a bat?

  She pointed at the refrigerator. “Slice the ham that’s in there.” She worked at the counter with hard motions, but she glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “You need to solve this mystery. You have to help Abbie.”

  “I gave up solving mysteries, Ma. You know that. Last time was too much. I almost got killed, and Chris would have been killed with me. It’s not worth it.”

  “You can do it and be safe. God will protect you. Don’t you care about your best friend?”

  I thought it was a little presumptuous to assume God would automatically protect me, especially when I hadn’t even prayed about it yet.

  Ma was making chicken. In addition to the ham. “Fried chicken and ham?” I asked. “It’s like a holiday or something.”

  Ma’s hand hit the counter with a thud, and she stood still, looking out the kitchen window where Daddy, Max, Sammie, and Charlie stood at the fence watching the new calves in the field. “Sometimes it’s good to just celebrate being alive.”

  I’m so used to fending off my mother’s sarcastic comments and odd ideas that when she says something profound, I’m speechless. I walked over and wrapped my arms around her.

  She patted my hands. “You’ve got to help Abbie.” Her tone was unusually soft. “I don’t want to see her wedding postponed. I have a feeling about this, and it’s not good.” Ma’s insistence tore at my resolve.

  “I promise I’ll think about it.” I went back to slicing ham.

  “I’ll help,” Ma said. “I can collect information, too.”

  I glanced at her with horror. “Ma, no—”

  “Don’t argue with me.” She faced me with blazing eyes. “Abbie is like a daughter to us. And she’s like a sister to you. Family. Maybe not by blood, but in our hearts.”

  I put my hands up in surrender. “You’re right, Ma. She is family. I just don’t want anyone to be hurt. . .any more than they have been already.”

  Her body deflated. “Don’t think I’m insensitive to how you feel.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant. Besides, sensitivity wasn’t one of my mother’s strong points, so I had my doubts. But she was in an
unusual mood tonight, and I was seeing a side of her I rarely glimpsed.

  Her shoulders drooped. “I never thought before how it felt to find a dead person,” she said. “Now I know.”

  I swallowed. “It is awful. It’s the shock of seeing the shell of a person. Knowing they were there but are now gone.”

  “Exactly.” She sniffed and straightened.

  I knew that in a weird way, she was apologizing to me for not understanding the other times I’d been involved in murder. I was grateful.

  “Well, gracious.” Ma rinsed off her hands and went back to work on the chicken. “This dinner isn’t going to put itself on the table. Let’s get to work.”

  Later, when we were all seated at the dining room table, the blessing said and the food passed, Ma glanced at me. “In all the. . .confusion today, I forgot. Jaylene came by the shop and told me you bought some things for a cat?” Sammie bounced in her chair. “I’m getting a kitten. Grandmother Cunningham is buying it for me.”

  “What?” My mother stared at me. “I didn’t know about this. Trish? You aren’t that fond of cats—especially inside.”

  “I know, but. . .”

  “You let that woman—”

  “I think it’s wonderful that Trish is doing this for Sammie,” Daddy said before Ma could finish her thought.

  I met Max’s glance, and he winked at me. He knows how my mother feels about his mother, but she usually wasn’t so vocal in front of the children.

  Ma realized what she’d almost done and had the grace to blush. “Well now, I suppose that’s a good thing. After all, Charlie’s got his snake.”

  “After months of nagging,” I said.

  Karen glared at her little brother. “He purposefully put the snake in my bed today.”

  “I can’t help it that he fell off my shoulder,” Charlie said.

  Karen glared at him. “Well, I hope Sammie’s cat eats your snake.”

  Sammie’s eyes grew huge. “No! That’s not nice at all.”

  “Karen,” Max said. “Don’t start, please.”

  Karen and Charlie are always like water and oil. He knows just how to push her buttons to get her to react.