The Cat's Paw

by Louise Clark

  "Ellen, why don't you talk to Natalie and see what you can find out about Brittany?" Roy suggested. He popped a shrimp in his mouth, head and all.

  Ellen's eyes widened. Then she looked down at her plate. "Yes. Yes, of course." She stabbed her fork into the body of the shrimp. "I intended to phone Natalie anyway, to tell her about the break-in." Her knife hovered over the plate, as if she planned to cut away the offending head and shell. "I see no reason why I would not ask her some questions about the young woman." Instead, she put the shrimp in her mouth, head included, then slowly, almost reluctantly, began to chew.

  Christy felt her eyes widen. She looked over at Quinn. Amusement was clearly written on his face. He glanced her way and winked. She wondered if he'd be so cheerful if he'd heard Frank's comment about Ellen's feelings for his father. She pushed the thought away.

  "I'll see what I can find out about Brittany's family, especially her father," Quinn said. "He shouldn't be hard to track down." He cleaned a shrimp, shelling and beheading it with his fingers before he ate it. "What about you, Dad?"

  "I'll talk to Three and see what he thinks. He retired a couple of years ago and lives on Salt Spring Island now, but he can probably arrange for someone from his former firm to look out for Ellen's interests."

  Ellen's eyes widened. "Three?"

  "An old friend," Roy said, smiling at her. "He's actually called Trevor Robinson McCullagh the Third. I call him Three because he's got such a pretentious name."

  "I know the McCullagh law firm," Ellen said. Her bemused expression said she didn't see anything pretentious about Trevor's name. "How do you know him?"

  "My late wife Vivian used to work with him. He provided his services pro bono for protesters who got into trouble."

  "I see." Ellen cut the head off a shrimp, then scraped off the shell before she put it in her mouth.

  Having consumed his portion of shrimp, the cat was now washing his whiskers and Frank was back in the conversation. Looking into Brittany Day's background is a good start. Finding Aunt Ellen a lawyer is a priority. We can reconvene same time tomorrow and share what we've learned. Stormy jumped up onto Christy's lap, evidently focused on the shrimp remaining in the bowl.

  "How... how managerial," she said as she put the cat back onto the floor.

  "Yes, very organized," Ellen said. She beamed at Roy.

  Roy smiled back, then winked at Christy. He'd heard Frank's comments too. "And not a bad idea."

  Chapter 4

  When the doorbell rang at one fifteen, Christy was ready to do anything to escape being shut up with Ellen for a minute longer. The worries of yesterday seemed to have been forgotten as Ellen complained about the size of the bedroom she was using, Christy's choice of breakfast foods, the absence of a three-course, beautifully plated, luncheon meal, and Christy's insistence on performing mundane tasks like loading the dishwasher, vacuuming, and laundry. Fifteen minutes before, Christy had suggested Ellen dust the joint living/dining room and received a blank stare in reply.

  It was just too much. Christy wanted Ellen to leave, and this after one day and in the midst of a major investigation.

  It didn't help that Frank had been broadcasting snarky comments all morning. Content ranged from how Ellen behaved to what she said and her whole attitude toward life. Ellen was blissfully unaware of the comments, but every sneering, bitter observation grated on Christy's nerves.

  When she opened the door to discover Quinn on the other side, her heart did a little flip and her breath hitched. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a sweater. Nothing special, but he looked all male to her, and her immediate reaction was one of pleasure.

  "Hi," he said. "I wondered if you would like to go for a walk with me?"

  There was a faint smile on his mouth and his gaze was filled with intensity. Christy was reminded of the night they had gone to the IHTF gala, when she'd stood in this doorway and kissed him after he'd brought her home. His gaze now was filled with the same smoldering desire that had shaken her that night and had brought a mutual need roaring to the surface.

  "I'd love to," she said, glad that the jeans she was wearing hugged her hips and the V-necked sweater she'd chosen that morning was a cashmere and silk blend that caressed her skin and clung in all the right places. "Just let me get my jacket." Her voice sounded low and husky in her ears. Sensual. Something flashed in his eyes and his smile deepened. Her muscles tightened in response. Keep it light, she thought, a little desperately. She couldn't kiss Quinn here, in her doorway, with Ellen lurking somewhere in the townhouse. She didn't want to expose her feelings for Quinn and have Frank's aunt tear them apart. They were too new, too fresh to handle a thorough critique by a disdainful in-law.

  She shouted to Ellen that she was going for a walk, then shrugged on the jacket and slipped out the door. Before she could close it, paws thundered down the stairs as the cat bolted for the opening.

  If you're going out, so am I. Aunt Ellen has been driving me crazy all morning and the cat doesn't like her.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows as Stormy rushed past him, then disappeared into the bushes on the opposite side of the street. "Problems?"

  Christy closed the door. Quinn took her hand in his as they headed down the steps. The intimate gesture warmed Christy in a way that lightened her mood. She smiled up at him as she said, "Problems isn't exactly the right word. Ellen is being a princess who expects to be waited on constantly and Frank is annoyed about everything she does. Stormy isn't happy with her either."

  "What's the cat's problem?"

  Since the morning when she'd gone to confront Frank's killer and Stormy had tried to communicate her danger to Quinn, he seemed open to the potential that there was something more to the Jamieson family pet. Not that he had fully accepted that Frank's essence had taken up residence in Stormy, it was more that he was willing to suspend judgment.

  Christy laughed. "Stormy jumped up on Ellen's lap this morning when she was sitting in the living room. Frank said Stormy expected to have a tummy rub, or at least have his ears scratched, but Ellen just sat there, stiff as a statue and didn't touch him. I think she's cat-phobic. Eventually Stormy jumped off and left her alone." The cat could have been the poster image of an annoyed feline as he stalked away, tail up and shivering with irritation, his back stiff. Ellen didn't seem to care, though, which annoyed Stormy even more. At least, that's what Frank had told her.

  She and Quinn were heading up the street now, toward a path through the treed greenbelt behind the townhouse complex. Quinn evidently had a destination in mind. "So Stormy doesn't approve of humans who don't cater to his every need and Frank doesn't like Ellen because she was one of his trustees. How about you?"

  They turned on to the dirt path that meandered through the dense trees. It skirted a couple of complexes before it reached a connecting path that led to the school, then continued on to a park with a playground. Beyond that another intersecting path led to an open area with tennis courts, a soccer field and yet another playground. When the kids were out of school it would be busy, but now, in the middle of afternoon classes, Quinn and Christy were pretty much alone, except for the odd new mom pushing a buggy or ambling along with her toddler-aged child.

  "She's been driving me crazy. I needed this break," Christy said. The lush conifer woods of a Pacific Northwest rainforest bordered the dirt path and closed around them as they walked. Laced through the evergreen of the spruce, cedar, and pines were the skeletal arms of deciduous trees that had dropped their leaves for the winter. On the ground beneath their feet lay the fading colors of the fallen leaves, the orange and scarlet of maple, the gold of cottonwood and birch.

  "Poor sweetheart," Quinn said. He drew her off the path into the trees. Then, sheltered by a large hemlock, the tips of its long branches drooping toward the forest floor, he slipped his arms around Christy's waist and drew her against him.

  She gazed up into his eyes to see him studying her expression, searching for her reaction. Putting her hand
s on his shoulders, she rose up onto her tiptoes, offering herself. His eyes gleamed with something she thought was satisfaction, then his mouth was on hers and her eyes were closing with the pleasure of his touch.

  They kissed for a minute or an eternity, making love with their mouths because nothing more was possible at this moment in time. He used teeth and tongue to tease and tempt until Christy was throbbing with a pleasure she couldn't have. When he finally drew away they were both breathing hard.

  "You know how much I want you," he said, leaning his forehead on hers.

  "Yes, but—"

  "I know. You have Noelle and Frank, and now you have Ellen, too. I understand."

  An iron restraint echoed in every word and Christy was both torn and touched. She reached up to stroke the dark hair off his forehead. "I'm rebuilding a reputation too," she said huskily. She swallowed hard. "Otherwise I'd arrange for your father to babysit Noelle and I'd ask you to take me to a hotel for a night."

  "I don't want a one-night stand with you, Christy. I want more. I want a future." He straightened and with a little laugh, said, "I can wait... I think." He took her hand and they resumed their leisurely walk.

  Christy was very aware of his larger, muscled body beside hers. She wanted to lean against him and cuddle closer, but she didn't think it was fair to test his restraint. Seeking a neutral subject, one that would take both their minds off of the demands of their bodies, she said, "I found the program Brittany Day was in, and I have the name of her advisor."

  "Well done." The approval in Quinn's eyes made her blush with pleasure. "What was she into?"

  "She was enrolled in a collaborative research-based program that has a combined math and chemistry focus. She was a master's-level student, but there are also doctoral students in the program." Christy shook her head as she thought about the languid, bitchy woman she'd last seen at the IHTF gala. "Not exactly what I expected. I also found the names of some of the people she knew through Aaron DeBolt, but I thought I'd approach the advisor first."

  "Good idea," Quinn said. They passed the school, quiet now with the children inside their classrooms. "I tracked down her father's company, but I wasn't able to make contact with him. I spoke to his secretary and offered condolences, but she was very protective and wouldn't put me through. I did some digging on the company. It has a good reputation for its business practices, including its environmental policy. Roger Day is considered to be a progressive CEO who runs a clean, well-managed operation."

  "Were you able to learn anything about the rest of Brittany's family? Or about her background?" The trees surrounded them again, wrapping them in a cocoon of green quiet. Christy felt as if she and Quinn were the only two people in the universe, a feeling that created a special serenity as they walked, even though they were discussing a murdered girl.

  Quinn shook his head in answer to her question. "His personal information is closely guarded and secret. I'll have to dig a little deeper to find it."

  But he would. Christy was quite sure of that.

  "One thing I did learn. There's plenty of money in the family. The company's last annual report to shareholders cited Day as having a base salary of close to a million dollars. That didn't include his bonus and stock options. I don't think Brittany was suffering a shortage of cash."

  "Fits with the way she was dressed at the gala," Christy said. "Her gown was beautiful and probably cost her several thousand. Then there was the jewelry she was wearing and her shoes! Big bucks. Everything she wore shouted money."

  "Aaron struck me as the kind of guy who wouldn't bother with someone who didn't have a trust fund behind them."

  "You got that one right," Christy said, with a little laugh.

  They walked along in silence for a while, aware of each other and communicating mutual desire in the quiet way of the brush of shoulder on shoulder, a shared look, the warmth of hands held. They reached the park and there decided to turn around.

  "I wonder if Brittany was a princess, always demanding, worrying about status and her place in things?" Quinn said as they retraced their path. "Or was she was a dedicated, rather naive student who got mixed up in something she didn't know how to handle?"

  "I hope her advisor will be able to tell us," Christy replied.

  "When you make the appointment with him—or is it a her?"

  "Him."

  "Okay. When you make the appointment to meet with him, I'll come out to the university with you."

  "I hoped you would," Christy said. She smiled up at him and when he smiled back her heart did a little flip.

  She sighed when their walk was over and he left her at her door. Spending time with Quinn invoked both pleasure and a guilty confusion in her. She desired him. She enjoyed being with him. She respected him. She thought she was falling for him, and she so wanted that. But they still had not buried Frank, who lived with her and was in her head every day. And she was Noelle's mom, which she loved, but which also had responsibilities. She wasn't sure how to integrate a man—a lover—into her life at this moment in time.

  She was wrestling with these thoughts as she shrugged off her jacket and hung it in the little closet by the front door.

  A voice—critical, imperious, and yes, fretful—interrupted her. "You were gone a long time."

  She looked up to see Ellen standing at the top of the stairs. The expression on her face was disapproving. Christy resisted the urge to sigh. "It's a beautiful day and I thought I'd take advantage of it."

  Ellen sniffed.

  Christy wasn't sure whether she disapproved of a person walking in the crisp fall sunshine, or Christy not being there when Ellen wanted her. "What's up?"

  "I spoke to Natalie. She is devastated by Brittany's death." Ellen paused. Hesitated in a most un-Ellen like way. "She's coming to visit tomorrow. She'll be staying for lunch."

  "Visit? Here?"

  Ellen nodded.

  "In my house?"

  Ellen flushed at the incredulous note in Christy's voice, but she tilted up her chin and said in her arrogant way, "In the Trust's house."

  "Oh, my," Christy said, so shocked at the thought of entertaining Natalie DeBolt that she didn't even flinch at the barb about the ownership of the townhouse.

  She didn't want to make nice with Natalie, tomorrow or any other day. So it was that later that afternoon, when she called English Bay University and spoke to Dr. Jacob Peiling, Brittany Day's academic advisor, she arranged to meet the man at eleven forty-five in the morning. Since it would take her at least an hour to drive from Burnaby out to the EBU campus on the west side of Vancouver, she would be well away before Natalie arrived.

  Thank God.

  * * *

  Dr. Jacob Peiling, Brittany's academic advisor, was a tall, gangly man with a prominent Adam's apple. He looked younger than Christy expected, with wavy brown hair, a beak of a nose, and glasses he tended to push up on that nose while he spoke. Dressed in jeans and a checked, button front shirt, he could have been in his forties, but Christy knew from his extensive list of publications that he was past fifty. He greeted her and Quinn graciously, urging them to sit in simple metal frame chairs with black leatherette seats and backs.

  "You wanted to ask me about Brittany Day," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing disconcertingly. He arched a brow above the heavy brown frame of his glasses. "I don't know how much I can tell you since you're not family."

  On the long drive across town to EBU Christy and Quinn had talked about what strategy to use to get Peiling to talk. From her experience with academics, Christy figured a sideways approach was best. Get him chatting, disarm him, see what precious bits of information he dropped. Quinn wasn't sure how far they'd get, but he agreed that it was a way to set the conversation in motion.

  "We'd appreciate anything you can tell us, Dr. Peiling," Christy said now. "Brittany's body was found at my aunt's home and she is distraught about it. Not only did a young woman die, but Aunt Ellen doesn't know anything about her."

  Peiling loo
ked thoughtful. He gazed above Christy's head at the plasterboard wall behind her and shoved his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. His office was a large cubicle in a steel-and-glass building constructed in the seventies when universities were doing their best to erase their elitist ivory-tower reputations. Utilitarian inside and out had been the order of the day, and the style hadn't aged gracefully. He said, "She was from Calgary."

  Christy nodded encouragingly. Quinn said conversationally, "I understand her father is in the oil business."

  Peiling's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he nodded. "He's a geological engineer of some repute. We went to university together."

  Roger Day was an engineer. When he and Jacob Peiling attended university there were only a few institutions in Canada with big-name reputations in the field. A little tingle of hope had Christy saying, "Oh, what university was that?" When he named the institution where both her parents worked, she was able to say, "What a coincidence! My father is in the math department there, and my mom is an English prof."

  As she'd hoped, that broke the ice with Peiling. He looked at her with more interest and said, "Brittany was a master's student in the mathematical chemistry project I chair. This would have been her second year in the program. She was an excellent student. Not brilliant, but hardworking and thoughtful. I will miss her."

  Somehow Christy couldn't fit the image of Brittany as hardworking scientist that Dr. Peiling was painting with what she knew of the woman. "Did she have problems keeping up with her work?" When Peiling frowned, she changed direction. "I mean, she was a friend of a friend and when I met her socially, she didn't seem academically inclined at all."

  He shrugged. "I don't know what she was like away from the university. I just know that here she was a student who was an asset to my research team."

  "You mentioned the program was split between two disciplines. What was her focus?" Quinn asked.

  "She was a math major." He nodded at Christy, working his glasses up his nose. "Like your father, Mrs. Jamieson. As I said, she was competent, if not inspired. Though inspired wasn't what was required for her part in the project. I needed her to do her work and provide background materials for my PhD students to use."