The Cat's Paw

by Louise Clark

  Quinn raised his eyebrows. "Wow. Shows a lot of caring." Evidently he had decided his role was to poke at Peiling until he lost his temper and admitted more than he planned. "You never told Day you weren't fulfilling your promise, did you?"

  Peiling pursed his lips, but didn't reply. Quinn continued, mockery in his voice. "I don't think your casual definition of keeping on an eye on Brittany would have impressed her father. I bet he'd have pulled his funding if he found out. But then, you're a smart guy. You must have known that."

  From the color in Peiling's cheeks it was clear that Quinn had touched a nerve. "You're wrong. Roger Day wouldn't have canceled the funding. He understands the importance of the work we're doing here. Besides, he's not the kind of man who would dodge his responsibilities just because I failed to monitor his daughter's social life."

  "So you expect him to honor his promise, but you don't have to?"

  Peiling set his jaw and didn't reply. Quinn curled his lip into a sneer and continued on. "Roger Day loved his daughter. Did you know that she wanted to drop out when school started in September?"

  The shock on Peiling's face couldn't be manufactured. "No!"

  Quinn nodded. "Yeah, her father talked her into continuing. He knew something was going on with her, but he trusted you. The end of the semester is coming up. Brittany would have headed home for Christmas and who knows, maybe when the winter semester started in January she wouldn't be back. Think her father would continue to fund your program then?"

  His voice barely above a whisper, Peiling said, "That wouldn't happen."

  "No? Think again, Dr. Peiling."

  Peiling whitened.

  "Do you know who introduced Brittany to Aaron DeBolt?" Christy asked, watching the professor carefully. She thought he might greet the question with relief after the grilling Quinn had given him, but he actually paled further.

  "Aaron's father, Nathan DeBolt, is one of my most generous private donors. Nathan likes his company's name to be linked to science with a high public approval rating. The theories my program is working to prove squeak into his acceptable range, but the science is complex and difficult to explain to laymen. The media rarely features us for that reason, which is why the DeBolt funding is shaky." Peiling paused, then said with a rush, "I needed to give Nathan a good reason to continue to fund us this year."

  "It was you who paired Brittany with Aaron?" Christy couldn't keep the disgusted amazement from her voice. "Did you know what kind of man Aaron is?"

  Peiling was squirming now, shifting uneasily in his squeaky chair, his gaze resting anywhere but on Quinn or Christy. He cleared his throat. "Natalie DeBolt brought Aaron to one of the events I put on to allow the students to network with the donors and steering committee members. She asked for an introduction. What could I do?"

  "Were you aware Aaron DeBolt supplied drugs to all of his girlfriends?"

  "No." Peiling sounded defeated and his expression was bleak. "I swear I didn't. Look at it from my point of view! Natalie and Nathan DeBolt are reputable people. Why would I think that their son was not cut from the same cloth?"

  Quinn eased the conversation into a new direction. "Did any of the other grad students in the program know that Brittany was the daughter of a man who both funded the program and was your personal friend?"

  Coloring, Peiling snapped, "You make it sound as if I did something wrong."

  Quinn leaned forward. "Somebody killed Brittany. On the surface, that somebody appears to be Ellen Jamieson. A simple, straightforward case, right? The more I learn about Brittany's life here in Vancouver, though, the less I like the straightforward answer." He stared at Peiling, his expression intense, and Christy could see that the professor's gaze was caught in Quinn's. For a minute they stared at each other, then Peiling looked away nervously.

  Quinn continued as if the silent standoff had never happened. "I'm not judging you, Dr. Peiling. I'm trying to find answers and the more details we have about Brittany's life in Vancouver, the easier that will be."

  Peiling cleared his throat. "Brittany was happy here. At least at first."

  The words sounded stilted, as if he'd rehearsed them to be presented to anyone who would listen. Quinn nodded.

  "She got along with everyone," Peiling continued. "I can't imagine that any of her colleagues here at the university would want to harm her."

  Christy blinked. Who did Peiling think he was fooling? "The TAs Brittany shared an office with were pretty competitive when Quinn and I spoke to them. The only one who seemed to be at all friendly was Bradley Neale."

  "Brad's a good fellow," Peiling said.

  "Did you know he was filling in for Brittany at her lab classes?" Quinn asked.

  "No!" Again, the surprise on Peiling's face looked real.

  "He had a crush on her," Christy said. She leaned forward and smiled, turning the comment into friendly gossip, instead of a threatening revelation. "Unfortunately, Brittany wasn't in the least interested. I suppose that could have made him jealous."

  Peiling drew a deep breath and said, "I have no idea. I don't interfere in my students' personal lives."

  "Not even Brittany's?" Quinn said gently.

  Peiling colored. "Look, I've had enough—"

  "If you don't know about their personal lives, maybe you're better informed about their professional ones. Like the reason why Rochelle Dasovic passed off the research paper she used to get into your program as her own when it was written by someone else."

  "Rochelle plagiarized?"

  "You didn't know?" Quinn said the words, but they weren't really needed. The man's pale features were answer enough. Quinn's comment had caught him completely off guard.

  Christy shook her head solemnly. "When I met the three TAs, I thought Bradley Neale and Rochelle were nicer than Lorne Cossi, so if they have secrets, Lorne must have some too. And I'll bet his are worse."

  Peiling swallowed nervously. Christy had hit a nerve. "I'm not allowed to discuss my students with outsiders."

  "Of course you're not. That's okay. I'll dig up the dirt on Lorne Cossi, just like I did on the other two," Quinn said cheerfully.

  "Lorne is a sleazy sexual predator, but he's not a murderer!"

  Quinn went very still. "Do you have proof?"

  "Lorne has a... a need, I guess you'd say, to dominate women."

  "Including Brittany?"

  Peiling shrugged. "I don't know. But last year one of Lorne's female undergrad students accused him of forcing her to have sex with him. It was a difficult case, because the girl admitted to being attracted to Lorne, even though she said it was more of a fantasy crush than a real desire for a relationship. Other students testified that he made sexual remarks, but claimed he showed no interest in going any further than a light in-class flirtation. The one who leveled the accusation claimed he had a dark side and that he invited her to his apartment, where he threatened her until she agreed to have sex with him. He denied the allegation."

  "What happened?" Christy asked.

  "The case was thrown out because it couldn't be proved. It was the girl's word against Lorne's."

  "Let's put this all together," Quinn said. He ticked the items off on his fingers as he spoke. "You, Dr. Peiling, were supposed to keep Brittany safe. You failed to do that and I think you feel at least a little guilty about it. Without Brittany in the program there is the question of whether or not Roger Day will continue to support it, especially when he finds out that you introduced Brittany to Aaron DeBolt and his unhealthy lifestyle." He raised a second finger. "You have a funding shortfall that could lead to the loss of one or more student positions. Brittany's position was seen as secure because her father is one of your key funders. That leaves three students looking over their shoulders, wondering if their grad degree is in jeopardy. That's an excellent motive for wanting Brittany—the one person who didn't have to worry—out of the way. Plus each of the TAs have the kind of personality flaws that could make them willing to turn envy into action." He paused, smi
led and nodded with satisfaction. "I think I could make a good case that the cops should be looking to EBU for Brittany's killer."

  "Then you'd be wrong." Peiling's lips were pinched and white, his eyes angry. "I think it's time for you to go. I have nothing more to say." This time when he pushed his chair back and stood up, he didn't back down.

  Christy stood when Quinn did and followed him out of the office. "What do you think?" she asked.

  Quinn slipped his arm around her waist. "I think Brittany deserved better than what she got."

  Christy leaned against him as they wandered down the hallway. "Yeah. Her life here seems so barren. You know, until we started digging into Brittany's past, it never occurred to me that Aaron's girlfriends were anything but an extension of him."

  "Probably because that's how he saw them."

  Christy sighed. "So what now?"

  "I believe the cause of Brittany's death is here, in Peiling's program. I'm not sure what it is yet, or how the details fit, but my gut tells me it's all tied together."

  "Grad students, the professor, the donors, the steering committee. That's a lot of details."

  Quinn squeezed her waist. She turned her head to look up at him and he smiled. "Guess we'd better get started."

  Chapter 20

  "Mrs. Jamieson."

  The school door was still swinging closed behind her when Christy heard her name called. She identified the voice as coming from the parking lot and turned in that direction. She saw that Detective Patterson was striding toward her. Behind her, Christy saw the detective's familiar, unmarked car. Even as she wondered why the cop would seek her out at her daughter's school, she was straightening cautiously.

  "Detective," she said as Patterson neared. "Is there an emergency of some kind?"

  "No." Patterson hesitated, then said, "Is there somewhere we could talk? A café, for instance?"

  Christy could have invited her to the townhouse and offered coffee, but she wasn't feeling particularly sympathetic toward the detective since Ellen's arrest. "This is a residential area. The closest coffee shop is over at the mall. We'd have to drive there."

  Patterson raised her brows. Her car was in the lot nearby. Driving to the local mall wouldn't be a problem.

  But Christy didn't want to get into Patterson's vehicle and drive anywhere with her. Patterson was dressed in her usual slacks, a sweater, and leather jacket, so she didn't officially look like a cop, but Christy knew what she was, and what her car represented. She would never willingly climb into Patterson's car, not here, near Noelle's school with all those potentially watching eyes. Not even at her townhouse, where there might be more watching eyes.

  Nor did she want to hustle home, get her own car and follow the detective to a destination. She was upset about Ellen's arrest, and the stresses it had put on her and her family. The fears it had roused. The danger it embodied. She didn't intend to make anything easy for Detective Patterson.

  She tilted her head, indicating the wooded area behind the school with a gesture. "There's a walking trail just over there. It's quiet and pretty much unused at this time of day. Would that be private enough for you?"

  Patterson gazed at her for a moment, then she nodded. "Lead the way."

  In this section of the path, trees grew thickly on either side of the trail. Salmonberry bushes edged it, growing profusely. At this time of year their raspberry-like fruits, a soft peach in color, were gone, but a few weeks ago the bushes had been loaded with berries and after school one day Noelle and Mary Petrofsky had come on a giggle-filled harvesting trip. This was her turf and here she felt ready to deal with whatever Patterson sent her way.

  The detective waited until the trees surrounded them and the school was well behind before she told Christy why she'd sought her out. "Aaron DeBolt is being released today." Patterson stared straight ahead as she made the statement. Her expression was unreadable.

  Christy's stomach knotted and her breathing hitched. "This can't be," she said, even as she accepted it was true. Ever since she'd heard about Brittany's alibi she'd known that it was only a matter of time before Aaron was freed.

  Still...

  "My God. He helped kill my husband! You can't just let him go!"

  "He has an alibi for the night in question, Mrs. Jamieson." Patterson's voice was even. Her expression was still blank.

  Christy rarely swore. Her upbringing and her years in the spotlight as the wife of the Jamieson heir had made her careful about her choice of words. But this was different. Outrage gripped her. Anger tripped off her tongue. "That's bullshit! Brittany was lying. Aaron lured Frank into that alley and then pushed him into the car that drove him to his death. Aaron is guilty as sin. Damn it, the judge wouldn't even grant him bail! And now he's going free?"

  They walked on in silence. Christy struggled with her temper. Patterson gave her time to regain control.

  Eventually the detective said, "For what it's worth—and right now that's not much—my gut tells me that you're right. Aaron DeBolt was an accessory in your husband's death. I haven't been able to shake the alibi Day gave him, though, and that's why I have to turn him loose."

  Christy pursed her lips and stared anywhere except at Patterson. Ahead of her a chickadee danced in the thicket of low growing salmonberry. She recognized the bird's familiar call. Chickadees were abundant in the area and she heard their song every day. Usually she found the sound soothing. Now she was too upset to notice.

  She couldn't think of anything to say to Patterson that wasn't ripe with frustration and anger. She got the picture. Brittany Day claimed Aaron had been with her on the night Frank was murdered. Brittany had also been murdered, and the person the police suspected had committed the crime was Ellen Jamieson, Frank's aunt. Why would Ellen kill Brittany? To keep her from testifying and to negate that damned alibi.

  "Do you have any hard evidence I can use to prove that the alibi is false?" Patterson asked after a few minutes of silent walking.

  Christy shook her head. "Quinn and I have been digging into her background, but we've found nothing that you could use in court." They'd been focused on finding other suspects to use in Ellen's defense, though, not disproving the alibi Brittany had given Aaron. Maybe it was time to change priorities.

  Patterson shrugged. "Then there's nothing I can do."

  "What would happen if I could prove that Brittany was lying?"

  "It would have to be pretty good proof," Patterson said sharply. "Day swore an affidavit before she died and she's no longer here to defend herself. Evidence that she'd lied would have to be rock solid."

  "And if it was?"

  "Then I'd re-arrest Aaron DeBolt."

  Christy nodded. "Okay. Thanks for the heads-up."

  The purpose of the meeting achieved, they turned and headed back the way they came.

  "With Aaron's release you need to stay away from the DeBolt family, Mrs. Jamieson. It doesn't look good, particularly now that your aunt has been granted bail. Nathan DeBolt is tight with a lot of powerful people and he knows how to manipulate the media. He won't hesitate to go after you, your friends, and your family if he thinks you are a danger to his son or his reputation."

  Christy appreciated the warning, but the DeBolts' power and their wielding of it wasn't new to her. "Ellen won't be staying with me once she's released. Now that her condo is no longer an active crime scene, she's going to be going back there."

  Patterson looked surprised. "She suggested that? Not something I would have expected of the woman."

  "She's not going to like it, but I can't let her stay. I don't have the option. She has to go."

  "Why?"

  "Not because I think she's a cold-blooded killer. I don't. But the child care worker assigned to Noelle's case was horrified that Noelle might be residing in the same house with someone accused of murder. She all but told me she'd take Noelle away from me if I let Ellen stay. If I have to choose between my daughter and Ellen, my daughter wins hands-down."

  They were
almost at the parking lot as Patterson nodded. There was compassion in her eyes and a certain amount of frustration as well. "I understand. Please contact me if you find out anything new that might relate to the case, Mrs. Jamieson."

  "Sure." A fine fall drizzle started as Christy watched the detective stride to her car.

  Great. Now not only did she have to deal with the uneasy guilt that nagged at her conscience because she was banishing Ellen back to a crime scene, but she was walking home and she'd be soaked by the time she arrived.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets, hunched her shoulders and started moving.

  * * *

  By the afternoon, Christy's bleak mood hadn't softened. On her way over to the school to pick up Noelle, she shut her front door with a snap and slid the key into the lock. Then, behind her, she heard the purr of an expensive engine as a car neared.

  Uh-oh. Here comes trouble, Frank's voice said in her mind.

  "What kind of trouble?" she asked, looking down at the cat to see he was staring intently at the car coming down the road. His tail swished back and forth, a cat clue that he was angry and prepared for anything. She threw the lock as quickly as she was able, then turned around to see for herself.

  Frank was right. This was trouble with a capital T.

  The car, a sleek Mercedes, belonged to Natalie DeBolt. It came to a quiet stop right in front of Christy's front walk. There were three people inside and they were all preparing to leave the vehicle.

  Christy ran down the porch stairs and strode purposefully toward the car.

  The cat stayed on the stoop now settled into his favorite position—seated on his haunches, back very straight, rear paws tucked under him, front legs straight and close to his body, tail curled around his feet.