This visit had to be about her piece of evidence. Candace is enamored of evidence, is engaged in a constant love affair with all things criminal. “Grab some ice, would you?” I poured liquid cane sugar into the hot tea while Candace scooped out a handful from the ice maker.
As she plopped the cubes into the pitcher, she said, “I have an idea. But I think you should have tea first.”
She was right about that, because Candace obviously had an agenda. I put two glasses on the counter, and she poured. I added more ice to our drinks, and we went around the counter, past the dining room table and into my connecting living room.
Candace settled onto the sofa and got right to it. “I’m staking out Robin’s barn tonight, hoping the thief will come back. That cow got away, and I’m betting someone wants it back. Care to join me?”
“Um, I am not exactly a police officer,” I said. Another night shift? I might not survive.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotten permission for you to do a ride-along. Citizens pay the bills, and they’re entitled to see how we officers spend our time.”
“Your boss, Mike Baca, gave you permission to take me with you?” That seemed impossible considering how we’d gone nose to nose last year and the chief of police was sure I’d been wrong about . . . well, just about almost everything.
“The chief is on vacation. Did you know he has a daughter from his first marriage? He’s gone to see her in Florida for spring break.”
“I didn’t know.” It made me realize that Candace didn’t know about Kara, John’s daughter—and my stepdaughter—either. Talking about Kara was difficult for me, but I did miss hearing from her. In fact, I hadn’t heard from her since her dad’s funeral, but I figured she’d call when she was ready. “So you don’t exactly have permission for this stakeout? I’m not sure I—”
“Morris Ebeling, my once and future partner, is in charge since he’s the senior officer. When I told him about the missing cow and the possible break- in, he said I could investigate all I wanted. He laughed about a missing cow and said that a ride-along was fine since he wouldn’t be the one with me.” Her lips thinned almost into a sneer. “You know what he’s like. That man is as lazy as a lobster.”
“Lobsters are lazy?” I said.
“I don’t know. My mother always says that. Anyway, you stayed up last night, so your brain’s in night-shift mode anyway.”
“I feel drugged, if that’s what you mean. But don’t you think Mike Baca would take issue with me being involved in anything police related, even while he’s on vacation?”
“He is so over you getting involved with that whole murder thing last year. After all, you did help figure things out at the Pink House.”
The Pink House is a Mercy landmark and now under new ownership as a bed-and-breakfast. “Mike Baca is over what happened? I can’t believe that, Candace. He looks the other way every time we pass each other at the Piggly Wiggly.”
“That’s because he’s embarrassed about everything that happened. I’ve heard him say you’re one of the smartest women he’s ever met. Says you have good instincts. And I agree with him.” She smiled. “Come on. The second night shift is always easier; you’ll see. We’ll bring a giant bag of Cheetos and pick up peanuts from Harvey Weatherstone’s roadside stand.”
I polished off half my drink, wondering how I could get out of this one. “You sound like we’re heading for the Cinema Ten in Greenwood. Should we stash Cokes in our purses, too?”
“This particular movie will probably be boring as all heck. That’s why I need you with me, so you can nudge me awake every so often. Come on. I stayed up with you last night, didn’t I?”
She had me there. “Okay,” I said wearily. “What time do we leave?”
My cats were confused when I left late Thursday for another night shift. But then, I’d slept most of the day, so maybe they thought I’d finally turned into a cat and was ready for fun in the dark, as they always seemed to be. I’d made sure to take a headache medicine that contained caffeine—because, boy, did I have a headache. I did feel more awake, but a dull throb lingered at the back of my skull. My IOU to Candace would be paid in full after this second and last overnighter.
Unfortunately, she was driving this time since this was police business. Not her squad car, since any potential thief wouldn’t be dumb enough to raid a barn with one of those in the driveway. We went in the only unmarked car Mercy owned—a Taurus that smelled like someone had spilled beer on the carpet about ten years ago.
I was wide awake when we reached Robin’s house. Candace’s driving—which was like that Wild Mouse ride they used to have at amusement parks when I was growing up—jangled my nerves big-time. I’d given up asking her why she had to take every corner with squealing tires. I could tell by her smile that she loved speed—simple as that.
Robin was expecting us and came outside to direct the car around the back of the house, where we’d have a good view of both the barn and the driveway. Harriett, Candace had postulated from the tire treads, was taken away in a trailer last night, and if the thief returned to take her again, that truck would probably return.
Robin wore a terry-cloth robe and held it tightly against the night chill. The temperature had dropped from pleasant seventies this afternoon to around fifty now. She held out a key to Candace. “This is for the back door. There’s a powder room right past the washer and dryer in the kitchen. Just try to be quiet. Jack needs his sleep. Poor Harriett had no milk after her ordeal, so Jack’s a little run-down without his daily fix.”
Isn’t raw milk bad for you? I wondered. I’d heard something about people saying it was good for you again, and I guess if you owned a cow and drank it right after it was milked it might be. Certainly, people drank milk like that for years before Pasteur came around, but I wouldn’t be asking for any samples. We thanked Robin for letting us use the facilities, and she went inside.
We climbed back in the car. I’d brought my pillow and now tried to position myself so I wouldn’t end up feeling like I’d slept on the ground after this little adventure ended. The headache was returning in force, so I added a Coke to help with the tension headache pills I’d taken earlier. Enough caffeine, I decided, to keep an entire police force awake.
We were parked in the shadow of a huge pecan tree to make the car a little more difficult to spot, but Candace told me to recline my seat just in case we were visible. She did the same.
The promised Cheetos appeared, as well as the peanuts. Eating all that salt made for two thirsty women. It was the four Cokes we consumed between us that did us both in. I had to sneak into the house at about one a.m., but Candace managed to hold on until about three before she needed to relieve herself.
Wouldn’t you know, as soon as she left, I saw a dark-clad figure skulking around the driveway curve, a pair of what looked like bolt cutters in his or her left gloved hand.
My heart started thumping in my chest as I focused hard on the intruder. There was something else in the other hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was . . . Then I caught a glint as it swung by the trespasser’s side. A gun? God, please not a gun.
My heart sped up so much, I could feel it pounding in my throat now. But curiosity wouldn’t let me hide under the dash. I saw the person set down the shiny thing—a pail, I realized with relief. He or she needed only one quick snap of the tool on the replaced padlock, and the barn door swung open.
Candace, hurry. Please.
But she wasn’t hurrying . . . or maybe time had simply stopped. I thought about heading for the house now that the thief was in the barn. Candace needed to get out here fast.
My fear intensified when I spotted Lucy the cat creeping toward the open barn.
No. Not the kitty. Please not the kitty.
I was about ready to try to distract Lucy when Candace opened the car door. I swallowed my surprise before it came out as a screech. “Someone’s here,” I whispered harshly. “In the barn. Right now.”
“Gosh darn i
t, wouldn’t you know.” Candace reached beneath her seat and pulled out her gun. The gun I hadn’t known was there.
I swallowed what little saliva I had left. “You brought your gun?”
“Duh, yeah. I’m on duty. Stay put. I’ll take care of this.” She was out the door without another word and edging toward the barn door as quietly as Lucy had.
I was afraid for her—scared stupid, to put it bluntly. What if that . . . that horrible person had a gun I hadn’t seen? What if there was a shoot-out and Candace was injured . . . or worse? No, I couldn’t think like that. She was smart, a good cop. She knew what she was doing.
Though I couldn’t and shouldn’t follow, at least I could listen, so I rolled down the window.
A few seconds passed before I heard Candace’s angry voice say, “Professor? What in hell do you think you’re doing?”
Four
A few seconds passed before Candace and the man she’d called professor appeared outside the barn.
I sighed with relief and wondered whether Gilligan’s Island ’s Mary Ann might not be far behind the professor. But this was no old TV rerun. Candace had the man by the elbow and was pulling him toward the house. Lucy, tail in the air, scurried eagerly beside them. Her curiosity had been satisfied, and all was well with the world—or so it would seem. I do tend to interpret for my own cats, so why not Lucy, too?
I felt safe enough now to get out of the Taurus and was glad I’d again worn a sweatshirt. I shivered in this dead-of-night chill.
Candace tossed me the house key. “Wake up Robin so she can meet her trespasser. But be as quiet as you can. Jack doesn’t need to be a part of this.”
Turned out I didn’t have to wake Robin. She met me at the back door and said, “I heard voices. What happened?”
“Do you have a back-porch light?” I asked.
She flicked two switches by the door, and suddenly the Taurus and the dirt driveway were illuminated. And so were Candace and the professor. Candace’s prisoner, I saw, was in handcuffs.
The man’s head was down, and the black knit hat he’d been wearing was gone, revealing a mop of chin-length salt-and-pepper hair.
“Here’s your thief, Robin,” Candace said. “This time he decided not to steal the cow. Easier to steal the milk, I guess. Reminds me of a very bad joke.”
Robin marched up to the man. “Look at me.”
He slowly raised his head, and their eyes met.
“I-I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he managed.
“You frightened me to death. Just who are you?” Robin asked.
“This is Professor Hubert VanKleet,” Candace said.
“Teaches biology at Denman College. Isn’t that what you told me when we met at Belle’s Beans?”
He cast his gaze downward again. “Th-that would be correct.”
Robin bent and tilted her head so she could see his face again. Her tone was gentle when she said, “I would have given you milk if you’d asked. Why go to all this trouble?”
“You would have?” With his raised eyebrows and wide eyes, he seemed genuinely surprised.
Candace said, “That’s the way we do things here in Mercy. Folks need something, all they have to do is ask. Guess you haven’t lived here long enough to figure that out.”
“What do you need the milk for?” Robin said. “Do you have children?”
“In a way,” he said. “It’s for my pets. I l- lost my own cow last week. She was old and she died. The cats need f-food, and I’m rather short on c-cash since taking a sabbatical from my job.”
Exactly how many cats did this man have? I wondered.
“A sabbatical means you’re not working, Professor. I didn’t know that.” Candace had backed off with the stern tone. Concern seemed to have taken over. She turned to Robin. “Do you have any No Trespassing signs posted?”
“No. I didn’t think I needed them,” she said.
“Only reason I ask,” Candace said, “is that I can only arrest the professor for trespassing if you’ve got a sign posted. Course, now that he’s been warned he will go to jail if there’s a next time. Unless you want me to charge him for destroying your padlock.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, not feeling as nice as a Mercy- ite should. “What about stealing Harriett? Isn’t that a crime?” For some reason I didn’t feel a great deal of sympathy for this man, maybe because I was concerned about cats drinking only cow’s milk. That wouldn’t be good for them at all. Didn’t this obviously intelligent person know that most adult cats are lactose intolerant? Or maybe he was simply desperate for anything to fill their tummies.
“Did you steal that cow, Professor?” Candace said.
“I—I borrowed her; that’s all.” Something in his tone, or perhaps it was the way he averted his eyes, told me this wasn’t the whole story. And if he’d had an old cow, he wouldn’t have been getting any milk from that source. This wasn’t adding up.
Meanwhile, Lucy had taken a devoted interest in the professor’s pant legs, sniffing them from calf to ankle.
“You want to press charges about the cow, Robin?” Candace asked. She seemed tired, perhaps deflated by her cow thief turning out to be a nerdy man with dark shadows under his eyes and a defeated stoop to his shoulders.
Robin again addressed Professor VanKleet. “You won’t do this again, will you?”
His small, hazel eyes livened with hope. “N-no. I promise. P-please let me go. I have cats to care for. They need me.”
Okay, he finally had me feeling sympathetic, too.
“Don’t set foot on my property without an invite. Are we clear?” Robin said.
“R-right. I promise.”
Seconds later, he was free of the handcuffs, and Candace again warned him that the next time he came near Robin’s barn it would result in a stint in the town jail. “I can’t hold you for anything tonight since Robin is being generous, but I hope you understand the trespassing laws now, Professor.”
He ignored Candace and said, “Th-thank you so much, Ms. West. Th-thank you.” VanKleet turned and started off down the road, his body no longer hunched over in shame or remorse or whatever emotion had a hold on him earlier. He’d been acting, I decided. He wasn’t the least bit sorry.
“Wait a minute,” I called. “How did you know her name?”
He swiveled back around—quite spritely, I might add—and offered a lopsided grin. “It’s on the mailbox.”
No stutter, a spring in his step. And as he walked away, I felt a small chill race up both arms. Cat owner or not, I didn’t like the guy—not one bit.
My daytime sleep on Friday was cut short by cell-phone noise. I’d set my phone to vibrate, but apparently it pulsated enough to fall off the nightstand and clunk onto the hardwood floor. This woke Syrah, too, and he bounced onto my stomach before heading for the floor to attack it in case it was a living creature. Still groggy, I leaned over the side of the bed and watched through sleepy eyes as he pawed at the phone. Then I spoiled his fun and picked it up.
Shawn interrupted my “hello” with “I’m sorry, but I really could use your help again.” He was speaking in a rushed whisper.
I sat up and blinked several times. Chablis stood and stretched, her lovely afternoon sleep ended. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Allison can’t get back from Clemson until after supper. Some group project. And I’ve got this woman here, and she will not leave me alone. Allison would take care of this problem in a flash, but I got to thinking you could do just as well.”
That was kind of a backhanded compliment, I thought, but instead said, “What woman? Has Lydia the stalker set her sights on you now?” Lydia Monk, the deputy county coroner, was obsessed with a good friend of mine, Tom Stewart. I’d met Tom when he installed the security system and set up my wonderful cat cam. But I knew Tom didn’t think much of Lydia, so maybe she’d turned her sights on Shawn, married or not.
“No, not that nutcase Lydia. Can you come to the shelter? You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
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“Do I have time to pick up coffee at Belle’s Beans?” I wouldn’t be functional without some java.
“No. I’ll make some.” He hung up.
Shawn may not have the best social skills with people, but his heart is pure gold. If he needed help from me, then help he would get.
Sans even lipstick, I arrived at the Mercy Animal Sanctuary in less than thirty minutes. My hair was still wet from the quick shower that had helped clear the cobwebs.
I smelled the coffee before I even got to the office door. Strong coffee. Guess that’s what I needed, but I had a feeling it might resemble sludge if Shawn had made it.
When I entered the office, I saw Shawn looking less than genial, seated behind his small desk. A woman I did not recognize was parked in the lawn chair across from him. She was about my age, maybe mid-forties, with sandy hair and dark brown eyes. I noticed her muddy plaid boots, similar to what Robin had been wearing yesterday. Was it yesterday or the day before? I’d lost track of what day it was after these night shifts.
Shawn stood when I came in. “Thanks for coming, Jillian. I might have to cut you a paycheck. This here is Ruth Schultz.” He came around the desk and quickly poured me a mug of coffee.
I smiled at Ruth and then took a swig of the worst lukewarm liquid I’d ever tasted. But I needed caffeine so desperately, I drank half before setting down the mug on Shawn’s desk. I held out my hand to Ruth. “Jillian Hart.”
As we shook hands, I caught her expression. Eyes downcast, she said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Ruth has come with an admission,” Shawn said. “That mama cat and her litter you helped me with? She left them at my door.”
Ruth’s cheeks flushed. “And I am so sorry, but I knew something was wrong with that mother cat. The way my business is going, I couldn’t afford to take her to the vet, and I’d heard about Shawn, and I am so sorry, but I thought I was—”
“It’s okay.” Shawn rested a hand on her shoulder. “The mama and litter are being cared for. Tell Jillian about the other problem.”
The Cat, The Professor and the Poison Page 3
