The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

by Leann Sweeney

  “You don’t need to hide what happened to you, Jillian. It’s not your fault.”

  “I guess you’re right, but before another minute passes,” I said, “I have to know why you’re willing to stay here with me. There’s something else going on.”

  “I thought you understood, especially after what we just talked about,” she said. “I have to keep an eye on Kara. I can smell trouble a mile away, and she’s trouble. So while I’m protecting you, I’m watching her like a hawk. I don’t want her all up in my business, and that’s exactly where she wants to be.”

  “She’s not dangerous. She’s looking for answers, just like we are,” I said.

  “Answers that I need to find, not her,” Candace said.

  She seemed upset that I was defending Kara, but before I could reassure her, the doorbell rang.

  When I answered, with Candace right beside me, Billy Cranor stood bearing gifts: the evidence kit with the camera, the laptop and a file folder. He stepped inside and brought Candace’s prized possessions into the living room.

  “Heard some butthead came around threatening you, Ms. Hart,” Billy said. “Wish I’d been here.”

  I smiled. “I wish you’d been here, too.”

  Billy set Candace’s things on the end table, and of course his appearance brought cats out from under the dining room table to investigate. They knew Billy and found him far less fascinating than Candace’s belongings. But though Merlot and Syrah were all over that evidence bag, Chablis didn’t come up from the basement to visit. She sure must have loved cuddling with her adopted kittens.

  “Long time no see, Candy.” Billy laughed. “What’s it been? Two hours?”

  She smiled and fixed a few wayward strands of blond hair over her ear. This was her fireman-calendar fantasy man, but he always treated her like a sister. And that bothered her. “Kind of you to drag my stuff around town. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. We’ve got more trouble in Mercy than we know what to do with. Any way I can help, I will,” he said.

  “Hi,” came Kara’s voice from the foyer. “We have more visitors?”

  “Kara, meet Billy Cranor,” I said. “He’s a volunteer fireman and also knows how to fix just about anything. Works at the hardware store.”

  She entered the room, and I couldn’t look at Candace after I saw Billy nearly start panting at the site of Kara in her tiny shorts and tank top. I’d never seen Candace jealous before, but that might be about to change.

  “Pleased to meet you, Kara. You got a last name?” he said.

  “Hart,” she answered.

  “Are you Ms. Hart’s sister, then?” He looked at me. “You never said anything about a sister.”

  Kara laughed. “She married my father, that’s all. We’re not blood relatives.”

  “How long you visiting for?” Billy said.

  Candace was moving her evidence kit away from further cat inspection, but Billy’s question made her head snap up. She and I were both interested in the answer.

  “Don’t know. Very cute town. And it’s growing on me,” Kara said.

  “Mercy is the finest place you’ll ever want to visit,” Billy said.

  “Except for the murders, you mean?” Kara said.

  Billy’s face reddened, and his interest in Kara seemed to go from “Gee, I’d like to get to know you better” to something more like “What’s your problem, lady?” Did Kara have a clue how condescending she sometimes sounded?

  “Still the best place in the world,” Billy said. “Listen, I got to get back to work. Have an engine to clean after all this rain. Fire trucks gotta sparkle.” He nodded at Candace and me. “Take care, ladies.” To Kara he said, “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “One favor, Billy?” Candace said.

  “Sure.”

  “That professor’s family is due in town,” Candace said, “but we don’t know when. You’ve always got your ear to the ground, so will you call me when they get here?”

  “You betcha,” Billy said.

  After he left, Kara said, “Nice body, but such a hick. Did my father really like Mercy and these types?”

  “I thought you said the town was growing on you. Your father loved Mercy,” I said softly.

  Kara said. “He must have had his reasons, and that tells me I need to understand the town better if I’m going to write the book that’s starting to come to life in my head.”

  Candace, her cheeks rosy with what I assumed was anger, had her camera out. “Jillian? How’s about we go to the bedroom and I’ll photograph those bruises.”

  “Sure.” We started down the hall together, but Kara was on our heels.

  “Mind if I watch?” Kara said as we entered my bedroom.

  Merlot and Syrah had the same idea and were already sitting on the bed.

  “It’s up to you whether you want an audience, Jillian,” Candace said.

  “I guess I don’t mind,” I said, though I really did. But saying no to Kara seemed to be as difficult for me as it had been for John. “Guess you want me to take off my shirt, Candace?”

  “That’s right.” Candace surveyed my room. She walked over and closed the door that led to the master bath. “Stand in front of the door. The lighting will be right.”

  Candace proceeded to photograph my bruised neck, the blue marks on my biceps where the man had lifted me off my feet and the red abrasions on both wrists. My ankles hadn’t been bound as tightly as my wrists, and there were no marks there. All the scrapes and bruises on my legs had come from my trek to the professor’s house through the fields.

  As I was putting my T-shirt back on, Kara said, “When I write my book about these murders and if it turns out Jillian’s attacker was involved, can I get copies of those photos?”

  “Not my call,” Candace said brusquely. “As of now, these pictures are part of an ongoing investigation.”

  “I see,” Kara said.

  “This guy wore gloves the entire time?” Candace asked me.

  “Yes,” I said. I motioned to the cats. “Come on, boys. Time for wet food.”

  We all walked back toward the kitchen, but Candace stopped. “Wait a minute. He wore a black ski mask, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “And he was holding the very red- haired Merlot when you came in the room?” she said.

  “You think he left fiber evidence on Merlot?” I said.

  “I better check him out.” Candace had put her case on the sofa and now took out a pair of latex gloves, a large magnifying glass and a pair of long tweezers.

  So while Syrah ate his salmon dinner and Merlot chomped down on his grilled beef, Candace sat next to him on the floor with her magnifying glass. She examined his long red coat one section at a time.

  Kara stood above Candace, watching with interest.

  I opened the fridge for some sweet tea and was surprised to discover that my refrigerator had become a foreign country. Candace had made lunch, so I hadn’t looked in here since Kara went to the store. I saw a half dozen prepackaged containers of sushi rolls and enough Red Bull to energize a pro football team. It reminded me of when Kara had come to spend Christmas with John and me and always filled the fridge with some kind of new and trendy food. Thank goodness for the whole deli chicken and containers of potato salad and olives. I wasn’t a sushi fan.

  I asked if anyone wanted a drink but got no reply, so I shrugged and poured myself a glass of tea.

  Candace’s “Aha” came seconds later. She leaned back and held up her tweezers. From where I stood across the kitchen I couldn’t see anything, but I assumed she’d found a teensy thread in all that fur.

  She said, “Ski masks may be good at concealing faces, but they shed almost as much as Merlot here.”

  “Really?” Kara said.

  “It’s near impossible to come into someone’s house and not leave evidence of your presence behind. Take you, for instance: long dark hair, obviously colored. Hard not to leave any of those hairs around. Some
of them could even contain your DNA.” Candace looked at me. “Would you mind getting an envelope out of my case? You know the ones I use.”

  When I brought her the small paper envelope, I also brought her a pen. I knew the routine.

  Candace placed her tiny, fuzzy black fiber in the envelope and wrote the date, time and where she’d found the fiber on the front. Then she stood. “I’ll check the sofa to see if there are any more of these.”

  She came up empty there and said, “I doubt the rain left us any nice tire tracks, especially since other vehicles have driven in and out of your driveway since the event. But did you hear anything after the door slammed? The sound of an engine, maybe?”

  “The event? It wasn’t exactly a rock concert.” Then I felt awful for being sarcastic. “Sorry. Guess I’m still a little on edge. To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention.” I finished off my tea and said, “I was just glad he left. But something has me wondering—guess it was the food in the fridge that sparked something in my head. How did he know he’d find me alone?”

  “The food? What are you talking about?” Kara said.

  “You were at the store,” I said. “How did someone know you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon?”

  Candace shook her head. “The bad guy might not have even known she was staying here. He got lucky is all.”

  “But what if he did know?” I said. “If this was an activist, he’s probably not working alone. Someone could have been following Kara, too.”

  “No way,” Kara said. “I would have noticed.”

  “Not if they were good,” Candace said.

  “That settles it.” Kara made a beeline for the back door and went outside.

  Candace said, “What’s with her?”

  “Don’t know,” I answered, “but I’m guessing she’s not fleeing in terror.”

  And she wasn’t. Kara came back inside a minute later, making sure to wipe her feet on the mat by the door. She held something wrapped in navy felt and lifted the fabric for Candace’s inspection.

  Candace stepped back when she looked inside. “Is that loaded?”

  “Yes. I was traveling alone. I have the right to protect myself,” Kara said.

  I was shocked but spoke as calmly as I could. “I have rights, too, and this is my home. I want you to unload that gun,” I said. “You might accidentally shoot one of my cats. Or me.”

  Kara looked at me like I had a screw loose. “Are you crazy, Jillian? Someone came into your house and threatened you. Someone might be following me, so—”

  “And that’s why I’m here. For protection,” Candace said evenly. “Jillian has asked you to unload your .38 snubnose or put it back where you got it.”

  “From what Tom told me,” Kara said, “South Carolina has the same law that Texas does—the right to carry a loaded handgun in a concealed place like the glove box.”

  “Without a permit. I know,” Candace said. “But it’s not in the glove box now. So please do as Jillian asked.”

  “Is the safety on?” I said, still horrified at her bringing a gun into my house. Handguns can hurt their owners, too, and I was worried about Kara carrying that thing around.

  “Revolvers don’t have safeties,” they both said in unison.

  “Even more reason to get that thing out of here,” I said.

  “Fine, but I wanted both of you to know I have this. No one is about to intimidate me. No one.” She rewrapped the gun, whirled and went back outside.

  Candace shook her head, her expression troubled. “John’s daughter has issues, Jillian.”

  “But John’s daughter happens to be my family. Can you be nice to her? For me?” I asked.

  “I’ll try, but you be careful, ’cause I can guarantee you I won’t be turning my back on her.”

  Seventeen

  The next day, I made pancakes for all three of us. When given the choice of sleeping on the couch, downstairs with a bunch of cats and their litter box or in my king-size bed with me, Candace had chosen my room. I’d told her she shouldn’t feel the need to stay that close to me, but she’d laughed and said her choice was all about comfort.

  Though Kara complained that the “overloaded with carbs” breakfast would make her bleary for the rest of the day, she ate twice as many pancakes as Candace did. And that’s a lot of pancakes. Would she have to double up on her Red Bull today? And would I need extra coffee?

  When we were finished, I decided to be proactive, take more of a motherly role, and suggested that Kara do the dishes. She agreed without so much as a pout. Progress, maybe? I thought.

  As Candace and I left the kitchen, I said, “I have a couple new quilts I want to show you.” I grabbed her elbow and squeezed before she could say anything. Candace had no interest whatsoever in anything that had to do with quilting, but I wanted to talk to her alone.

  Chablis had joined us this morning—she does enjoy a few nibbles of pancakes—and she and the two boys led the way to my sewing room. Maybe she was getting over her love affair with Dame Wiggins and the kittens. Once the cats took their usual places—Syrah on the windowsill, Merlot on the cutting table and Chablis next to the sewing machine—I closed the door.

  “I saw you were stuck to your laptop last night. Were you working on the case?” I said.

  She nodded. “Chief Baca sent me information on the family. Plus he has ties with someone from the college and forwarded an e-mail from this person. A former associate of the professor indicated—and it’s all in university-type lingo and thus kinda fuzzy—that VanKleet was terminated. I mean before he was really terminated. But I don’t know why.”

  “Can you find out more today?” I glanced at the pile of unbound quilts I had to finish—and soon.

  “Spring break, so it might be hard,” she said. “Maybe a trip to that little college town to find anyone willing to sit down and talk about this guy is in order—that is, if anyone is around and not on vacation.”

  “Can’t you have one of their local officers help you?” I said.

  “I wish. You think Mercy’s small? In Denman, they depend more on the campus police than their four officers. Baca e-mailed me a couple names of the campus cops. But they could be on spring break, too.”

  “I heard you get a phone call last night, too,” I said. “From the look on your face before you left the living room with your phone, I’m guessing it was Billy.”

  Candace blushed. “You are way too observant. It was him. The professor’s relatives had arrived in town even before I found Rufus’s body. The sons are staying at the Tall Pines Motel, but guess where the ex and her boyfriend are shacked up?”

  “How would I—oh no. The Pink House?” I said, referring to the grand old Victorian painted an outrageous pink where last year’s murder had taken place.

  Candace pointed at me. “You got it. Did you know the new owners advertise their bed-and-breakfast as haunted? What a crock.”

  “Will you talk to the professor’s family today?” I said.

  “You want to invite them all here for lunch? I don’t think so,” she said.

  “We don’t have to stay here like we’re prisoners. I mean, don’t you need clothes and your toothbrush?” I said. “We could pick them up at your place and then stop at the police station—try to time it so we end up there with the family.”

  “You want me to find out from the chief when and where he plans to talk to them and just show up?” From her half smile, I could tell she liked this idea.

  “Sounds easy enough,” I said.

  “What about Kara? I don’t want her within a country mile of our investigation,” Candace said. “But if we leave her here and Mr. Ski Mask shows up, I’ll be in deep doodoo. Especially if she brings her weapon inside while we’re gone and then feels justified in using it.”

  “We’ll drop her off at Belle’s Beans. From all that Red Bull in my fridge, I’d say she’s a genuine caffeine addict. Plus, she said she wanted to learn more about the town. We’ll just share with her the fact
that Belle’s is the best place to do that.”

  Candace grinned. “Perfect.”

  “There’s one more thing you should know.” Something that had kept me awake half the night.

  “What’s that?”

  “I was so shaken yesterday, I wasn’t thinking. We probably have the whole attack on video,” I said.

  Candace’s eyes widened. “Your cat cam.” She thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I should have thought of that.” She started toward the door. “Come on. Show me.”

  The cats and I followed as she hurried down the hall to my office. “I’ll bring up the feeds, show you how to look at stored video, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not watch.”

  “I get it. No problem,” she said.

  A minute later, I left Candace in my office to view the man scaring the bejesus out of me. The cats didn’t seem interested, either, and followed me out, but then took off in the opposite direction for my bedroom. It was nap time already. Oh, to be a cat.

  Kara was sitting in the living room talking into a small recorder when I returned. She quit speaking and shut it off, but before I could tell her the plan that would get her started on her study of Mercy’s proverbial flora and fauna, her cell phone rang.

  She smiled after she said,“Hello,” and listened for a second and then held out the phone. “It’s Tom. He wants to talk to you.”

  “Thanks.” I walked over to where she sat in John’s chair and took the phone. It was more modern than I was used to and felt awkward in my hand, and even more awkward up against my ear. “Hi.”

  “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” he said.

  “Um, my phone sorta went bye-bye,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “But why was Kara the one to call this morning and tell me what happened? You could have borrowed hers or Candace’s and let me in on this. I thought after the other night . . . Hell, I don’t know what to think now.”

  I turned away from Kara’s probing stare and walked into the kitchen. “I was upset and didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to go to sleep. I’m sorry.”

  “But you’re all right? That jerk didn’t hurt you?” he said.