The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

by Leann Sweeney

  We’d been thinking on the way back to Mercy about Evan’s relationship with Patrick Hoffman, but what about Sarah? She worked on campus and probably knew Hoffman, too. Douglas Lieber probably knew him as well, for that matter. I didn’t want to say anything about Hoffman without Candace’s okay, though.

  Candace said. “Well, Sarah VanKleet can stay irritated. She divorced the professor.”

  “But sons don’t divorce their father,” Kara said.

  I said, “Did Brandt tell you that’s how she hopes to get her hands on any assets? Through her sons?”

  “He didn’t come right out and tell me that,” Kara said, “but that’s the feeling I got.”

  “Feelings,” Candace said. “Those aren’t facts, and that’s all I’m interested in right now. Who’s the lawyer? Jim Stevens?”

  Tom removed his straw from his Coke. “That’s the only estate guy in town. Has to be him.” He took a drink.

  “Wait a minute. Tom said cops rely a lot on instinct. And instincts aren’t facts, either,” Kara said.

  “You’re nitpicking now. And I’m not really in the mood to talk about stuff you know nothing about,” Candace said.

  Kara said, “But I’ve just given you valuable information, and—”

  Tom held up a hand. “Hold on. You had an obligation to do exactly that, Kara. You did the right thing. Now, can we relax a little? Maybe enjoy each other’s company?”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said. I’d had enough tension in the past few days to last a lifetime. Patrick Hoffman might have harmed Candace today, and I still couldn’t get that thought out of my head.

  “You’re right, Tom,” Candace said. “Sorry to be snippy, Kara, but it’s been a long day.”

  At first I thought Kara might pout and give us the silent treatment like she used to do years ago. But she said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Candace. You’re doing a great job, and I can see Jillian has found a true friend. I kind of envy that.”

  I smiled at Kara. “Candace is awesome. But so are you, the way you’ve tried so hard to help.”

  Kara answered with her eyes—with the same warmth her father had so often shared.

  And the Texas chili dogs made everything that much better.

  Kara had to take Tom home since she’d driven them both to the diner. Meanwhile, Candace and I went to the courthouse to drop off the cruiser and pick up my van. Though Candace had spoken with Mike Baca both while we were in Denman and again on the ride back to Mercy to fill him in on the day’s events, she called him on the way to my house to tell him what Kara had said. She did more listening than talking, however. Then she said something that I hadn’t expected but should have thought of myself.

  “Concerning Kara Hart, you think I should warn her?” A short silence followed, and then she went on. “Inform her about Hoffman, give her a description. Since she’s staying with Jillian and Hoffman’s out there, we need to protect her, too.”

  More silence, and then she disconnected.

  “You’re right about Kara,” I said. “She needs to know about Hoffman. Why didn’t I think about that?”

  “It’s been a crazy day. Your mind is probably scrambled almost as much as mine. And you know what? If Kara is good with that gun in her glove box, I can’t think of anyone more deserving of a bullet than Hoffman. I’ll tell her just to wound him, of course,” she said with a laugh.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” The thought of Kara or even Candace having to shoot anyone made those chili dogs in my stomach churn a little.

  “Here’s what else Chief Baca told me,” Candace said. “He learned that Sarah VanKleet could be broke, since her credit cards are maxed out. But getting any bank info will take time. The question is, does she know something we don’t about the professor—like if he had money stashed or had life insurance?”

  “Good questions. She’s probably living off Doug Lieber,” I said. “Do we know if she started an affair with him before she separated from VanKleet?”

  “Why would that matter?” she said.

  “The stress of an affair could have made the professor act even more bizarre. And maybe he withheld money from his wife because of infidelity during the marriage,” I said. “He decided she didn’t deserve anything from him.”

  “You’re reaching,” Candace said. “We have no evidence of that. But then, I didn’t get into personal details when I interviewed Douglas Lieber. I was trying to establish alibis, understand his attitude toward VanKleet. From what he told me, he and the professor were friends, and stayed friends even though he and Sarah were involved.”

  I said, “I understand you’re the evidence queen, but I like to imagine what might have been going on, so humor me. Maybe Sarah VanKleet, in debt and with two kids in college, decided she’d be better off getting back with her ex, and Douglas Lieber didn’t like that idea. The professor was doing experiments. He said whatever his plan was, it would be like winning the lottery. Was that kind of thinking the product of a confused mind or the truth—some scientific breakthrough concerning pet food?”

  Candace laughed. “The pet food I get. He left evidence of that in the house. But you’re saying Lieber was jealous because Sarah was reconsidering her divorce? That he killed VanKleet over Sarah? Come on. Really?”

  “Okay, that’s far- fetched,” I said. “Here’s another thought. What if VanKleet led Sarah to believe there was money coming, that he’d pay her everything she was owed and more, and she found out it wasn’t true?”

  “And then she kills him. In the most painful way possible,” Candace said. “You might be on to something there. But I could see Brandt being that pissed off, too. The person who clobbered Rufus was strong. Brandt could definitely smash the man over the head and kill him. And even though I know you like him, we can’t eliminate Evan. We saw his temper firsthand.”

  I did like Evan and didn’t want to believe he could harm anyone, much less his father, but I had to put my feelings aside. Why did that seem so difficult? Maybe because Brandt seemed to be the decision maker. I said, “Did you check Brandt’s finances? Law school is expensive.”

  “He told me when I interviewed him that he’s on some kind of scholarship,” she said. “Some wonderful ship that’s taking him on that trip through law school for nothing.”

  I laughed. “You know what? We’re both too tired to think anymore about this tonight. This could still be about militant activists. But Patrick Hoffman as that activist? My gut says no.”

  “I think it’s more about people closer to VanKleet, but I am tired,” she said. “I need to rethink everything when my mind is firing on all cylinders.”

  I pulled into the driveway a few minutes later and saw that Kara wasn’t home yet. Maybe she could take care of herself, but I still worried. I mean, Patrick Hoffman was on the loose. Having a name to go with those eyes didn’t relax my upset stomach. Or maybe the second chili dog was to blame.

  I disengaged the alarm at the back door, and we went into the kitchen. Merlot and Syrah sat waiting by their empty food dish. Candace gave them each a little scratch on the head and said she was heading for a much-needed shower.

  After filling their bowls, I went to check on the cats in the basement. Chablis didn’t come to the steps to greet me; that’s how dedicated she was to her new family. When I entered the room, several cans of cat food in hand, she was again cleaning Dame Wiggins on that shoulder. She might lick the poor cat raw if she kept this up.

  This behavior reminded me that I had to call Shawn right away. Maybe he could scan Dame Wiggins tomorrow.

  After I spent time petting everyone, I finally relaxed a little. I went back upstairs and sat at the breakfast bar, ready to phone Shawn. Syrah took up residence on the counter within petting reach. Merlot was on the window seat and gave me a sleepy-eyed glance. But he was apparently too tired to move.

  As I was dialing, I heard Kara’s key in the back door, and she came in a second later. I gave her a small wave and a smile
. She smiled back and walked past me. I turned and saw her go through the living room and down the hall.

  Shawn answered on the third ring, and by his gruff “hello” I feared I’d called at a bad time.

  “Hi. It’s Jillian,” I said.

  “Oh, glad you called. We’ve got a problem,” he said.

  “We do?”

  “A stray-cat explosion. Ruth Schultz had six more show up at her house this morning, and I’ve had people bringing me cats all day,” he said.

  “Uh-oh. I heard Robin West had two cats appear at her farm, too.” I was stunned by my next thought, but mostly because I hadn’t considered it before. “Could this mean the cats from the professor’s farm were actually let go, not taken away?” I said.

  “That’s what I’m thinking, and if there are fifty strays running around, I’ll need all the help I can get,” he said.

  “I’ll do whatever I can. I know a few people who can foster cats,” I said.

  “Good. Doc Howard’s coming back tomorrow to give more immunizations and do stool and blood tests. Thank goodness Allison is off school this week, or I’d really be going nuts,” he said. “But I’m sure you didn’t call to chat. Is Dame Wiggins okay?”

  “She’s fine. Sweet as can be, and her kittens are getting fat. But there is something. Did you or Doc Howard scan her for a chip?”

  Silence followed before Shawn finally said, “I was trying to go back over that night in my head, and you know what? I don’t think so. I’ve got to take care of that, and the sooner the better.”

  “She could have a home to go to, Shawn.” I told him about the small lump on her shoulder blade.

  “Tomorrow morning, okay?” he said.

  “Sure,” I said.

  We settled on a time, and he hung up. I remembered Patrick Hoffman’s words, how he said something about how the cats should be free. At the time, that seemed to me like a militant. If he really was—though his words had sounded scripted to me—he was the type who thought no cats or dogs should be owned by humans. But maybe he didn’t care about the cats at all.

  Candace walked into the kitchen a few minutes later dressed in a pair of my shorts and a T-shirt. “Forgot a few things when we swung by my apartment. Hope you don’t mind I’m wearing your stuff.”

  “What’s mine is yours,” I said.

  She poured herself a glass of water and pulled out a barstool.

  I told her what I’d learned from Shawn, how lots of stray cats were showing up around town.

  “Meaning they were let go, not taken?” she asked.

  “That’s what we’re thinking,” I said. “And for some reason, I don’t think Patrick Hoffman was an activist with an agenda. I’m thinking he tracked VanKleet to Mercy.”

  Candace said, “That could be true and fits with something I realized while I was in the shower. Sarah VanKleet lied when she said she needed directions to get here the night she was notified her ex was dead. But from what Kara told us, she obviously knew the professor was here because she’d taken him to court about that farm. Maybe she told Hoffman where the professor was and didn’t realize she was sealing her ex’s death warrant. But why would Hoffman want to kill the professor?”

  “I don’t know, but Hoffman seemed to be reading off a script when he came here. Like someone told him what to say.”

  “You’re saying Hoffman wanted it to seem like activists were to blame for the murder?” Candace considered this for a moment. “If that’s true, someone else is behind all this and maybe for more mundane reasons. Like money. I definitely need to talk to Sarah VanKleet. But let’s keep everything on the table, not completely discard this activist theory. Can Shawn help us identify exactly which group Hoffman might belong to if there really is a connection there?”

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “That could be a way to find Hoffman. If he’s a domestic terrorist, he has to have friends exactly like him,” she said.

  Kara walked up to the breakfast bar on her own little cat feet. “Maybe I should have closed my ears,” she said. “I heard the name Hoffman. Is that your suspect?”

  Kara’s dark hair was pulled back, and she had white night cream on her forehead, under her eyes and along the sides of her nose.

  “Yes, that’s our suspect,” Candace said. “We all have to be careful because we don’t know his whereabouts. He’s the guy who attacked Jillian, and he got away from me today.” She shook her head. “I was so close to taking him down.”

  “Why would he come back here?” Kara said. “He’s busted now. If I were him, I’d run as far away as I could get.”

  “She has a point,” I said to Candace.

  “I get that,” she said. “He probably murdered two people, he’s on the run and he’s desperate. But if he’s connected to the VanKleet family in any way, he might expect them to help him. And they’re in Mercy.”

  “Help him with money, I assume? But they don’t have any,” Kara said.

  Candace looked frustrated for a second but then seemed to relax. “Brandt told you that?”

  Kara nodded.

  “You realize people lie,” Candace said. “What evidence do you have that he told you the truth? I agree, there appear to be money issues, but we haven’t had a chance to find out if there’s money hidden somewhere that we don’t know about.”

  Kara seemed to ponder this, and then said, “You didn’t find any money in the farmhouse, right?”

  “No, but let’s focus on Patrick Hoffman. Something tells me this guy is coming back. For one thing, he’s had contact with Evan VanKleet on at least two occasions, and I’m willing to bet he’s had contact with the rest of family. After all, Denman is smaller than Mercy, so there are no strangers there. Bottom line, you need to be careful.” Candace went on to describe Hoffman.

  “He talks like he’s reading off a bad script, too. And he smells like limes,” I said.

  “What?” Candace said.

  “Remember? That’s what I told you about him—and those are the good things,” I said.

  Candace leaned close and hugged me. “I am so sorry I didn’t nail him today.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I was so amazed how you didn’t hesitate. Just went after him.”

  “That’s the job,” Candace said.

  Kara held out a small glass jar to Candace. “You look so tired. This stuff is great for those dark circles.”

  Candace cocked her head and didn’t speak for several seconds. Then she took the jar and smiled. “Thanks, Kara.”

  Twenty-six

  Shawn arrived at eight the next morning, before Kara and Candace were even awake. The coffee was on, and he smelled it the minute I let him in through the back door.

  Merlot and Syrah were at his feet almost immediately, and he knelt down to greet them. They adored Shawn, seemed to love the way his strong hands massaged them. They probably missed John’s masculine touch, and Shawn’s kind of petting seemed to make up for their loss a tiny bit. “Where’s Chablis?” he asked.

  “She has become Dame Wiggins’s protector and groomer, and a second mother to those kittens. That’s how I found the microchip. Chablis thinks she can lick the thing out of Dame Wiggins.”

  Shawn laughed, and after he’d given both cats an equal share of attention, he stood and said, “Tell me there’s enough coffee for me, ’cause it smells good enough for me to wade across a cold river to get some.”

  I filled a large mug and handed it to him.

  “This might just get me through the day,” he said.

  I picked up a stack of cat quilts—I always have quilts squirreled away for emergencies. “These are for your new rescues. They’ll need some comfort. I’ll set them by the door so you don’t forget them.”

  Shawn smiled. “Every cat goes home with a quilt since I met you. Thank you, lady.” He held up his scanner. “Now lead me to Dame Wiggins.”

  I set the quilts by the small table at the back door, and we went downstairs with Merlot and Syrah leading
the way. But cats learn quickly, and the boys stopped in the middle of the game room and sat down.

  “What’s with them?” Shawn said as we went to the bedroom.

  “That’s as far as they’re allowed to go, according to their boss, Chablis,” I said.

  He smiled. “Your cats have the craziest personalities, Jillian,” he said as he went into the bedroom. He had brought his coffee and took a hefty swig.

  “They are the best cats on the planet,” I said.

  Chablis was curled up with the kittens, and Dame Wiggins was napping. Wiggins lifted her head and meowed when we came close. But Chablis wasn’t sure she liked this invasion and was on her feet and between Shawn and Dame Wiggins in an instant.

  We both knelt, and all it took was a few strokes from Shawn and Chablis started purring. She even plopped down and turned over on her back. Yup, all the cats loved Shawn.

  Before scanning Dame Wiggins, he scratched her under her chin, and she, too, began to purr. I took this opportunity to gently pet the kittens Chablis wanted all to herself.

  Shawn searched with his fingers and found the small lump. “Yup. She’s got one all right. This might be good news for someone.” He held the scanner over the area, pressed a button and then looked at the display.

  And appeared totally confused.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  “With your scanner?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I should get a number, one we can match in a database. But there’s no number. Just a bunch of computer gibberish.” He felt around again. “This is bigger than any chip I’ve ever implanted, too.”

  “All the chips are the same?” I said.

  “Not exactly the same, but never this big,” he said.

  “So what do we do now?” I said.

  “Like I mentioned, Doc Howard is due in this afternoon to help me immunize and test the new cats that have arrived. Mind if we come back? He’s more up on this microchip system than I am,” he said. “I just know how to put them in and do the paperwork.”