The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

by Leann Sweeney

  My heart wouldn’t quit pounding, especially now that I had a gun in my lap. Those two in that house had to get out alive. They had to.

  “Come on, Jillian. Just touch the gun,” Tom said.

  It felt heavy on my lap, heavier than it looked. I put a hand on top of it. No big deal, I thought. Just a hunk of metal.

  A few seconds later the SWAT truck rumbled by us. It came to an abrupt stop right in front of Morris.

  “Thank God,” I whispered.

  But then something caught my eye in the woods beyond the ditch we’d parked next to. A white cat was trying to climb a tree, its hair standing on end with fear. But it couldn’t seem to do what all cats are good at—climb that tree.

  “I have to help that cat.” I opened the door and headed for the woods. The ditch was deeper than I thought, and I nearly tripped but managed to keep my footing.

  Why hadn’t I realized that some of the cats that had been released probably came back here? This was where they’d been fed, after all. We weren’t close to the house, so it wasn’t like trying to help a cat in trouble was dangerous.

  “Jillian,” called Tom. “Come back.”

  I turned and saw that he was following me, and following lots faster than he should have been. He’d scare the cat before I could rescue it. The cat fell down after yet another attempt to climb the tree. What was wrong with it? Weak from hunger, too?

  Then something happened behind me; I heard Tom swear—very loudly. I spun and saw him lying in the ditch. I looked back at the cat and figured Tom needed my help more than the frightened white fur ball did.

  But when I started back toward where he was groaning in pain, an arm reached around me from behind.

  Not again.

  Thirty-one

  But this person wasn’t Patrick Hoffman, as I’d feared. No, this person wasn’t nearly as strong. I gave my would-be attacker an elbow to the gut with all my might.

  I heard a grunt as the assailant let go. I even heard him fall.

  I didn’t even realize I had the gun with me. But what I did realize was that I’d dropped it when I’d elbowed the guy.

  I whirled and saw Douglas Lieber scramble for the weapon. He got to it before I did. Then he stood and pointed it at me.

  “You and your little police buddy have been more trouble than I ever needed. I’d shoot you right here, but I need leverage now that your friend in the ditch has seen me. You’re coming with me.”

  I glanced back and saw Tom grimacing in pain and trying to crawl toward us. But those fifteen feet between us might as well have been a mile, and Tom knew that. He began shouting for Morris’s help.

  Panic flitted across Lieber’s face. He said, “Come with me now.” He waved the gun back toward the thicker woods.

  I didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Come on, idiot. Or you’re dead,” he said.

  I held up my hands, stepped toward him. “You set this all up, even made it look like activists were the culprits, didn’t you? Set all those poor cats loose.”

  His eyes hardened. “What if I did? You come with me, Jillian. Now.”

  “No,” I said, taking another step closer. “I want you to look at me when you kill me—like you looked at the professor while he drank the strychnine. You must have slipped it into his drink. What did you do, tell him you’d come over to talk?” I took another step forward.

  “I’ve killed two people, why not one more?” He squeezed the trigger at the same moment I kneed him hard between the legs. He collapsed, but he still held that gun and pointed it up at me. It didn’t seem to register with him that it wasn’t loaded, and he tried to fire it again. But the empty gun only clicked.

  Two scary-looking black-clad SWAT officers were upon us all of a sudden, demanding that Lieber drop his weapon.

  “It’s not even loaded,” I said.

  Lieber complied, but not before giving me a venomous look.

  I checked behind me, where Tom was being tended to by Morris. “Can I go to my friend?” I said as the officers laid Lieber on his stomach and pulled his hands behind him for the handcuffs.

  “You’re sure you’re okay, ma’am?” one of them said.

  “I’m fine.” I was beginning to understand why Candace said she loved her work. Kicking butt felt good. But I was worried about Tom.

  The poor cat that started this whole thing had finally made it up to a low branch. I stopped on the way back to Tom and held my hand up. It rubbed against my fingers, and I said, “You stay there. I’m coming back for you.”

  Then I hurried to where Tom lay. One of the paramedics was already at his side, and Morris was standing nearby, looking a little pasty. When I checked out Tom’s ankle, I saw why. Definitely broken, and sickening to look at.

  I rested a palm against his cheek.

  “You are a fool for cats,” he said, trying to laugh.

  “I am so sorry.” I looked at the paramedic—I remembered meeting her once; her name was Diane. “Will he be okay?”

  She was putting an air splint on Tom that resembled a boot. “He’ll be fine—after about six weeks.”

  The SWAT officers were now taking Lieber to their truck. I stared up at Morris. “What about Kara and Evan?”

  “As soon as that jerk in the house saw that SWAT was here, he gave up. They should be bringing him out soon,” he said.

  “But the hostages? They’re okay?” I said.

  “The paramedics are checking them out, too. But no shots were fired, and that’s how we like these things to end,” Morris said.

  I felt so relieved that tears stung my eyes. “Thank God.”

  Tom took my hand. “It’s okay now, but no thanks to me.”

  “You gave me that gun. Best defense I could have had—even without bullets,” I said.

  He seemed confused, and I realized he probably hadn’t seen what had gone down between Lieber and me—or he was in too much pain to remember. I said, “Tell you later.”

  I heard shouts coming from the driveway and saw Candace and two more SWAT officers leading Patrick Hoffman toward a waiting squad car.

  He yelled, “I never killed anyone,” a couple of times, and then I overheard him say, “Give me a deal and I’ll tell you everything Lieber did.”

  Candace yelled, “You have the right to shut up, dirtbag,” and shoved Hoffman in the back.

  Two terrible men were soon carted off in separate squad cars. Meanwhile, a stretcher had arrived for Tom and I had to get out of the way.

  “I never thought of myself as clumsy before,” Tom said as they wheeled him toward the ambulance.

  “Can I go with him?” I asked.

  “You can follow, but not ride. Liability issues,” Diane said.

  Tom said, “My keys are still in the car. But you should wait, talk to Kara and Evan. They need you more than I do right now.”

  I hurried to his side before they put him in the ambulance and kissed his lips. “Feel better,” I said.

  As they drove off with Tom, sirens blasting, a ridiculous thought flashed through my mind: How long before Lydia knows about that kiss?

  After I rescued the white cat, who was declawed and thus not very good at climbing trees, Deputy Dufner said he’d take it to the sanctuary. I thanked him profusely and then waited in the Prius for a good thirty minutes. Finally Kara and Evan came walking down the driveway accompanied by Chief Baca. Evan was on his cell phone. Kara was as pale as new snow.

  I got out of the car, and Morris the gatekeeper didn’t stop me this time. I ran to her, my arms wide.

  We hugged long and hard, and she whispered, “Thank you, Jillian,” into my neck. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

  Then I reached out and pulled Evan in and embraced him, too. No words were necessary.

  Baca smiled at me. “They’re free to go. I have their statements. But I’ll be calling them in to sign formal statements later.”

  “We’re parked down that way.” Kara pointed toward where I’d al
ready visited her car earlier. No way was she driving out right now. The SWAT vehicle was still in the way.

  “We’ll take Tom’s Prius and head for the Pink House first,” I said. “Evan, you’ve got a mother and brother waiting for you, and Brandt knows enough about these events to be sick with worry.”

  “I already called them,” he said. “But they both need to see me to believe I’m all right.”

  On the drive, the two of them were pretty quiet at first and got quieter when I told them that Tom was injured. I was eager to get to the hospital once we dropped Evan off.

  “Will Tom be okay?” Evan finally asked.

  “Yes. He’ll be fine once they set his ankle. But I’m worried about the two of you. Weren’t you scared to death in there?” I said.

  Evan said, “I wouldn’t want to repeat that experience, but Patrick isn’t the worst bad guy in all this. He told us everything Lieber did to my dad, said he thought they were partners. All Hoffman was supposed to do was look for any evidence that might have been left behind at the farm. Evidence connecting Lieber to my father’s plans. But then we showed up. I am pissed off—no, more than pissed off. I’d like about fifteen minutes alone with Douglas Lieber.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s in jail, and he’ll pay for what he did to your father. Just chill tonight, okay?” I said. “You’ve been through a rough time.” Evan took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.

  We rode in silence again until I dropped Evan off at the Pink House. Brandt must have been waiting at the window, because he raced out the door and grabbed his brother to him for dear life.

  Dear life. Yes, indeed. “We need to head to the hospital, but could you check my cat cam, Kara? Chablis can’t get to her family, and she’s probably pouting.”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed it to her. She pulled up the video feed, and for the first time since she’d come out of that farmhouse, I saw her smile.

  She said, “I don’t see Chablis. It looks like there’s catnip scattered all over the living room floor. Syrah and Merlot are totally doped and acting stupid.” She laughed.

  I silently blessed my cats for their wonderful power to heal.

  Thirty-two

  Mercy didn’t have a real hospital, just an emergency clinic, and after a call to Billy Cranor, I learned that Tom had been taken to the county hospital about thirty minutes north—and very close to Lydia Monk’s office.

  If the Mercy grapevine was active, I feared Lydia already knew about Tom’s accident. By the time we got to the hospital, sure enough, she was waiting in the emergency room. I thought I didn’t need protection anymore, but maybe I was wrong.

  She wore bright pink skinny jeans and a matching scoop-neck T-shirt. Her bleached hair was held back with rhinestone clips, and she had on the biggest hoop earrings I’d ever seen. I introduced her to Kara, but I was surprised and happy when Kara put an arm around my shoulder and said, “Jillian’s my stepmother.”

  All at once my fear that Lydia knew about Tom and me was forgotten.

  “Wicked stepmother?” Lydia said, eyeing me with loathing.

  Oh, she knew about the kiss, all right. Otherwise she would have pretended to be the reasonable Lydia, not the crazy one.

  Kara said, “Not in the least. What’s your problem, Ms. Monk?”

  “She’s my problem.” Lydia pointed at me, and I saw little rhinestones embedded in the polish on her nails. “Tom Stewart loves me and only me. But she thinks she can come between us. Showing up here is just another excuse to get close to him.”

  Kara turned to look at me, staving off a smile. “Why didn’t I know about this love affair?”

  Lydia said, “Because—”

  But Candace’s arrival interrupted Lydia. “How’s our guy doing?” she said.

  “Our guy is waiting for the surgeon,” Lydia said. “Or so I’ve been told.”

  “He hasn’t been asking for you, Ms. Monk?” Kara said sarcastically.

  “I’m sure he has,” she said.

  “I need to talk to him before he goes under,” Candace said. “Hope he’s not too messed up on painkillers to tell me what he found out about Lieber. I want to verify Hoffman’s story.” She took me by the wrist. “Come on. Let’s go, Jillian.”

  Lydia started to follow, but Candace turned and said, “Stay away.”

  Lydia started to protest, but Kara came up to her and somehow managed to distract her.

  Candace flashed her badge at the registration desk, told the receptionist why she was here, and then the magic double doors opened, allowing us in to see Tom.

  We were directed to the last cubicle on the left. Tom looked sleepy, but thank goodness the pain so evident on his face earlier was gone.

  “I did a good job on this ankle, huh?” Tom said. “They can’t fix it without surgery.”

  “I am so sorry,” I said, taking his hand. “This is all my fault.”

  “No,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I wasn’t careful in that ditch.”

  “Tell me about what you found on the microchip,” Candace said. “I’ve heard some of it from Hoffman. Did Lieber have a big enough reason to murder two people over cat food?”

  “Lieber poured several hundred thousand dollars into the research, maybe even his life savings,” Tom said. “There were notes—rambling, copious notes—on VanKleet’s site, and some of them indicated that they’d run out of money and that Lieber was ‘losing confidence.’ ”

  “No wonder VanKleet was robbing food, milk and meat. Even the farm could be in foreclosure, for all we know,” I said.

  “Nope,” Tom said. “VanKleet called it his ‘research facility’ and paid cash. I’m not sure Lieber was aware that’s how most of the money disappeared.” Tom sounded hoarse, like his mouth was drying up.

  “Do you need water?” I asked.

  “No water until after the surgery. Man, I cannot believe I did this to myself,” he said.

  I wanted to apologize again, but instead I squeezed his hand.

  Two young men in blue scrubs arrived, and one of them said, “We’re taking you to surgery. The doctor will speak with you upstairs about what he plans to do to repair the ankle. Your friends and family can wait in the surgical waiting area. It’s a lot nicer than down here.”

  I bent and kissed Tom briefly, then said, “See you on the other side.”

  “You better be there,” he said. “And do me a favor? Don’t call my mother until I’m out of the operating room?”

  “She won’t like that,” I said.

  “Believe me, it’s better that way.”

  Candace and I left them to their hospital business and went back to the waiting area.

  Lydia was gone when we went to pick up Kara for the trip upstairs.

  “Where is she?” I said.

  “She had to leave,” Kara said.

  “Are you a magician?” I said.

  “Let’s just say that public officials don’t like journalists all that much,” Kara answered. “I told her she might not appreciate what I’d write about her if she didn’t leave.”

  “Way to go,” Candace said, offering her knuckles for a fist bump.

  The surgical waiting room was indeed much nicer than the ER. Free coffee, vending machines and comfortable chairs made waiting and worrying a little easier.

  I bought a bag of Fritos and a Coke; Candace went for chocolate, but Kara stuck with coffee. Once we’d all had enough to eat and drink for a while, I settled against the sofa cushions and said, “I need answers, and I know you guys have them.”

  “What do you want to know?” Candace said.

  “This alliance between Hoffman and Evan. Did Lieber arrange that?” I asked.

  Kara raised her hand halfway. “I know this one. Yes. Lieber somehow figured out—probably through the professor—that Evan blew the whistle on the college lab. He was furious and afraid that Evan might have even more to say about his father if Evan stayed on campus. Patrick said that right after the professor was fire
d, Lieber approached him to make sure Evan made friends with Rosemary and her crowd. I guess Lieber had that group of kids eating out of his hand.”

  “He took advantage of Evan’s drinking problem?” I said.

  “Took advantage?” Kara said. “Lieber got Evan drunk the night he passed out in front of the dorm. It was all a total setup.”

  Candace said, “I made a call to Rosemary to confirm that Lieber was behind the protest that sent Evan to jail. She said she was sorry she didn’t tell us, but that Professor Lieber was too awesome to rat out. He cared about the earth.” Candace rolled her eyes. “A murderer can’t really care about anyone or anything but himself.”

  “No wonder Lieber bailed Evan out of jail,” Kara said. “Lieber didn’t want Evan to talk to his mother before he filled his head with who knows what. And Patrick? That dude was such a puppet.”

  “Sounds like you almost like Patrick,” I said.

  “I had to make friends with him when he caught us outside the house,” Kara said. “That’s what you’re supposed to do with a kidnapper. Make them like you. So he became my friend Patrick. And Patrick wasn’t about to take the fall for Lieber.”

  I smiled. “Bet you turned on the charm.”

  “I had to. Evan was so angry at how Patrick had betrayed him, I had to play it cool, keep him from getting all agitated and escalating the situation. Evan’s smart enough to figure out the game I was playing.”

  I sipped on my Coke and wished for a big steak dinner. The Frito meal wasn’t very satisfying. “And exactly how did Patrick get you into that house, anyway?”

  “A very large gun,” Candace replied. “Loaded, too, unlike Kara’s.”

  Kara flushed. “How did you know it wasn’t loaded?”

  “We can save that for another day,” I said. “Hoffman didn’t waste a minute once he got hold of you and Evan. Sarah said Lieber got a call, and that’s how he ended up on the property. Pretty stupid move for such a smart guy like Lieber to show up on the property.”

  “My take on Lieber is that he’s a control freak. When Hoffman called saying you two were hanging around, Lieber must have panicked and decided he had to take care of the problem himself. Or be close enough that he could tell if Hoffman was taking care of the problem.” Candace looked at Kara. “He might have killed both of you, even taken out Hoffman and set it up to look like Hoffman was the lone bad guy. You got lucky.”