“You already know what’s important,” Tom said. “He’s a frightened kid. He ran because he heard Rory was dead and he couldn’t face it.”
“Jillian and I looked at the security videos last night and we came to the very same conclusion,” Candace said. “But after talking to Hilary this morning, I’m beginning to wonder if Finn might have left before Hilary came by.”
“Why are you wondering?” I said. “The time he left seems to match up with when she said she was talking to him through the door.”
“Because,” Candace said, “I asked her at the station if she heard Yoshi barking when she was talking to Finn through the door. She said no.”
“Ah, yes. He would have barked,” I said. “What does this mean?”
Tom folded his arms and seemed to draw into himself. He said, “What it means is that Hilary is a liar. She wants you to believe Finn was already gone. That way, she can try to make us all believe nothing she might have said made him run. Lets her off the hook.”
“Tom, you have big issues with your ex—and probably for good reason. But you should know I checked her alibi for the day Nolan died and for the days before,” Candace said. “She was at a job fair in North Carolina at the time Nolan Roth was trying to beat information out of you concerning Finn. Plus, she went to several interviews the day Roth died.”
“What about an alibi for the time Gannon was killed? Where was she then?” he asked.
“I have her statement,” Candace said. “I will talk to people and verify her second alibi. I don’t know the woman, and please don’t believe for a minute I’m about to take her word for anything.” None of us spoke for several seconds and finally Candace continued. “I’m here at this table talking to you because I’m your friend. If you know where Finn is, if you have any idea at all, you need to tell me right now.”
“Like I was telling Jillian, I’ve searched everywhere I know to look. He’s disappeared. That’s why I need to be at home, in case he calls or shows up. Is the crime scene cleared?”
She nodded. “We just finished up. Didn’t find a thing.”
“Good. You know where to find me.” He stood, pushed his chair away and walked toward the exit.
He didn’t make eye contact with me before he got up, but even so, I could almost feel his sadness penetrating my skin. I looked at his back and then at Candace.
She said, “Go after him, silly. The man’s hurting inside.”
I caught up with Tom before he reached his van. “He’ll come back. I’m sure of it.”
He looked down at me. “I want to believe you’re right. But right now, hope seems like a scary thing. Mind if I talk to you later? I need sleep. Maybe I can sort this all out in my head after I recharge my battery.”
I reached up with both hands and brought his face to mine, kissed him right there on Main Street for everyone to see.
His lips lingered for a moment and then he was gone.
Back inside Belle’s Beans, I rejoined Candace, who was ordering a coffee to go.
As she waited, she said, “How’d it go?”
“He’s exhausted,” I said, “and I know he’s still blaming himself for leaving Finn behind when he divorced Hilary.”
“He set up the joint bank account and kept in touch with Finn. What more could he have done?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said. “But he doesn’t see it that way right now.”
“We didn’t get any tips on Finn,” Candace said. “What bothers me most is I went to the Pink House and talked to Hilary Roth this morning, and though she asked about Finn, she never called the station once during the night to see if we’d found him. I’m not a mother, but I’ve known moms whose kids ran away. Most of the time they’re frantic with worry.”
“Maybe she didn’t seem frantic because she knows where Finn is,” I said.
Candace cocked her head. “Hmm. Interesting theory. Hadn’t considered the possibility. Maybe she and I need to have another little chat.” Candace nodded toward the table where we’d been seated. “Want the rest of your coffee?”
“I need the rest of my coffee,” I said.
Candace’s cell rang and as she answered, my mind began turning over possibilities. If Hilary knew where Finn was, it wouldn’t be because he told her. Was her story about telling him about Rory Gannon’s death true—or was it a lie, just like Tom said? I didn’t know. But just the mere idea that she knew where Finn might be gave me goose bumps.
Candace disconnected from her call. “Got word the complete tech reports on both phones are in. Maybe they’ll give me a lead on who killed these men,” she said. “Check with you later.”
After she was gone and I was headed for my minivan, I asked myself why Candace hadn’t considered the possibility Hilary might actually know where Finn was. Or was she trying not to tell me something police-related, hoping I’d figure it out for myself. If so, what?
I took a long sip of my coffee, which was quickly going cold, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon. Fumbling for my keys in my back pocket, I realized I’d parked right by one of Mercy’s forest green coin-operated newspaper boxes. I found change as well as my keys and bought a paper. The giant, block-letter headline read: more death.
I read quickly, but found nothing in the story I didn’t already know. The byline belonged to Kara, and I decided to call her and see if anything new had come to her attention since she wrote the story. When I reached her, she said she was on her way to take tile samples over to her property and maybe I could meet her and help her decide what she should put in her new kitchen.
Sounded like an excellent distraction.
Twenty-five
The sunny days seemed to be over as dark clouds clustered in the west. I carried my umbrella up the new stone walkway leading to Kara’s soon-to-be front door. She greeted me before I could even knock.
We hugged and she glanced out at the sky. “Another cold front on the way, I expect.”
Once inside, she led me to the back of the house, where about ten different ceramic tiles were laid out on the kitchen floorboards.
Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a big flannel shirt and blue jeans. She stood, hands on hips, looking down at the tiles. “What do you think of these?”
I let my eyes travel over the tiles, some big, some small and all earth tones. I pointed a toe at a large mottled beige and brown tile. “This one would complement the brown granite you picked out for your countertop.”
She nodded, still looking down. “Making all these choices—tile, brick, stone, appliances, paint colors—is proving harder than I thought.” She looked at me then. “But in a good way. Your tough times aren’t good at all. You okay after last night?” She rubbed my upper arm sympathetically.
“I’m worried, Kara. Finn ran away again. Tom drove around all night looking for him, but no one has seen or heard from him.”
“Shondra, my girl who monitors the scanner, told me she heard something about Finn disappearing. Did he go before or after he heard about his father’s murder?” she said.
“Apparently it was after.” I explained how Hilary had told Finn about Gannon’s death.
Kara cocked her head. “What is wrong with her? Though I suppose someone who marries two men who went to jail and who later ended up murdered might not be too competent at thinking through her choices and examining possible consequences.”
“Don’t forget she also married Tom, who is a far cry from the likes of Nolan Roth or Rory Gannon,” I said.
“She slipped into a period of good judgment, then ruined it by cheating on Tom,” Kara said.
“You’re right,” I said. “But after meeting her and talking to her, those mistakes don’t seem to match up with what I’ve seen. She seems, well, nice. Karen really likes her and believes Tom has been way too hard on her.”
“Karen loves Finn. I’m willing to bet she’d do anything to keep him in her life—even kiss up to a woman who did wrong by her son.” Kara’s attention returned to
the tiles.
“You’re probably right,” I said. “Since Hilary was once close to Tom, I’ve been giving her the benefit of the doubt. Guess I don’t want to seem jealous—not that I am.”
Kara laughed. “You don’t have a jealous bone in your body. You know who’s nice? You. Way too nice, if you ask me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You don’t know how to say no,” she said. “You put everyone ahead of yourself. I’m afraid you’ll burn out one day.”
“No, working in the textile arts business burned me out and is why I left to come here,” I said. “I can only be true to myself—and for the most part, that means thinking the best of people before they show me differently.”
“I guess I wouldn’t want you to change. You’re pretty special.” She knelt and picked up a creamy tile, one shinier than the others. “I like this one, but I’m afraid it would show every streak and smudge.”
“I think you’re right,” I said. “Sorry I missed seeing you last night, by the way. Were all the neighbors hanging around in the street when you got to Tom’s house—now known as the crime scene?”
“Of course. Strange how people seemed to lose interest when they found out Rory Gannon was a stranger, not a Mercy citizen. I overheard one man being interviewed by an officer, though. He said he’d seen a guy fitting Gannon’s description hanging around Tom’s house.”
“When did he see him?” I asked.
Kara pressed her thumb on the tile she held and then tilted it back and forth in the dull light coming through the windows. “Ah,” she said. “This one even picks up fingerprints. I can narrow the choice by one, anyway.” She set the tile on the floor facedown.
“When, Kara?” I said.
“Sorry. When what?”
I repeated the question.
“Day before yesterday,” she said. “I talked to the neighbor after the officer was done with him, hoping to get an angle for the paper. The neighbor said he asked the stranger if he was looking for Tom and the guy mumbled something about how his boy, Finn, needed to hear something important, that he had to find him. Then the neighbor said he took off.”
“Gannon was all over town and he obviously knew all the places Finn might be,” I said.
“Even here.” Kara shuddered. “I, for one, am glad he won’t be coming back.”
My phone rang and while Kara squatted in front of her tiles, her fist supporting her chin, I took a call from Karen.
“Jillian, I need your help. I can’t do it. I know I should be able to, but I simply cannot.”
“Slow down, Karen,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“This blood sugar thing,” she said. “I’ve tried several times, even had Ed hold the cat for me and still no luck. Dashiell’s poor ears don’t seem to have a drop of blood left. Ed had to go to the shop for a delivery from a yard sale in Woodcrest. He said I’d figure it out, but he’s wrong. I can’t.”
Tom was probably home, just a few steps down the street, but he’d been up all night. I decided I could handle this problem while he got some rest. “Why don’t I swing by and help you?”
“Would you? Oh, how very sweet.”
I told her to expect me in about twenty minutes, since Kara’s place was pretty far out of town.
I drove by Tom’s house on the way to see Karen. A large wad of crime scene tape stuffed in the garbage can at the end of his driveway brought back last night’s events all too vividly. I could picture Gannon’s leg sticking out from under the holly and blinked away the image.
Though I expected to find Karen alone with Dashiell, I was at first surprised when Bob answered the door holding a coffee mug. Then I remembered Morris brought him here last night.
After I said hello as politely as I could, I said, “You’ve seen Dashiell get tested. You didn’t think you could help your mother?”
“Cats and I do not get along,” he said.
I couldn’t hide my dislike for him anymore. “Ah. Maybe that explains why an indoor cat like Dashiell ended up outside not once, but twice while in your care.”
“A little fire from the cat lover. I like it.” Bob gestured toward the kitchen. “They’re in there.”
I followed the smell of freshly made coffee and found poor Dashiell backed in a corner with Karen crouched in front of him, her hand extended. She turned to look at me and I saw misery in her eyes.
“I’m no good at this, Jillian. Thank you for coming.”
I said, “Has he had his insulin?”
She stood. “I did manage the shot. Those are easy.”
I didn’t tell her she probably should have tested his sugar level before giving him his insulin, because I didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was. Seeing how unhappy she was, I guessed the cat wasn’t her biggest problem. She was worried about Finn, first and foremost.
“A friend called me and said Finn ran away again,” Karen said. The muscles near her left eye began to twitch. “I’m sure Tom didn’t say anything because he thinks I’ll have another meltdown. But I am determined to stay strong, even though it’s difficult after two murders. You don’t think he’s been harmed, do you?”
“Like you, I’m worried. But from what we know, he left on his own. Maybe he just needs time to think about everything,” I said, hoping this was true.
“I trust you, Jillian. You’d tell me if you heard from him, wouldn’t you?” she said.
“Absolutely.” I squatted next to Dashiell and extended the back of my hand. “I’m sure he’ll be in touch. He got a little frightened, is all. Just like this guy.”
Dashiell rubbed my hand with the side of his face and began to purr. I said, “Why don’t you pour yourself a cup of coffee, go into the living room and I’ll take care of Dashiell?”
Karen thanked me again, got her coffee and left us. The glucose monitor kit was lying open on the counter and I lifted Tom’s tabby boy and carried him across the kitchen. He seemed heavier than just a few days ago, which was good. Diabetic cats can drop weight fast. Not wanting to set him on the countertop like I’d done when he was unconscious over at Tom’s the other day, I took him and the kit to the small kitchen table. I sat and simply held him for a moment, petting and soothing him. Then, without any trouble, I pricked his ear and tested his sugar level. It was one forty, a little high, but he’d had a rough morning and stress affects diabetic cats exactly the same way it affects humans. It raises their blood sugar. His insulin was probably already working.
He jumped off my lap, sat at my feet and began to groom himself. I pulled the monitor, needles and alcohol wipes all together, ready to return them to their little leather pouch. I’d previously set them all on a crumbled paper that had apparently been rescued from destruction. I picked up the paper and smoothed it out.
I realized it was a financial statement of some sort and I wouldn’t have paid it any mind if I hadn’t seen Finn’s name on the top. Did Karen know about Finn’s joint account with Tom? I pulled the sheet closer while putting the blood testing equipment away.
Finnian Gannon’s name was indeed on the top, but not paired with Tom’s name. The other person on this account was Karen Stewart. I wasn’t too surprised. No doubt she loved him, but it was the amount of money I saw near the bottom of the page that made me catch my breath. More than a million dollars.
Karen Stewart, who lived with our town junk collector in a cute and modest home, was wealthy. Or rather, she and Finn were wealthy. Wow.
“Interesting reading, huh?” came a voice from the kitchen entry. It was Bob.
I jumped at the sound of his voice and rested a hand on my chest. “You scared me. This paper was just sitting here and—”
“Made your eyes pop, didn’t it?” He walked into the kitchen and sat next to me.
I focused on putting the sugar testing things back in the leather case and zipped it up.
“You were taking a peek at the reason I’m so pissed off at my mother,” Bob said.
&n
bsp; “T-this is none of my business,” I said, getting up.
“Oh, but you’re involved with my brother,” he said. “You really should know all the family secrets. See, until I came here and hacked into my mother’s computer, I wasn’t sure exactly how much money she owed me. Now I do.”
“I told you I don’t owe you anything, Robert.” Karen had arrived in the kitchen. Pretty hard not to hear everything that went on in this small house.
“We have a neutral party who can play mediator. Let’s hear Jillian’s opinion on this.” Bob picked up the paper and waved it in the air.
I shook my head vehemently. “No. Please don’t ask me to get involved.”
Karen was standing right in my path if I left through the dining room, and I was just about to say good-bye and make a dash for the back door when Dashiell leaped straight up and onto my shoulder. His claws dug into my back and I winced, but he retracted them almost at once. I held him steady and he began to purr. Poor guy had probably been listening to these two argue all morning.
“Jillian, the nice big numbers you see at the bottom of the paper here? See?” Bob pointed at the total. “This is money my father earned. This money belongs to me and Charlie, not to some onetime step-grandson from a cheating mother and a jailbird stepfather. Oops, I forgot. Nolan’s dead and so is Gannon.”
Karen took a deep breath. She sounded surprisingly calm when she said, “Your father left both you and Charlie a good amount of money. Money he thought would tide you over until you found employment. Money you squandered, Bob. It’s not Finn’s fault his share has grown because I saved it for him.”
Bob’s face flushed. “My dad left the money to you, Mom. Not to a kid who isn’t even related to us. This account should be part of an estate I inherit. See, I can wait until you die to get what’s mine. Or maybe I should say, I can hardly wait.”
Karen’s face paled. Mine probably did too after hearing him spew such scorn and disrespect.
He turned to me abruptly. “Doesn’t my solution make perfect sense, Jillian?”
“No,” I said softly but firmly. “Karen can do whatever she wants with her money. You came here to intimidate her, not visit Tom. Am I right?”
The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery Page 20
