by Sofie Kelly
He headed for the customers and I took another long drink just in case I did end up walking up the hill.
Nic came out of the kitchen in a black jacket, carrying a long, flat-bladed screwdriver. “Show me your truck,” he said.
I took him outside.
Owen had finally finished washing his face. He watched us walk around the truck with interest, but he made no move toward the door.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Nic asked as he lifted the driver’s-side door handle.
“Owen,” I said, making a face at the fur ball, who ignored me and watched Nic intently instead. “He is—was feral.”
“In other words, don’t try to pet him.”
I nodded. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I volunteered with a rescue group in Minneapolis. There were three feral cats living in the alley next to my dad’s pawnshop.”
He pointed to the door handle hinge. “See this? You have to be very careful, but you stick the screwdriver in here . . .” He slipped it in an opening by the hinge. “You feel around for the rod attached to the lock mechanism and . . .” I heard a clunk. “That’s it.”
Nic opened the door, picked up my keys and handed them to me. He looked at Owen. “Hey, Owen,” he said.
“Merow?” the cat said. He seemed a bit surprised to be called by name by someone he didn’t know.
“I’ll close this so he doesn’t get out on the street,” Nic said, shutting the door again.
“Thank you so much,” I said, holding tightly to the keys.
He made an offhand shrug. “No problem. It’s good to know I can still do that. It’s been a while.”
“I read the news story about your father,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” he said. He ran a hand over his smooth scalp, wiping away the snow. “It took a long time, but he’s doing really great now.”
I brushed snow off the side of the truck. “So you knew Dayna Chapman.”
He nodded. “She was a witness. She was just walking by on the sidewalk when everything went down that night.” He turned the screwdriver over in his hands. “You think the stories are true? You think someone killed her?”
I scraped my boot against the pavement. “Yes, I do,” I said.
Nic rubbed his gloveless hand across his mouth. “I guess that makes me a suspect, then,” he said.
18
He mumbled an oath under his breath. “The kid who shot my father? He has a new lawyer. They’re trying to get the plea agreement tossed on some kind of technicality. The prosecutor thinks it actually could happen, so she’s been looking at all the evidence again, talking to witnesses.”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me all this. Maybe he hadn’t had anyone to talk to about it all for a while.
“Including Dayna,” I said.
He shrugged. “Not exactly. About six months ago she started hedging, claiming she couldn’t remember certain things all of a sudden. I tried to talk to her, but when I went to her apartment she wouldn’t come to the door. Then she dropped out of sight altogether.”
He leaned his head to one side and studied my face. “I heard how you helped catch the person who killed that director who was here for the theater festival a few months ago, so I think maybe you’ll get it.”
“Get what?” I asked.
He continued to play with the long screwdriver. “I came here to see if I could find out something, anything that might give me a clue as to where she went. Hell, I thought maybe she might even be here. The fact that the co-op was here and I’m an artist? It just seemed like the perfect confluence of circumstances.”
He blew out a breath. “When she walked into the theater Thursday night, for a second I thought I was hallucinating.”
“You tried to talk to her.”
“Waste of time,” he said, making a dismissive gesture with one hand. The muscles tightened along his jawline. “She told me her son was a lawyer and that if I didn’t stay away from her, she’d sue me. Then she just walked away.”
“Do you have any idea why she suddenly changed her story?” I asked, leaning over to brush snow off the driver’s side of my windshield.
“I figure somebody from that kid’s family had to have gotten to her, but I didn’t have anything to prove that. If I had, I would have gone straight to the prosecutor.” He kicked a chunk of dirty snow from the front tire of the truck. “Dayna Chapman being dead doesn’t help me,” he said. “I didn’t kill her.”
I believed him. Nothing in his face, in his voice, in his mannerisms suggested he was lying. “For what it’s worth, I believe you,” I said. “But you should tell all of this to the police. Detective Gordon.”
“Your boyfriend?”
I nodded.
He shrugged. “Okay. But Dayna Chapman getting killed might not have had anything to do with the robbery and my father getting shot.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. Or maybe it did, I added silently.
I thanked Nic for his help again and then climbed into the truck. Owen had had some time to perfect his innocent act.
“Not working,” I said as I stuck the key in the ignition. “You are in so much trouble.”
He looked over his shoulder toward the restaurant and gave a questioning meow.
“Yes, I found out a little more about Nic,” I said.
“Merow,” he said sharply. I glanced over at him next to me on the seat. He looked smug.
“No,” I said. “There’s no way you knew Nic could unlock this door and we’d end up talking. Not possible.”
He gave me another self-satisfied look and then turned to watch out the windshield.
I drove over to tai chi, parked the truck and realized I was going to have to take the cat inside with me. The snow was easing up and I knew it would get colder.
Luckily there was a cloth shopping bag in one pocket of my old jacket.
I put the bag on the seat. “Get in,” I said.
For once Owen didn’t give me a hassle. I grabbed him and my tai chi bag and got out of the truck.
The class was already in the circle and Maggie had started the warm-up. “You’re late,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“I got locked out of the truck,” I said, swiping a hand back over my hair. “Long story. And I, uh, kind of brought someone to class.”
As usual, Owen’s timing was perfect. He poked his head out of the bag and meowed hello.
Maggie waved at him. “Hey, Owen,” she said with a smile.
He immediately began to purr so loudly everyone heard him.
“Is Owen planning on taking up tai chi?” Ruby asked. “Is that why you brought him?”
The cat tipped his head to one side as though he was considering the idea.
For once, I decided not to hedge. “Would you believe he can make himself invisible so I didn’t see him get in the truck?”
Ruby laughed.
“Could I put him in your office?” I asked Maggie.
Owen made a sour face. He definitely knew what the word “office” meant. And he didn’t like it.
“Would you like to stay for the class?” Maggie asked him.
“No,” I said firmly.
“Merow!” Owen said at great volume.
“He won’t hurt anything, Kath,” Maggie said.
“Yeah,” Ruby chimed in. “He doesn’t want to be stuck back in the office all by himself.”
Rebecca caught my eye and just smiled.
Owen—who knew how to play to an audience—tipped his head and gave them his most abjectly lonely look.
“Don’t encourage him,” I said with a sigh, but it was already too late. Maggie dragged over a chair, setting it just beyond the edge of the circle. She patted the seat and looked at me.
“You’re still in trouble,” I hissed as I set Owen down on the chair. I had a little bag of organic cat kibble in my other jacket pocket. I fished it out and made a pile of it on the chair.
I straightened up and turned ar
ound. “Everyone, please don’t try to pet him,” I said. “Owen was feral and he doesn’t like being touched.”
Owen was looking at Maggie with kitty adoration as she pointed out the different flavors in the little heap of dry food in front of him.
“Not even by Maggie,” I added.
Maggie gave Owen a big smile and moved back to the circle. I slid into place next to Taylor King.
Mags worked us hard. Owen stayed on the chair and seemed to be watching us with interest, although most of that interest was focused on Maggie. By the time we’d finished the complete form at the end of the class, there were damp patches of sweat on my T-shirt.
“Hey, Kathleen, your push hands are getting better,” Ruby said as she came to stand beside me. She used the edge of her baggy tee to wipe the sweat off her neck.
Taylor was still standing next to me. Her red hair was coming loose from the messy bun she’d pulled it back into. She reached one arm over her head and looked in Owen’s direction. Maggie and Rebecca were talking to him.
“Kathleen, what would happen if someone did try to pet your cat?” she asked. “Would he really not like it?”
Ruby laughed. “Oh yeah, he’d really ‘not like it,’” she said before I could answer. She stretched one arm across her body and pushed gently on it with the other hand. “Kathleen was hurt last winter and while the paramedics were taking care of her, a police officer tried to pick him up.” She gestured at Owen, who at the moment really did look like a sweet cuddly ball of fur sitting on that chair.
“What happened?” Taylor asked.
“Owen has claws and he knows how to use them.” Ruby grinned at me. “I’m surprised they didn’t put little kitty shackles on him for assaulting a police officer.”
I smiled then because I couldn’t help thinking about Marcus. He’d come to Owen’s defense that day after I passed out. He was pretty much the only reason Owen hadn’t ended up as a guest of animal control for the night.
I pulled my shirt away from my sweaty body. “Before I forget, we have the tree almost decorated,” I said to Ruby. “Come see it when you get a chance.” I turned to Taylor. “I know you like vintage things. Come see our tree at the library. We’re decorating it with Ruby’s collection of Christmas ornaments.”
Taylor smiled. “I’d like that. I will.”
Ruby bent from the waist and put her hands flat on the floor. “I’ll try to come see the tree tomorrow,” she said.
I walked over to Maggie. “It’s snowing. Do you need a ride?”
She shook her head and pulled a hand over her neck. “Thanks, but I have to stop at my studio.”
“Time to go home,” I said to Owen. I leaned over and picked him up. “Say thank you to Maggie.”
“Mrrr,” he said, looking up at her, eyes narrowed almost into slits.
“You’re very welcome,” she said.
I leaned over and hugged her. “Thanks, Mags,” I said.
“You can bring Owen to class anytime you want to as far as I’m concerned.” She gave me a teasing smile. “I’m pretty sure he was doing cloud hands with us. You should get him to help you with yours.”
I made a face at her. “Okay, I’m taking my cat and going home,” I said. Then I turned and headed for the door. Owen twisted in my arms so he could look back over my shoulder.
“Hey, Kath, don’t forget about lunch tomorrow,” Maggie called after me.
I waved two fingers at her over my shoulder to let her know I’d heard and I hadn’t forgotten.
It took me a while to get my coat and boots on and get down the stairs. Rebecca had to say good-bye to Owen, and then Ruby and finally Taylor wanted to see him. If talking to the cats meant I was crazy, then pretty much everyone I knew was crazy, too.
Finally we got back to the truck. Owen yawned and stretched out on the passenger side. Being charming was tiring, it seemed. I really wanted to be mad at him, but indirectly he had gotten me the information I’d wanted from Nic Sutton—although I wasn’t sure how it was going to help. I didn’t believe Nic had had anything to do with Dayna’s death. What would he have gained?
I rolled my neck from side to side. I was tired. And hungry. I hadn’t gotten the cinnamon roll I’d wanted from Eric’s.
I looked over at Owen curled up on the seat. If I went back for one, was I setting myself up for getting locked out of the truck again? I wasn’t completely convinced that my keys had “accidentally” fallen out of my pocket earlier. I decided I’d drive around the block and see if I could find a parking spot close to the café. Then I remembered that was what had gotten me into trouble in the first place.
“Do you know what Einstein allegedly said the definition of insanity was?” I asked Owen. He lifted his head and yawned again. Clearly he didn’t care. “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
I stopped at the stop sign and had flicked on my blinker to turn left when I saw Maggie walking up the sidewalk in the opposite direction from River Arts and her studio, as if she were headed to Eric’s Place herself. The collar of her coat was turned up against the cold and a long multicolored scarf was wrapped around her neck.
And Brady Chapman was at her side, their two heads bent together in what looked like an intense conversation. It also looked as if they were a lot more than friends.
19
Marcus picked me up in the morning and I set the cat cage on the backseat of his SUV before I got in.
“Do you think this is going to work?” I asked as I slid onto the passenger seat.
“I think if anyone can catch this cat, you can.”
I rolled my eyes. “You sound like Maggie,” I said.
“You really do have a rapport with all of the cats,” he said as he backed out onto the road. It was cold but the sky was clear. It was going to be a nice day.
I patted the bag I was carrying. “I think that rapport might just be the fact that I smell like sardines a lot of the time.”
He shot me a quick look and smiled. “No, you don’t,” he said. And the look in his eyes made my heart beat faster.
As we drove out to Wisteria Hill, I told Marcus what I’d learned from Nic Sutton the night before.
“He’s right,” Marcus said. “The prosecutor was looking for Dayna Chapman. She’d stopped cooperating with them.”
“Do you think he’s right about the why?” I asked, putting the bag of cat dishes at my feet on the floor of the SUV. “Could someone from the shooter’s family have gotten to Dayna?”
As soon as the words were out, I realized that was probably a question he couldn’t answer.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You can’t answer that.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s not exactly a secret. They don’t know why Dayna suddenly became so vague and evasive. If somebody from that kid’s family got in touch with her, no one seems to know who it would have been. The kid’s parents are dead. So are his grandparents. His girlfriend disappeared after he was arrested. All he has is a sister who seems to have pretty much washed her hands of him.”
I leaned my head back against the headrest. “So that’s probably just another dead end?”
“It looks that way.”
“Are you going to arrest Burtis?” I asked.
Marcus didn’t say anything.
“That you can’t tell me.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You know how this works. I can’t.”
I did. I also knew that was closer to a yes than a no.
We fed the cats first. Once again Lucy came over to me and I told her all about my visit with Smokey.
Marcus put the empty water jugs and the dirty dishes back in his SUV. He got the cat cage and set it up in the same place under the big tree where we’d put the food the day before. I put two sardines on a little plate I’d brought with me and set it inside the cage at the back. Once Micah went inside and stepped on the pressure plate, the door would drop down and we’d have her without her being hurt. I kn
ew she’d be frightened, but it was the safest way we had at the moment to catch her and I hated the thought of the little cat roaming around in the snow a lot more than I disliked the cage.
Marcus and I backed up all the way to the side steps of the house and waited. After a couple of minutes I thought I saw a bit of orange fur against the snow. I touched Marcus’s arm. “Over there. Is that her?”
He leaned sideways and looked. “I think so,” he said softly. We waited and in a few more moments we could see the little marmalade cat making her way through the snow.
She was so small and thin despite all the efforts Roma had made to make sure she was fed, and all I could think was Go in the cage, go in the cage.
We watched as she moved to the side of the wire crate first, whiskers twitching as she sniffed the sardines. She reached out and tried to poke a paw through one of the spaces, but the gap was too small. For a moment it looked as though the little cat was going to leave again. I felt Marcus’s reassuring hand on my shoulder.
Then Micah walked around to the front of the cage and craned her head forward to look inside. “Go, go,” I said just under my breath. I could see her whiskers twitching again. She could smell the sardines, but was that enough to entice her to go after them? It didn’t look as though it was going to be.
“Do you still have those kibble things in your pocket?” Marcus asked in a low voice.
I’d only given Owen part of the bag at tai chi. I fished it out of my pocket now and handed it to him. “What are you going to do?” I said.
“I just want to try something,” he said. “Is that okay?”
I nodded.
Marcus put the half-full bag of cat kibble in his pocket. He eased his way down the steps and moved to a spot about halfway to the cage. Then he bent down and put a few pieces of the dry cat food on the ground.
Micah watched him the entire time. I could tell from her body language that she might bolt at any moment.
Marcus didn’t move. Neither did I. After a minute or two that seemed to stretch out forever, the cat took a step forward, and then another. Her gaze stayed locked on Marcus, but she continued to get closer and closer to him.
