Frankencat

by Kathi Daley

  “Question our assumptions? What does that mean?”

  Tansy just smiled and topped off my tea. I could see she wasn’t going to give me anything else to go on. At least Frank was waiting for me back at my cabin. I was really hoping he’d come through, as the cats before him had.

  “I guess that smile means I have to figure it out for myself.”

  “Which I know you will. You’re very special, Caitlin. I sense you have a gift even you haven’t yet discovered.”

  “A gift?” I groaned. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life a gift isn’t always a gift. Which reminds me…” I reached into my backpack and pulled out the clear, seamless glass ball I’d found earlier. “What do you make of this? I found it in the water near my cabin. When I first saw it I thought it was a fisherman’s float, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Tansy took it into her hands, frowning as she turned it over and over, examining every side. “I agree; this isn’t a float.” Tansy looked up at me. “Can I keep this for a while?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. If it’s a crystal ball of some kind it’s better off in your hands than mine.” I took the last sip of my tea. “Thank you for the muffins and the conversation. I need to go, but if you come up with any insights you can share please call or text.”

  “I will and Godspeed.”

  I left the house Tansy shared with Bella, her partner in both life and business, and headed to Finn’s office. I had no idea where to even begin with this investigation, but I figured finding out what Finn already knew was as good a place to start as any. Luckily, he was in his office working on his computer when I arrived.

  “I was just going to call you,” he greeted me.

  “Here I am, saving you the trouble. Any news?”

  “Some. Have a seat. Coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I just had tea with Tansy.”

  Finn opened a file folder on his desk and began to speak. “Paula Wainwright was stabbed in the chest with an upward thrust. Based on the angle and location, it appears as if the killer was standing in front of her. The knife entered her body just below the sternum and was thrust upward toward her heart. In my experience, men are more likely to thrust in a downward or overhand motion, while women thrust upward.”

  “Which brings us back to the idea that it must have been a book club member who killed Paula.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What else do you know?” I asked.

  “Not a lot. We know Paula was killed in the vicinity of where the body was found. We don’t know why she was in the storeroom. You said she went into the office to use the phone, so initially, I figured the killer assaulted her there and dragged her into the storeroom, but we’ve gone over the office with a fine-tooth comb and haven’t found any evidence of a struggle. We also didn’t find any defensive wounds on the body, which indicates she most likely was surprised by her attacker and didn’t put up a fight.”

  “Maybe she was speaking to someone who grabbed the knife and stabbed her before she knew what hit her.”

  “Perhaps. We did find Paula’s fingerprints on the phone, so we’re assuming she made the call she intended to before she headed into the storeroom. I requested your phone records; there was a call made from the bookstore at eight twenty-six last evening to a number associated with a burner cell. I assume Paula’s the only one who might have used the phone at that time.”

  “As far as I know,” I said.

  “My current theory is that she went into the office and made her call. When she left the office to return to the group she either met the killer in the hallway and was lured into the storeroom, where she was killed, or she heard something in the storeroom and went in to check it out.”

  “I hate this case.”

  “I know.” Finn’s eyes softened.

  “It makes no sense. I just can’t believe any of the book club members would do such a thing. It seems so barbaric.”

  “I’m sorry this happened in your store, but I’ve been doing this job long enough to know very nice people sometimes do horrible things.”

  I groaned in frustration but didn’t otherwise respond.

  “Last night you mentioned Paula was divorcing her husband because he had another woman. Do you happen to know who the other woman was?”

  I shook my head. “No. Paula never said. I suppose you can ask Henry.”

  “I did and he denied having an affair. He said he loved his wife and had always been faithful to her, but she was paranoid and tended to create evidence that he’d strayed where none existed. I asked him why he moved out of the house he shared with her and he said she’d kicked him out because he was having the affair he swears he isn’t having. He also said this wasn’t the first time she’d kicked him out.”

  I frowned. “That’s odd. He has to be lying.”

  “Maybe, but I didn’t get the sense he was. He seemed genuinely distraught when I told him Paula was dead. I suppose he could have been sleeping around, but at this point I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

  I narrowed my gaze. Paula didn’t seem the type to make things up, but I didn’t know her all that well, so I supposed she could have issues with paranoia. “Did Henry say anything else that might help with the case?”

  “He said that before he moved out, Paula had been getting calls at odd hours. Sometimes her cell would ring in the middle of the night. He asked her who was calling and she always said it was a wrong number. He admitted that could be true; he never heard Paula having a conversation with the caller. She’d simply pick up the phone, listen, and then hang up. But Henry thought the calls strange enough to mention.”

  I rested my head in my hands. This was giving me a headache. “Okay, so Paula was getting strange calls. She was paranoid that her husband was having an affair he claims he wasn’t having. Maybe someone was messing with Paula—calling her and telling her Henry was being unfaithful.”

  “But why would someone do that?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows why anyone does anything? It’s just one possible explanation, but it could have played out that way. It’s possible there was someone who wanted to break Paula and Henry up for some reason.”

  “Or maybe Paula had a mental health issue,” Finn pointed out.

  “Or maybe Henry really was cheating,” I countered.

  “I don’t suppose we’re going to figure this out without more to go on.”

  “Can we trace the calls made to Paula’s phone?”

  “If we can isolate the numbers. I’ll pull her phone records to see what I can find.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Maybe the phone records will provide a clue. In the meantime, what can I do? How can I help?”

  “I plan to interview every woman who was at the book club last evening. It might help if you did the same. Maybe Tara can help you. You know these women. They may tell you things they won’t tell me. Maybe Paula told someone she was close to who her husband was sleeping with. If we can find who she is and she admits to the affair at least that will answer the question of whether Henry’s lying.”

  “Yeah, okay, I can do that. Anything else?”

  “I’d like to escort you and Tara to the bookstore today. I want you to look around to see if you notice anything missing or out of place. You’ll need to look carefully but not touch anything.”

  “I can do that. I’m sure Tara will as well. But I feel so conflicted about this. I want the killer to be found, but when I start to imagine it might be one of the nine suspects we currently have my stomach begins to churn and my legs feel wobbly. I’m really having a hard time dealing with the fact that someone I know fairly well is a murderer.”

  “I know, Cait, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to get this case wrapped up as quickly as possible. I’m hoping the crime scene guys will come up with some conclusive physical evidence. At this point the murder doesn’t appear to have been premeditated. If I had to guess I’d say the killer simply took advantage of the noise and conf
usion caused by the storm and acted on impulse.”

  “Yeah, but why do it there? Why not wait until Paula went home, where there wouldn’t be any witnesses? I guess it could have been a crime of passion. Maybe someone lured Paula into the storage area to have a chat with her, they argued, then the killer just happened to see the knife and used it without thinking about the consequences.”

  “That’s possible. I’m hoping we can find out for sure.”

  Finn called Tara, who said she could be at the bookstore in an hour. I decided to go home to get Frank. In the past, the cats seemed to have the answers even before the human investigators had a chance to figure out what the questions were. Finn didn’t blink an eye when I told him my intention, which made me appreciate him even more than I already did. I couldn’t wait for there to be a little Finn running around, getting into everything. It had been four months since Finn and Siobhan had married and I knew they’d planned to start trying for a baby right away. I’d been expecting to hear an announcement for a while now, although Siobhan would probably want to wait until the perfect moment to tell me I was going to be an aunt.

  Chapter 4

  Finn was already waiting in front of the bookstore and Tara was just getting out of her car when Frank and I showed up. The jack-o’-lantern that had greeted the book club members the previous evening had blown over and broken in half after it hit the planter box full of chrysanthemums Tara had planted a few weeks earlier. The flowers had weathered the storm better than I expected, but the colorful fall flag that had been hanging over the doorway was shredded beyond recognition and the awning over the entry was going to need to be replaced.

  “Okay, so we’re going to walk through the store one room at a time,” Finn explained as he handed Tara and me each a set of gloves. “The gloves are a precaution, though it’ll be best if you don’t touch anything at all. If you see something that looks odd, out of place, or missing, tell me and I’ll take a closer look.”

  Finn opened the front door and the three of us walked into the bookstore. Everything looked perfectly normal, except for the fact that the cups and dirty plates from the previous evening’s snack were still sitting on the coffee bar.

  “You might want to bag the cups,” I suggested. “Just in case you need DNA at some point in the future.”

  “Good idea. I’m surprised the crime scene guys didn’t already do that.”

  “Have they left the island?” Tara asked.

  “Yes. They’ve completed their investigation for the time being. I’m supposed to keep the crime scene secure until they release it, which, as I explained last night, will be in a couple of days at least.”

  Tara and I walked around the main part of the building, which housed the coffee bar and bookstore. Other than the remnants left from the book club meeting nothing appeared to be out of place. We took our time, looking at every shelf just in case someone had left something behind. We searched the floor and even opened the cabinets behind the coffee bar. It didn’t appear that anything was out of place. Once we finished in the bookstore we headed into the cat lounge and reading room, where the actual club discussion had been held. The folding chairs were still arranged in a circle and the book Tara had been using was still open to the page where she’d left off. The floor needed to be swept and mopped after so many people with wet feet had tromped over it, but nothing looked unusual or out of place.

  We finished in the cat lounge and headed to the office Tara and I used to take care of the business end of the bookstore. The room held a single desk with a phone, a computer and printer, a row of file cabinets, a bookshelf that held the binders where we kept information on our vendors and inventory, the pegs where we hung our purses and jackets, and two extra chairs that were positioned against the wall to allow for more than one occupant of the room at a time. At first glance, nothing looked out of place, but on further examination I noticed a single yellow leaf on the hardwood floor.

  “I know I cleaned in here yesterday before the ladies came for book club,” I said aloud.

  “Yes,” Tara acknowledged. “It looks fine.”

  “I know, but I did the floor too.” I stooped over and picked up the leaf, only realizing after I’d done so that Finn had told me not to touch anything. I handed the leaf to him. “This leaf wasn’t there before book club. I’m sure of it. I realize it could have been on the bottom of someone’s shoe and was tracked in, but I don’t think anyone was in the office before Paula came in to use the phone.” I glanced at Tara. “Did you come in here after I cleaned?”

  She shook her head. “I was busy setting up in the front.”

  “Can either of you think of anyone else who came down the hall for any reason?” Finn asked.

  Both Tara and I paused to give Finn’s question consideration, but after a bit we shook our heads.

  “The women came in to the store one at a time,” Tara began. “I greeted them and they went directly into the cat lounge. If someone had used the bathroom or gone into the office before the meeting started I would have known. Once everyone was here, I joined the women and we got started. No one left the group until we took our break after the storm arrived.”

  “Could someone have had a leaf stuck to her shoe the entire time and then tracked it into the office during the break?” I asked.

  “Seems unlikely,” Finn said as he held up the maple leaf, which he bagged. “There are times when a leaf is just a leaf, but I’ll hang on to it just in case. Do you think it’s possible one of the women opened the side door to allow someone to enter the office, then closed and locked it after they left?”

  Tara and I agreed that could have happened. During the break, when everyone was wandering around, neither Tara nor I were keeping an eye on the movements of the others. If someone did sneak another person into the building, who did the sneaking, who did they grant access to, and why was access granted? And when did that happen, before or after Paula used the phone?

  “Even though it’s possible a book club member snuck someone in through the side door it seems unlikely to me,” Tara said after a bit.

  “I suppose Paula’s death could have been premeditated, that one of the book club members arranged for help in killing her, but there’s no way anyone could have known the storm would blow in, interrupting our discussion, or that Paula would ask to use the phone. It’s all too random,” I added.

  “Maybe the leaf blew into the building through the front door and somehow managed to find its way into the office. Or maybe one of the crime scene guys tracked it in last night,” Finn suggested.

  “That seems more likely,” I admitted.

  “Okay; moving on from the leaf, do you notice anything else?” Finn asked.

  I looked around the room, trying to compare it to the way it had looked when I’d last seen it, but as far as I could tell it looked pretty much the same. The phone had been pulled closer to the middle of the desk, but we already knew Paula had used it. Tara tended to keep the office clean and clutter-free, so there weren’t any stacks of paperwork or loose file folders sitting around to be disrupted. There was a stack of yellow sticky notes on the desk and a dark blue pen I was certain hadn’t been there the previous evening. Maybe Paula had needed to make a note.

  Tara also looked around but didn’t find anything out of place. After several minutes Finn led us down the hallway to the storeroom. My stomach began to churn as he opened the door. The stacks of boxes that had been organized in a specific fashion as inventory arrived were moved to the side of the room farthest away from where Paula’s body had been found. There was a bloodstain on the floor and someone had used chalk to trace the outline of the body. I also saw numbered yellow flags around the room, I imagined to reference items gathered for evidence.

  “It’s really important that you not touch anything in here,” Finn reminded us.

  “Everything has been moved,” Tara commented. “I’m not sure how we can pick out the differences between what the crime scene crew might have moved and wh
at the killer might have altered.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It looks totally different in here. When I came in last night it was dark. There was a wall of boxes over there.” I pointed. “Frank, the cat, ran behind the boxes, so I made my way across the room to get him. That’s when I found Paula’s body.” I thought about the cat I’d brought with me but had left in the car. “Should I get Frank? You never know what he might have seen or might know.”

  “Get the cat,” Finn agreed. “As crazy as it seems, those cats have helped in the past. But whatever you do, don’t tell the other deputies about it. I don’t want the sheriff to think I’ve lost my mind.”

  I went out to the car and grabbed the cat. Back in the bookstore, I set him on the floor and closed the door. The cat trotted directly toward the storage room, where Tara and Finn were waiting. He didn’t even pause before he ran over to one of the cabinets we’d built to store breakables such as mugs and ceramic items we needed quick access to but didn’t do as well as books in boxes. This cabinet was attached to the wall, along with five other identical cabinets in a row. Frank scratched at the door, which seemed to be firmly closed. I walked across the room and opened the door with my gloved hand. Inside were three shelves full of the pink Coffee Cat Books mugs we used for the coffee bar, two shelves of ocean-themed souvenirs we stocked for the visitors who came over on the ferry, and a shelf on the bottom where Tara had stored a toolbox with the hand tools we used for small repairs around the place.

  “Okay, what are we looking for?” I asked the cat.

  He batted at something under the bottom shelf. The space between it and the floor was about an inch in height and was covered by the door except for a narrow opening of perhaps a quarter inch in height. I supposed something such as a piece of paper or other equally thin object could have been dropped near the cabinet and ended up underneath it.

  “If there’s something under the cabinet I’m not sure how we’ll get it,” I said.