“Look, Carrie, look,” a few of the choristers said.
Reluctantly, I turned around. Smoky Joe was strolling down the aisle with all eyes on him. What was he doing here? He never ventured downstairs.
I went to pick him up, and the applause became deafening. I blinked back tears of happiness. “Smoky Joe came down to say he’s happy to be your library cat,” I announced.
When the applause died down, I said, “Let’s get on with the second part of our concert.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I didn’t get much work done the rest of the afternoon, and for once I wasn’t concerned. The concert had been a huge success, and that was wonderful publicity for the library. Terry’s photographer had managed to get a great shot of me holding Smoky Joe in my arms.
Sally was ecstatic. “See? I told you you could do it,” she said as we made our way upstairs amid congratulations and hugs.
“Still, I don’t like being put in that position,” I told her.
She blinked. After a second she said, “Understood.”
“Good.”
I never would have dared to assert myself like that just a month before. I never would have addressed the audience as I had, telling them how happy I was to be a part of the library. I was miles away from the unhappy girl who had come to stay with her great-aunt and -uncle because she had nowhere else to go.
At five o’clock I gathered Smoky Joe in my arms and stopped by the circulation desk to say hi to Angela, whom I hadn’t seen all day.
“We were mobbed from nine till now, or I would have come by. I heard you were a big hit this afternoon,” she told me as she ran her hand down Smoky Joe’s back.
“Thank goodness it worked out. I can’t believe Sally, making me lead a chorus with no rehearsal.”
Angela laughed. “She has good instincts. By now she knows you’ll come through, no matter what she throws your way.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
* * *
I thought about Angela’s words as I headed to the Carlton Manor, taking bites of my tuna salad sandwich as I drove along. Sally had apparently been a dud leading the chorus years ago. She wouldn’t have ordered me to do the same if she had thought I might also screw up.
She depended on me, and she knew I’d come through!
It gave me a warm feeling.
The feeling quickly faded when I thought of Jim. He was my parent and should have been looking out for me. Instead, he’d tried to drag me into his dirty business. And tomorrow I was picking him up from the hospital. That meant he’d start nosing around again in search of the gems. And here I was, doing nothing to find them before he did.
The parking lot at the nursing home was crowded. I figured many visitors also stopped in on their way home from work. Made sense. I gathered Smoky Joe in my arms, telling myself I needed to buy him a carrier. Marion Marshall told me the sooner I got him used to it, the easier it would be for me, since cats not used to carriers often fought like anything not to be enclosed in one.
For the first time, Smoky Joe was tense. His nails dug into my shoulder through my parka. Because he’d immediately taken to roaming the library, making friendly overtures to patrons, it hadn’t occurred to me that he might find another place alarming. Maybe bringing him with me wasn’t such a wise idea.
I stroked his back. “Nothing to be afraid of,” I murmured in his ear. A minute later, I felt the vibrations as he began to purr.
I greeted Morgan’s roommate as we entered the room. His eyes widened when he saw Smoky Joe. He gave a little chuckle and went back to watching TV. Morgan sat dozing in his chair. I called his name softly, then louder. A tremor ran down his body as he woke up.
“Sorry, Carrie. I tend to fall asleep after dinner. So glad to see you.”
“I brought you Smoky Joe, our library cat.”
I set Smoky Joe on the bed. He jumped off and sniffed Morgan’s leg. Then he jumped onto Morgan’s lap.”
We both chuckled. “He likes you,” I said. “He’s very friendly, but he rarely gets in people’s laps, unless he knows them.”
“I like him too, don’t I, fella?” Morgan stroked his back. Smoky Joe’s purr grew louder. Morgan turned to me. There were tears in his eyes. “Thanks for bringing him tonight.”
“Evelyn told me you had a cat you were fond of.”
“Snuggles. Had to give her up when I came here. Evelyn and Robert were kind enough to take her. I would have been beside myself if she’d had to go to the animal shelter.”
“Are they having any holiday celebrations here in the Carlton Manor?” I asked, to change the subject from sad memories.
“All week, and it’s not even Christmas yet. Carolers come through the halls, and we have entertainers every afternoon. They told us we’re getting a special treat for dinner on Saturday.” He shrugged. “Not that any of it interests me anymore.”
We sat in silence, with no need for words. Though Morgan’s eyes closed, he continued to stroke Smoky Joe. He knows he’s going to die soon.
After a few minutes, I spoke his name.
“I know. The check for the Crowleys. After all, that’s what you came for.”
“And to visit you,” I said with feeling.
Morgan reached over to pat my shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.” He pointed to his night table. “It’s in an envelope in the top drawer.”
Smoky Joe jumped off his lap as I handed Morgan a white envelope with Chris’s and his mother’s names on it. His long, slender fingers opened the flap to check the contents, then licked the envelope to seal it. “I should have looked up their address.”
“I’ll get it on my cell phone,” I said.
Morgan smiled. “I never did get comfortable with those smartphones.”
I stood and hugged him. “I’ll take care of this for you.”
“Thank you. I know you will.”
“I’ll try to stop by again.”
Morgan waved his hand. “If you find the time.”
I looked around for Smoky Joe. “Smoky Joe, where are you?”
Morgan’s roommate pointed to the now open door I’d closed behind me when I came into the room. “He dashed out when an aide stopped by with my meds.”
“Oh!” I ran into the hall, frantic to find my half-grown kitten. I stopped two visitors walking toward me.
“Did you see a gray cat with a bushy tail run by?”
“A cat?” the man asked in disbelief while the woman shook her head.
Where could he have gone? The hall was long and veered off in three directions. Most doors were closed, but a few stood open. I turned to my left and peered into the first open door I came to.
“Did you see a gray cat?” I asked the man lying on his side.
He shook his head.
Should I go in and check? I hated to invade someone’s privacy, but I had to find Smoky Joe.
Three rooms down the hall, I peered into the half-open door. A woman draped in a mink coat was bending down and stroking Smoky Joe while a white-haired woman beamed at them from her bed.
“Sweet, isn’t he?” the older woman said. “I remember how you used to bring home every stray kitten that crossed your path.”
I was about to knock on the door, when her visitor said, “And now that Benton’s gone, I can keep as many as I like.”
Benton!
The older woman lowered her voice, so I was unable to hear her comment, but whatever she’d said made her companion laugh.
“You have no idea how many benefits there are to not having him around any longer.”
The woman had to be Mariel Parr, speaking to her mother. I paused a minute, then knocked on the door.
“Come in,” the two women called out together.
“Have you seen—” I began, then pretended to be astonished by the sight of Smoky Joe enjoying Mariel’s attention. “Here you are!” I scooped him up in my arms.
Mariel frowned. “Such a lovely surprise, findi
ng a cat in this place. But must you take him? My mother and I were just reminiscing about cats we used to have when I was growing up.”
“I’m afraid it’s time we left. I brought Smoky Joe to the Carlton Manor to visit someone, and the little devil escaped.”
The woman peered at me. “Aren’t you Carrie Singleton—Jim’s girl?”
“I am.” I pretended to suddenly recognize her. “And you’re Mariel Parr. I met you at Benton’s funeral service. How are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected, considering the police aren’t making any headway finding Benton’s killer.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
“This is my mother, Mrs. Bennett,” Mariel said.
“Dorie. Pleased to meet you, Carrie.” The older woman put out her right hand. I freed mine and we shook.
“I was visiting Morgan Fuller,” I said, tightening my hold on Smoky Joe, who saw this as an opportunity to wriggle free. “Well, I’d better go before he takes off again.”
“Nice meeting you, Carrie. Please say hello to your dad for me,” Mariel said.
“Get him a carrier,” Dorie called after me. “He won’t like it, but you’ll be glad you did.”
That was interesting, I thought as I hurried out to the parking lot. Now Smoky Joe was squirming big time, and the last thing I wanted was to have to spend my evening searching for him. I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally opened the car door and slid both of us inside.
“This is where you’re staying when I visit the Crowleys,” I told him.
Smoky Joe jumped to the back seat and peered out the side window. I put the Crowleys’ address into my GPS and drove slowly back toward the village center. Mariel’s words rang in my ears. Clearly, she was enjoying her role as the merry widow—soaking up everyone’s sympathy, yet free to do as she pleased. She had plans to sell the jewelry store, and she had her daughter back under her thumb. I hoped John had thoroughly investigated her alibi for the time of her husband’s murder. Mariel had everything to gain and nothing to lose with Benton gone. She’d known he was running around, perhaps had even known that he was planning to elope with Jennifer for parts unknown.
And she’d hired Tom Quincy to find the gems, which could solve all of her financial problems.
There was good reason the spouse was always the first suspect.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chris Crowley and his mother lived a few blocks from where Tom Quincy’s body had been discovered. I found this out when I had to detour around the crime scene, which still had yellow tape marking off the area.
The small, wooden-framed house had been painted white several years ago and was sadly in need of a new coat. Lights shone through the curtains from what I assumed was the living room or den and from a room upstairs, most likely a bedroom. Good. Someone was home, which meant I could carry out my obligation. It was starting to snow as the weatherman had predicted, and I looked forward to arriving home at my cottage within the hour.
I parked on the street, behind a Camry with a dented rear fender, and started up the cement walk. The wooden steps leading to the closed-in porch dipped in the center from years of use. A ratty-looking wreath hung on the front door.
“Be right there!” a strong woman’s voice called out in response to my knock. I imagined she looked through the peephole because a minute later the door swung open.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
Stella Crowley was a handsome woman in her mid-fifties. She stood close to six feet tall in her jeans and sweatshirt. Her manner was pleasant, assured, and a trifle wary.
“Hello, Mrs. Crowley. My name is Carrie Singleton. I need to talk to you about a rather delicate subject. May I come in?”
I must have appeared harmless and not too much of a crackpot, because she opened the door wider and I stepped inside. “We can talk here,” she said, leading me to the living room to the right of the small entrance. A three-foot Christmas tree devoid of any ornaments stood in the corner. I could tell it was artificial and, like the wreath outside, was shabby and should have been thrown out a year or two ago.
“We haven’t gotten around to putting up the lights and ornaments,” she commented. “Hopefully, we’ll get to it by Friday. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
We sat down on two loveseats and faced one another across a scratched wooden cocktail table.
“Now, what is this about?” Mrs. Crowley asked.
I opened my mouth to explain, when we heard footsteps tramping down the staircase. I turned as Chris came to stand at the entrance to the living room, followed by Dina Parr.
“Mom, Dina and I are going out for some pizza.” His eyes widened when he saw me. “We thought we heard the doorbell. Carrie from the library, right? What are you doing here?”
Dina made a semicircular gesture of greeting with her open palm. I was surprised to see her here in Chris’s home after what I’d overheard her telling her brother Saturday night.
“Hello, Chris. I came to talk to you and your mom on behalf of a man who’s—well, approaching the end of his life.”
Chris strode into the living room. “Who? What are you talking about?”
I glanced at Dina. “It’s a private matter.”
“I’ll wait in the kitchen,” Dina said.
“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Crowley said. “Sit down, Dina. I have no idea what this is about, but it shouldn’t take very long.”
Dina dropped into a wing chair. Chris leaned against the wall. Three sets of eyes fixed on me. Nervous as I was, I couldn’t help noting from what I’d observed that Dina was a frequent and welcome visitor to the Crowleys’ home.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve just come from the Carlton Manor, where Morgan Fuller’s a resident.”
“My grandmother’s there,” Dina said.
I stifled my impulse to tell her I’d just seen Dorie and Mariel as well. Now was not the time to deviate from the reason for my visit. I stared at Mrs. Crowley. Her face had turned white.
“Morgan Fuller. That awful man!”
Chris smacked a fist into his hand. “He’s the reason my father died so young. Why we live in this dump. Why I couldn’t go away to college.”
“I’m sorry to have upset you both,” I said, “but as I said, Morgan is dying.”
“Good!” Chris said.
“Chris, please hear her out,” his mother admonished.
I pressed on. “He’s very sorry for the way he treated your father.”
“And saw to it he never got another job in this town,” Chris said.
“He was upset because of the fire that burned down his shop,” I said lamely, though I could well understand Morgan’s anger.
“That was an accident,” Chris spit out.
“Accident or not, Morgan has asked me to give you a rather substantial check.”
“To pay us off?” Mrs. Crowley said, her tone one of amazement. “Does he think that makes up for all the miserable years since that damn accident?”
Their spin of the “accident” was infuriating. I felt like running out of that house and taking the check with me. But it wasn’t mine to withhold. Chris and his mother hadn’t caused the fire. It wasn’t their fault they had an alcoholic for a husband and a father. A man who refused to obey the one simple but crucial work rule: no smoking in the shop. But I supposed they needed to see him as the aggrieved party in order to rationalize his downfall to themselves. It wasn’t my place to strip them of their illusion.
“I don’t imagine Mr. Fuller believes that for one minute. He was extremely upset because—” I met Mrs. Crowley’s gaze straight on. “I think you know very well why he was upset. But he regrets his behavior afterward. He can’t make up for what’s happened, but he can make your lives a little easier.” I opened my pocketbook and withdrew the envelope Morgan had given me. “Here’s a check for two hundred thousand dollars.”
Silence. Dina burst out laughing. “Hey, Chris. Now you
can buy the jewelry store from my mom.”
Chris’s face lit up. “Now we can buy it, Dina, like we talked about.”
“Come on, Chris—that was all a fantasy.”
“A fantasy that can come true,” he said.
“Not for me,” Dina said bitterly. “No one’s gifted me a hefty check for Christmas.”
“I don’t care whose money it is,” Chris said. “We can still be partners.”
Stella Crowley touched her son’s forearm. “It’s a bit early to decide what you’ll be doing with your half of the money.”
“Your mother’s right,” Dina said. “I should be going and let you two discuss things.”
“I’ll call you later,” Chris called after Dina as I followed her to the front door.
When we were outside I said, “By the way, I ran into your mother and grandmother tonight.”
“Did you?” Dina’s voice was flat.
“Uh-huh. I brought my cat to the Carlton Manor for Morgan’s sake. He used to have a cat. We got to talking and Smoky Joe escaped. I found him in your grandmother’s room. Your mother was petting him.”
Dina let out a bark of a laugh. “I’m not surprised. Mother prefers cats to people. Dad always claimed he was allergic to cats, so we never had any. Who knows if that was true.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing.
“Grandma’s sweet,” Dina said. “I should visit her.”
“Well, good night.” I started walking toward my car, when Dina put a hand on my shoulder.
“Carrie, would you like to go for a drink or something?” She saw my startled expression and laughed. “Or a cup of coffee, if you don’t drink.”
“I’m really in the mood for a few slices of pizza, but I have Smoky Joe in the car.” I thought a moment. “It’s a mild night and he is wearing his fur coat. If we stop someplace, I won’t be able to stay long.”
“We’ll order, eat, and run. How does that sound?” Dina smiled—the first time I’d seen her really smile—and it transformed her face. She was really very pretty.
Now, if she got a good haircut and wore some makeup and got rid of those drab, shapeless tops and pants—
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