Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery

by Denise Swanson

  “And who am I going to convince to confess for this murder?” Urick retorted.

  “How did you get that loony guy to say he did the other one?” Garth asked. “You never said.”

  “It wasn’t part of my original plan.” Urick leaned his butt on the desktop. Apparently he was a man who loved telling a good story. “I was only going to tell Alexis that blackmailing me was a dangerous way to earn a living, and that if she didn’t stop she might end up dead.”

  “Which she did.”

  “The bitch laughed in my face when I threatened her.” Urick shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what my next step was going to be, but then she pissed off that cuckoo bird, Jacobsen. So when he attacked her, it came to me.” The mayor snapped his fingers. “Here was my chance to get her out of my hair permanently, and throw the blame on him.”

  “But how did you know he wouldn’t have an alibi?” Garth had managed to hand Urick the gun and was surreptitiously backing away from Spike.

  “I drugged his soda. I always carry a few roofies in my pocket in case I want to get lucky, and I knew if the crazy guy acted strange, no one would notice.” Urick shook his head. “He barely made it into the basement before passing out.”

  “But how did you get him to go to the basement?” Garth asked.

  “I didn’t.” Urick’s mirthless laugh was like a seal bark. “God did. I heard Jacobsen talking to the Man Upstairs whenever he got stressed out, so I figured it was time for the Big Kahuna to answer him. Then all I had to do was have one of the waitresses pass Alexis a message from me that said I’d reconsidered, and the money she had demanded was in the basement utility closet.”

  “But, how—”

  “Enough,” Urick interrupted his coconspirator. “I’m not conducting a Murder one-oh-one class.”

  “So-o-o-rry.” Garth elongated the word like a teenage girl. “Anyway. I’m almost done with the documents. Then I’ll go to the storage facility and move the merchandise while you get rid of Ms. Nosy Reporter.”

  “No way.” Urick’s demeanor turned belligerent. “It’s time for you to man up.”

  Garth fed the last paper through the shredder. “I don’t know what you mean.” He sidled toward the door, his pear-shaped torso giving him a pregnant silhouette.

  “I’m not killing her.” Urick waved the gun toward Spike. “You are.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  Urick advanced until he was face-to-face with the other man.

  Wally put his mouth to Skye’s ear. “I’m going in. Stay here.”

  Skye felt Wally tense; then, when Urick tried to shove the gun into Garth’s hand, Wally burst through the door with his weapon leveled and ordered, “Drop the gun and put your hands up.”

  Urick hesitated.

  “Can you run faster than twelve hundred feet per second?” Wally’s voice was conversational. “Because that’s the average speed of a nine-millimeter bullet.”

  Skye held her breath. Was Urick going to refuse? She dug frantically for the fresh can of pepper spray she’d tucked into her purse earlier. Her fingers had just curled over the cool metal when the mayor grabbed his partner and held his pistol to the other man’s temple.

  “I’m leaving here and if you try to stop me, I’ll shoot him,” Urick threatened.

  “Fine.” Wally shrugged. “One less criminal the county has to provide an expensive trial for.”

  Urick’s shocked expression was almost funny, but Skye wasn’t laughing. She knew Wally would never let the mayor shoot the other man, but what was his plan?

  There was no other entrance, so she couldn’t sneak up on the guy. She could phone for help, but as Wally had said, they didn’t know which Viderville authorities they could trust. Should she call the county cops or maybe one of the Scumble River police? Who knew how long it would take either of them to get here? Maybe she was supposed to stop Urick when he came through the door.

  Skye caught a glimmer of a movement out of the corner of her eye, and saw that Spike had somehow slipped out of the handcuffs and was tearing at the duct tape binding her ankles. The two criminals had their backs to Spike, and Wally was focused on Urick’s gun. It seemed that no one except Skye had noticed that the young woman was freeing herself.

  As Spike ripped the last piece of tape from around her legs, the metal cuffs, which were still attached to the chair’s arm, rattled and Urick’s head whipped toward the noise. At that moment Wally lunged toward the man, grabbed his arm, and wrested the weapon from his hand.

  While Wally shoved Urick flat on the floor, Garth made a run for freedom. As he rushed through the door, Skye stepped back, took aim, and, for the second time in two days, emptied a can of pepper spray into the astonished face of a bad guy.

  EPILOGUE

  The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary

  It had been a long, hectic week. Skye had had to give two police statements—one concerning the storage auction bullies and the other regarding what she had witnessed in Todd Urick’s office. She had barely seen Wally, who had been inundated with interrogations and paperwork.

  Not only did he have to deal with the Scumble River homicide, but he was also a key player in two additional cases—Spike’s abduction, which had become part of Alexis’s murder, and the Viderville corruption mess. As Wally had feared, Chief Eden had been involved in the embezzlement scheme. The Viderville sergeant had been appointed acting chief, and he was leaning heavily on Wally for support and assistance.

  In addition to Mayor Urick, Chief Eden, and Garth Anders, the city clerk and the comptroller were also in on the scheme to pilfer the town’s coffers. They all denied that they had any knowledge that Urick had killed Alexis, but the county prosecutor wasn’t buying their claims.

  With Wally occupied and her television set broken, Skye spent her evenings making wedding plans. She’d had a stroke of good luck and been able to book an appointment at Á L’Amour Bridal Boutique in Barrington for Saturday morning at eleven. It was a long trip from Scumble River, but according to Trixie, who had been scouring the Internet, it was the place in Illinois to buy a bridal gown.

  Because Skye’s superrich cousin Riley was footing the bill for the wedding dress as part of the payment for Skye’s help the previous summer as a wedding planner, Skye was determined to get the dress of her dreams no matter what the cost. After all, her future in-laws were Texas multimillionaires and she didn’t want to embarrass Wally.

  Skye had invited Trixie, Loretta, Frannie—whom Skye had asked to be her third bridesmaid—and her mother to accompany her. May’s invitation had come with a caveat—she was not to make any remarks regarding her daughter’s weight, dress size, or other figure flaws.

  Thanks to Loretta’s speedy driving, they arrived at the upscale shop nearly a quarter of an hour early. After being shown into a private room and provided with coffee and tea, they were promised that their personal consultant would be with them in a few minutes.

  As they sipped their drinks, Trixie and Frannie exchanged meaningful glances until Trixie finally asked Skye, “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about the murder while we wait?” She wrinkled her nose. “Or would you rather not talk about it today?”

  “Go ahead.” Skye blew out a breath. She’d been surprised no one had brought up the subject during the hour-long ride to the store.

  Most of the story had been on TV, since Spike had been recording everything that happened in the mayor’s office with a lipstick camera that she had rigged so its lens peeked through a flower pin she had on her jacket. But there was a lot that Wally hadn’t shared with the reporter. And only the night before had he given Skye permission to reveal certain details.

  “How did Todd Urick convince Elijah that God was telling him what to do?” Trixie asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “I sure wouldn’t believe something like that without a miracle or two.”

  “The messages came by way of Elijah’s cell phone,” Skye explained. “He tended to pray out loud, and Urick overheard him.
The mayor then used that information to persuade Elijah that the texts he sent were from God.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “You also have to realize that due to his brain injury, Elijah was much more open to suggestion than the average person.”

  “What I don’t understand is the sequence of events,” Loretta said, setting her cup of herbal tea down. “How did Todd Urick even know Alexis would be at the cat show, let alone figure out how to set up his DJ Wonka identity?”

  Skye started at the beginning, mostly because the circumstances were confusing even to her. “Alexis was on the phone with Bunny about the show during the month she was working for the mayor. During that time, Alexis answered Urick’s private phone and discovered his embezzlement scheme. Once she started to blackmail him, he remembered that she was going to attend the Cat’s Meow event, and decided that was the perfect place to confront her.”

  “So he got himself hired as the deejay by Bunny so he could attend without anyone seeing the real him there,” Frannie interjected. “How did he pull that off? Most people don’t have deejay paraphernalia just sitting around their garage.”

  “He borrowed the equipment from his coconspirator Garth Anders, who had deejayed in college. Urick thought that he could intimidate Alexis into backing down.”

  “But why didn’t Urick just call Alexis or text her or e-mail her or even go talk to her at her apartment?” Trixie demanded.

  “He didn’t want any record that he’d had any contact with her.” Skye crossed her legs. “He was really very clever.” She shook her head. “But Alexis didn’t give an inch, so Urick came up with the plan to kill her and blame Elijah, because there was no way he was going to pay her a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Why do men constantly underestimate women?” May asked. “Do they really think that there would ever be a second-born child if we were afraid of a little pain?”

  “The problem is if they ever admitted to themselves how strong we are, they’d have to treat us like equals,” Skye said with a half smile.

  After they all agreed with Skye’s statement, Loretta asked, “How did Urick manage to kill Alexis and set Elijah up for the murder?”

  “Just before the disco bowler party ended, Urick sent Alexis a note via one of the cocktail waitresses saying that the blackmail money she had demanded from him was in the utility closet.” Skye glanced at the door, not wanting the salon consultant to hear them talking about murder. She might be too frightened to be any help finding the perfect dress. “Once Urick gave the server the note for Alexis, he put on the last song, hurried to the basement, and waited in the dark for his victim to arrive.”

  “And he garroted her with the wire part of the cat toy when she walked into the room,” Frannie guessed.

  “Right.” Skye nodded. “He used the cat toy because he hadn’t come prepared to kill her.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Then, having already drugged Elijah’s drink, Urick, claiming to be God, texted the ex-doctor to come to the basement.”

  “How did Urick have the drugs handy?” Loretta asked.

  “He told Wally that he always carried those roofie pill things in his pocket,” May answered, then quoted Urick, “He said, ‘You never know when a girl in a bar will need a little chemical persuasion to put out and spread her legs.’” May’s mouth puckered in distaste. “He really is a crude and vulgar man.”

  “Ew.” Frannie made a gagging sound. “That’s just totally gross.”

  “Yes, it is. And something you should remember when you go down to U of I in the fall,” Skye told Frannie, who had announced on the drive that she’d been accepted into the University of Illinois journalism school.

  “Yes, Mother,” Frannie shot back, then added, “as if I’d ever be that stupid.”

  Skye raised a brow, then went on. “Urick watched Elijah come to the closet and pass out; then he wiped his prints from everything and hid until the cleaners were finished and Bunny went to bed. Once the coast was clear, he simply unlocked the front door—the dead bolt has a thumbturn on the inside—and left. He lucked out that Bunny hadn’t set the alarm, but even if she had, he’d have been long gone by the time the police arrived, and Elijah would still have been the prime suspect.”

  “As you said, he’s a clever one all right,” Loretta commented. “The criminals I end up defending are usually dumb as dirt.”

  Skye gave her sister-in-law a thoughtful glance. Was Loretta getting tired of being a defense lawyer? Mentally shrugging, Skye resumed her account of the crime. “After Urick killed Alexis, he took her car key from her purse, drove her MINI Cooper to Kyle O’Brien’s, and parked it in front of the house. Next he wiped his prints off the car, jogged back to Scumble River, picked up his own vehicle, and drove home as if nothing had happened.”

  “Urick’s wife told Wally that he’d suggested she visit her mother that weekend,” May added. “So Urick didn’t have anyone wondering where he’d been or why he was so late getting home.”

  “Right,” Skye nodded. “Urick knew from when Alexis worked for him that she had dated Kyle, and he wanted a second suspect in case Elijah somehow wiggled off the hook.”

  “So let me see if I have this straight.” Trixie jumped in, her eyes gleaming. “Sometime later, Elijah wakes up, sees the body, thinks he killed Alexis per God’s instructions, and goes home?”

  “Yes.” Skye looked at her watch. It was almost eleven. She needed to wrap this up so she could concentrate on selecting a dress. “Then the next day, Urick texted Elijah for the last time and told him to park his car at the rec club, turn his cell phone off and throw it into one of the lakes, and then walk into the wilderness.”

  “Why did he do that?” Frannie asked.

  “So Elijah would look even guiltier.” Skye shook her head. “What a creep.”

  “True, but he was really ingenious.” Loretta’s voice held a hint of admiration. “How did you and Wally get into city hall to save Spike?”

  “The back door was open,” Skye lied. Wally had sworn her to secrecy regarding his lock-picking skills. “Now I have a couple of questions.”

  “Oh?” Loretta looked nervous, which made Skye wonder what her sister-in-law had been up to, but she decided that was a subject for another day. Instead, she turned to Frannie and asked, “What’s the deal with Bunny’s mysterious boyfriend?”

  “Why do you think I know?” Fannie’s expression was innocence personified. “Miss Bunny says she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “If you ever want another scoop from me you’ll spill,” Skye threatened.

  “Fine. Be like that.” Frannie exhaled noisily. “He’s some old-timey movie or television star with oodles of money. He was one of the few who realized that CupidsCatsMeow.com was a dating service, and it turned out he had seen Miss Bunny dance in Las Vegas.”

  “Why all the cloak-and-dagger?” Skye demanded. “The guy sounds like a good catch.”

  “We-e-ell…” Frannie drew out the word. “The thing is, he’s not quite divorced and so he’s afraid his wife will try to get a bigger settlement if she finds out he’s dating.” She grinned. “Believe me, it’s killing Miss Bunny not to be able to show him off.”

  “Okay.” Skye could understand that. “One more thing. Have you and Justin made up?”

  “Yeah.” Frannie’s grin widened. “He called me the other night and admitted he was wrong.”

  “Good.” Skye beamed back, glad the two young people had patched up their differences.

  There was a knock on the door and while everyone was distracted by the consultant’s introductions, Trixie whispered to Skye, “Did you ever talk to Father Burns about an exorcism for your house?”

  “Nope.” Skye shook her head. “I decided to wait and see if your theory about Mrs. Griggs’s aversion to premarital sex is correct. I really hate to kick the old lady out of her own home.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? After all, the wedding is nine months away.”

  “All I know is that you have t
o lead with your heart and everything else in life will follow.” Skye shrugged, then winked. “And there’s always Wally’s place.”

  As Trixie giggled, Skye turned and saw the beautiful wedding dress the consultant had brought into the room. Her throat closed and tears of happiness welled up in her eyes. This was it. She was really getting married.

  Turn the page for a preview of

  Denise Swanson’s fabulous

  brand-new mystery in the

  Devereaux’s Dime Store series,

  Nickeled and Dimed to Death

  Available in March 2013 from Obsidian as a paperback and an e-book.

  I mentally tapped my toe as I waited for Miss Ophelia to make her selection from the glass candy case. As the foremost authority on etiquette in Shadow Bend, Missouri—population four thousand and twenty-eight—she’d been whipping the future generations of my hometown into excruciatingly correct behavior for the past fifty years. And since I had bought the dime store ten months ago, it had become her habit to stop in to purchase a single treat for herself every Saturday afternoon. Her last class on the proper way to dine, dance, and flirt with the opposite sex ended promptly at three thirty, and she arrived at my store exactly seven minutes later.

  While Miss Ophelia dithered between a hand-dipped dulce de leche truffle and this month’s signature candy, a red velvet bonbon, I glanced at the vintage Ingraham schoolhouse regulator hanging on the wall behind the front counter. Although the clock had been manufactured in the 1920s, its beautiful carved oak case, convex glass, and brass pendulum still looked brand-new, and it kept perfect time. It was now 3:52 p.m.

  Eight more minutes and my weekend clerk, Xylia Locke, and I could shoo the loiterers out, flip off the neon OPEN sign, and bolt the door. Devereaux’s Dime Store and Gift Baskets closed at four on Saturday, and today I wasn’t letting the customers linger a single second longer. I had smoking-hot plans for the evening, and only ninety minutes to make myself beautiful enough to fulfill them.