The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon citm-4

by Leann Sweeney

  “Hate to break up the party,” Tom said, “but Finn needs to come with us.”

  “But I have supper on, Thomas,” Karen said. “The macaroni and cheese is in the oven and Ed was just about ready to fry up the catfish he caught today.”

  Tom bit the side of his mouth, seeming to consider the importance of a doting grandmother who was fixing what might well be Finn’s favorite meal. Finally he said, “Guess we could stay for a spell. Do you have enough food for all of us?”

  “We have enough fish for an army,” Ed said. “I’ll get busy with my part of this deal.”

  While he ambled to the kitchen, Karen said, “Guess we’ll have to save this game for another time. I almost had you in checkmate, Finnian.”

  Finn smiled. “Sure you did, Nana.”

  While Karen and Finn cleared the chess pieces off the table, Tom joined Ed in the kitchen. Karen took place mats and plates from the antique buffet against the wall. Finn and I were helping her set the table when someone knocked on the door.

  “Now, who could that be?” Karen asked as she started for the front door.

  Tom rushed from the kitchen, saying, “Mom, let me answer.” Before she could even react to his words, he looked through the peephole and said, “Jillian, can you tell me if this is the guy?”

  “What guy?” Karen asked.

  Tom held a finger to his lips while I looked through the peephole.

  “That’s him.” I stepped back.

  “Call Candace while I keep him busy,” he said.

  Finn stepped into the living room. “What’s happening?”

  “I’ll take care of this,” Tom replied. “Could you all please wait in the kitchen with Jillian?”

  “Did you forget this is my house, Thomas? I’m not going anywhere.” Karen fiddled with a sweater button. The words may have been exactly what I expected from her, but I could see a hint of concern in her deep blue eyes.

  More knocking, louder this time.

  Not ready for another encounter with Rory Gannon, I took Finn’s arm and said, “Let’s do what Tom wants.” We walked to the kitchen together, but Karen didn’t follow. We joined Ed, who was preparing the catfish.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and speed-dialed Candace’s number. She should be home by now—unless she was working nonstop. She answered immediately.

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “You-know-who is here at Karen’s house.” I glanced at Finn, who was in the kitchen entry apparently trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the other room. “The guy from earlier today.”

  “Is he threatening y’all?” she asked.

  “Tom’s talking to him, so I’m not sure.” I licked my dry lips.

  “I’m on my way. Give me five minutes.” She disconnected.

  “Trouble?” Ed asked. He hovered over a catfish filet sizzling in a cast-iron skillet on the old gas stove.

  “You could say that,” I said. “But between Tom and Candace, they’ll get the situation under control. Everything will be fine.” I looked back to the entry and Finn was gone. “Maybe I spoke too soon.” I went after him.

  “Is that you, Finnian?” I heard Rory Gannon say.

  I arrived in the living room to see Karen standing on the threshold of the open front door. Tom had stepped outside to speak with Gannon—probably trying to keep him around until Candace showed up.

  “Mom, please go inside and shut the door,” Tom said.

  Finn peered around Tom’s tall frame at Gannon. He said, “Do I know you?”

  “I’m your dad, son,” Gannon said.

  There it was, another slug to the jaw from the past.

  By his expression, Tom sure seemed to have felt the blow when he turned to Finn. “We don’t know if he’s telling the truth, Finn.”

  But Finn was nodding his head. “I’ve seen your picture. How did you find me?”

  “See? He knows me,” Gannon said. “Too bad I never saw your picture after I left for that hospital, Finnian. Sure wish I had, but your mother took you and disappeared.”

  Tom tried to block Gannon’s view but without much success, since Finn seemed more than interested in this man—and with good reason.

  “See? He wants to visit,” Gannon said. “You can’t keep a boy from his kin.”

  “Where have you been all this time?” Finn’s voice was a monotone.

  “Does it matter? I’m here now to meet up with my boy,” Gannon said and added a half laugh. “My long-lost boy.”

  No, I thought. That’s not why you’re here. Though he seemed more in control than earlier today, I thought of the Eagles song about “lying eyes.” Gannon had some other motive for coming here, of that much I was certain. I had the feeling Nolan or Hilary Roth might have had a hand in Gannon’s arrival. How else could he have known to come to Mercy?

  “Your long-lost boy, huh? What a nice sentiment,” Candace said. She’d come up behind Gannon so quickly and quietly I hadn’t heard her. She must have parked halfway down the block because I surely would have recognized the sound of her RAV4’s engine. She still wore her uniform and her hand gripped her weapon. “How’s about you come down to the station and you can talk to me about why you’ve come to Mercy, Mr. Gannon?”

  Gannon’s eyes locked on me. He raised a hand and pointed past Tom. “You called the cops on me twice in one day? What did I ever do to you, lady?”

  Scared me silly? I thought, wishing I could make myself invisible. As if he’d read my mind, Tom sidestepped to block Gannon’s view of me now, though he wasn’t completely successful. I could still see Gannon, so he could certainly still see me.

  But he abruptly turned to Candace. “As for you, I don’t have to go anywhere you say, especially not to a police station. I have every right to visit with my son.”

  Candace said, “Finn’s rights are what concern me, not yours.” Candace looked past the two men in the doorway. “Finn, you want to talk to this man?”

  Finn’s answer was to return to the kitchen without a word. As I went after him, I heard Karen talking, though I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Ed was smiling and humming, in his own fish-fry world. He’d placed several pieces of finished catfish filets on paper towels on the counter near the stove.

  Finn went to his side, apparently ready to forget what had just happened. “You really caught all these fish yourself?”

  “Easy to do. Ever heard of a trotline?” Ed asked.

  Seemed like Finn felt the same way I did—that here in this old-fashioned kitchen filled with the smell of a home-cooked meal, the world seemed sane and safe. You could escape and pretend crazy people weren’t stirring up trouble only twenty feet away.

  “I used to fish with Tom when I was a kid,” Finn said. “Is a trotline the one with all the fish hooks baited and you string it out across the water?”

  “That’s exactly right. You and me, we can do some fishing if you want. I can show you more than the easy stuff,” Ed said.

  I listened to their conversation while keeping an ear on what might be happening in the other room. Finally I heard the front door close, and soon Candace joined us in the kitchen. Tom and Karen remained in the other room; I hoped not with Rory Gannon in their company.

  “Mr. Gannon’s gone,” Candace said. “I couldn’t really arrest him since he hasn’t broken the law. But I sure wish he would have agreed to visit with me down at the station. I might have found out more about him and how he ended up in Mercy—that is, if you want to know, Finn.”

  Candace’s question snatched Finn back into the reality of fractured families and serious problems. He wore his sadness in his body language and on his face. My heart ached for him.

  Finn said, “I don’t care why he’s here. I have to say, he sure looked different than I imagined.”

  “I’ll find some reason to pull him in for an interview. For now I told him to keep his distance from you and your family,” Candace said. “But I want you to tell me if he bothers you again.”

&
nbsp; “Sure,” Finn said quietly.

  Ed smiled at Candace. “Join us for supper, Miss Candace? We’d sure like to have you.”

  She said, “Love to, Ed, but I have way too much work to do—and just added Rory Gannon to the list of things I have to follow up on. Maybe there’s a parole violation I can use as leverage.”

  I would have thought Finn would be upset by the revelation that Gannon had been to prison, but his face remained impassive.

  I could tell Candace was upset with herself for saying anything about Gannon’s past. “Sorry I brought that up. Are you okay, Finn?”

  “Yeah. I’m good,” he said in a monotone.

  “Guess I’ll be leaving, then. Y’all take care and call me if he comes back.” She turned and started for the living room.

  “Don’t be driving around corners like you’re trying for a spot on a NASCAR team, you hear?” Ed said, returning to his job.

  I walked Candace back through the dining area and into the living room just in time to hear Karen say, “He’s the boy’s flesh and blood, Thomas.”

  “He’s also a convicted felon,” Candace said.

  “Oh my,” Karen said. “I had no idea. Poor Hilary had to live with two men who ended up on the wrong side of the law. This is like a Greek tragedy, isn’t it?”

  Greek tragedy? Karen did have a flare for the dramatic.

  Meanwhile, Tom was saying, “Poor Hilary, my ass.”

  Karen’s cheeks reddened so much I could see her cheeks flush despite her heavy rouge. “Watch your tongue, son. She brought Finn into our lives. You need to reconcile your differences with her for Finn’s sake—and for your own. She hurt you, yes, but she’s a good person who’s simply made poor choices.”

  Since Karen was a recovering alcoholic with multiple failed marriages in her past, I understood how she could relate to Hilary Roth.

  “Mom, can we drop this before Finn comes back into the room?” Tom said.

  Candace cleared her throat. “Um, I’m thinking paperwork looks mighty inviting right now.” She said her good-byes and left.

  Ed appeared and called us to supper. Though the food was delicious, I learned a lesson. Do not eat fried fish after two days like we’d all experienced. My stomach was churning when Tom, Finn and I climbed into my van for the short trip back to Tom’s house.

  Rory Gannon was on my mind, and thoughts of him were not a good thing.

  Fifteen

  The next morning, I woke up feeling disoriented because I’d slept so hard. But with Chablis on my chest, kneading away and purring, the feeling didn’t last long. Her usual morning behavior reintroduced me to the comforts of my daily routine in a week that had been anything but.

  Last night, Finn explained to Tom that he wasn’t about to stay away from Yoshi overnight. I couldn’t blame him. He and his little dog had a tremendous bond.

  Tom reluctantly agreed to allow Finn to come with me after he checked Dashiell’s blood sugar and found it was high. He didn’t feel like he could trust Bob to monitor Dashiell if he were to leave his cat behind and stay at my house. But he alerted Candace to the situation and followed us to my place to make sure all my outside security cameras were operating perfectly and the lenses were clean. He could monitor my house from his computer at home, a setup I appreciated. Last night it had indeed been reassuring to have a security expert as a trusted friend.

  After I got up, I took a long, hot shower, with three cats waiting anxiously for me to hurry up and feed them. The house seemed less chilly than when I’d gone to bed, and I suspected the cold front we’d experienced had passed through. Late fall in South Carolina was always a mixed bag of warm days interspersed with cold.

  I was surprised when I walked down the hall and found the guest room door open and the bed neatly made. Uh-oh. Had Finn risen early and decided to take off? This town—the one where he’d hoped to find happiness—had not offered mercy, so I couldn’t blame him if he’d fled.

  My fear was short-lived, however. He was sitting on the window seat in the living room looking out at the sun rising over the lake. Yoshi was curled beside him.

  “Morning,” I said.

  Finn stood. “I like how quiet it is here. Funny how I never thought the world could be quiet.”

  “Nolan and your mom fought a lot, didn’t they?” I said.

  He nodded, eyes on the cushion. “She’d break things; he’d yell. So I’d put on my earphones and plug into a game on my computer or listen to music on my iPod. Sometimes Yoshi and I would walk to the park and he’d chase a Frisbee for hours.”

  “Our fur friends can sure take us to a better place, huh?” I said.

  “Yup. He needs to go out, but I didn’t want to mess with your security alarm,” Finn said.

  After I fed the cats and disabled the alarm under Finn’s watchful eye, we went out on the porch. Finn and Yoshi chased each other between the big trees. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt Kara had picked out. The clothes fit perfectly, thank goodness. The day looked to be much warmer—it had to be sixty already—and the still lake shimmered in the morning light. I thought about what Finn had said a few minutes ago and wondered how quiet it was inside his head with all that had gone on both in his past and since his arrival here. Maybe playing with his dog would help empty his mind for a few minutes.

  I wanted to make coffee but didn’t feel comfortable leaving Finn alone out here. Rory Gannon knew where I lived, after all. So when I heard a car pull into my driveway, my mouth went instantly dry. I reached into my pocket for my phone in case we needed help.

  “Finn,” I called and gestured for him to come back to the house. But Yoshi was so invested in this game of chase, the usually obedient dog wouldn’t cooperate and come to Finn. He wanted to keep playing.

  “Run toward the house and he’ll probably come after you,” I yelled.

  But yelling was a mistake. Our visitor must have heard me.

  Hilary Roth appeared at the steps leading up to my deck. Finn had been doing as I suggested and was halfway to the house, but when he saw his mother, he stopped in his tracks. Yoshi caught up with him and sat, staring up at Finn. He held out his arms for his dog and Yoshi leaped up. Finn remained where he was.

  “Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Hart, but I wanted to thank you again for caring for my son,” she said.

  She hadn’t looked toward the lake, and thus apparently didn’t see Finn standing in the shadows of the pines and oaks.

  “No need to thank me,” I said.

  “I heard you call Finn’s name just now and—” Finally she looked to her left and spotted him. “Oh, there you are.” She held out one hand. “Can we talk? Please?”

  Finn remained where he was, clutching his dog to his chest.

  “Can I offer a suggestion?” I said.

  She focused on Finn but spoke to me. “Certainly.”

  “Give him time to recover,” I said. “He’s hurting right now, both physically and mentally.”

  “You think his problems are my fault, don’t you?” she said.

  I would have expected her to be angry but she only sounded resigned.

  “I don’t have all the facts,” I said, “and besides, I’ve found blaming others isn’t very productive.”

  “You’re being nice. All I know is I’ve made some poor choices. Except for Tom. I regret how I treated him.” She kept looking in Finn’s direction.

  He turned away and walked toward the lake.

  Interesting how she mentioned regret when it came to Tom and yet said nothing about her son. Maybe she truly didn’t think she was part of the problem. From Tom and Finn’s remarks, the issues between Finn and his mother were long-standing. Maybe I needed to hear her side of the story.

  “Tell me a little about yourself. Do you work?” I asked, hoping to ease into conversation and get her to tell me about her life before her husband’s murder.

  From the corner of my eye I saw Finn pick up a stick and toss it for Yoshi.

  “I lost my jo
b. This economy has been brutal,” she said.

  “What did you used to do?” I asked.

  She finally took her eyes off Finn. “Administrative assistant positions, mostly for executives. No college education, I’m afraid, but I’m a quick learner. Lately things have been pretty tough.”

  Having two former inmates for ex-husbands meant not a lot of alimony or child support came her way. Still, if money was tight for Hilary, she was certainly well dressed, her hair looked salon cut and her creamy complexion seemed to have benefited from plenty of expensive care. She was either in debt up to her ears or had some other source of income.

  My doubt about her tough times must have shown on my face because she said, “I have family money we’ve been living on. Nolan hasn’t worked since he left prison. He only knew how to be a cop. He couldn’t even find private security work.”

  “Ah. Did he envy Tom for setting up a successful security business?” I said.

  “Oh yes. He hated Tom. Jail gives a man plenty of time to simmer. Nolan couldn’t forget Tom was the one who sent him away.” She examined a rose-painted fingernail. “Despite Nolan’s faults, I loved him. And he cared about my son, just didn’t know how to show it.”

  “That’s a lie,” said Tom, who had just appeared around the corner of the house. “Nolan cared about Nolan. And he sent himself to jail.”

  I’d been so involved in the conversation I hadn’t heard him arrive. I wondered if he’d seen Hilary on his home computer feed from the security camera fixed to the eaves, the one pointed directly at her. Seeing her would have made him hightail it over here.

  “You’re wrong, Tom,” she said quietly.

  He pointed to the fading bruises on his face. “He did this to me while you watched from somewhere. I don’t care what line of bull you fed Mike Baca; you were there.”

  Tom isn’t about to beat around the bush when it comes to Hilary, I thought.

  “I wasn’t even in town during the time the police chief told me Nolan brought you to North Carolina,” she said.

  “That’s your story?” Tom laughed derisively and took a step toward her.