The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

by Leann Sweeney

  “He seemed bothered that you were staying here rather than at home.” I was trying to sugarcoat this, I knew. The poor woman had enough on her mind.

  “And,” Kara added, “Farley’s got some crazy notion that Jillian wanted money for your cat’s return.”

  “What?” Ritaestelle gripped her left fingers with her right hand so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I must speak with that man. For now, all I can do is apologize for his behavior. I am quite familiar with apologizing for Farley.”

  “I never did get to tell you about why I came to your house,” I said. “Shawn Cuddahee sent me to check you out. He wanted to know if it was safe to return Isis to your home.”

  At the mention of her name, Isis jumped on the coffee table. Ritaestelle held out her arms, and the cat leaped onto her lap. “That was the tipping point, was it not? Your arrival at the estate to check on me?”

  “What do you mean?” Kara said, sounding curious.

  “I had been accused of stealing, been drugged, but you, Jillian, caring only about this precious black cat, brought it all to light. You came thinking you would find an addled old woman. Instead, you saw me lying on the floor. You knew something was very wrong.”

  I nodded. “True. But that doesn’t explain how Isis escaped in the first place.”

  “Indeed, that is a mystery in and of itself,” she replied. “My sweet girl here has great disdain for the outdoors. I once bought her one of those catios—you know, a screened building that can allow your cat to be outside but still not wander off?”

  “Catios?” Tom said. “You have got to be kidding.”

  I smiled at him. “I’ve seen them advertised at cat shows. You would not believe the things people will buy for their cats—like special little quilts.”

  He looked flustered. “I didn’t mean what you do is anything but great. Dashiell loves his quilt.”

  “You have a cat, Mr. Stewart?” Ritaestelle said.

  “He does,” Kara said. “And I have two kittens. But tell us about the day Isis disappeared. This might make a good story.”

  “I would be happy to,” she said. “The police do not seem the least bit interested in that event, so perhaps a little publicity would not hurt. I consider that a seminal moment. My tormenter, whoever it is, took things to the intolerable level with that dirty trick. First, though, I smell something wonderful, so perhaps we could chat over dinner?”

  Twenty

  The herbed chicken, rice, peas and salad that Kara made for supper brought compliments from everyone. As we ate the delicious meal, I realized just how much homecooked food can ease the mind. Between the quilting earlier and this meal, I felt more relaxed than I’d been in days. The wine Tom opened helped, too. Ritaestelle was quite appreciative of her glass of white wine since she’d had nothing alcoholic to drink ever since she had suspected she was being drugged.

  As I loaded the last of the peas and rice onto my fork, I said, “Now that we’ve all had a chance to adore this food, tell us about Isis’s disappearance.”

  Ritaestelle dabbed at her lips with one of my homemade plaid napkins. Bet she had nothing but the monogrammed kind at her house, but she didn’t seem to mind my more modest table setting in the least.

  “I believe that someone took her and tossed her by the road. That’s the only explanation,” Ritaestelle said.

  “Why do you say that?” Kara said.

  “She was sleeping on my bed the first day I could no longer fight whatever was in that tea. I am assuming it was the tea. Anyway, she always stays close by. When I awoke, she was gone. And no one could explain it,” she said.

  “Did you call animal control? Put up flyers?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, I was in no shape to even punch numbers on the telephone,” Ritaestelle said. “Evie told me she would find Isis, but she was beginning to act very suspicious of me. I think she believed I had gone completely mad by then. She did have to pull items I supposedly stole out of my bag at the pharmacy.”

  “She seemed a little cool when I arrived on your doorstep the other day.” I paused, recalling a visit that seemed aeons ago. “But Evie did say that Isis needed to come home. Why wouldn’t she have returned Shawn’s phone calls if that were the case?”

  “He called me?” Ritaestelle said.

  “More than once. I never questioned him about who he spoke to, though. Might be worth asking now,” I said.

  “If it was one of my relatives, I am sure they simply ignored him.” Ritaestelle pulled a piece of chicken off a breastbone and offered it to Isis. “That is how they have always done things, which is extremely impolite—and I have told them as much on many occasions. That is why, when I am able, I always answer the phone or greet guests at the door myself.”

  “We heard that’s your routine,” Tom said, “but the explanation is new.”

  “Yes, amazing what goes around town. Getting back to my cat’s mysterious disappearance and rescue, I must thank this gentleman Shawn in person. Can that be arranged?” Ritaestelle said.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Oh my. That sounds so pretentious. I can do the arranging. Since numbers on the telephone are no longer blurry, I will call the man myself. Now, I heard part of what you all were discussing when I came into the living room earlier. Tell me about the rumors. I would appreciate hearing them from your point of view.” She glanced back and forth between Tom and me.

  “Actually,” Tom said. “We’d like your version.”

  “Hmm. I suppose you would.” She stared up at the ceiling, ostensibly to collect her thoughts.

  All the cats had taken spots beneath the table in anticipation of a chicken treat like Isis had gotten. Merlot was lying on top of my feet, and I took a peek and saw the other two beside him. Chicken scraps are something all my cats enjoy.

  Ritaestelle drew in a breath and went on. “This all began about two months ago. Earrings from a local merchant suddenly appeared in my handbag. They still had the price tag on that little cardboard piece that held them. I was with Desmond at a restaurant and took out my wallet to pay—I always pay when I am with him. I believe I let out quite an audible gasp when I saw them.”

  “Had you recently been to that store?” Kara asked.

  “Yes. The man who owns the shop designs and makes his own jewelry. He takes other items on consignment. I am a frequent buyer because he certainly can use the business.” Ritaestelle lowered her voice. “Bless his heart, the poor man does give his best effort.”

  “How do you think the earrings got into your handbag?” Kara said. Her tone was formal. She was in journalist mode again.

  “I have no earthly idea,” she said, “but the next day I promptly returned them. I must say it was humiliating, especially since the owner seemed less than gracious. I suppose some of the talk already started after that very first incident.”

  “What about your friend Desmond? If he knew about the earrings, could he have told others?” I said.

  Ritaestelle narrowed her eyes in thought. “Perhaps. Desmond is quite the conversationalist. He will engage anyone about anything. But I have always assumed the most intense gossip began after a similar incident a week later. Evie was with me at the pharmacy, as you know. Her turn to be humiliated. She asked me if I had forgotten those items were in my bag.”

  “What items?” Kara asked.

  “Small things—nail polish, a few emery boards, perhaps a lipstick. But I was quick to notice that others in the store saw Evie point this out to me. The very next day Nancy paid me a visit and told me that several people had informed her that I might have a problem. She wanted details.”

  Tom shook his head, apparently not buying this. “The police chief came to you about this piddly stuff?”

  “She came as a concerned friend, not as an officer of the law,” Ritaestelle said. “Despite what went around town, I was never ‘let off the hook’ by her. Yes, that is what people said. A rich woman steals things and gets away with it. But I returned the earrings and
never took anything from the pharmacy. Nancy wanted to make sure I was all right, even suggested I visit my physician.”

  “Did you?” Kara said.

  But before Ritaestelle could answer, there was the familiar sound of a knock at the back door.

  Merlot stood, obviously anticipating that I would get up. “That’s Candace.”

  “I smell supper,” she said once I let her in. After she came into the kitchen she, added, “And I see a party I wasn’t invited to.”

  “I am so sorry. I should have thought to call you. Can I fix you a plate?” I said.

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. But I am hungry.” She craned her neck, looking over the counter to see what was on the table.

  “Hey there, Candace,” Kara said.

  I noticed that Candace had a large manila envelope in one hand, and as she offered a “Hey there” back, she walked over to the built-in kitchen desk and set the envelope down.

  Meanwhile, I got another plate from the cabinet above the dishwasher and silverware from the drawer.

  Candace grabbed the plate and took off for the dining room table, saying, “My stomach thinks my throat has been cut.”

  Ritaestelle laughed for the first time since we’d met. “Sounds like something a police officer would say.”

  “How are you feeling, Miss Longworth?” Candace asked as she piled leftovers on her plate.

  Guess it was a good thing I’d bought a chicken as large as a turkey after all.

  “I am feeling quite well, thanks to the generous hospitality of Miss Jillian Hart,” Ritaestelle said. “I might have to adopt her.”

  “She’s bighearted—that’s for sure.” Candace sat, and I handed her the knife and fork. She looked at Tom. “Did you move in when I wasn’t looking?”

  Tom’s turn to laugh, but all this good humor from Candace had me thinking that she must have found something in the Cadillac—perhaps some piece of evidence that was now in that envelope she obviously didn’t want anyone to see.

  While Candace dug in, Tom stood, checking his watch. “I have to go. All these new orders for security cameras and alarms have to be to my supplier by tomorrow.” He looked at me. “Walk me to the door?”

  Once we were in the foyer, Tom took me in his arms. He whispered, “Tell Candace about Farley. After that phone call to you and what I learned about his less than stellar character, I don’t trust that guy.”

  He kissed me good-bye, and as I rejoined the others, I felt guilty for kissing another man while my heart was once again heavy with grief. I could only keep telling myself that John would have wanted me to move on.

  I put these thoughts aside when I realized that Kara and Candace were feuding again. These two were friends, even lived in the same apartment complex, yet here they were, sounding angry with each other—and not for the first time.

  Kara was saying, “You can’t kick me out of my stepmother’s home.” She leaned back, arms folded across her chest. “I’m staying.”

  “Then I’ll have to haul Miss Longworth down to the police station for questioning.” Candace took a large bite off her chicken leg and started chewing, never taking her eyes off Kara.

  Kara raised an eyebrow. “That’s how you’re going to play this?”

  As Candace finished chewing, Ritaestelle spoke up. “Kara, honey, I will be happy to share whatever it is Deputy Carson questions me about afterward, if you would like. I have no secrets. Can you abide by her request for now?”

  Candace waved her chicken leg at Ritaestelle. “There you go. Problem solved.”

  I didn’t say anything to Kara, but I implored her with my eyes and she finally relented. Her irritation seemed gone when she said, “I’m not allowed in a police interrogation room, and I suppose this is the equivalent for now.” She stood, smiling at Ritaestelle. “But I intend to take you up on that offer. I’ll be finishing up my work for tomorrow’s edition by midnight. Please call me.”

  Time to walk Kara to the front door. I gave her a big hug, saying, “Thank you for making such a lovely dinner, and for being so nice about being kicked out. I’m sorry, though.”

  She withdrew and gripped my upper arms. “The last thing I want is to stress you out. But make sure Ritaestelle calls me.”

  I nodded and she left.

  This time when I returned, Candace was clearing the table and Ritaestelle was standing at the sink, filling it with steaming, sudsy water.

  “You need to be off your feet. This nurse’s orders.” I handed her a dish towel to dry her hands, gripped her elbow and led her into the living room.

  “I can handle a few dirty dishes, Miss Jillian,” she said. “I sometimes help Hildie out at home after we have had guests. She is a stern woman unless she is in her kitchen. Then her personality simply brightens the world. I was hoping some of that might work for me tonight. And besides, you should not have to tidy up after me.”

  “Please let me help you sit down. I’d feel terrible if you injured yourself again,” I said.

  “She’s right,” Candace said, placing the last of the dirty dishes on the counter. She fetched the envelope from the desk.

  “Candace came to talk to you,” I said. “I’ll handle kitchen duties while you two talk.”

  Candace joined Ritaestelle.

  Meanwhile, with the platter holding a chicken carcass nearby, I had four cats to please. I pulled off a mound of scraps and divided them on to four saucers. I set each dish down on the floor by the back door, giving each cat plenty of space. Isis wasn’t big on sharing, and I hoped to avoid a spat.

  I used the full sink to soak the dishes. Everyone had filled their bellies, so there were no leftovers to put away. After I took out the trash, I joined Candace and Ritaestelle. While I’d been cleaning up, I’d tried hard not to listen to their conversation. But not listening was easier said than done. I’d heard, “Well, I never,” more than once from Ritaestelle.

  The envelope and the pictures it had held were sitting on my coffee table. Ritaestelle’s face was ashen. I was instantly worried. She looked terrible. What if she had a heart condition I didn’t know about?

  Ritaestelle looked up at me. “I can see that you are fretting about me, Miss Jillian. Calm yourself, dear. I will be fine once I understand all this better.” She turned to Candace. “If it is agreeable with you, I would like my friend to see these pictures.”

  Candace gestured at them. “Sure. Have a look. We found these things in Miss Longworth’s car.”

  I picked up the pictures. The first several were photos of the outside of the Cadillac. They were taken in a progression to show the seats and then the console that separated the front seats. The next picture showed the open console and revealed a Ziploc bag containing unopened cheap cosmetics, candy bars, a three-pack of Sharpie markers, and several pieces of turquoise jewelry with little price tag strings. It was impossible to see everything. But the next shot had the contents laid out on a cloth. It looked like someone had been to the Dollar Store and made a killing. Oh. Bad word choice.

  I glanced at Candace. “Wow.”

  She in turn looked at Ritaestelle, who said, “I know nothing about any of these items.”

  “Next pictures,” Candace said.

  This photo was of the open glove box. A small red velvet box was visible. The next shot showed the box open and holding a diamond engagement ring. The stone was small and the setting looked less than modern.

  “That belongs to my cousin Muriel,” Ritaestelle said. “How in the world did that—how did any of this—end up in my car?”

  “Good question,” Candace said. “Seems we found only one print—beneath the glove box. I’ll be comparing it to yours, but I should have found dozens of prints, and I didn’t.”

  “I am sure Muriel went into a hysterical episode once you showed this to her. I certainly do not blame her. She adored the man who gave her that ring.”

  “She was a little upset when I asked her if she gave it to you,” Candace said.

  “Mu
riel was married to Belle’s cousin once,” I said to Candace.

  “Belle Lowry?” Candace said.

  “Yes,” Ritaestelle said. “Of course, I assume living here in Mercy you both know Belle. How is the dear woman?”

  “She’s fine. Everyone loves her coffee shop. But back to the matter at hand,” Candace said. “You’re certain you have no idea how these items ended up in your car?”

  “This is more of the same, Deputy Carson. It has been going on for weeks. Have I not been forthright about everything?”

  “You have, but it still doesn’t explain this,” Candace said.

  “Someone must dislike me very much to do this sort of thing.” Ritaestelle shook her head, and though her color had returned, her eyes were filled with misery. “Someone in my family, I am assuming. Who else had access to my car?”

  “I don’t know,” Candace said. “The absence of fingerprints is suspicious. Someone wiped it down.”

  “You’ve decided there’s no evidence that Ritaestelle took those things?” I said.

  “That’s right. Pardon me, Miss Longworth, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t. I just don’t have any proof. Tomorrow I’ll try to find out where these items came from.” Candace leveled a gaze at Ritaestelle. “Am I gonna find you on some security camera footage from a store stealing things, Miss Longworth?”

  Ritaestelle’s lips tightened into a thin line. She hesitated before looking at me. “Your friend, Mr. Stewart? I understood someone to say he was private detective of sorts. Is that correct?”

  “He is, but—”

  “Could I impose on you to bring me your telephone, Miss Jillian?” Ritaestelle said. “I would like to hire Mr. Stewart. I want him to find evidence that will prove that I am telling the truth.”

  “You understand I have to follow the evidence, don’t you, Miss Longworth?” Candace said.

  “I completely understand. But I hope you understand that it is time I took action to protect myself from the lies some terrible person is trying to spread across the entire county.”