The Cat, the Lady and the Liar

by Leann Sweeney

  “That is the best apple anything I have ever tasted,” Kara said. “Maybe the paper can do some of Hildie’s recipes in a Wednesday edition.”

  “She would be honored, I am sure,” Ritaestelle said.

  Kara stood. “I want to make this visitation, too, so I have to get back to my apartment. My kittens have probably shredded an entire roll of toilet paper in my absence. And I have to figure out what to wear. By the way, Candace was released from the hospital. She’s at her mother’s. She called here when she couldn’t reach you.”

  “Oops. I had my phone on silent while we were at Ritaestelle’s house.” I pulled it from my pocket. Sure enough, the message icon showed the missed call. I would have seen it if Tom hadn’t covered up my phone so quickly when I took it out at the Longworth house.

  “Do you mind if I call her now?” I said to Ritaestelle.

  “You go right ahead. I need to bathe and dress, perhaps pray on what to say to poor Evie’s mother before we meet with the family,” Ritaestelle said.

  I watched Ritaestelle head for her room, Isis beside her. The limp was almost nonexistent now. Maybe on the ride to the funeral home I would ask her about those tranquilizers. Perhaps she didn’t even know what they were. Some of what we’d learned today was certainly puzzling, and those pills were part of it.

  I speed-dialed Candace, and she answered after a half ring. “Kara said you went to the big house today. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Remember how Ritaestelle hired Tom to investigate the case and that she asked me to help him? We went over your notes together this morning,” I said.

  “Right,” she said, sounding like she didn’t recall this at all. “This morning seems like a hundred years ago. What did you find out?”

  “You should be resting, not thinking about the case. Your brain needs a time-out. Your notes matched up with what we learned.” Your very brief notes, I said to myself. I wasn’t about to add that I now knew a secret about my friend Candace—she relied heavily on her memory when she wrote up her reports, because her notes didn’t even begin to give the full picture.

  “Nothing new?” she said.

  “Nothing that can’t wait until you’re feeling better,” I said.

  “Come on, Jillian. Don’t freeze me out.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I am already going insane here with my mother—and I’ve only been home a few hours.”

  “Here’s a nugget. There’s a visitation for Evie Preston this evening,” I said. “I’m taking Ritaestelle. I’ll call you and tell you all about it the minute I get home. How’s that?”

  I heard the cat button game commencing in the hallway and smiled to myself. No matter what awful things I’d learned today, no matter what sadness came around, my cats would always find time to play.

  “You promise to call me?” Candace said.

  “I promise. Now, lie down and get well so you can find this killer.”

  “You’re the best, Jillian. Thank you for caring. Thank you for understanding that I need to know what’s going on.”

  “You bet I understand. And we’ll always have each other’s back,” I said.

  After I disconnected, I ventured to the foyer and peeked down the hallway. Syrah was going crazy over one particular button. Must be made of metal because it sure didn’t sound like plastic or wood. Chablis, meanwhile, was lying down, front paws tucked, watching Syrah swatting and tossing the thing in the air. That activity was a little too vigorous for her.

  I heard the guest bathroom water running and decided I needed a shower myself. I felt a little dirty after my visit to that house today. On the surface, everything at the Longworth Estate was pristine, but it was what we’d uncovered about the people who lived there that had me feeling grimy right now.

  When I passed the cats on the way to my room, Syrah stopped, pushing the small shiny button toward me. Guess shiny was better, and there was a scrap of blue fabric attached. How my cats loved fabric, even in minute amounts.

  “Sorry, buddy. We’ll play tomorrow. I promise.”

  Ritaestelle and I arrived at Griggs Funeral Home at seven sharp that evening. The small parking lot had only one spot left.

  I took Ritaestelle’s arm and helped her. The footing wasn’t good, even for me.

  “I have prayed on this and know coming tonight is the right thing to do,” Ritaestelle said. “But I am worried others might not see it that way.”

  “You said in the car that Evie’s mother was very nice on the phone the other day. Maybe that’s all that counts,” I said.

  I heard the crunch of gravel behind us. I turned, worried we might be the next two to be smacked on the head. But it was Desmond Holloway. He came up to Ritaestelle on her other side, and she was so surprised she stopped dead.

  “Um, Desmond,” I said. “Do you think this is a good time?” I gripped the two umbrellas I held in my left hand a little tighter. This wasn’t what the poor woman needed right now.

  He ignored me, saying, “Ritaestelle, I am truly sorry for our misunderstanding about Augusta. Please forgive me?”

  “Misunderstanding?” Ritaestelle said. “I did not misunderstand. What I have done is choose to close my eyes to your flaws. That has now come to an end. If you will please be so kind as to leave me be. I am here to mourn the loss of a young woman who met a tragic and untimely death.”

  Desmond stepped back and buttoned the top gold button on his nautical-looking blazer. Jeez. We were headed to a funeral visitation, not an outing on a yacht.

  He couldn’t hide the desperation in his eyes and apparently wasn’t about to be dismissed so easily. He grasped Ritaestelle’s elbow. “Please talk to me, my precious. Let me make this up to you—”

  “Leave her alone,” came the strong, firm voice of Nancy Shelton.

  When had she arrived on the scene? But I was relieved to see her.

  Desmond dropped his hand, and I was grateful. I could tell Ritaestelle was, too.

  Clouds had hidden what was left of the sun, and thunder rumbled in the distance. A light rain began to fall.

  Shelton said, “You two go inside. Desmond, you stay. I want a word with you.”

  We left, leaving them behind. I glanced back and saw Shelton’s face close to Desmond’s, but whatever she was saying, the words didn’t carry. But her body language said she wasn’t happy with him at all.

  I heard the organ music before we even opened the door to the old building. There was only one funeral home within twenty miles of both Mercy and Woodcrest. The Griggs brothers had been in business for more than fifty years, but now Anna Griggs, daughter of one of the brothers, managed the place. She greeted us when we walked in.

  If she was surprised to see Ritaestelle, her face didn’t show it. She smiled and gestured at the guest book on the table behind her. Two vases of lilies framed the book. She never said a word, just stepped back after we signed and pointed to our left with another smile and a nod. I left the umbrellas in the stand by the door where others had left theirs and helped Ritaestelle down the short hall.

  The organ music faded after we left the lobby, and I heard the quiet murmur of voices as we approached. But before we reached the room where Evie’s casket was, Ritaestelle stopped. “May I have a moment?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She then clasped her hands together and bowed her head briefly. When she was finished, she raised her head, and I saw her chin quiver. “I need strength.”

  “You’ve got plenty of that,” I said.

  We walked into the room, and at once all eyes were on Ritaestelle. The entire Longworth family was clustered together, all except for Farley. Tom, Mike and several officers in uniform from both police departments stood in a far corner. The people I assumed were Evie’s family stood stoically near her white coffin.

  The smell of death lingered beneath the scent of the baskets and sprays of flowers that lined the room. In a building this old, with its seventies-style paneled walls, that a
wful odor could not be masked even by a million flowers.

  Ritaestelle left my side and made a beeline for a woman who looked to be around fifty. Words were exchanged, and the two embraced. Evie’s mother, no doubt.

  Nancy Shelton appeared next to me. “I told Desmond to leave,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “He only came to see Ritaestelle. He cares nothing about the poor Preston family.”

  “Ritaestelle is not too happy with him right now, so I’m sure she’s appreciative,” I said. I was stalling. I didn’t want to greet the mourners. What would I say? Hi. Your daughter died in my backyard. Nice to meet you.

  “I heard that your friend Tom dug up plenty on Desmond,” Shelton said. “As far as I’m concerned, he did Ritaestelle a favor. Now, would you like me to introduce you to Evie’s mother and brothers?”

  I inhaled, trying hard to only breathe through my mouth. The smell was making me a little sick. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I stepped back into the hall, took my phone from the pocket of my black dress pants and made sure it was silenced. I’d left my purse in the car since I needed to carry the umbrellas and help Ritaestelle, but the phone was my comfort line. I pulled up the cat cam, saw four cats sleeping in various spots and sighed. There. That felt better.

  Making sure the phone was silenced, I put it in my back pocket. I tugged at my jacket and pressed my lips together to spread my lipstick. More stalling by worrying over ridiculous things. Truth was, I didn’t want to look at that poor dead woman’s face.

  Shelton stuck her head out the door. She whispered, “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Sorry.” I walked into the room and followed her lead to where Evie Preston’s family stood.

  Ritaestelle was kneeling in front of Evie’s casket, head bowed. Augusta, Muriel and Justine had moved closer to her, I noted. I wondered what the conversation would be like when they finally got to talk to Ritaestelle.

  Nancy introduced me to Loretta Preston, as well as to Evie’s brothers, Jeb and Carl. They were big, burly men—so different from their petite sister.

  Loretta had dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes, and every line on her face seemed to stand out. The words ravaged by grief came to mind. I appreciated the way her sons stood on either side of her, ready to catch her if she fell—because she sure looked ready to collapse.

  Loretta Preston grabbed both my hands in hers. “I understand you tried to save my baby girl. That you were heroic in your efforts to bring her back to life. I will be forever grateful that someone showed mercy and kindness at the end of her life.”

  Shelton leaned close and said, “I’ll be over there with the other officers.”

  “I—I didn’t do enough,” I said. Mercy. Such a powerful word. I recalled feeling like a failure that night, and not much had changed over the last several days. I added, “I’m only sorry no one could save her.”

  “I take comfort knowing that she’s in a better place,” Loretta said.

  Ritaestelle seemed to be having trouble getting up, and I reached out to help her.

  She smiled sadly once she was on her feet. “I am sure you want to say a few words to poor Evie.”

  Not exactly. If having trouble breathing is part of a panic attack, I had newfound sympathy for those who’d experienced one. My chest was tight, and I felt lightheaded. But though I would have preferred to run out the door as I had done at the Longworth house the other day, I took my place on the kneeling bench. I did, however, avoid so much as a glance at Evie. When I bowed my head, I realized this panic had an origin. This was my first funeral visitation since John’s death.

  The hushed conversations, the flowers and that hovering unpleasant scent were all painful reminders of what I’d gone through not so long ago—after John died. Tears filled my eyes, and I had to bite my lower lip to avoid releasing the sob caught in my throat.

  Tom, perceptive as always, arrived at my side and rested a hand on my shoulder. He leaned over and whispered, “This must be hard. Come on.” He took my elbow and helped me up.

  To get my mind off the past, I immediately looked for Ritaestelle. She was seated in a folding chair along the wall to my left with her relatives huddled around her. Justine was kneeling by her, holding her hand, but the cousins remained standing. I gave Ritaestelle a look that said, “You need any help?”

  She shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  Meanwhile, people I didn’t know were streaming in to pay their respects to Evie. Tom took my hand, and we walked over to the police gathered in the corner. As I joined them, the two paramedics, Jake and Marcy, who’d worked on Evie the night of the murder, arrived, and the uniformed officers went to greet them. That left Tom, Nancy, Mike and me.

  Keeping his voice low, Tom said, “I was telling Mike about our visit to the Longworth house today.”

  Mike said, “I wish the family hadn’t said anything to you about the tranquilizers we discovered during the search.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because that means they probably told anyone who would listen. Problem was, we had to call them in to Miss Longworth’s room to identify items, and Candace was just bagging the pill bottle.”

  “That news is all over town, so you’re right,” Shelton said. “Augusta called me up the minute you left. But what about these passwords you mentioned earlier, Stewart? What’s the significance? Seems like that was in Evie’s job description.”

  “I’ll let Mike give you a complete report. One thing we did learn for certain is that Farley carried the poor cat out the back door. I don’t think he was taking her for her regular veterinary checkup.”

  Shelton shook her head in disgust. “Farley Longworth is one sorry bastard—excuse my French. You notice he’s not here. We should sweat him. Bet he has a lot to tell.”

  “Agreed,” Mike said. “The family’s phone records and financials we subpoenaed should come in tomorrow, and that’ll show the extent of his gambling problem. But as for those pills we confiscated? I’ve already spent the day working on that. Those tranquilizers were ordered over the Internet. They had Miss Longworth’s name on them, but we can’t be sure she did the ordering. The woman doesn’t even use a cell phone. Would she have the skills to order drugs online? I doubt it. Good news is, Candace got a decent latent off the pill bottle.”

  I’d forgotten to ask Ritaestelle about the pills, and now I wished I had. She might have a clue as to who did order them. Could have been Evie for all we knew.

  “Prints,” Tom said. “Good old Candace printed everyone, I hear.”

  “Yeah, but Candace can’t remember where she put the print cards,” Mike said. “She can’t remember much of anything, and it’s driving her crazy.”

  “They weren’t in her evidence kit?” I asked. The night of the murder I’d seen her put Ritaestelle’s card in there after she’d taken her fingerprints.

  “No, we looked,” Mike said. “But I haven’t had a chance to check her vehicle. She might have stuck them in the glove compartment. You didn’t happen to see an envelope when you got her notes?”

  I should have known he was aware we took the notes. It’s not like Mercy officers don’t share information. But I still felt like I’d done something wrong. “Candace told us to get them once I reminded her—and I did have to remind her—that Tom was hired to help with the investigation.”

  Mike said, “I’ve got no problem with you working for Miss Longworth. Any other PI? Maybe. Not you.” He slapped Tom on the back and smiled. Mike and Tom went back a long way, and I was relieved Mike wasn’t angry about our involvement.

  As they continued to talk, I thought about those fingerprints. When there was a break in the conversation, I said, “Could one of the family members have been worried about those prints and knocked Candace out to steal those cards?”

  Mike rubbed his chin with tented fingers. “You may be on to something, but if one of them took the cards, he or she had to know we could print them again.” He nodded i
n the direction of the Longworths. “And we can’t rule out that one of them, or maybe Farley, told Candy something incriminating and that someone decided she had to go down. But whatever that information was, it’s now erased forever by that blow to her skull. I talked to the doc, and he says she probably won’t ever remember much detail from that day.”

  “At least she’s okay,” I said softly. I was uncomfortable talking about the case with Ritaestelle’s family only six feet away. Was the killer in the room, or was Farley, or even Desmond, the culprit? Desmond. The ladies’ man. What if he’d made a move on Evie and she threatened to tell Ritaestelle?

  Tom pulled me from my thoughts, saying, “Jillian, did you hear me?”

  “Sorry. Lost in thought,” I said.

  “Mike and I want to check Candace’s car one more time for those print cards,” he said. “Will you be okay here?”

  I could read the worry on his face. I’d had a little meltdown on that kneeling bench, and he knew it. “Sure,” I said. “Kara was supposed to be here—gosh, where is she?—and she’ll probably follow us home.”

  “I’m glad to play security detail again,” Shelton said.

  “Thanks, but—Oh, there she is,” I said.

  And Liam Brennan was with her.

  “What’s he doing here?” Shelton said.

  “Could be he is gathering information about the family—and Evie’s family, too. Were they . . . you know . . . eliminated as suspects?” I asked.

  “Rock-solid alibis.” Shelton watched Tom and Mike, who had paused to say hello to Kara before they left. “I checked up on Evie’s family and told Mike, but he hasn’t been sharing everything he knew.”

  “What do you mean?” I said as Brennan went toward the family and Kara walked over to join Shelton and me. She’d caught admiring looks from several police officers. Her short-sleeved brown linen dress showed off her figure, and with her dark hair clipped back and tumbling down her back, I swore she could have done a photo shoot for Vanity Fair right at that moment.