Purrder She Wrote

by Cate Conte

  My suspicions were right, because as soon as Grandpa heard me coming I heard him hang up a phone call. I stepped into the room and took a moment to inhale the comforting scent of his pipe smoke. “Hey,” I said, appearing in the doorway of his office.

  “Hi, doll. Done for the day?” He was trying too hard to look like he’d been doing nothing, straightening random things on his desk.

  “Yep,” I said. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing much,” he said, a little too innocently. “Wanted to give you some time to bond with your guests.”

  “That’s nice of you. Are you working?”

  “Working?” he repeated.

  “Yeah. You know, with your PI stuff. I figured you’d maybe be working for Val trying to figure out this Cole thing.”

  Ha. Busted. He tried his best to keep pure cop face on, but he failed this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. It was hardly convincing.

  “Come on, Grandpa. You wouldn’t just sit back and wait to see how this played out, even if it didn’t involve Val.” I dropped into a chair and crossed my legs. “You’ve even changed out of your fun clothes and put on your serious clothes.”

  Grandpa glanced down at his jeans and black shirt, clearly surprised I’d noticed. “You’re keeping track of my outfits?”

  “Grandpa. You’ve been so excited about your café clothes.” It was true. He’d gone out and bought outfits bordering on the ridiculous. Shirts with cats on them, even a pair of Bermuda shorts with cats doing yoga. He definitely wanted to play the part of the café proprietor. I thought it was adorable, and he’d gotten tons of compliments yesterday at our opening. But today he looked ready for a different type of work.

  Grandpa rubbed his hand over his hair. “I’m just talking to a few people. Seeing if I can ascertain what went on last night. Nothing official.”

  I nodded. “Are you looking to get Cole off the hook?”

  He frowned at me. “I’m looking for the truth. You know I wouldn’t do it any other way, Madalyn.”

  “I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” I sighed. “I’m worried about Adele.”

  Could Cole’s influential father have enough power over the justice system that he could redirect the police investigation? The naïve side of me wanted to swear that could never happen. The realistic side knew there was a gut-wrenching possibility it could be true.

  “I don’t know much yet, Maddie. You know as much as I do,” Grandpa said. He calmly went to his little fridge and pulled out two waters, handed me one. He looked at me curiously. “You sound like you want Cole to be guilty.” His tone held no judgment, it was simply matter-of-fact. An observation.

  I flushed and looked away. “Of course not. That would kill Val. But I don’t believe Adele did it. Do you?”

  “She drinks a lot and has a temper,” Grandpa said bluntly. “Those two things combined could’ve gotten the best of her. Now that’s not to say,” he went on, holding up a hand as I started to protest, “that Cole Tanner couldn’t have found himself in a similar situation. Especially if he was at the Hawthorne house on some … illicit business. Who knows, maybe there was something going on and Holly threatened to tell Val. He got mad, acted rashly. But…” He hesitated.

  “What?”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “The way she died,” he said finally. “My gut tells me that if Cole—or any male offender—had done this in the heat of the moment, it’s more likely he would’ve simply strangled her. This cat toy thing.” He shook his head. “It seems more … like sending a message. That’s the only reason I’m willing to look at someone other than Cole. And it’s a clinical one. God knows he’s not my favorite person. Or that self-important father of his.”

  Grandpa still held a bit of a grudge about needing Erik Tanner’s services when Sergeant Ellory, in charge of Frank O’Malley’s murder had put him on the suspect list. But I had to admit, what he said made sense. And he certainly had the experience to back up his analysis.

  Now he sat too. “Just be careful with Adele, even if this works out in her favor. You don’t know her that well, Maddie.”

  “What does that matter? I know she isn’t a killer.”

  “Are you going to hire her permanently?” Grandpa asked.

  “She’s a volunteer,” I said. “She’s got a job, and I’m not hiring staff yet anyway. Do you have an issue with her?”

  “Not directly, no.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to have any problems. Especially with the Frank situation still on everyone’s mind.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “But I want to make sure I’ve got the right people working here. So if you know something about Adele, please tell me. Although on second thought, I need to make sure I have people in general. So maybe don’t tell me.” I pressed a fist to my temple, aware of a sudden headache.

  “It’s just … she’s a bit of a militant, no?”

  “A militant?” I repeated. “How so?”

  “Well, with cats.” Grandpa seemed uncomfortable now that he’d brought the subject up. “She’s very … adamant about everything. I mean, I remember we used to get calls about her when I was at the PD. She was always trespassing in people’s yards, looking for cats or trying to feed them. She’d get verbally abusive if they tried to make her leave.”

  “Really?” That news didn’t surprise me. And I kind of admired her for it. “Listen, Grandpa. Feral cat care and rescue is hard work, and most people get burned out fast. She’s just really dedicated. I wouldn’t be able to do what she does. It’s not a bad thing. And everyone has their own method, I guess.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “I still don’t see why you can’t do it without getting crazy.”

  “Because sometimes other people are acting that way and you have to hold your own,” I said. “It doesn’t mean she’s a murderer.”

  “Then why did her friend think she did it?” Grandpa asked, referring to Katrina.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But it seems awfully convenient. Becky said she’s surprised they haven’t looked at the sister yet.”

  “Holly’s sister? Why?”

  “They apparently hated each other.”

  “Lovely,” Grandpa muttered.

  “So what kind of investigating are you going to do?”

  “Who said I was investigating? I’m just talking to people,” he said.

  “That’s investigating,” I said.

  “Maddie. You’ve got enough going on. Don’t worry about this,” he said firmly.

  “But I’m already involved,” I pointed out. “The cable network was here trying to take pictures and interview me this morning!”

  “They were?”

  “Yep.”

  He pondered that. “Did you talk to them?”

  “Of course not. I have nothing to say.”

  “Good. Keep it that way. I mean it, Maddie,” he said when I opened my mouth to protest. “Stay out of this. You have enough going on, and you don’t need to be associated any more than you already are. For your own good.”

  Chapter 18

  I went upstairs, annoyed by Grandpa’s directive and trying not to show it. I had no intention of listening to him though. If he could look into it, so could I. I went up to my room and called Katrina.

  “Tell me about Gigi Goodwin,” I said when she answered.

  “What? Why?” Katrina sounded distracted. She hadn’t been in the office, so she was likely out picking up some kind of stray. Or rescuing some wildlife. I still giggled every time I pictured Katrina facing off with a possum.

  “Because she’s volunteering with me and I don’t know anything about her,” I said.

  “I honestly don’t know much. Adele said she lives on the beach.”

  “On the beach? I didn’t get the sense she’s rich.” Of course, I shouldn’t judge by her outfits. Plenty of people with lots of money dressed like they shopped at flea markets.

  “No, I don’t mean a house on the beac
h. I mean, she lives on the beach. Like in a tent.”

  “You’re kidding. By choice?”

  “She didn’t want to live with her mother when she moved back. I think she dropped out of school, or something,” Katrina said. “And hey, while it’s nice out, why not?”

  Why not? Because any drunk person could wander into your tent. Or a violent thunderstorm with lightning could kill you. There were a million reasons why not. Or perhaps I’d become too citified out in San Fran. “Is she … okay though?” I asked. “Like, mentally? She seems troubled.”

  I heard a crash and a muffled curse at the other end of the line. “Hmm. I didn’t think anything was off with her, but I don’t do psych evals for my volunteers. I just take what I can get. Listen, can I call you in a bit? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Sure. Have you heard anything else from Adele?”

  “Nothing.” Katrina’s voice turned somber.

  “I went to see her today. She’s pretty down,” I said.

  “But she was home?”

  “This morning she was.” I didn’t mention the wine, remembering Grandpa’s words about her being a drunk. I didn’t want to perpetuate that perception.

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” Katrina said. “Okay, I’ll call you back.”

  “Sure. Speaking of volunteers, though, I need more,” I reminded her. “Are you going to hook me up?”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll be back to you.” She disconnected.

  I made a face at the phone and went down to the kitchen. Ethan was at the table with a cup of his own coffee and a sketchpad. He looked up with a bigger grin than I’d seen in a long time.

  “What’s so funny?” I slid into a chair and simultaneously realized how tired I was. And distracted by the Holly Hawthorne/Adele/Cole ordeal.

  “Nothing’s funny. Just drawing out our new café.” Beaming, he slid the sketchpad over to me, tucking one bare foot under him. “What do you think?”

  I studied the sketch. He’d taken Grandpa’s garage and transformed it into a little kitchen, complete with a double oven and a giant coffee machine. A bar separated the cooking area from a tiny space with a few high tables and funky hanging lights.

  “Wow. I didn’t know you could draw so well,” I said.

  He winked. “There’s plenty you don’t know about me. So come on. You like?”

  “I do,” I said. “But do you think there’s enough room out there?”

  “Heck if I know,” he said with a laugh. “I figure the contractor can help with that part. But I’ve already thought of that.”

  “You have?”

  “Yep.” He looked pleased with himself. “If we expand it a bit, we can put in a real kitchen, have room for the counter, and maybe have a little area to sell things. We can offer juices again,” he said, knowing that would sway me. There wasn’t a decent juice place on this island and it was getting to me. Ethan was making juices for us, but it was another need I saw and itched to fill. “We can bottle some to have on hand too. And I know you mentioned wanting to get some JJ memorabilia. Are you still planning on that?”

  I grinned. “Of course. JJ would not be happy if I reneged on putting his face on a T-shirt now.” JJ looked up from the floor where he was sprawled on his side, paws drawn up to his chest. He looked like a baby seal. The look he gave me said I better not.

  Plus, JJ was a huge hit on the island since we’d rescued each other and he’d come into his stardom. He was a big part of the draw of the café. People loved that he walked around with me on a harness and leash, and I loved to stop and let kids and adults alike pet him. JJ was the impetus for the café, after all. The whole conversation had started when people began asking me to bring him to places like the senior center to let him visit with people. And since the place was named after him, I figured we should offer some souvenirs for people to take home. Mugs, T-shirts, bags—I had a whole slew of ideas on how to raise more dollars, some of which would go to help the island rescue efforts.

  “So? Have I convinced you?” Ethan asked.

  I snapped back to the topic at hand. “I think the price tag will convince me. And the zoning board’s opinion.” Grandpa had had to jump through some hoops to get the land classified for mixed use before we could open, a process that moved a lot faster once we pointed out that Frank O’Malley had gone through some back-alley channels to ensure the land could be commercially zoned if his evil scheme went through. Given that near debacle, I didn’t think we’d get a lot of pushback, even if we made the garage bigger. But I didn’t want to get Ethan’s hopes up. At least our family was tight with the town selectman, Gil Smith. Who also happened to be dating Frank’s widow, Margaret. Maybe he could make things easy for us.

  I studied the drawing again. “What about the inside of the house? Did you draw that out too?”

  Ethan’s head shake was sheepish. “Sorry. Just really fixated on the kitchen.”

  “Understandable. I hope I can articulate what I want well enough to not destroy Grandpa’s house. I worry about that.” I passed the sketchbook back and studied him. “So how do you like it so far?”

  “The café? I love it. It’s a great idea, and people seem to dig it.”

  “They do,” I agreed. “But I don’t mean only the café. The island, the house.” I waved my hand around. “I wonder how you really feel about staying here.”

  “I think it’s great,” Ethan said. “How could it not be? It’s a fantastic house on a gorgeous island and we get to live here and run our business. What’s not to like?”

  I think if I’d parked Ethan in a tent out back he’d be equally as enthused. But thinking of a tent made me think of Gigi again.

  “I’m glad,” I said. “I was worried.”

  “Hey, as long as there’s water I’m good. And you can even swim in this water.” His eyes lit up. “It’s amazing.”

  The San Francisco Bay was beautiful, but supercold. Only the most diehard ocean lover—and surfers wearing wet suits—ever braved it. Swimming in the ocean had been one thing I’d missed out West, which seemed like an odd reality in California, but true for the northern part of the state.

  “So back to the café. Are we going to get more volunteers?” Ethan asked. “I’m not sure two will be enough if we get really busy. And it’s looking promising. I sold out of all my muffins today.” He beamed with pride.

  “That’s awesome. I knew those muffins would be a huge hit. I’m waiting on Katrina for more volunteers. She said she’d try to funnel some more people our way. Oh, and hey. Speaking of muffins. Gigi’s mother stopped by this morning. She wanted to offer her catering services. I told her we were doing it ourselves for the time being, but … she sounded like she really either wanted or needed the job. I’m not quite sure which. I felt kind of bad for her.”

  Ethan thought about that, tapping his long fingers against the table. “What kind of food does she want to bring in?”

  “It sounds like she can do whatever we’d like. She brought some samples,” I said casually, trying not to let the dreamy look into my eyes when I thought about that cinnamon bun. “They were in the basket I left in here.” I’d conveniently stashed it when Ethan was out of the kitchen, so I could have some more time to think about how to approach the topic with him. “She can do pastries, other breakfast items, even some lunch stuff. Unless you think it would be a waste of money, or stepping on your toes.”

  He grinned. “Mads. I found the cinnamon buns. They’re pretty amazing. Listen. If the woman needs the work, why don’t we give her some? I could still do some baking, like you said. At the very least, keep the coffee flowing. And that way it would free me up to help you more with the cats, or even do some of the work on the expansion or improvements.” Ethan was a man of many talents. He could make a mean juice, but he could also do hard labor pretty well. He’d grown up working with his father doing odd construction jobs.

  “You think?” I was relieved he hadn’t taken offense about the pastries. “But what abou
t the budget?”

  “We’ll figure it out. We’re not footing the bill for any of the construction work, right? It’s covered by the trust for the house?”

  “That’s true.” When I really thought about it, there was no reason to say no. We could use all the help we could get.

  “So let’s do it.” His confidence was inspiring. That was truly his superpower—he was always so sure of the right thing to do. Maybe it was all the meditating he did. And I knew he’d been going to Tai Chi lessons with Cass.

  “Okay. I’ll call her tomorrow.” I made a mental note to do some Google searches on Felicia’s business, just to be safe, then checked my watch. “I’m starving. Let’s go get an early dinner. And a drink. Lord knows we deserve the drink.”

  Chapter 19

  Since Ethan was new to New England, he’d missed out on years of summer island fare. Which meant he was trying to make up for thirty years of no authentic lobster rolls, fried clams, or real New England chowder. I decided we needed to rectify that as often as possible while all that deliciousness was in season. We were going to Moe’s in downtown Daybreak.

  Moe’s Fish Place served the best fried seafood and French fries on the island. His place had been overlooking the water in Daybreak Harbor probably since the beginning of time. I usually tried to stay away from fried foods, but Moe’s … called to me. It was even more dangerous now that I lived here again. When I was only visiting I could justify it, but I was going to put a ton of weight on if I didn’t watch myself. I consoled myself with the thought that it had been a dramatic weekend full of highs and lows, and a few fried scallops wouldn’t kill me.

  We took Grandpa’s truck. He’d gone out on foot anyhow and I preferred that over Grandma’s car. I needed to think about if I wanted to get a car of my own. I supposed for now it was fine to use Grandpa’s, and it was silly to buy something with Grandma’s still sitting here, but it felt kind of wrong to be using it yet. She’d only been gone a couple of months. As an alternative, bikes were good in the summer. But not if it got too hot. Then it just ruined your hair. Sometimes island life was more complicated than it sounded. Ethan had the right idea. He just skateboarded around everywhere.