"Granny, you were right," she said. "Remember the first dream I had on the plane ride to Seattle? The one where the devil drove his pitchfork into the girl's crotch? You said it could be someone making her feel ashamed about her sexual curiosities. You were right. I haven't found anything to suggest Jim's a child molester."
"Well, that's a relief," Granny Grace said. "I hate those cases. I try to stay away from them. Unfortunately, there's an awful lot of them."
"Listen, there's more. Jim's gay, and his dead assistant director was his lover. I think someone might actually have murdered him, though it was an apparent suicide."
Cat ran down the suspects. "Oh, I see," Grace said. "Yes, that's how I'd approach the case as well." She paused. "It's a shame about Jim being gay and demonizing gays," she remarked.
"Yeah, a classic case of reaction formation," Cat said with disgust. "'You can tell how gay I am by how loudly I say I hate gays.' But here's the reason I'm calling. Sherrie has a brother. And guess where he lives."
"Seattle. But then why were they hiding out in the condo?"
"Because Sherrie's brother is my old pal at the security firm," Cat revealed.
"Mr. M&O," Granny said.
"The same."
"I'll see what I can turn up out here, Cat. You keep working there until you're ready to come back."
"Thanks, Gran. His name is Greg Swenson. It might be good to look into the background on him and a Sherrie Swenson from Belleville. She graduated from Belleville East in '98. When you look that up, throw the word 'Township' in there—I think the whole name of the school is Belleville Township High School East. It's a mouthful, for sure, and pretty old-fashioned. One more thing: I haven't filed any reports with Dave and Simon, but I'll do that now."
She laughed. "Forgot who paid your bills, did you? Oh, it's okay. I gave them some information to tide them over, and reassured them that you weren't off in St. Louis vacationing on their dime."
"Thanks, Gran. It's nice to know you've got my back."
"Oh, and your doughboy's mighty worried about you, Cat. He called over here when he overheard your cover was blown. By the way, I find it interesting that you let him in on what you were up to."
"I figured it wouldn't hurt if one more person knew where I was. You know, for security reasons."
"Right," Granny Grace said. "Security."
After they hung up, Cat dialed the Fletcher-Bander residence and had a good conversation with Dave. He was doubly intrigued that the case involved two closeted homosexuals.
"You might want to consider something else, Cat," he said sadly. "You might want to consider that Jim killed Larry himself. If his love for Larry was something he could no longer contain, he might have killed him out of desperation, just as he's fighting homosexuality out in the public sphere. In a strange way, he might have thought killing Larry would kill the gay man inside himself."
"Good point," granted Cat. This case was getting more complicated by the day, she thought. After they said good-bye, Cat hit "end call" on her phone and sat for a minute, staring at a flock of crows chasing a robin, thinking about what Dave said. She needed to get a look at that police report on Larry's death. Bearing with the tiny screen on her phone, she looked up the current roster of the St. Clair County Sheriff's Department. The Plantation Church compound was located in an unincorporated part of the county, so Larry's death would have fallen under their jurisdiction. She wanted to see if anyone she'd gone to school with was now on the force, which was possible, since it was one of the main law enforcement employers in the bistate area. Granny Grace had taught her to work her connections, or any connection she could possibly forge in the absence of a real one. One name jumped out at her, but it wasn't too promising: it was Tim Schlein, a guy she'd once turned down at a dance. He hadn't taken her rebuff very well.
But a visit there would have to wait. She was due back at the church for the Bible study lesson she and Wendy were giving for the rehab program. She'd already missed dinner, so she pulled into a Taco Bell for a quick meal first. When she got back to the church, she had just enough time to grab her materials and meet Wendy in the study room. Wendy barely acknowledged her existence, but other than that, everyone welcomed her warmly, so it was clear Wendy hadn't outed her. Maybe the authenticity of their bond had outweighed Wendy's feelings of betrayal.
The rehab participants slowly arrived: A mother of three who'd lost her job as a receptionist, couldn't find other work, recently relapsed into alcoholism, but was trying to stay clean. A teenager whose parents were clearly making her attend. Several men of varying ages, one bald and carrying a cane who said he'd been addicted to cough medicine. They waited while a few others drifted in, but not Wendy's mother. At ten past the time they were supposed to start, they went ahead with the lesson on Mary Magdalene, which had been designed with Wendy's mother in mind. It seemed a bit off-topic for this audience otherwise, but they pushed on. Cat noticed Wendy watching the clock and glancing at the door, still hopeful that her mother would arrive.
But she never did, and the lesson was soon over. They broke for tea and biscuits, which Anita brought in on a cart. Once the participants had left, Wendy, Cat, and Anita cleaned up the room in silence. Anita looked at Cat, her look urging her to talk with her friend. Of course Anita hadn't picked up on the rift between the two girls. Cat had no choice, and she was genuinely worried about Wendy anyway.
"Wendy," she said. "I'm sorry your mother didn't come. But some people are harder to reach. You just have to keep trying." She put her hand on Wendy's shoulder.
Wendy shrugged her off. "What do you know about it? You're an impostor! You're probably just playacting right now. I can't believe a word you say."
Anita had been bent over the table, polishing it. She stopped and stood up. "Wendy? What do you mean by that? How is Cat an imposter?"
Cat held her breath.
"She's a reporter just here for a story," Wendy said bitterly. "I heard her tell someone on the phone that she's undercover."
Cat let out her breath, relieved almost to the point of amusement. She wished she'd thought to mock up some press credentials ahead of time.
Anita's eyes blazed. "Excuse me? Cat, tell me this isn't true."
Cat looked down and nodded, thankful to Wendy's imagination for the new ruse. "It's true," she said. "I'm sorry for not being honest." She looked up at Anita, trying to make herself sound as genuine as possible. "That's how it started out, anyway, but I found myself being called to stay."
"You're lying," said Anita. Her hands clenched a towel so hard her knuckles turned white.
"You're just a fake," Wendy accused, glaring at her with her arms crossed over her chest. "And I thought you were my friend."
Cat felt as if she'd been slapped. She couldn't think of anything to say to defend herself. She was surprised by how painful their rejection felt.
Anita cleared her throat. "I've never turned a soul away from this ministry, but I'm going to do that now. Cat," she ordered, raising her chin in defiance, "pack up your things and leave us, please."
"You're throwing me out?" Cat sputtered, trying to control her own emotions from taking this so personally. Her mind latched onto Wendy's story. "But why? It's just an article. And it will be favorable. Don't you want the publicity? It's for the good of the church."
Anita responded to none of Cat's pleas. She turned and left, followed by Wendy, leaving Cat alone in the study room. There were quotes from Proverbs on the wall opposite, and one in particular seemed to mock her: "A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."
There was no way to rectify this situation. Cat went to the dorms and packed her things, alone. Wendy and the other girls were watching a movie in the lounge. She knew that Anita wouldn't want a scene, that Cat was to go quietly.
Chapter 13
Cat was in the driver's seat of a big red plastic car. It was a model '66 GTO, but it was either life-sized, or she was Barbie-doll-size
d. Either way, she was driving it. She realized other cars were racing past her, G.I. Joe figurines behind the wheels. She stepped on the gas, and the GTO lurched forward. She caught up to and passed a helmeted Joe in a Dodge Charger and another in a Barracuda. Must be a muscle-car race, she thought with glee, realizing by this point that she was clearly in her father's dream. Rather than separating herself from his consciousness, however, she hung on for the ride. She and her father swerved to avoid hitting a Chevelle and overtook a Mustang. They were first across the finish line, where a battered Joe waved a black-and-white checkered flag.
Cat woke exhilarated, waving her arms above her head in victory. She stretched, winked at the owl on the wall. She felt liberated, somehow, the responsibility of pretending to be someone that she wasn't now gone from her shoulders. She hadn't realized how much it had been wearing on her. She was relieved to have been evicted from the church.
Which is not to say that she wouldn't miss the people she met there. She felt a ton of guilt when it came to Wendy, whom she really had thought of as a friend. The others had charmed her as well, but even though she held God in her heart in her own way, she had never felt as if she truly belonged at the Plantation Church. Maybe she'd been too focused on the investigation, but she hadn't heard God there, either. Maybe she wasn't listening, but she'd heard His voice at other times in her life, so she knew it was possible. She didn't doubt that others had found God in that church, but her spiritual path evidently had only been passing through.
She lay in bed a while, luxuriating in the fact that she didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn and endure communal showers, breakfast with the same set of girls every morning, the constant presence of scripture and Jesus talk.
Then she heard the sound of laughter filtering up from downstairs. She could make out her mother, apparently in a rare mood, as she was giggling. But the other laugher wasn't her father’s. This was a younger man's laugh, one she'd heard recently.
Lee. It sounded like Lee.
Panicked excitement shot through her. What the…? Could Lee be here? She flashed on his texts, and realized she still hadn't listened to his voice mail messages.
She threw on some clothes, glanced in the mirror, frowned at her harried appearance, and ran downstairs.
There was Lee, in the living room, chatting up her mother, who was positively sparkling at his attention.
"There's our slug-a-bed," she said, beaming.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Cat demanded.
"Cat, that's no way to greet a guest," her mother reproached her. "And that's quite a mouth you've got for someone who's recently returned from the evangelical fold."
Lee, who had risen to his feet, defended her. "Now, Cat's reaction is understandable. The last time we spoke, I was back in Washington State."
He turned to Cat. "Sorry, Kitty Cat. After you hung up on me and refused to return my calls, I got worried. There was a transport flight out of JBLM last night to Fort Leonard Wood, so I took it."
"So that got you to Kansas City. And then you drove five hours to get here?"
"This morning. I got a good night's rest in KC first."
Well, you must have, thought Cat, realizing that the only dream she'd slipped into that night had been her father's.
Joe walked into the room just then and shook Lee's hand. "It's good to see you, Sergeant," he said. Her parents had met Lee before, on one of their vacations in Seattle, which they would take either at the beginning of the summer to drop her off at Granny Grace's or at the end, to pick her up.
Cat was reeling a bit from the implications of Lee's sudden appearance in her hometown. She sat down in the living room and observed him, wearing everyday fatigues and sitting in her father's favorite armchair with his hand on his hat, which was in his lap. The three of them discussed the weather, the Cardinals, and the ins and outs of military life while Cat let her breathing calm down, her heart slow to a normal beat.
Then it was decided that they should all go out to breakfast in celebration of her release from the church.
They went to Cat's favorite diner, where the walls were lined with vintage record albums. They sat in Cat's booth, under Stevie Wonder's Talking Book. They ordered eggs Benedict all around. Her mother was in good spirits, undoubtedly relieved to have her daughter back from the Christian fundamentalist stronghold safe and sound, but also charmed by a good-looking man in uniform.
"So what did you do to get yourself thrown out?" her mother asked, her eyes dancing with delight.
Cat blushed. "Lee called me, and I mentioned to him I was undercover. One of my dorm mates overheard."
"That's my girl," her father said, reaching over to pinch her chin. "Undone by a man."
"Not just any man, either," her mother teased. "One who jumps on a plane and flies halfway across the country at a moment's notice to try to save you."
Cat felt heat flush her face. She didn't know what to say. She and Lee had only just reconnected. There was nothing at all decided between them because it was still beginning. There were no words to explain all of this to her parents over brunch.
Lee shot Cat an "I'm sorry" glance.
Then he cleared his throat. "I probably just overreacted," he said. "But it's not like I bought a ticket or anything. I just hopped a transport."
Cat went from feeling as if he were moving too quickly and smothering her to suddenly feeling as if she were a side trip for him. She glared at Lee, her mother looked at Lee with an arched eyebrow, and he began to sputter an apology.
Her father, thankfully, intervened. "Oh, leave the soldier alone," he said. "Clearly he's fond of Cat here, and maybe he's got more than his share of white knight instincts, and that fusses with his otherwise Ranger-trained judgment. The important thing is, Cat's out of that zoo of zealots, we're all here together, and these eggs aren't going to eat themselves."
Cat smiled shyly at Lee, who winked at her, and the three of them commenced eating.
After breakfast, Cat had a bit of a problem on her hands. Lee was there, expecting her attention, but she needed to follow up on her leads.
"I'll tag along," he offered, pulling her close. They were standing in the living room; her parents had left them alone.
"Okay, but you can't interfere," she warned, letting her arms wrap around his shoulders. "You might have to stay in the car."
"Baby, I'm not a dog you can crack a window for," he said. "But I won't get in your way."
She sighed and let herself fall into him.
Their first stop was the county sheriff's office, where Cat asked to see Sgt. Schlein. Tim came out right away. "Cat," he said, hugging her. "It's so good to see you." She was taken aback by his friendliness, and he cast a suspicious glance toward Lee.
"This is a friend of mine," Cat said. "Sgt. Lee Stone." The two men shook hands stiffly. Then the three of them walked around the corner to a coffee shop.
As soon as they were seated with their to-go cups in hand, Tim smiled at Cat. "I heard you moved to Seattle," he said, pointedly ignoring Lee.
"I have," she nodded. "But I'm here now, investigating a case."
"Really? So you're a detective now?"
"A PI. I'm taking over my grandmother's firm."
He leaned over and patted her on the back. "Congratulations, Cat. That's awesome!"
"That's actually why I'm here, Tim."
He frowned. "Well, I didn't think you were here just to see me, but a guy can dream."
Lee cleared his throat as if to speak up, and Cat kicked him under the table. She gave him a look that said, "Be quiet."
Cat examined Tim. It wasn't that he wasn't attractive. He was a good-looking blonde with chiseled features and bright blue eyes. As a cop on the county force, he looked to be in even better shape than he'd been in college. He was smart, he'd done well in school, and he was sweet. But she felt no chemistry for him. Zilch.
She took a deep breath and plunged in. "I've been undercover at the Plantation Church, and I don't think
Larry Price killed himself. I think he was murdered."
Tim's reaction was delayed. "Do you have any suspects?" he asked.
"A few. Jim's wife is trying to flee the country. That could spell guilt... or fear."
"Maybe she just wants out of the marriage," said Tim.
"Then why not just file for divorce? She might have killed Larry. Crime of passion."
"Crime of passion?"
"Larry and Jim were lovers, and they had been for years."
"You're joking."
"No," Cat said. "I'm not."
"So you want me to look at the incident report," Tim said.
"Please," Cat said. "I know you can't share it with me, but look for something. Blood splatter, anything. How was it ruled a suicide? Was there a note? Did they do a thorough investigation?"
Tim sighed. "You know I'm swamped, Cat. Budget cuts. We're understaffed as it is, and we can barely keep up with the meth problem we've got here. That case isn't active anymore. It was never even a case. Besides, I think the sheriff is pretty chummy with those Plantation guys."
"Please, Tim," she begged. "If I'm right, this could be huge. It could make your career..."
He looked at her, smiled, and nodded. "You know, Cat, you were always really smart in school, but I wasn't sure you'd make it in the real world. Now I see I was wrong."
"Well, thanks, Tim, but the verdict's still out. I haven't made it yet."
He laughed and said he'd call her if something turned up.
When the three of them said good-bye, Tim reached over and gave Cat a hug. He shook Lee's hand mechanically.
As they walked back to her car, she could tell Lee was seething. Once she pulled away from the police station, he let loose. "I don't know whether to commend you or bend you over my knee for a spanking."
"Be careful," she said. She shot him a sideways glance. "I'm working here, so don't read anything into my actions."
"That was torture for me," he fumed. "I wanted to shove that coffee cup of his where the sun don't shine."
Cat in the Flock (Dreamslippers Book 1) Page 16
