by Gin Jones
"Have they figured out there aren't any walls between Vic's property and Freddie's?"
"Not yet," Art said. "That's another reason why I really need to get that cat under lock and key. I hate to impose, but you're the only person it's shown the least little bit of affection for since Vic died. Could you try once more to find it?"
Finally, someone appreciated her assistance. Now she had a ready-made excuse for venturing into the yard next door, where she could casually ask about Freddie's list of license plate numbers from the night of Vic's murder.
Jay and Zee would be at the cottage in about half an hour, and it wouldn't take long to stop at the grocery store for tuna on the way to the mansion. Helen would need to reschedule her regular noon appointment with Rebecca to later in the day, but that shouldn't be a problem. "I can be at Vic's by ten."
"Perfect," Art said. "I'll be waiting to let you in the gates, and then I'll stay out of your way."
"The cat seems to really dislike Nora." It had good taste. "I'll have a better chance of catching it if she stays inside the house."
"I'll do better than that," Art said. "I'll make sure she stays inside her room. At this point, I'd do anything to get that cat under control. If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself. Vic loved Broadway so much."
Right after Art hung up, Lily called. She didn't bother with small talk. "You still haven't given us your schedule for the next couple of weeks. You did promise."
Helen had promised. And promptly forgotten. "I've been busy. I can tell you right now that there's nothing much on my agenda. Today, I'm going to help a friend search for a missing cat, and afterwards I'll be at the nursing home for Charity Caps Day. There's nothing else on my calendar until next week's Charity Caps Day."
"What about the murder investigation? I haven't been able to reach Adam. Has his sister been cleared?"
"Not yet."
"Then you must have other plans," Lily insisted. "I can't believe you're going to sit around making hats while Detective Peterson is putting together a bogus case against Stevie."
"I never said I would. You'd be amazed what a person can learn at a nursing home that's full of retirees who used to work for the town," Helen said. "What about you? Did you find out anything useful about Nora Manning?"
"Is she still your prime suspect?"
"Not anymore. She had the means, but not much of a motive, and I'm pretty sure she has an alibi. Tate's double-checking it, just to be sure."
"Too bad," Lily said. "I'd much rather see her in jail than Stevie."
"So you've met Nora?"
"A couple of times. At charity events. I don't have anything personal against her, but she seems kind of…" The normally decisive Lily paused. "I don't know. Not exactly sleazy, but a little too slick to be believed. What I found out about her only reinforced that impression. She's got absolutely no footprints online. Not even a bio or employee description. I couldn't find out anything from my offline sources either. She's got a driver's license and birth certificate and all that, so she's not a robot or an alien, but I couldn't find anything else. No social media presence, no news articles mentioning her as representing the gaming industry, nothing. That sort of complete invisibility doesn't just happen. It has to be intentional."
"It sounds like she used her PR skills to get her name forgotten, instead of getting it remembered." Nora must have done that sort of thing plenty of times for other people, covering up her clients' gaffes. Vic reveled in his bad boy reputation, so she hadn't had to cover for him, at least not until the library event, but there had to have been other clients who did need to erase their bad conduct. "What could she be hiding?"
"I don't know, but that's why I thought she might be a good suspect," Lily said. "Maybe she did something awful and she's afraid something from her past would catch up to her if there was any public mention of her whatsoever. Or maybe she had an ex who turned into a stalker and went after any man she was involved with. He could have thought she had a relationship with Vic and killed him for it."
"I'm pretty sure Vic and Nora were just business acquaintances, nothing personal."
"Stalkers aren't known for being rational," Lily said. "They don't necessarily wait for evidence that would hold up in a court before they act."
"Much as I dislike Nora personally, it's more likely that she's really good at her job, and she uses those skills to maintain a bit of privacy for herself." Helen hadn't had that luxury during her long marriage, but she rather enjoyed being anonymous now. At least, as much as she could be living in a small town where everyone seemed to know her or think they did. "I'm the last person to criticize anyone for wanting to maintain a little privacy. Not that you and Laura would ever let me go completely off the grid."
"Hey, someone's got to keep you out of trouble," Lily said. "Don't forget to send us your schedule. If I don't have it by the end of today, I'm coming down there to make sure you're okay."
"You'll have it."
Lily hung up, the silence reminding Helen that there was something else she'd meant to ask Lily, but she couldn't remember what it was.
The sound of a car in the driveway interrupted the paralysis of indecision. Helen grabbed her yarn bag and cane on the way out of the cottage.
* * *
Half an hour later, after a quick stop at the grocery store for more tuna, Zee parked the Forester next to Nora's car and left with her brother to go find Marty to see if he needed any help while they were there.
Art was waiting for Helen on the front steps of the mansion, and he nodded at where Jay and Zee were jogging down the driveway toward the gate. "Do they know to stay out of sight while you're searching for Broadway?"
As far as Helen could tell, Jay and Zee were oblivious to everything except their work and their Hollywood dreams. They wouldn't wander off to look for cats or clues. "They won't be a problem. Have you got Nora locked up tight?"
"Yep." Art stuffed his hands in the pockets of his designer suit jacket. "In her room, talking to someone about a guest appearance someplace."
"You'd better get out of sight too."
"Ungrateful creature," Art said and then laughed. "That didn't come out right. I was talking about the cat, not you. I feed it, keep it healthy by making sure it gets its pills, and what do I get in return? A lot of hissing and disrespect. I owe it to Mr. Rezendes to take care of his beloved pet, but I can't wait until it's someone else's problem. You didn't think of anyone who wanted a cat, did you?"
She hadn't even remembered until now that he'd asked her about it. "Don't you need to keep the cat until the heirs are determined?"
"It's been so crazy here I didn't get a chance to tell you. Vic's attorney has the will, and she's been in touch with the beneficiaries. She's been authorized to keep paying my salary until the end of the year, and all I've got to do is keep an eye on this place and find a new home for Broadway."
"Did Vic set aside any money to take care of the cat?" Francesca might be able to take it if she had financial help with its food and veterinary expenses.
"A little. Most of the money went to the Compulsive Gambling Recovery Group, with a few smaller amounts for his fan club and Broadway."
"He gave money to an anti-gambling group?"
"Ironic, isn't it?"
"More than ironic, it's a motive for murder." Helen needed to have another chat with Donald Glennon to see what he knew about the inheritance and whether anyone in the group might have grown impatient while waiting for Vic to die. Money was less likely to be a motive for the other beneficiary, the fan club. Its members seemed genuinely saddened by the death of their idol. Of course, Vic did have a reputation for being abrasive, and he might have ridiculed his fans during one of his television appearances. She'd have to ask Betty and Josie more about Vic's relationship with his fans.
"I'm leaving the investigation to the police," Art said. "I've got enough to do just finding the cat and keeping the fans from breaching the gates. Before I go inside, let me show you w
here I last saw Broadway." Art took one hand out of his jacket pocket, pointed toward the side of the house facing Freddie Wade's property, and started walking in that direction. "The cat was over there, taking a break from teasing the fans."
The corner of a scarf peeked out from the pocket Art had just taken his hand from. It was distinctive enough to be immediately recognizable from the tiny bit of fabric that was visible. Nora had been wearing it yesterday. What was Art doing with her scarf?
Art must have noticed Helen wasn't following him. He turned and took in her puzzled expression as she stared at the scarf. He pulled it out of his pocket and wrapped it around his hand, as if worried that the silk would slide out of his grasp otherwise.
Or as if he were going to use it as a garrote.
Helen didn't know where that thought came from. Only someone as paranoid as Marianne would think Art was dangerous simply because he was part of the Millennial Generation. He was as mild-mannered as his late boss had been aggressive. Even if Art were a violent psychopath, there were too many witnesses nearby for him to try anything here. Nora might not care, but Jay, Zee, and Marty were close enough to hear if she screamed.
Art laughed. "I don't usually walk around with women's scarves in my pocket. It's just one more reason why finding a home for Broadway will be a challenge. It likes to steal people's stuff. I found this with the rest of the cat's stash this morning, and I recognized it as belonging to Nora. My pocket's about the only place that's safe from Broadway's little burglaries. Come on, let me show you where the cat likes to hang out, and then I'll leave you to find it."
Helen took a step in his direction, only to be brought up short by Detective Peterson coming around the corner of the house where Art had been heading. Detective Almeida was right behind him.
* * *
"Imagine finding you here, Ms. Binney," Detective Peterson said. "I could swear Almeida here told me she'd made it clear that you were to stay away from the crime scene."
"She did," Helen said, and almost apologized for being there until she realized exactly what he'd implied. "I'm nowhere near the crime scene. Unless you're saying Vic was killed outside and then moved to the poker room."
There was a hint of a smile on Detective Almeida's face. Art looked confused, and then said, "I'd better go return Nora's scarf to her. Unless you need me for something."
"No, no, you can go." Peterson glared down at Helen. "I don't have time to deal with you right now. I've got important things to do." He raised his hand to gesture his new partner forward. "Almeida, take care of this. Perhaps she'll listen if you explain it woman to woman."
"Good idea," Helen said. "We'll share a little girl talk, maybe give each other a manicure, and that'll scare the killer into confessing."
"No need for that," Peterson said smugly. "We'll have a confession by the end of the day."
He took off, and Helen turned to Almeida. "I know he's usually pretty confident about his theory of a crime, but that sounds pretty extreme, even for him. Does he really believe he's closing in on an arrest, or is it just a bluff?"
"Peterson's not that good at bluffing," Almeida said. "He really thinks he'll have a confession by the end of the day."
"You don't sound convinced."
She shrugged. "It's not me he has to convince. Besides, I'm new to homicide cases. Until I moved here, all I'd ever worked on were minor crimes. Mostly shoplifting over at the outlet mall, plus some burglaries and a few minor assaults, no dangerous weapons."
"There isn't much theft here in Wharton. The biggest crime wave in years was the Remote Control Burglar, and the stolen items weren't even worth the effort it took for him to break into houses."
"Doesn't really matter what the item was worth. It's more about how unsafe the victims feel. It's worse when it's a residential break-in, but some of the shop owners take it pretty personally too, especially when someone walks out with five or six handbags each retailing for close to two grand. And it never ends," Detective Almeida said, despairingly. "That part of it gets old, fast. We hardly ever close a case for the smaller crimes. Just take the report, go through the motions of looking for the stolen items before moving on to the next report. It's good that no one's physically hurt, but after a while, it feels like we're just wasting our time, since hardly anyone ever gets caught or punished. At least with major crimes, we can usually make someone pay for what they did."
"Just so long as it's the right person. Peterson seems to think it only matters that someone's arrested, regardless of whether it's the actual killer."
"He's probably just a bit jaded from being on the job so long, and I'm still starry-eyed and naive about making a difference. I never expected to work on a homicide case this soon." Almeida grimaced. "Not that I'm really doing much on this one. I'm just supposed to be watching and learning from my superiors."
"They may be your elders with more experience," Helen said, "but don't ever think of Peterson, or anyone else, as your superior. It'll do Peterson and the whole department some good to have someone questioning everything they do and say. There's too much hive-mind going on right now."
"From what I've heard, you've been doing your best to shake them up a bit. My doing it too would be redundant."
"Except they might actually listen to you, and I wouldn't keep getting in over my head."
"Let's hope so." Almeida pointed toward Helen's car. "For now, though, I need to send you someplace safe and away from the investigation."
"I really am here on a legitimate errand." Helen walked toward her car. "Vic's cat is missing, and I'm the only one who has a chance to catch it."
Almeida glanced down the driveway where Peterson had disappeared, presumably to return to their patrol car outside the gates. He was probably giving the reporters still camped out there an impromptu press briefing.
"I can't overrule Peterson, so you'll have to leave," Almeida said. "At least for a while. As far as I'm concerned, you can do anything you want here, as long as you stay out of Peterson's sight and away from the poker room."
"Art didn't tell me Peterson was here, or I would have waited until later."
"No one knew we'd be here," Almeida said. "We were just assigned to come see if the suspect, Ms. Bancroft, was here since she isn't at home." Almeida glanced down the driveway where Peterson was no longer visible. "We're stuck here until she's in custody. If she hasn't gone on the run, we should have her down at the station for questioning within the hour, and there won't be anyone here to interfere with your search for the cat."
"You could just ask Stevie's attorney where she is. He'll want to be there with her, and she's well enough trained to know not to say anything until he gets there."
"Other officers were sent to find him," Almeida said. "We're not quite as incompetent as we may sometimes appear."
"I'm sorry. Peterson just gets on my nerves, and he's the only member of the department I've had much experience with."
"Just don't tar me with the same brush." Almeida smiled, adding, "But if you ever do want to exchange manicures, my favorite color for the winter is a rich, warm brown."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Helen waited at her car while Detective Almeida went to find Jay and Zee so they could all leave. She tried calling Tate to make sure he knew the police were looking for Stevie, but she got his voicemail. She left a message, just in case he wasn't already with his niece, preparing her for the interrogation.
Nora came stomping out of the mansion, dragging a small roll-aboard bag behind her. The scarf that had been in Art's pocket was tied around the handle. She didn't seem to notice Helen until she neared the parking area.
Nora stopped in the middle of the driveway. "Oh, great. Like my day couldn't get any worse. What are you doing here this time?"
"Looking for the cat."
"Better you than me." Nora resumed walking over to her car. "I like animals—I really do, but that one is a demon. And a thief. Art just returned my scarf. He'd warned me about the cat's thievery, and I
could swear I had everything packed away in my bag, but it still got my scarf. I'll give the cat credit for having good taste and for not actually damaging the silk, but I've had enough. I can't stay here any longer. I'm moving into a hotel until I'm allowed to leave town, which had better be soon. If I can't go home by this weekend, I'm getting my lawyer involved."
"I'd have gotten a cat for the governor's mansion if I'd known it was that easy to scare you off."
"It's not just the cat." Nora opened the trunk of her car and tossed her suitcase inside. "Contrary to what you think, I don't like to be where I'm not wanted. Art doesn't really want me here. He's being nice about it, of course, but having a houseguest makes more work for him. He had a tough enough time dealing with a boss like Vic. He deserves a break now."
"How bad was it, working for Vic?"
"Who knows for sure?" Nora said. "Everyone wears a mask."
"Well, what about right after the library event? You were in the limo with Vic and Art, and in the mansion afterwards. How was Vic then?"
Nora slammed the trunk shut. She turned around to lean against the back end of the car. "You know, I never could get a solid read on Vic. Probably what made him such a good poker player. Still, it's odd that I couldn't figure him out, not even a little. A good part of my job is based on understanding people, using their body language to know how much impact I'm having with my arguments and adjusting my strategy accordingly. I was never sure if I was getting through to Vic."
"Did he yell at Art or have any kind of argument on the way home?"
"Vic didn't argue unless he was on a set and the cameras were rolling. The rest of the time, he was just sort of blank. Like his mind was somewhere else. Probably calculating the pros and cons of whatever move he was going to make next, whether it was in a game of cards or the game of life."
"One of his fans told me pretty much the same thing," Helen said, "but Art thinks everyone in Hollywood hated Vic and was lining up to kill him."
