by Lynn Cahoon
Looking down at the clock on her computer, Cat realized she’d been lost in Kori-land for over three hours. She stretched, realizing she was still in the jeans and T-shirt she’d pulled on when Uncle Pete had arrived. Time for a shower, more coffee, and maybe a snack. Shauna’s biscuits and gravy had been filling last night, but she felt like she’d gone for days without food. Cat glanced out the window at the snowy scene below. She couldn’t tell if Uncle Pete had returned Christina last night or if they were still talking. Cat knew one thing: She had to find Tommy Neil’s killer before the kid was convicted of being stupid. She turned off the computer and went to her room.
Showered and dressed, Cat slipped downstairs and into the kitchen without running into anyone. The rest of the retreat attendees had to still be asleep, unaware of the drama from late last night. Shauna started as Cat opened the door. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Shauna put her hand to her chest. “I swear, these retreats are getting more and more crazy. Can you believe someone like Christina could kill?”
“No, and neither can you.” Cat poured herself a cup of coffee. “The question this morning is if not Christina, who else wanted Tommy Neil dead?”
“Besides Brit and her dad?” Shauna set a plate in front of Cat. “I made quiche and a fruit bowl for breakfast. I couldn’t go back to sleep after your uncle left.”
“Me neither. I spent some time in on the manuscript. I feel bad for Christina. And Brit,” Cat added before taking a bite of the pie. Shauna used potatoes and bacon, making the quiche filling and amazingly yummy. Cat pointed to the egg dish. “I really like this. You need to keep this in the retreat rotation.”
Shauna sat across from her, with her cup of coffee. “I’m making up a list of recipes for a Warm Springs Writers’ Retreat cookbook. Something people could take home with them to relive some of the food they got while they were here. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Cat nodded. “It’s a great idea. I don’t know much about making a cookbook, but we could sell them on the website.” She focused on eating for a few minutes. “As long as we don’t have to shut the retreat down. Did you find the contract?”
“Not yet, but I plan on looking for it today.” Shauna stood as the oven timer went off. “Muffins are ready. Do you want one? Peanut butter crunch.”
“Please.” Cat put her plate in the sink and refilled her coffee cup. She’d realized as they’d been talking about cheating Tommy that she hadn’t even cleaned out Michael’s desk. Maybe there was a clue there that could explain what she’d read in his journals. “I’m going into Michael’s office to use his computer. I want to check into Tommy Neil and see if we can point Uncle Pete in the right direction.”
“Remember, Professor Turner will be here at ten. You need to introduce him to the group before he talks.” Shauna grinned. “He sent over an updated bio for you to read. I’m not sure he remembers it’s just five people.”
“He told me yesterday he’s practicing for the bigger events.” Cat shook her head. Had it just been Monday when she had the talk with Professor Turner? The week was just beginning, and she already felt like she’d been dealing with retreat business forever. “I hate to say this, but I’ll be glad when this retreat is over. Too many things happening already.”
“We’ll have a nice, boring retreat soon.” Shauna handed her the muffin on a napkin. “I promise. Maybe next time we’ll have a group of literary authors who just want to be left alone in their rooms, no fuss, just writing.”
“And you’re saying we won’t find one of them dead by suspicious means in the middle of the retreat?” Cat shrugged. “That would be heaven. You know where to find me if you need something.”
*
Cat opened Michael’s office for the second time that week. The smell of wood cleaner hit her as soon as the door opened, reminding her of when her husband had been alive. Back when she’d thought he’d hung the moon for her personal benefit. How had she been so naïve back then?
She crossed the office and sat in his large leather chair. Opening the laptop, she keyed in his password by memory and then waited for the Internet browser to open. When it did, she typed Tommy Neil, Aspen Hills Colorado into the search bar. A list of hits filled the screen along with images of Tommy in ski attire and on the slopes and one where he was teaching a very beautiful young lady how to ski. She could have just typed Tommy Neil, Player and gotten the same results. What had Brit seen in the guy?
Cat searched through the desk drawers until she found a notebook. The first half was taken up with Michael’s tight handwriting, but Cat found some empty pages near the back. She ripped them out of the notebook and went to put it back into the bottom drawer. Hesitating, she looked at a few of the pages in the front. Economics notes from his classes, a list of possible stocks and their rankings on the exchange, and a list of expenses. Nothing to explain Michael’s weird journal entries. She put the notebook away. One mystery at a time.
She started writing down everything she could about Tommy Neil, and by the time she’d finished, she knew where she would go next. Well, at least when she felt comfortable talking to the family. It had been less than twelve hours since they had received the news. She should take over food. People always brought food for the grieving family. Tommy’s mother only lived a few blocks away, past Warm Springs. Maybe talking to the mom would give Cat more than his ski school website had revealed. If the family was even telling Tommy stories yet. Food, she’d just take food and see where that got her.
A knock sounded at the door. Shauna poked her head into the room. “Hey Cat, everyone’s gathered in the living room, except for Professor Turner. Do you want me to call the office and see if he’s on his way?”
Cat closed the computer and folded the pages with Tommy Neil’s life highlights on the Internet. “Would you?” She met Shauna at the door. “I’ll go in and entertain the group until he arrives.”
In the living room, she found four of the guests. “Sorry, we’re running a little late today. How’s the writing going?”
Jeffrey stood in the back of the room. “As good as could be expected with all these distractions. Anyone know where Christina is?”
The rest of the guests looked around at each other and shrugged. Cat motioned for him to come and sit with the group. How much to tell them? Finally, when no one answered his question, he shook his head and sank into a chair, his arms crossed. Cat sat too and addressed the group. “Miss Powers had an appointment today and should be joining us later.”
“An appointment with that cute ski instructor I heard about? I swear, I should never turn down an outing just to write. Now all of you have fun memories.” Bella beamed at the group, but Jennifer shrugged.
“I like the skiing part. When everyone went back to the lodge, it got kind of boring. I probably would have liked to stay here with you. Besides, the guy wasn’t that cute.” She flipped her long, brown hair back. “Heaven knows, I’ve got a ton of research to get done on my thesis project.”
“Cute enough that the girl took off with him yesterday.” Nelson Wider shook his head. “Seriously, we paid good money for this retreat, and she’s treating it like a spring break on the beach. I’ll never understand romance writers.”
“You guys don’t know anything,” Jeffrey burst out. He glared at the other three. “Christina isn’t interested in that jerk. She’s way too smart for that.”
“Ooohhh, do I hear a bit of jealousy?” Bella grinned at Cat. “You might just have the makings of a love triangle here. Wouldn’t that be lovely to write about? In a fictional manner, that is.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m out of here. Who cares about some old Hemingway professor anyway? I’m going to write.” Jeffrey strode out of the room.
The others went quiet as they watched him leave.
“I didn’t mean to upset him. I was kidding, but I think the way he’s acting, he might just be a little taken with Miss Powers.” Bella leaned back in her chair, watching the doorwa
y Jeffrey had just passed through. “Poets, they’re too emotional for their own good.”
Nelson tapped his notebook with his pen. “If you ask me, there’s several groups of writers who should just go get a day job and forget about creating. It never turns out well.” He thought for a moment. “Look at Hemingway. He took his own life, leaving the mess for his last wife to clean up. Creative types tend to believe their feelings over real-life facts. Like if you put a gun to your head, you’re going to die and make a mess.”
“Ewwh, gross.” Jennifer doodled on her paper. “So when is this professor coming?”
“Should be anytime.” Cat glanced back at the doorway. “So while we wait, my how-I-became-a-YA-author talk is scheduled for tomorrow. Do you want me to do that, and then we’ll just cancel tomorrow morning’s get-together?”
The group listened and asked questions while they waited for Professor Turner. When he finally came in, breathless and out of sorts, Cat stopped the question-and-answer time, promising to be available during breakfast tomorrow. She introduced the winded professor and then left the room.
Shauna was in the kitchen working on the laptop.
“Well, today’s and tomorrow’s seminar sessions will be over by noon,” Cat said. “We might have to start scheduling a third speaker to make sure they have enough options when they arrive.”
“It is a writing retreat.” Shauna didn’t look up, even after Cat got a soda from the fridge and sat down. “Did you find anything on the dead guy?”
“Only that his mother lives a few blocks away. Do you think it would be tacky for me to stop in and see what she knows?” Cat was rethinking her plan. Besides, she was sure Uncle Pete would have already thought of questioning Neil’s mother.
“Not if you bring a basket of muffins and your condolences.” Shauna pointed to the cellophane wrapped basket on the counter. “I put a card in there from us at the retreat expressing our sympathy at her loss.”
“You’re two steps ahead of me.” Cat sighed and sipped her soda.
Shauna looked up from the laptop screen. “But?”
“You’re sure it’s not tacky?”
Shauna laughed. “Every person who stops by with food wants the real story about how the guy died. What, you think they all just feel so bad he’s gone? Funerals are a gossip hot spot.”
“Maybe you could come with me?” Cat brightened at the thought. Shauna was good at getting the real story out of people.
Her friend shook her head. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of retreat business. This accounting program you bought is giving me fits. It doesn’t want to match up with our bank accounts. The bank manager is calling me in a few minutes to make sure I have the right passwords.”
“So maybe I should go now?” Cat looked outside the window, hoping the weather would keep her from leaving. The bright sun was shining and the sidewalks clear.
“Go, find out more information.” Shauna looked at her with intensity. “We both know that kid didn’t kill Tommy. Now we just have to make sure someone proves it.”
“In other words, I’m supporting truth, justice, and the American way.” Cat stood and took her winter coat off the kitchen coatrack.
“You could say that.” Shauna put a white napkin over the top of the basket. “Or you’re just being neighborly in a mother’s time of need.”
“I just hope she doesn’t throw me out of the house when I try to get more information.” Cat paused. “Any suggestions?”
“Be subtle. And don’t mention his dalliance with Christina. I hear the mother was a big fan of the engagement to Brit.”
Cat grabbed the basket and left the house, hoping that she could pull this off.
Chapter 5
The driveway at the Neil house was empty, but the snow had been removed and the warm day had made the remaining snow on the yard, shine. The Cape Cod–style house looked like a typical middle-income family lived there. Which, in Aspen Hills, meant at least one of the owners was a professional, doctor, lawyer, or trust-fund society volunteer. Or both. Home prices were crazy high ever since the quiet town had been discovered by Denver’s upper class. The town was perfect for someone looking to live out of the city yet close enough to commute.
Cat rang the doorbell, shifting the basket of muffins to one side. No response. She rang again, glancing around the large porch. She could leave the basket near the door and come back later to talk to Tommy’s mother. She set it down on a nearby porch swing and was digging through her purse for a pen to add a short note to the card when the door flew open.
“What do you want?”
Cat turned toward the door and held back a squeak. The woman was in a dirty housecoat, her gray hair loose and disheveled, and she had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Not the image of a grieving mother Cat had expected. She picked up the basket and held it out in front of her. “Mrs. Neil? I’m Cat Latimer. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
The woman squinted at the basket and then up at Cat. “You weren’t one of his floozies, were you?”
“Tommy’s? No. I had only met your son once.” She lifted the basket a few inches. “Can I set this down somewhere?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, but she stepped back and allowed Cat to enter. A living room to the side of the door overflowed with flowers and food baskets. “Just put it over there. My husband is dealing with all the packages, but he’s disappeared somewhere.”
Cat dropped the basket off and stood near the couch. “So, wow, this was unexpected.”
The woman dropped into a large recliner and stamped out her half-smoked cigarette. “He was murdered. You typically don’t expect that to happen.” She shrugged. “Well, maybe some people do.”
“Was Tommy in some kind of trouble, Mrs. Neil?”
“I’m Marilyn Colfax now. Neil was my first husband.” She waved at the couch. “You might as well sit down if you want to hear the gossip.”
“I didn’t, I mean,” Cat stammered.
“Don’t worry about it,” Marilyn interrupted. “At least you came by with food instead of calling me for juicy bits for the rumor chain.”
“I don’t want to take up much of your time.” Cat sat on the edge of the sofa. Upscale furniture filled the room. The only thing out of place besides the large floral arrangements was Mrs. Colfax herself.
“Listen, I’ll tell you what happened, then you can go tell all your ghoulish friends and leave me alone.” Mrs. Colfax shook out another cigarette and lit it. “He was killed by the government.”
Cat narrowed her eyes. “Our government? You think they killed your son?”
“It’s logical. The boy was headed for good things. He would have been president, I know it.” She waved her cigarette around. “He was an Eagle Scout, did you know that? And oh-so popular in high school. Everyone came over to the house for his parties.”
“But why would the government kill him?” Cat tried to keep the incredulity out of her tone. “He was a ski instructor.”
Mrs. Colfax’s eyes narrowed and Cat saw anger. “He was in between real jobs. That was just a hobby. You have to understand: Tommy was bound for greatness.” Her voice trembled as she waved her hand around the room filled with flowers. “See? Everyone loved him.”
Cat stood. She wouldn’t get anything from talking to the grieving mother. Unless Cat wanted to know the woman’s fantasy life for her son. “I can see that.” She scooted around the glass-and-metal coffee table and paused at the doorway. “Thank you for talking to me. I’m sorry for your loss.”
As she walked out onto the porch, a man came up the stairs. He carried a bag from the local drug store in his hand. “I’m Ted Colfax. Can I help you?”
“I just dropped off a muffin basket for you and Mrs. Colfax.” She looked back at the closed door. “We were shocked to hear about Tommy’s death.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I think.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “Who did you say you were again?”
“I’m Cat Latimer.
I run the writers’ retreat over on Warm Springs.” Cat paused halfway down the stairs. “I take it you didn’t like your stepson?”
He shook his head. “All the boy did was cause his mother grief. When he got engaged to that barmaid, I thought she’d see the real side of him, but no, all she talked about was that girl’s connections. Like she was Colorado royalty or something.”
“Brit seems to be a nice girl.”
“Probably, but nice girls who work in a bar aren’t the type of women a future political candidate dates, let alone marries. All of Marilyn’s dreams for the kid went up in smoke with that one announcement.” The man shrugged as he looked at the door, like he had X-ray vision and could see his grieving wife sitting in the living room. “As if the drug problems weren’t enough of a clue for her that the golden boy was never going to be elected dog catcher, let alone to a real position.”
*
As Cat made her way back to the house, she wondered about the different perspectives Tommy’s parents had on his potential. She hadn’t seen a budding politician in the boy. He seemed more of a honkytonk player. If she ever had kids, there was no way she would ever put them up on a pedestal like Marilyn Colfax had Tommy. That must have been hard to live with, knowing you were disappointing your mother with every decision you made.
Or maybe that had been the point.
When she reached Main Street, instead of turning left toward Warm Springs, Cat found herself wandering past the shops, her thoughts meandering as well around the murder of Tommy Neil. His stepfather and mother were a study in contrasts, with one thinking he walked on water and the other believing the guy was maybe one step up from pond scum. A door opened on her left, and a man in a long black trench coat pushed past her, spinning her around.
Grasping for something, anything, so she didn’t fall, she nevertheless found herself on her way down to the icy sidewalk. As she’d begun to fall, another man’s hand grabbed hers and kept her upright. When she caught her breath, she was cradled in a stranger’s arms. She looked up into the deepest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. His lips curved into a smile as he saw what must have been shock on Cat’s face.
