Dying to Read (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #1): A Novel

by McCourtney, Lorena

  “Yes, I’m Cheryl Calhoun. Amelia was my aunt.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  The woman stared up at the house again as she elbowed the car door shut. Finally, as if jerking back from some private thoughts, she nodded. “A tragic loss, yes. Thank you.”

  The words and tone were appropriately solemn, but if Cheryl was in deep mourning over her aunt’s death, Cate didn’t see any real sign of it. The thought occurred to her that if Cheryl was Amelia’s only heir, this property was now hers. Was that also what Cheryl was thinking as she stared up at the weathered hulk? Was it valuable? The house was old, but prices for vintage places were sometimes quite amazing. And the top-of-the-hill, end-of-the-street parcel was huge, probably dividable into several lots.

  “I don’t suppose you’d know where Willow might have gone when she left here?” Cate asked. “Her great-uncle in Texas is really anxious to locate her.”

  “No idea.” Cheryl paused and tapped a glossy fingernail on the handle of the umbrella. “It just seems very peculiar that she took off right after Aunt Amelia’s fall down the stairs, don’t you think? Maybe something a private investigator would want to look into,” she added with a meaningful lift of well-groomed eyebrows.

  “We’re not that kind of agency,” Cate said, even though she wasn’t certain what kind of agency they were. Uncle Joe had assured her that most of his current work was mundane: finding a deadbeat husband, running background checks, serving a subpoena. Not the thrilling car chases and gunfights that occurred regularly on TV crime shows. But there was more than routine work in his past, Cate was certain. He didn’t talk about how he’d gotten his limp, but she doubted it was while running a background check on his computer.

  “Well, what I need to do is go in and check on Amelia’s jewelry.”

  “Check on her jewelry?”

  “If Willow saw Amelia fall down the steps, maybe she decided it was a good time to grab the goodies and run. Willow had worked here only a few months, and I have no idea who she is or where she came from. In the business you’re in, I’m sure you run into unsavory people all the time.”

  Cate decided not to offer the information that her experience with private investigation hadn’t been much longer than a bad date.

  Cheryl raised a hand, palm outward. “I’m not making accusations, of course. At least not yet. I do wish Scott were here,” she fretted.

  “Scott?”

  “My husband. He’s up in Seattle at a conference. He was very disturbed about all this when I called him last night. He’s going to rush home as soon as he can.” Cheryl started toward the house steps, but a gust of wind almost tore the umbrella out of her hands. For the first time she apparently noticed that Cate was wet and cold. “Would you like to come inside and warm up? Although it’s not all that warm inside. Amelia always did keep the place cold as an igloo. That’s why I came back out to get a heavier jacket.”

  “I’d appreciate a chance to warm up.”

  “To tell the truth, this is such a creepy old place that I hate to be alone in it, especially with Aunt Amelia dying here only yesterday. Who better for company in a creepy old house than a private investigator?”

  Again Cate held back on listing her shortcomings in that area. Inside, Octavia met them at the door. Thankfully, cats couldn’t ask incriminating questions, such as, Oh, you’re back again?

  “There’s the cat now,” Cheryl said. “Spoiled rotten monster that she is. You wouldn’t believe how much that cat food Amelia feeds her costs. And white hair! It’s all over the place. Shoo!” She flapped the umbrella at the cat.

  “Did the police say anything about how your aunt happened to fall?” Cate asked.

  “All the officers said last night was that Amelia had fallen on the steps and was dead. They did ask a lot of questions about her health and medications. She took all those pills, but I always suspected she was more of a hypochondriac than actually ill. But it’s a wonder something ghastly hadn’t happened here long before now.” Cheryl waved a hand around the living room. “Just look at this.”

  Cate wasn’t certain what she was supposed to look at. The sleek furniture? The garish but probably expensive painting over the fireplace? Nothing dangerous so far as she could see. “The inside of the house isn’t nearly as gloomy as the outside,” she offered tentatively.

  “But it’s all so wrong.” Cheryl waved her arms with a fervency that Cate thought a bit overdone considering that they were talking furniture, not worldwide injustice. “My interior decorating business specializes in feng shui …” She whipped out a card and handed it to Cate.

  Interiors by Cheryl. Feng Shui to improve your environment and your life. Cheery rays streaming from a golden sun decorated the card, apparently the cheerful life you’d have if you got your environment properly feng-shuied.

  “Proper alignment makes all the difference in our lives.”

  Is that what she needed? Her own life was not exactly well-aligned. Dead-end job situation. Fizzled romantic relationships. Bad haircut. Bank balance that looked like a ten-year-old’s piggy-bank savings. Lack of success with the easy assignment Uncle Joe had given her. But she doubted any of that was because her bed wasn’t properly aligned with the door or wall. “Do you plan to live here?”

  “Live here?” Cheryl almost shuddered. “No way. We have a lovely home over in Springfield. My husband is with a prestigious stock brokerage firm here in Eugene. I don’t know what I’ll do with this place. This is a terrible time to sell, with prices so low, but renting is such a hassle. But Scott will know what to do.”

  “That’s good,” Cate murmured.

  “Now I’m going upstairs to see what that woman made off with. I know there’s a valuable squash blossom necklace, possibly an antique. Amelia and one of her husbands traveled the southwest extensively. I remember emerald earrings and a rather spectacular necklace to match. Oh, and that fabulous ruby tiara and earrings.”

  It sounded as if Cheryl had already decided Willow had stolen the jewelry. She tapped her chin with a manicured finger, and Cate suspected, given a little time, she could come up with an itemized list of every piece of jewelry Amelia owned. All of which, plus the house and whatever assets the apparently wealthy Amelia owned, now belonged to her. Cheryl didn’t look like a push-auntie-down-the-stairs type, and a dead body would surely do terrible things to the feng shui of a place, but if the stakes were high enough …

  Oh, c’mon, Cate, she mentally muttered to herself. You’re seeing suspects like termites marching out of the woodwork. The Whodunit ladies, Willow, now the niece.

  It was none of her business anyway. Her job was just to find Willow, give her the message about an inheritance from her grandmother, and provide the great-uncle with an address. Which gave her a sudden idea.

  “I don’t suppose you’d know where Willow worked before she came here? The information might help me locate her for our client.”

  The woman stopped the chin tapping. “That’s an excellent idea. Aunt Amelia must have asked for character or employer references before she hired the woman. Perhaps the information will aid the police too. If you have time, we can go upstairs to her office and take a look right now.”

  Cate almost clapped her hands. Maybe she wasn’t totally hopeless at this PI stuff after all.

  She already knew where Amelia’s office was located, but she didn’t let Cheryl know that. She just followed Cheryl up the stairs, then down the second floor hallway.

  In the small office, Cheryl opened a middle drawer of the wooden file cabinet. The numerous manila folders were neatly labeled, although their order seemed to be based on some unique interpretation of the alphabet. Appliances and warranties. Property taxes. House insurance. Bank accounts. Income tax returns.

  Cheryl’s hand hovered over the bank accounts file, as if she’d like to take a look, but apparently she decided to wait until later. Probably, Cate guessed, until her own curious eyes weren’t present. Cheryl had just pulled out a
file labeled Employees when Cate felt a brush against her legs. Cheryl spotted the cat at the same time and instantly flapped the folder at the cat.

  “Shoo! She leaves cat hair on everything. Shoo!”

  “Will you take her now?” Cate asked as the cat skidded out of the room.

  “I have two burgundy velvet chairs. Need I say more? She’s going to the animal shelter.”

  “The animal shelter?” Cate repeated, appalled. “But your aunt must have cared a great deal for her.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find her a good home.”

  “But she’s deaf.”

  Cheryl’s flutter of fingers dismissed that as not her concern.

  Cate was concerned. She kept remembering how the cat had curled so forlornly by Amelia’s arm. How, in spite of all the good efforts by the shelters, so many pets, even young, healthy, hearing ones, didn’t find homes because there were just too many of them.

  “Maybe one of the women from the book club would take her,” Cate suggested.

  “If I have time maybe I’ll call them.” The careless comment suggested that the possibility of enough time to do that was remote. “Oh, look! I think I’ve found something.”

  She had indeed. It wasn’t a formal employment application, but it had Willow’s name at the top of the page. Listed below were a few lines about each of several jobs she’d held. Stapled to the page were three references from former employers.

  “It looks as if she’s worked for several older women,” Cate said. “Do you mind if I use the copy machine to make copies of these?”

  “Help yourself. The police will probably want them too.”

  The copy machine hummed efficiently and quickly turned out clear copies. “I met the women from your aunt’s book club yesterday,” Cate said as she turned the machine off.

  “Oh yes. The Whodunit Club.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “I’ve probably met most of them at one time or another. There’s a Fiona somebody. And a woman who looked as if she’d just come in from feeding the cows. I remember her telling me, ‘You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the girl.’ ” Cheryl wrinkled her nose. Cate wasn’t sure if the distaste came from a reaction to Texie’s cowgirl outfit or the “girl” reference Texie had made to herself.

  “An interesting group,” Cate murmured.

  “And there’s a Doris. Tall and skinny, with a face like a hungry hawk. A real nosy busybody. I remember Aunt Amelia saying how the woman always wanted to know how much her shoes cost.”

  “They all seemed quite nice,” Cate said in a neutral tone.

  “Oh yes, of course. Although I think they took advantage of Aunt Amelia’s generosity.”

  “Really? In what way?”

  “Oh, you know. She was always taking them to lunches or movies or little outings of some kind. Things like that.”

  A rather different view than the Whodunit ladies had given of Amelia’s tightfisted ways. But, again, not her business. Her assignment was to find Willow.

  “I certainly do appreciate your helpfulness.” Cate folded the photocopies and stuck them in her purse. “Is the funeral service scheduled yet?”

  “Scott and I will have to discuss that. It also depends on when they release the body, of course. I don’t think Amelia would want a big fuss, so we’ll probably have something small and private at the cemetery where a couple of her husbands are buried.”

  Cate hadn’t known Amelia, but she suspected a big fuss was exactly what a woman who owned a tiara would want. “Maybe you could talk to her friends in the book club. They seemed to know her well and thought so highly of her.” Maybe a smidgen of white lie there, even though the women had spoken well of Amelia after she was dead.

  “You think so?” The niece sounded skeptical. “They struck me as a bunch of piranhas who’d happily turn on Amelia or each other over a good quiche.”

  That seemed a little harsh to Cate. But maybe not totally untrue.

  “Can you see yourself out? I want to get started on Amelia’s jewelry so I can get word to the police about what’s missing.”

  Cate started to say sure, then had second thoughts. Could this be a smoke screen? A sly proclamation of “Look how innocent I am!” to throw suspicion toward Willow and away from some involvement of her own in her aunt’s fall?

  “Could I be of any assistance?” Cate asked, all innocence herself.

  “I don’t know that I need any help. But, like I said, this place is so creepy. Like all those old husbands might still be lurking around watching.” Cheryl glanced at a ceiling corner as if expecting to find one hovering there. “So sure, c’mon. We’ll see what we can find.”

  They started down the hallway to Amelia’s bedroom, but Cheryl paused when her cell phone chirped. Cate continued on down the hall and spotted the cat hiding behind a drapery in Amelia’s bedroom. The pill bottles on the nightstand were gone now. The police must have taken them. A ceramic hand on a mirrored dressing table held several rings. They all looked like costume jewelry to Cate, but then, she had no great familiarity with real jewels. One ceramic finger was empty. Was that a place for some ring Amelia had been wearing, a ring someone had snatched off her finger? Or had someone with familiarity with real jewels snatched the only valuable one?

  Cheryl joined her a few minutes later. “Sorry for the interruption. That was Scott. He’s trying to get away from the conference as soon as he can. Even though we’ve been married for four years now, he just has to call several times a day whenever he’s out of town.”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes, and Cate interpreted the movement as Cheryl wanting to imply she was exasperated with such solicitous husbandly attention but actually being quite proud of it.

  Cheryl opened several drawers and found an old-fashioned cedar jewelry box in one. She set it on the dressing table and pushed the contents around with her forefinger.

  “The squash blossom necklace is here.” Cheryl dangled the heavy necklace of silver, turquoise, and coral from a finger. “It looks like sterling silver, but I have no idea of its value.”

  Monetary value was obviously the big factor in Cheryl’s judgment of worth, not the fact that her aunt had owned and probably treasured the necklace.

  Cheryl set the necklace beside the cedar box and rummaged further, finally grabbing a handful of jewelry and holding it up as if it were a fistful of spaghetti. “The rest of this is junk! All the good jewelry is gone. There should be emeralds. And the tiara. And I remember diamond-stud earrings too, at least a carat each.”

  “Maybe she has a home safe?”

  Cheryl, suddenly energized, dashed around the bedroom, shoving aside mirrors and paintings, pushing one so hard it crashed to the floor and shattered the frame. None of which revealed anything more than empty wall space.

  Cheryl finally paused and planted her hands on her hips. “Well, Willow definitely got herself enough here to finance an escape to Mexico or the Bahamas or somewhere. And I’m wondering now if she didn’t do more than take advantage of Aunt Amelia’s fall to steal the jewelry. Maybe she pushed her!”

  “What about a safe-deposit box?”

  Cheryl took a deep breath, sliding one hand from her throat down her chest as if to calm herself. “Amelia liked to flash her glitter. I don’t think she’d hide anything in a safe-deposit box. But I’ll check. You’ll let me know if you have any luck finding Willow?”

  Cate wondered about the client/PI ethics of that, but Cheryl was too absorbed in her loss to notice that Cate’s murmur was noncommittal. Octavia was peeking out from behind a drape now.

  “You’re definitely taking the cat to the animal shelter?” Cate asked.

  “I mentioned my burgundy velvet chairs, didn’t I? And royal blue carpeting as well.”

  Cate hesitated, feeling as if she were skidding down a path she didn’t want to take. “Maybe I could take her …”

  Shut up, mouth, she commanded. What she did not need was an oversized, spoiled felin
e with epicurean tastes.

  But maybe she could find a good home for the cat among Uncle Joe and Rebecca’s neighbors. Yes, that would work! She’d find a home for the cat and then come back and get her. But Cheryl jumped on Cate’s cautious words as if they were an offer she couldn’t refuse.

  “You can take her? What a wonderful idea! I’m sure there’s a cat carrier out in the garage.”

  So not more than five minutes later, feeling rather like a piece of flotsam carried along by an irresistible tide, Cate found herself back in her car. With Cheryl at the car window saying, “I’m sure she’ll make you a wonderful companion.”

  “But I didn’t intend—”

  “It’s been lovely meeting you. And do let me know if you locate Willow, if the police don’t beat you to it. I’ll make up a list of the missing jewelry and give it to them. Although it’s probably a lost cause if she’s already left the country.”

  Cheryl waved as she headed back to the house. Cate drove down Meisman Street feeling a little dazed. She’d come here hoping to gather information that would help her locate Willow. Instead, what she had was a backseat full of canopied cat bed, two cases of some gourmet brand of cat food, a padded scratching pole, and an enclosed litter box with the name Octavia written in gold script over an arched doorway.

  Plus a pet carrier full of spitting, clawing, yowling cat.

  4

  Cate managed to get the cat to the house without major damage to anything except her eardrums. She installed a still-yowling Octavia in her own bedroom, where the cat’s bed was considerably grander than her own. She wanted to get started on contacting Willow’s former employers, but she decided that a home for the cat took priority at the moment.

  She went around the neighborhood and enthusiastically extolled Octavia’s virtues to several people. Such beautiful blue eyes and classic white fur! Free bed, food, and litter box! Honesty made her add that the cat was deaf, but she also assured potential cat owners that this didn’t appear to be a problem. She didn’t mention that it certainly didn’t seem to hamper Octavia’s own vocal abilities. But everyone was either disinclined to enter cat ownership, already had a lone cat diva in residence, or had a feline or two they tried to pawn off on her.