Cat Among the Fishes

by Louise Clark

  That made Tamara laugh as he hoped it would. “Have you seen the goats yet?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “They’ve gone AWOL.” He pushed away from the tree. “Maybe we should circumnavigate the building and see if they have a pen in the back and are hiding out there.”

  “Sure,” said Tamara.

  They headed off, sauntering along the street side of the building, then rounding the corner toward its rear. There, several enormous maple trees shaded the roof creating a picturesque image. A little crowd had gathered and people were pointing. Sledge looked up and laughed. “I can’t believe it! They really do exist.”

  Perched comfortably on the slope of the sod roof were three goats. One, almost completely white, was lying down, legs folded neatly beneath him—or her, Sledge wasn’t sure which—while the other two were arranged on either side of the reclining goat. None of them were paying any attention to the others as they ate the grass growing on the roof with efficient determination. Sledge aimed his phone and took a few pictures, then he arranged Tamara and took a selfie of himself with her, and the goats behind.

  “I’ll send it to you,” he said as they both turned around to look at the roof once more. “Want me to send a copy to your parents too?”

  “That would be great,” she said. He thought she looked more relaxed and happy than she had when they first met a couple of months ago. Their vacation must be doing her good. For some reason that pleased him.

  The goat that had been lying down got up and headed back toward the street side of the building. One of the other goats, a piebald black and white, looked up then slowly followed, leaving the third still eating. Sledge and Tamara followed the wandering pair back the way they’d come.

  Near the tree where he’d been standing when Tamara met up with him, they found Chad Davis, his father’s MLA, juggling two full shopping bags, while he tried to snap pictures of the goats with his phone. The goats were moving slowly across the roof, not cooperating with the tourists trying to take photographs, like Chad.

  This was an opportunity Sledge wasn’t about to miss. Davis was one of the people who had been with Shane Higginson the afternoon before he died, so he was one of the suspects in the man’s murder. Sledge intended to see what he could find out from him.

  He advanced on the MLA and said, “Hi. You’re Chad Davis, aren’t you? I’m Rob McCullagh. My dad is one of your constituents. You were talking to him at the fish farm info session the other day.”

  Davis automatically nodded and smiled in a pleasant, impersonal way. “Of course. Nice to meet you.”

  Sledge grinned, his sense of humor kicking in. He’d bet the future of his band the guy didn’t remember anything about the conversation. “If you’d like, I’ll hold your bags while you grab your pictures.” Since he wanted more from Davis than some nothing chitchat, he took off the ball cap he wore as his disguise, and pretended to rub the sweat from his forehead.

  Davis’ eyes widened. “Rob McCullagh? Sledge?”

  Sledge winked and put his finger to his lips in a classic shushing gesture. Tamara stared at him as if he’d gone crazy.

  “Wow,” said Chad. He handed his bags to Tamara. She accepted them with a perplexed frown.

  “Let’s do a selfie. You, me, and the goats,” Sledge said, winking at him again.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Chad. “My wife and kids will love this.”

  Satisfied Davis was suitably starstruck, Sledge played up for the camera as they took several selfies. Davis then snapped pictures of the goats until they’d wandered out of range. He was in a distinctly good mood, grinning happily as he checked the images he’d taken.

  As Sledge shoved his ball cap back on, he decided it was time to find out what Chad Davis knew about Shane Higginson’s murder. “Someone told me—my dad, I think—that you’re up here to decide if the fish farm will go through.”

  Relaxed a minute before, Davis slipped quickly into politician mode as he nodded. His cheerful expression smoothed into a serious one and he said, “Yes. The Premier asked me to look into the details for him. Fish farming is an important part of the province’s economy, but recent claims that open net pens degrade the environment and harm the wild salmon are disturbing.”

  Sledge nodded. “It’s a tough one.” He shot Davis a friendly grin. “Any hints on which way you’re leaning?”

  Davis reclaimed his bags from Tamara with polite thanks, then said to Sledge, “I’ll be honest with you. My personal preference would be to not issue the license, but I have to keep the bigger picture in mind. Shane Higginson was a persuasive man and he was backed up by impressive academic credentials.”

  “You’re talking about Normal Laing.”

  “Yes. We had dinner the evening of the public meeting. His scientific support for the new process Progressive Fish Farms plans for the facility is very strong.”

  “I understand Adam Farnsworth is also well respected and scientifically innovative,” Sledge said, cocking his head and doing his best to look serious and intellectual.

  He must have succeeded. “Ah yes, the inland pen option.” Davis grimaced. “Norm and Adam got into quite a verbal sparring match over inland verses open water fish farms. It began as an intellectual debate, but when Shane decided to join in, it turned into a shouting match.” He shrugged. “There was no point in my staying for that, so I said my good-byes.”

  Standing behind Davis, Tamara gave Sledge a narrowed-eye look, but he ignored it. “And Laing stopped arguing and said he’d join you for dinner, just like that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sledge shrugged. “From the way you described the debate, I’d have expected Laing to stick around and make sure he trounced his academic rival.”

  Davis stared at him for a long moment, then he said, “Shane gave him a signal to break off and go with me.”

  “Mr. Davis,” Tamara said. She sounded shocked.

  He shrugged. “Shane knew my decision was important. Norm was his…” He grimaced again. “His boy.” When Sledge raised his brows, Davis held up his hand. “I’ve known Shane Higginson and Norm Laing a long time. Norm would do anything for Shane, including lobbying to ensure his business venture is a success. Adam Farnsworth, on the other hand. Well, Adam and Shane were oil and water. There’s no way he’d ever help out Shane and if he could do him a disservice? He’d be there.”

  Was Chad Davis deliberately casting suspicion on Adam Farnsworth? At dinner last night, when they’d discussed Patterson’s conversation with Christy and Quinn, it seemed Farnsworth was just one of many suspects—along with Chad Davis and Norman Laing. Now here was Davis identifying an old rivalry and implying it was still active.

  That didn’t sound good for Adam Farnsworth. Laing and Davis appeared to provide alibis for each other, but it would be interesting to know how Davis really felt about Shane Higginson. Sledge added a taunt to his voice as he said, “So now that Shane Higginson is dead, is it easier to look at the big picture, Chad?”

  Eyes narrowed, Davis said, “What do you mean?”

  Sledge shrugged. “Maybe Higginson made it worth your while to recommend that his company’s new installation be okayed.”

  “Are you suggesting Shane bribed me?”

  Davis sounded so shocked at the accusation that Sledge believed him. Still, he nodded as he added, “Or maybe he threatened you.”

  “Well, he didn’t. He couldn’t. The Premier didn’t give him advance warning that I’d be coming up. Shane had been in talks with the Fisheries Minister, but that’s not me.”

  A disgruntled expression flashed across his face. Sledge had to stifle a grin.

  “The Premier knows I’m from this area and that Shane and I went to high school together. He wanted me to find out if Shane was on the up and up, in a way that corporate discussions wouldn’t show. Shane was a powerful motivator and Norm truly believes in his scientific position, but in the end I think there are too many questions for the government to move forward with the project
and grant it a license.”

  “So that’s what you’re going to tell the Premier. What will the Fisheries Minister have to say?”

  For a moment, Davis was silent. Then he said with a sigh, “The Premier and the Minister had pretty much made up their minds.”

  “And?” Sledge asked, raising his brows.

  “The announcement will be made soon, but with Shane dead, I expect it will not be in Progressive Fish Farms’ favor.”

  Sledge grinned at him. “My environmentalist friends and I thank you for that decision.”

  Davis allowed himself a small smile. “I need to be on my way. It was nice meeting you, Sledge.”

  Sledge nodded and let him go. He watched as the man hurried through the parking lot to his car.

  Tamara said, “You were questioning him about the murder.”

  Sledge nodded. “I don’t think he’s the killer.”

  “Hunting for murderers isn’t your job.” She sounded exasperated.

  Sledge shrugged. “Nope. You’re right.” Then he grinned. “But it sure is fun.”

  “There’s always a crowd,” Roy said as they all gathered at a sign that provided the history of Cathedral Grove.

  There was no admission; parking was simply a widening on either side of the highway, and people were everywhere. “All the paths end up coming back here, so you can’t get lost. You wander through at your own pace. Shall we start?”

  They tromped off, Roy leading the way, the pockets of his cargo shorts bulging with something he’d bought at Goats on the Roof. The trees, enormous Douglas fir that were hundreds of years old, swallowed them up immediately.

  “Wow,” Noelle said, craning her neck to see the tops of the giants as they rose high into the sky, their branches providing a cover that turned the early afternoon dim. “It’s a good thing Stormy can’t climb trees. What would we do if he got stuck way up top?”

  “It’s a good thing he decided to stay in the car after what happened at Goats on the Roof,” Christy muttered and Noelle giggled. There’d been an unfortunate incident at the tourist spot when Stormy decided to stalk the goats. At first, the three animals had seemed unconcerned about his presence on their roof, but when he pounced, narrowly missing the piebald goat, which was reclining on the roof at the time, all three goats took fright and galloped away. The result was clumps of turf being kicked up by their racing hooves, tourists screaming, and very angry shop owners. Stormy managed to slink away and find cover, but it was a close run thing.

  The path curved and a boardwalk jutted out into a section of the forest where the old growth trees had been felled by gale force winds twenty years before. With the immense trees no longer creating a shady canopy, new growth of Bigleaf Maple and other broad-leafed trees that required sunlight to thrive had replaced the towering Douglas firs.

  Their party thinned out into a straggly line as they wandered down a path spongy from years of falling needles. Noelle skipped along in the forefront, while Roy, just behind her, pointed out aspects of the old growth forest as she went. Ellen and Trevor followed them, holding hands, Christy noted with some amusement, as she wandered along just behind. Somewhere further back were Sledge, Quinn, and Tamara. When Noelle stopped to climb on a pile of logs created from the trunk of a fallen giant, they bunched up again, and Christy made a point of getting her daughter to pose for a picture. She sensed Sledge coming up beside her.

  “Looks like fun,” he said and she laughed.

  “Are you planning to do some climbing yourself?”

  He grimaced. “If I did someone would take a picture of me and we’d have the whole crowd on top of us.”

  “Watch the moss, Noelle,” she called, as her daughter decided to climb higher. The tree trunk had been there for decades, slowly being absorbed back into the eco system and the moss growing along the sides and tops was part of the decay process.

  “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “I talked to Chad Davis at Goats on the Roof,” Sledge said, watching Noelle.

  Christy sucked in a breath as Noelle teetered momentarily, before she found solid footing and made it to the top.

  “Take a picture, Mom!” she demanded, waving her arms triumphantly.

  Christy took a picture, listening idly as Sledge told her about Davis’ movements on the night of the murder. From what Patterson had said, Adam was a suspect because he’d been one of those with Higginson on the day he died, but he was one of many. She’d help if need be, but this was her holiday and she wanted to focus on her daughter and the sunshine, not a murder.

  When Sledge was finished his description, he waited, eyebrows raised, clearly expecting input. “So Davis left early on,” she said, waving back at Noelle. “Got it, kiddo!”

  “Along with Norman Laing, apparently.”

  Quinn and Tamara, who had been pulling up the rear, came up beside them. “Brave little girl,” Tamara said with a smile.

  Christy, proud mother to her core, was always happy to hear praise for her daughter. She smiled at Tamara, feeling more charitable toward the other woman than she usually did.

  Sledge looked at Quinn. “Did Tamara tell you we talked to Chad Davis while we were at Goats on the Roof?”

  Quinn shot a quick look at Tamara, then shook his head. Sledge filled him in on Davis’ movements, ignoring Tamara’s frown.

  “So Laing and Davis went off together, leaving Dean Kelloway, the mayor, and Rhonda Hicks, the councilor, together with Adam Farnsworth and Shane Higginson,” Quinn said, sounding thoughtful. “Farnsworth admits he was last to leave. I wonder when the other two did.”

  Noelle began a cautious descent from the top of the pile of massive logs. Christy watched, her heart pounding. She heard Tamara say, “Honestly, this is none of our business! The police will sort out the details and solve the crime.”

  A part of her agreed with Tamara, but another part was annoyed. She and Quinn had solved four murders together, one of them the murder of Tamara’s birth father, in which Tamara had been the chief suspect. Without the work she and Quinn had done, Tamara would still be languishing in jail, perhaps preparing for a trial that might send her to prison for life. It seemed disrespectful for her to be so dismissive of their sleuthing habits, even if Christy didn’t particularly want to get involved this time round.

  She dragged her gaze away from Noelle to take a quick look at Quinn. He was staring at Tamara, his expression showing nothing. Then he smiled, that slow, amused smile that Christy found so very sexy, and said, “Blame it on the reporter in me. I’m always looking for the facts and once I have them, I can’t help putting them into a pattern.”

  After he finished, Tamara stood stiffly for a moment, then she relaxed and smiled back. “I get it,” she said. “It’s just an intellectual exercise. I can accept that.”

  But was it? Deliberately not looking at the other two, Christy turned her gaze back to Noelle, who was almost down to the ground now. Quinn had always seemed terribly invested in the murders they investigated. She didn’t think their sleuthing had been nothing but than a game to him. Did he mind having Tamara trivialize the very important work he’d done with her, Christy?

  As Noelle jumped to the spongy ground, landing with the flourish of an Olympic gymnast, Sledge said cheerfully, “The only way to find out is to ask them.”

  Find out what and ask who? She frowned, then remembered Sledge’s information, which had set Tamara off. Who was the mayor and councilor. What was when they last saw Higginson.

  Tamara glared at Sledge, who smiled, then winked at her. She appeared to be taking the idea of investigating a murder as a personal slight. Or was it that she was one of those people who just liked to boss other people around and always expected to get her way?

  With Tamara’s expression so disapproving, and Sledge looking both eager and mischievous, something naughty in Christy leapt into life. She said without thinking, “When do you want to do it?”

  “You can’t,” said Tamara.

  “Sure we can,” sai
d Sledge as Noelle scampered back onto the path, heading for her mom.

  “Putting the pieces together is one thing. Going out and finding them is another,” Tamara said.

  “I want to do it,” Sledge said. He sounded happy, as if hunting down suspects in a murder case was the best entertainment he’d had in weeks.

  “Honestly,” said Tamara.

  Noelle ran into Christy, landing against her with enough force to have her staggering backward. “Careful!” she said.

  “That was so much fun,” Noelle said. She hugged Christy, then danced down the path to where Ellen and Trevor were standing a little apart, watching the scene unfold. “Did you see me, Aunt Ellen? I made it to the top! Mom has pictures!”

  When Quinn said nothing, Christy smiled at Sledge. “I’ll come with you. We’ll figure out a time back at the campsite.”

  “Deal,” said Sledge.

  Quinn frowned and Tamara glared.

  Chapter 9

  Sandcastle building always went better when Stormy wasn’t around to help out. After their day at Goats on the Roof and Cathedral Grove, the marine cloud cover that had driven them inland blew away and the sun was shone brightly. Today would be another hot, lazy day.

  Roy decided he’d stay at the campsite to work on his project while the others went down to the beach. After his adventures the previous day, the cat elected to stay up in the campsite with Roy, so Christy set up her beach chair under the umbrella and settled down to watch Noelle from afar.

  It wasn’t long before the Farnsworth kids showed up. Haley scampered over to the tidal pool where Noelle was energetically building her sandcastle and set to work, adding her own components to Noelle’s structure. Dylan convinced his dad to participate too, and for a while the two males worked on a separate castle. Today, Adam Farnsworth appeared distracted—no surprise there!—so the castle building didn’t last very long. He went back to the spot where his wife, along with Patterson and her husband, had set up their chairs. Dylan abandoned his castle and took to hunting crabs in the tidal pool. Noelle and Haley continued to build their castle.