Cat Among the Fishes

by Louise Clark

  Quinn looked abashed, as if he hadn’t realized how much Tamara disliked their investigating. Sledge just shot her an amused glance. It took a lot to ruffle Sledge, and it appeared Tamara didn’t have the weapons needed to do it.

  Christy said quietly, “Billie Patterson is a friend of mine and Adam Farnsworth is her brother-in-law. She’s involved and she’s asked for my help. I’m happy to give it. In the past Quinn and his father and Trevor have helped brainstorm ideas and look for motives. I understand if you feel uncomfortable talking about a murder—”

  “Why would you think that?” Tamara said. There was an edge to her voice and her eyes were hard.

  Because you spent days in detention accused of murdering your natural father, Christy thought. Tamara, for some reason, was looking for a fight. Christy wasn’t prepared to do battle with her. “But I don’t. I’ve helped Detective Patterson solve four so far. I don’t see why I shouldn’t help her solve a fifth.”

  “You’re poking your nose in where it shouldn’t be,” Tamara said.

  The words flipped a trigger in Christy’s mind. She put her coffee cup into the saucer with a snap and said, “That’s what got you into trouble, isn’t it?”

  Tamara sucked in her breath. “What do you mean?”

  “Sticking your nose where you shouldn’t,” Christy said. “Going out into third world hot spots to help people you don’t know.”

  Tamara whitened, then flushed. “My work was different. I was helping in a human tragedy that was international in scale. Innocent people swept up into violence because they had no power. Victims of conflicts they had no control over! They needed my help and I gave it, gladly.”

  “Exactly,” Christy said.

  “Your point?” Tamara said coldly.

  “Talking about motives, digging up new facts, it may all be little more than speculation, but if we can find some clues that help solve this murder, we’ll be helping a friend.”

  “It’s not the same,” Tamara said.

  “No, it’s not. Hundreds of people aren’t at risk. We’re not in danger, but I think the desire to help is the same.” Glancing away from Tamara she saw Sledge was leaning back in his chair, watching the fireworks in his usual relaxed way, but Quinn was frowning. Time to move on. She shrugged. “But I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

  Tamara simply pursed her lips. Clearly, she wasn’t agreeing to anything.

  Christy smiled at her. “I’ll tell you this, though. I’m going to keep helping my friend look for the real killer so her brother-in-law doesn’t get charged with murder. Because that’s what I do.”

  Chapter 12

  The next day dawned with a marine overcast that quickly burned off into a blue cloudless sky.

  A beach day was clearly called for, which suited Christy just fine, since her night had been a restless one as she stewed about the argument at dinner. She was rather glad when Quinn and Tamara decided to spend the day exploring the area. It meant she wouldn’t have to be polite to the other woman all day and she could relax.

  Ellen and Trevor also went off. Their destination was an art gallery in one of the larger local towns. Roy stayed up at the campsite to write, and the cat decided to stay with him and snooze in his tent. That left Christy, Sledge, and Noelle to go down to the beach.

  The day assumed it’s usual structure, with the adults lounging under the umbrella and Noelle determinedly building a sandcastle. The Farnsworth kids appeared about an hour after Christy’s group. They were escorted by Heather and Adam, who waved, but settled some distance away.

  The kids dug in the sand. Castles were built and demolished. They went down to the water to swim and play several times. In between, Christy and Sledge discussed the murder and speculated on whether or not the mayor had been truthful in his statements, or if he was hiding something. After a while, Christy picked up a book and began to read. Beside her Sledge started to hum, a tune Christy didn’t think she’d ever heard before. She smiled to herself and focused on her book.

  Eventually, she stretched and looked at the sky. From the placement of the sun, it was about mid-afternoon. The humming had stopped and she couldn’t tell if Sledge was awake or napping behind his wrap around sunglasses. “I should go back up to the camp. I’m cooking tonight and I need to buy groceries.”

  “I think I’ll stay here,” he said.

  Awake then.

  “Okay. Noelle, I’m going shopping. Pack up. We’re going back to camp.”

  Noelle trudged over from her sandcastle, which sprawled over a considerable part of the shoreline of the local tidal pool. “Awe, Mom. I wanted to go down for another swim.”

  “She can stay with me,” Sledge said. He lifted his glasses so she could see his eyes. They were serious, not a hint of mischief in them.

  “Can I, Mom?”

  Christy looked from her daughter’s pleading face to Sledge’s serious one. “Well…”

  “I’m working out some chords,” he said to Christy. Turning to Noelle he said, “Want to help me with some harmonies while we go for a swim?”

  Her eyes widened. Noelle was no more immune to the lure of Sledge of SledgeHammer than any other fan. “Yeah! Can I, Mom? Please?”

  Christy laughed. “Okay.” She gathered her stuff. “You listen to Sledge when you’re in the water.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Noelle’s eyes were bright with excitement.

  Christy held out a bottle. “Time for more sunscreen. The sun reflects off the water and it’s been a couple of hours since you last put some on.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Noelle dutifully took the bottle and started to slather lotion on her arms.

  “Mother hen,” Sledge said. His eyes were twinkling now.

  Christy shot him a disapproving glance and he chuckled. A few minutes later she was headed up to the campsite while Sledge and Noelle ambled toward the incoming tide.

  Up at the camp, she discovered Quinn and Tamara had returned. Roy was stretching and packing up his computer. “Where’s Noelle and Sledge?” he asked.

  “Still down at the beach.” She put her bag on the end of the table. “I’m cooking tonight, so I need to pick up some groceries.”

  “It’s my turn tomorrow,” Tamara said. “I thought I’d do some simple Mediterranean dishes, so we need to bring in supplies. Quinn and I were making a list, then going to the grocery store in town to shop. Why don’t we come with you? With three of us, the shopping will be finished more quickly.”

  “I’m heading down to the beach,” Roy said. “Cat! You want to go fishing?”

  Stormy’s head appeared in the opening of his small tent. Sure.

  Tamara cocked her head in a confused way and Quinn shot his father a frowning look. Roy winked then sauntered over to his tent to change.

  It took a while to go over what they had on hand, then make a list of what was needed for the two meals, plus breakfasts and lunches as well. Roy waved as he headed off to the beach in his bathing suit, a towel over his shoulder, and the cat wending his way around his feet as he walked. Then there was only the three of them checking off items and adding others to a list which Quinn built on his phone.

  An hour after she’d returned to the campsite, Christy had changed into slacks and a top and was in the local grocery store. She followed Tamara, who’d taken charge of the grocery buggy, and Quinn, who wandered beside her, his nose in his phone, consulting their list. When Quinn and Tamara stopped at the fish counter, she continued on to the meat display, looking for good quality steaks. Her list was in her head.

  She’d found several packets of well-marbled, bone-in rib steaks when Tamara joined her. Quinn remained at the fish counter and appeared to be crossing items off the all-important list.

  “There’s a lot of fat in that cut,” Tamara said. She scanned the display and picked up a packet of boneless round steak. “This is a much better choice. It’s lean, with virtually no fat.” She put that, and a second one into the buggy.

  Christy stared at it. He
r father, who was a barbeque fanatic and whose favorite summer occupation was cooking alfresco, had made a study of the best cuts of meat to cook over an open fire. Her mother affectionately called him the Barbeque King.

  The Barbeque King didn’t approve of round steak.

  Christy looked at her luscious rib steaks. She could hear her father’s voice, gleefully pointing out that the veins of fat marbling the meat promised tenderness. Especially when the meat was cooked rare or, even better, blue. She switched her gaze to the round and almost shuddered.

  To be fair, Tamara was a doctor and doctors were keen on reducing the amount of saturated fat people ate. She was only doing what her training dictated. And she was probably right. But still. They were on holiday, Christy had a table full of hungry men to feed, and men liked nothing better than a perfectly cooked rib steak.

  So said the Barbeque King.

  She smiled at Tamara and tried to be assertive, not bitchy. “It’s okay. I’ll take these.”

  Tamara frowned. “But…”

  “I’m off to the spice aisle. The Barbeque King says to rub the meat with a special seasoned salt before barbequing.”

  “The Barbeque King? Is that some kind of celebrity chef?” Tamara asked. She sounded disapproving.

  “You could say that.” Christy smiled and wandered away as Tamara plucked the round steaks from her basket to return them to the display. Christy noticed she was shaking her head.

  She intended to go straight to the spice aisle, but then decided she needed a buggy of her own, since she’d refused to dump her precious rib steaks into the one Tamara was managing. She changed direction and headed back to the entrance to pick one up. To get there, she passed Quinn.

  He noted her armful of steak packages with raised brows and followed her to the buggy rack. “What’s up?”

  She tossed the packets into the buggy. “The Barbeque King recommends rib steak. Tamara thinks it’s too fatty. I figured I needed my own transport for my groceries.”

  “O…kay.” His eyes searched her face. “I get that, I think. Who’s the Barbeque King?”

  She laughed and pushed the cart into the wide aisle that ran the width of the store. “My dad. During the summer, he barbeques the family dinner every night. My parents are talking about moving to Vancouver after they retire. My mom claims it’s because Dad figures he can barbeque all year round. She says she’s looking forward to Christmas turkey cooked on an open grill.”

  They passed the spice aisle. Christy decided she’d pick up the salts on the way out. First, she’d choose the vegetables she needed. Tamara planned to buy vegetables too, but she was still on the meat side of the store. Christy wanted to select her produce on her own.

  Except Quinn came with her. She wondered about that even as he said, “Why don’t you invite your parents out for Christmas this year?” His eyes gleamed. “You can give your dad a foretaste of barbeque dreams to come.”

  Christy laughed and was about to reply when she saw a woman in a trim pantsuit standing over a display of strawberries packaged in cardboard baskets with promises that the berries were both fresh and local printed in large letters on the side. “That’s Rhonda Hicks.”

  “The councilor?”

  “Yeah. Sledge and I tried to interview her yesterday, but she was away from her office.” She glanced at Quinn. Tamara had made it clear that she didn’t think they should be poking their noses into the murder investigation. Would Quinn follow her lead and turn away?

  “Well,” he said, sounding pleased. “She’s here now. Let’s see what we can find out.”

  A little part of her heart expanded. She took a deep breath, nodded, and aimed her cart in Rhonda’s direction. “Hello,” she said. “You’re Rhonda Hicks, a local councilor, aren’t you?”

  The woman looked up and nodded. She had a strong bone structure that would help her age well and a shrewd expression in her eyes. “That’s correct,” she said. Her small smile was practiced and very professional. Evidently, she was used to being accosted by the public-at-large in any public place. “Can I help you with something?”

  Christy decided to go with the persona she’d used at the town hall with Sledge, or as close to it as she could pushing a large buggy full of meat in a grocery store. “My friend and I were by your office yesterday. He’s thinking of buying property in the area and wanted some background information.”

  Rhonda Hicks’ eyes lit up. She flicked a glance at Quinn and the light dimmed a little. Clearly he wasn’t who she expected to see. “You’re Sledge’s assistant?”

  Christy nodded and Rhonda laughed. “The two of you had all of city hall in an uproar.”

  “He tends to do that,” Quinn murmured.

  Rhonda laughed again. “I’m sorry I missed him. How can I help?”

  Christy told her Sledge’s concerns about the fish farm and his environmental views. “Is there a chance the fish farm will go forward?”

  The mention of the fish farm had Rhonda frowning. “You were at the information session, weren’t you?”

  Ten points for her perceptiveness, Christy thought as she nodded.

  “So you know about the arguments that went on after your cat went… fishing.”

  Christy nodded again.

  Rhonda sighed. “Adam Farnsworth is passionate about his inland farms theory. I’m not sure if Norman Laing believes as strongly in the open net method, or if he is just more of a traditionalist. Open net pens have been around for years now and they are a huge industry. Norm always liked to fit in, and he’d do what he thought would impress Shane. That was the way it was when we were teens. I wouldn’t put it past Shane to have used Norm to ensure he got the license he wanted.”

  “Were you onside with having a fish farm installation in Loyal Scotsman’s Bay?” Quinn asked.

  Rhonda shrugged. “I was on the fence, which was why I stayed afterward to listen to Norm and Adam debate. I decided I’d had enough when I realized Shane was egging Norm on and that Adam was getting more angry than passionate. Like Norm, Shane always knew how to wind Adam up.” She shook her head. “When Chad and Norm left, the debate turned nasty. Shane trying to bully Adam into shutting up, and Adam fighting back.” She heaved a sigh. “So predictable. Adam always resisted, even when his brother Greg wasn’t there to support him. After Dean left, I stuck around for a while until I couldn’t take it any more. Then I went.”

  “Why did you stay that long?” Christy asked. The situation didn’t sound pleasant. It was surprising Rhonda hadn’t left when Davis and Laing did.

  “I thought maybe I could convince them to stop arguing and go their separate ways, but neither of them was willing to compromise.” Shrugging she added, “Then I wondered if Shane was trying to impress me, like he used to when we dated in high school. He was a possessive guy back then. While he was with a girl, he bristled at any other guys on the scene.” She stared fiercely at the strawberries. “I’m married now—happily!—and I didn’t want to give him any ideas, so I decided my best course of action was to get out of there and leave them to it.”

  “With Shane Higginson dead, do you think the fish farm will go ahead?” Quinn asked.

  Rhonda shrugged. “That’s up to Chad Davis and the provincial government. They’re the ones who will decide on whether to issue a license or not. We’ll have to wait and see.” She lifted a basket of strawberries, inspected it, then put it in her cart. She added a vague smile in their direction.

  The interview was over. “Thanks for talking to us,” Christy said.

  Rhonda nodded just as Tamara came up and joined them. They all got back to grocery shopping.

  Chapter 13

  The Barbeque King was right—rib steaks cooked over an open fire were delicious. They were a big hit, too. Christy couldn’t help feeling a bit smug as first one, then another, of the men sighed over tender, rare, moist steak, seasoned with salts to keep the juices in and a hint of spice to give the meat a kick.

  She had to admit Tamara was a good s
port about eating her own portion of saturated fat infused beef without stooping to critical comments on the damage it might be doing to their bodies.

  With that in mind, Christy didn’t bring up what they’d learned from Rhonda Hicks at the grocery store as they all sat around the fire enjoying an after dinner coffee. Neither did Quinn. Instead, Sledge pulled out his guitar and played the song he’d been working on at the beach. He’d added some words to the melody and was surprisingly receptive to comments and ideas. The result was a lot of laughter and good will.

  The next morning, Christy was enjoying her first cup of coffee with Roy and Ellen when Patterson appeared at the entryway to their campsite. She’d taken the road and walked around the bend rather than using the short cut through the greenbelt. Christy’s brows rose. This must be a formal visit. She wondered what was up.

  “Good morning,” Patterson said. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Ellen said coolly, “We are not dressed to receive visitors.” Which was true. They were all still in the various clothes they used for sleeping, but it wasn’t as if they were in nightgowns or pajamas. Christy slept in shorts and a T-shirt. Ellen used yoga pants and a knit top, while Roy had on jogging pants and a T-shirt. Christy didn’t bother to change before she headed to the bathroom in the mornings and she figured that was about as public as you could get.

  Patterson’s expression blanked. Clearly, her opening comment was meant to be a polite social nicety. She hadn’t expected it to be taken literally. “I’ll be quick, then. Heather has decided to take the kids to Loyal Scotsman’s Falls Park this morning and I promised to go along with her. I thought Noelle might enjoy the outing, so I came by to invite her, and you too, Christy, to come with us.”

  “When are you leaving?” Christy gave her a rueful smile. “Noelle’s not up yet and she’s slow to get going in the morning.” Truthfully, she could get Noelle ready for the day in about fifteen minutes if she had to, but she wanted to give herself a few minutes to figure out why Patterson was issuing the invitation. Because, from the way she phrased the request, it was Patterson not Heather who wanted Noelle and Christy to come along.