by Paige Sleuth
“Lane wants to know if I can come over to shoot off some fireworks,” he said. “Can I go?”
“You can,” the brunette replied, “as long as you’re home in time for dinner.”
Presley was already jogging away. “I will be.”
They watched as he climbed onto an old bicycle propped inside the carport and started pedaling down the driveway. Kat’s heart was racing. Although she had intentionally detoured through Eunice’s neighborhood, she hadn’t actually expected to find herself talking to the woman.
Andrew would definitely not be pleased when he found out.
Presley reached the end of the driveway. He was about to veer into the street when Eunice made a motion for him to stop.
He braked. “What is it?”
Eunice walked over to him. “You need to put some air in those tires before you leave. That front one looks flat.”
Presley didn’t say anything, but he did toe the kickstand out before dashing back up the driveway.
The black cat padded over to the unattended bicycle and began giving it a thorough inspection. If there was anything besides the tires that needed attending to, he looked determined to find it.
Eunice jerked her thumb toward the carport. “That’s my son, Presley. He’s fourteen and a bit scatterbrained.”
“And you’re Eunice,” Kat said.
Eunice swayed backward a little, but before she could respond Presley reappeared with a cheap foot pump. He dropped it on the driveway and began hooking it up to the bicycle’s front wheel. The black cat appointed himself supervisor, crowding in front of Presley so he would have a front-row seat from which to watch his progress. Every time Presley moved, the black cat was right there, shoving his nose into the space the boy had vacated. If he were human he’d make an excellent micromanager.
“Have we met?” Eunice asked Kat.
“No,” Kat told her, “but your name came up in conversation yesterday.”
“My name did?” A puzzled crease bisected Eunice’s forehead.
“Clarissa LaPierre said you showed up at her house a month ago looking for her husband Jay, the attorney your ex hired to represent him during your divorce proceedings. Did you know he was murdered last night? He lives in my neighborhood, and I heard the gunshot that killed him.”
Eunice darted a look at Presley. Although he had his back to them and was diligently working on pumping air into his tires whenever the black cat gave him enough room to move, Eunice still scooted a few feet away. She gestured for Kat to join her.
“I did hear what happened to Jay,” she said, her voice low.
Kat dropped her own voice. “I take it you weren’t too fond of him.”
“You could say that.” Eunice folded her arms across her chest. “Because of him I lost custody of my son. And before you point out that he’s here now, I only have him for the holiday weekend. And that’s only because my ex decided three days off work was the perfect excuse to whisk his new girlfriend out of town.”
Gone was the soft tone Eunice had used when talking about her neighbor’s abandoned cats. Now, bitterness laced every word out of her mouth.
“It doesn’t sound like the divorce was an amicable one,” Kat commented.
Eunice barked out a laugh. “Amicable?” She swept one arm toward the house, her eyes blazing. “It’s hard to feel magnanimous when I’m living here while he’s out romancing younger women with room service and fancy hotel suites using the money he cheated me out of in our divorce.”
The orange tabby reappeared from behind the house across the street. He paused with one paw in the air as he took stock of the crowd clustered near the edge of Eunice’s driveway. He seemed about to come over to say hello when his eyes found the meal he hadn’t had a chance to finish. Reminded of his priorities, the tabby changed directions, making a beeline for the food.
The black cat hurried to join his buddy as soon as he saw where he was headed. Within no time their white counterpart had reemerged as well, and all three felines lined up in front of their respective dishes. For their sakes, Kat hoped the fireworks had momentarily ceased.
“So to answer your question,” Eunice said, “no, our divorce wasn’t amicable. But can you blame me for hanging on to some hard feelings?”
“The real question is whether you blame Jay LaPierre,” Kat said.
“I may have hated Jay LaPierre—hated that he and my ex spun all those lies about me in the courtroom—but I would never resort to taking a man’s life like that.”
Kat eyed the three cats happily chowing down, tempted to believe her. It was hard to imagine a person concerned about her neighbor’s abandoned pets gunning down another human being. On the other hand, Eunice clearly had motive.
“What did Jay say about you in court?” Kat asked.
“That I’m unfit to be a mother.”
“That’s a pretty harsh accusation.”
Some of the anger faded from Eunice’s eyes, replaced now by a profound melancholy. “It may be harsh, and the claims Jay made were greatly exaggerated, but he based everything he said on facts. Old facts, maybe, but facts nonetheless.” She drew in a breath as if to fortify herself for what she had to say next. “The truth is I was depressed once. When Presley was younger. Back then, sometimes it required all my energy merely to get out of bed. Jay—at my ex’s urging, I’m sure—used my less than ideal history of mental illness to convince the court I couldn’t be trusted with primary custody of Presley. And the court sided with him.”
Kat’s chest constricted in sympathy. How awful to have overcome your personal demons only to have them thrown back in your face years later.
Something clattered on the concrete driveway. Presley had apparently finished pumping his tires and was now back on his bike.
Eunice lifted her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Presley shoved the kickstand back using the heel of his sneaker. “Okay.”
Kat watched Presley pedal down the street. She hoped he hadn’t overheard their talk about him or Eunice’s mental health issues.
Eunice stepped away from Kat and scooped up the air pump. “I should be going. I want to put out some water for the cats before they disperse for the afternoon.”
“Do you know if they’re fixed?” Kat asked. “If not, 4F, the organization I was telling you about, could fund the surgeries. It would help to make sure no unwanted kittens show up and increase your burden.”
“They can’t have kittens. My neighbor wasn’t completely irresponsible. It just got so he could barely take care of himself, let alone three other lives.”
“That’s a generous way of putting it,” Kat replied.
Eunice hugged the air pump to her chest. “Generous, maybe. But sometimes people are faced with impossible choices. Sometimes circumstances might even demand that a person act in ways that are completely out of character. That doesn’t mean they’re inherently bad.” A shadow flitted across her face. “It also doesn’t mean their mistakes should be held against them forever and ever.”
Kat figured Eunice was alluding to her own actions while she was battling depression. She wanted to ask for details, but that seemed too intimate an inquiry for someone who was supposedly just driving by.
“Goodbye.” Eunice’s look was inscrutable as she issued the dismissal. Then, before Kat had a chance to utter a word in response, Eunice turned on her heel and hurried back into the house.
Kat returned to her car, but she didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, she watched those three cats as they finished up their meals, trying to work out whether they were lucky to have someone caring for them or unlucky to have been abandoned in the first place. She was still pondering over the answer when the cats wandered into the bushes, their tongues swiping at their lips.
It didn’t escape her notice that Eunice never had come out with that water.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Tell me again how a person accidentally runs into a murder suspect,” Andrew
said, arching one eyebrow at Kat from the barstool next to her.
Kat looked around the dining area of Taste of Tuscany, grateful for the abundance of diners inside the Italian restaurant this Saturday night. She was especially grateful the hostess hadn’t been able to seat them right away, allowing her to break the news of her morning encounter with Eunice Berkowitz from the safety of the busy bar counter. Given the close proximity of the other patrons, Andrew could only berate her so much before he risked drawing attention to themselves. She just hoped his ire died down before a much more isolated table for two opened up.
Kat rubbed her fingertip up and down the stem of her wineglass so she wouldn’t have to look at him as she launched into her story again. “After visiting with a 4F foster parent, I happened to be driving down Eunice’s street when her cat ran in front of my car.” She didn’t bother mentioning the cat in question wasn’t really Eunice’s. And she certainly wasn’t going to mention that the 4F foster parent in question lived nowhere near Mad Meadow Road. “I was worried about the cat, so I stopped and offered to help find him. We got to talking, and pretty soon her son came out of the house and she mentioned him by name. That’s when I realized she was Eunice.”
“And you just happened to be driving down her street,” Andrew repeated, deadpan.
“I told you, I had just finished visiting with a 4F foster parent.” Kat lifted her wineglass up to her face so he couldn’t see the flush staining her cheeks.
Andrew didn’t reply, but Kat could tell from the taut set of his jaw he wasn’t buying it. Still, she appreciated that he wasn’t giving her too hard of a time, even if he was only holding back because of the crowd.
“So,” Kat said, eager to escape the spotlight, “I’m surprised you made it out tonight. I figured you’d cancel so you could keep working the case.”
“I can take an hour off to eat. Besides, it’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night. There’s not much I can do at this hour in terms of questioning peo—”
His words were cut off when the patron seated on the other side of him banged his shot glass on the bar counter and shouted, “Hey!”
Andrew swiveled around. “Can I help you?”
The man blinked, as if he hadn’t realized other people were sitting at the bar until now. Although it was the weekend, he was dressed like a businessman, albeit a disheveled one. He wore a rumpled but well-fitted blue suit, and an unknotted designer tie dangled from his neck like a noose. The ‘messy upscale’ look matched the rest of the middle-aged man’s appearance. His hair appeared to be freshly cut, but stray pieces stuck out around his bald spot as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day. And his fingernails were neatly trimmed except for one thumbnail that had been chewed to the quick.
“Sorry, bud,” he said to Andrew. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He lifted his empty glass toward the female bartender. “Hey, you! Get me another, will you? And make this one a double. This is a party!”
“Coming right up,” the bartender said.
Kat craned her neck, but the couple seated on the other side of this loud man didn’t seem to be associated with him. If he had come here to party, the rest of his crew was conspicuously absent.
“Celebrating something?” Andrew asked him.
“Yeah.” He gave Andrew a sloppy grin. “Turns out I’m getting a promotion.”
“Congratulations.”
The bartender set a glass of amber liquid in front of the man and swept the empty one away in one fluid motion.
He lifted up the drink and tipped it toward the woman. “Thank you, ma’am.” He twisted toward Andrew, his glass still raised. “Let’s toast. To me.”
Andrew picked up his beer bottle and clinked glasses with him. “Cheers.”
The man downed his drink in one swallow before slamming the glass down. The sound of the heavy-bottomed object hitting the counter made Kat flinch. Somehow, the bar crowd no longer seemed like a safe haven. She looked around the restaurant, hoping a table would open up soon so she and Andrew could get on with their romantic night out.
“Hey!”
Kat jolted when she realized the man now had his sights on her. “Yes?”
He pointed his finger between her and Andrew. “You two married?”
Kat was about to tell him no when Andrew said, “Not yet.”
Kat’s gaze snapped toward his. What did that mean? She and Andrew had never even discussed marriage before, and yet his answer suggested their getting hitched was only a matter of time.
Or was Kat reading too much into his response? Maybe he’d chosen his words because a no sounded too final. Or maybe he knew Kat would agonize over his phrasing until she gave herself a headache, and this was his way of punishing her for talking to Eunice earlier.
“Don’t believe the hype,” the man said. “Or if you do, keep the name Niles Quayle in mind because one day you’ll need my services.”
“Niles Quayle,” Kat echoed, the name zapping her brain cells like an electric current. “The divorce attorney?”
“That’s right.” Niles doffed an imaginary hat. “At your service. Well, when you need my services.” He chuckled.
Kat didn’t laugh with him. She was too busy thinking about how Niles was the last known person to see Jay LaPierre alive. She was also thinking about how Jay’s death was the reason Niles had a promotion to celebrate tonight.
Motive, means, and opportunity—the trifecta necessary to execute any crime. But was Niles guilty of Jay’s murder?
The bartender paused in front of them. “You want another?” she asked Niles.
“Yep, yep.” He made a swirling motion with his hand. “Keep ’em comin’ till I say stop or I fall off this stool, whichever comes first.”
“I take it you’re not driving,” Kat said.
“Nope. I did that designated driver thing last night. Didn’t turn out too well. So now I’m leaving things up to the professionals.” Niles plucked his BlackBerry off of the bar counter and waved it around like a flag. “I’ve got a cab on speed dial.”
Andrew snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You drove Jay LaPierre home yesterday night, didn’t you? Right before he was shot.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t shoot him. He was walking toward his house last I saw him.”
“Do you mind talking to me about that?” Andrew pulled out his badge and flashed it at Niles. “I’m investigating his death.”
Niles didn’t pay any attention to Andrew or his credentials. The bartender had just returned with another drink, which seemed to have captured his full attention.
Andrew put his badge back in his pocket. “How come you didn’t wait to make sure LaPierre made it inside before you drove off?”
“What is he, an eight-year-old girl?” Niles snorted. “My job was to get him back to his house. That’s it. I wasn’t his chaperone. Besides, the night was still young, and I wanted to get back to the pub.”
Kat took in Niles’s sloppy appearance, the way he swayed on his stool, and how he was knocking back drinks like an alcoholic fresh off the wagon. She had a hard time believing anyone would choose this man as their designated driver. He didn’t strike her as the type of person who would voluntarily abstain from drinking.
Granted, her opinion was based on one five-minute encounter. Maybe she was being unfair. For all she knew he was making up for all the drinks he hadn’t been able to consume the night before. Or maybe he hoped all that alcohol would help him to forget what had happened to Jay. But in that case, was he drowning his sorrows or his guilt? Like Clarissa LaPierre had suggested, maybe Niles wasn’t above killing a colleague in order to become one of his law firm’s partners.
The thought made Kat shiver.
“Hey,” Niles said, his voice so loud he turned a few heads in the dining room. “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a throw rug?”
Kat frowned, not from the question but from Niles’s buoyant delivery. Was it normal for a man whose coworker had been murdered to be acting
so cheerful less than twenty-four hours later?
“One gets paid to lie.” Niles snorted at his own joke, then rewarded himself with a swallow from the drink in front of him.
“Cute,” Andrew said. “Now if we could return to the matter of Jay LaPi—”
“Hey!” Niles swiveled around with such force he nearly toppled off the barstool. He held his glass up in the bartender’s general direction, liquid sloshing over the sides. “This one’s not a double. Make yourself useful and get me another one, will you?”
The bartender didn’t stop what she was doing, but she did shift her attention to the lawyer. “Don’t you think you should slow down?”
“Would I order another if I did?” He let out a laugh.
Kat wondered if he could hear the slur in his words, or how his laugh sounded a bit off, as if he couldn’t lift his tongue high enough in his mouth. It was clear this party for one had been going on for a while now.
The hostess appeared next to Andrew. “Your table’s ready if you’d like to follow me.”
“You’re leaving?” Niles said.
“We are.” Andrew fished a business card out of his shirt pocket. “But I still have some questions for you about Jay LaPierre. Why don’t you come into the station tomorrow. The address is on there.”
Niles waved the card aside as if it were a pesky fly. “I know where the station is. I’ll see you there.”
Andrew set his card on the counter and pushed it toward Niles anyway. Then he turned around and took Kat’s hand as the hostess led them through the dining area.
“Well, that was interesting,” Andrew murmured.
Kat leaned closer to him. “Now do you see how a person can accidentally run into a murder suspect?”
Andrew groaned, and Kat squelched a smile. She loved it when the universe had her back.
CHAPTER SIX
The neighborhood fireworks had resumed by the time Andrew dropped Kat off at her apartment. She found Matty and Tom camped out under the bed again and was tempted to crawl under there and join them herself. She was exhausted, and she wasn’t looking forward to a long night with a pillow clamped over her head so she could drown out the noise and, hopefully, get some sleep.
