by Molly Fitz
“Is that why you were in the catio earlier?”
“We all have to rotate through there during our shifts, but I might spend a little more time in there than the others because I can count some of the time toward school.” She winked, both eyes crinkling at the corners. “And like I said, favorite part of the job.”
Glancing out the window at the investigation, I asked, “You hear anyone say anything about what’s going on or when we should be able to get on the road?”
“Just that it’s ongoing. Sorry.”
I pinched my lips to the side. “Wonder if they’d let me go get my laptop and camera. I have some work I should be doing.”
“Worth a shot to ask,” Amy said as she scooped ice into my cup. “Still got another minute before I’m done with this.”
“You’re right.” I headed outside in search of the officer who had taken my information when I got off the bus.
He was standing at the far side of the bus, talking with a blond-haired man in khakis and a short-sleeved polo holding a case. I held my hand up to catch his attention, and he held up a finger, telling me to wait a moment.
When the two men were done, they both headed in my direction, the man with the case continuing to the bus as Officer Duvall stopped in front of me.
“Something I can help you with?” he asked, squaring his shoulders.
“Is there any way I could go get my laptop and camera from the bus?”
“I can’t let you on the bus right now. And besides, weren’t you sitting in front of Mr. Meyers?”
“Oh, that was his name?” Much better than Mr. Thumbs-up. “Yes, I was sitting in front of him.”
He shook his head. “Can’t have you possibly contaminating evidence or ending up in the way of the investigation.”
“Is there any way you could get it for me?” I tried my best at looking sweet and batting my eyelashes without making myself feel like an idiot. “I’d like to get some work done if we’re going to be here a while longer.”
“Remind me of your work?”
“I’m a travel blogger.”
He sighed hard. “Can’t you do some of that on your phone?”
“Sure, I can. And I’ve already done some of it, but it’s easier on my laptop. And besides, some of my photos still need to be loaded online. That I can’t do with my phone.”
He seemed to perk up at the idea of photos. Rubbing the back of his neck, he was about to say something when the man he’d been talking to a few minutes walked back over to us, this time without his briefcase. “Any chance you’d have photos of the deceased on your camera?”
“I can’t be sure. We didn’t know each other, so it’s not like I really paid attention to where he was once we were off the bus.”
The man, an investigator of some sort, I assumed given the lack of a uniform, considered this a moment. “Anything that would help us put together a picture of where Mr. Meyers was in the hours leading up to his death could prove instrumental. Would you be willing to sit with one of us as you go through them?”
My mouth hung open for a moment. “Wait, was he actually murdered?” I knew it hadn’t been a heart attack.
“I’m not at liberty to say.” The investigator crossed his arms, meaning it was a definite possibility. “So will you let us see your photos?”
I glanced back at the café, my coffee sitting on the counter. “Have you looked at anyone else’s photos? I’m sure I wasn’t the only one taking them.”
He shook his head. “We’ll get to it.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to use whoever is going to sit with me to ask everyone to go through their photos?”
The investigator shot a glance at Officer Duvall, who stepped away and mumbled something into the walkie at his shoulder.
The whole exchange had kicked my heart rate up. As preposterous as the thought was, their wanting to watch me go through my photos meant only one thing to me. “Am I a suspect in something?”
Chapter Eight
“Should I consider you one?” Officer Duvall asked as he stepped back toward us.
“No,” I said with a nervous laugh, for both being considered a suspect and for the embarrassing selfies I’d taken of me eating and drinking in an attempt to look cute for my blog. “But why do you want to sit with me when I’ve had access to all the ones on my phone for the last couple hours? The same for anyone else here. Anyone guilty could have deleted photos hundreds of times over by now.”
“Duvall, don’t freak the girl out.” The investigator turned to me, his stance softened. “Truthfully, we can’t determine that yet. But as you said, you don’t know the deceased, so more eyes on your photos may make it easier to spot him if he’s in the background.”
That made more sense than me being a suspect, and I breathed in relief. “Okay. But can I go get my drink first?” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder to the café. “I ordered, then came out to ask about my computer. Didn’t think I’d be out here this long.”
“Sure. I’ll grab your computer and camera if you tell me where you were sitting.”
“Both are in the striped messenger bag in the seat before the dead guy, um, Mr. Meyers.”
He nodded, and we parted ways.
“Looks like I’m helping in the investigation,” I told Gemma as I grabbed my Americano. When she raised an eyebrow at me, I clarified, “They want to see my pictures from the trip.”
“I was going to say that it would surprise me if you had anything to do with this. You don’t seem the type, and I get a very good reading on people when they come in here.”
“Truthfully, I didn’t even know him, but they’re getting me my computer, so I can work once I help them out.”
“Be sure to tell Trouble where you’re going. He’s been craning his head to see out the café doors looking for you.”
“I will,” I said before taking a long sip of my drink. Perfect. I understood why it was Gemma’s favorite.
“Haven’t seen him like this with someone before,” Amy said as she walked over. “Sure you don’t want him?”
I glanced over at the catio, and my heart melted a little. There he was, his front paws on the glass wall separating the two spaces. “It’s not a matter of want, believe me. More the ability. I’m on a bus trip, remember?” Plus, there was the whole money issue even if I could get him home. A pet wasn’t in my budget.
“Well, I think you’d be perfect for one another,” she replied, so much emphasis on the per that it was clear she was trying to be punny. Purrfect.
Seeing the inspector come off the bus with my bag, I said, “All right, I should go talk to Trouble. Back soon, I hope.”
I hurried over to the glass wall. Trouble had beelined for the door but then slid to a halt, running into one of the other cats, before turning around to meet me where he’d been moments before.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Trubbs. Gotta go help the police outside figure out what happened to the man on the bus.”
Trouble tilted his head to the side when I pointed toward the sidewalk.
I tapped the window, and he brought his nose to the glass.
“See you in a bit.”
I turned around and headed back outside to meet the investigator. He ushered me to a small table that had been set up next to one of the precinct’s vans.
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss…”
“Duffy. Call me Meredith. And you’re welcome.” I held out my hand in an offer to shake. Now that he wasn’t making me feel like a suspect, he didn’t seem too bad.
He took my hand in his. “Grant Miller. You can call me Grant.” After we shook, he pulled the seat out for me so I could sit—when was the last time someone had done that for me?—and I quickly set up my computer, trying to not look at the polite investigator with a boyish grin. Not thinking we’d be here for as long as we already had been, I’d only closed the laptop before getting off the bus. For some reason, that hadn’t put it into sleep mode like it should have. Within minutes, the ba
ttery was critically low, and the computer flashed a warning message.
“I’m really sorry about this. I have the power cord in my bag if you have something to plug it into, or maybe we can start with my phone? You can take it and go through the photos and ask if you have questions related to any of them.”
Grant pushed back in his chair, giving him room to stand. “Let me see what we might be able to use.” Then he walked the few feet to the van and began searching through a container inside.
While I waited for him, I flipped through photos on my phone again, this time hoping to either spot Mr. Meyers myself or give Grant a good place to start. Whatever I could do to keep him away from my meal selfies, I was going to do.
A familiar voice caught my attention, and I glanced up to see Robin and Ben coming out of Dawg Pound with a woman wearing a stethoscope around her neck. I bolted out of my seat toward Robin. She’d been the only one on the bus to take candy from Mr. Meyers, and now she needed medical attention?
Chapter Nine
“Robin, are you okay?” I asked, still a few feet away from the woman as I rushed over to where she was now seated.
The doctor I had seen her walk out of the restaurant with was now checking Robin’s vitals, the stethoscope to her chest as she breathed in deep.
Robin could do only nod while the doctor listened to her chest.
“I told her it’s her anxiety,” Ben stated as he stood next to his wife, holding her hand, “but she’s not having any of that. She gets this way whenever she’s worked up.”
“Better to be safe, though, right?” Robin said as the doctor pulled the stethoscope away. “Started to feel my heart race, and given I had a piece of what that unfortunate fellow had been eating, and well, you saw what happened to him, I didn’t want this to be a slower reaction from having had less than he did.”
“Is that what they think happened? That he was poisoned?” It would fall in line with my belief that he’d been killed.
Ben shook his head as Robin, unable to see her husband’s reaction, replied, “Well, as soon as I mentioned to the officer watching us all in Dawg Pound that I was experiencing some symptoms and had shared food with the poor dead man, he took out of there like one of my cats getting the zoomies. The good doctor came rushing in a couple minutes later. And here I am.”
The doctor had moved on to checking Robin’s blood pressure and pulse.
“Wouldn’t it be a good thing if he were poisoned, though?” I asked.
Robin and Ben looked at me, eyebrows raised, and even the doctor turned her head with a look on her face that said I was nuts.
I held up my hands. “I know it sounds awful. But it would clear any of us from having done something to him, right? It wasn’t like he was eating something one of us had given to him.”
The doctor peeled the top of the blood pressure cuff off from the bottom, the ripping sound splitting into my thoughts. “Everything checks out normal. Probably just anxiety like your husband said. Do you have anything you can take for it?”
“I do. Thank you, doctor.” She held out her arm to Ben. “Purse, please.”
The doctor wrapped her stethoscope around her neck. “Please do come find me if your symptoms progress any further and we’ll recheck your vitals.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Ben assured the doctor as he handed Robin her bag.
“Well, in that case, have a good day. I must go back and attend to the, um, man on the bus.”
As she scooted away, Robin dug through her purse and said, “She sure seemed to be in a hurry, don’t you think? Maybe they hadn’t considered the poisoning angle before?”
“I’m sure they’re considering all options.” I squatted in front of her. “Are you sure you’re all right? Is there anything I can get you?”
“Oh, you’re such a dear.” She looked up at her husband quickly, then turned her attention back to me. “If you wouldn’t mind getting me water, I would much appreciate it. Save Ben some walking too.”
I patted her arm. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
Closer to the entrance to Dawg Pound, I headed in there to ask for water. The guy at the counter readily gave me a plastic cup, cutting off my explanation as soon as I said it was for the woman who’d left with the doctor.
“I hope she feels better,” he said. “Nice lady. Gave me a big tip for the dogs.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Nervous about the whole situation we find ourselves in. Are you like the cat place next door but for dogs?”
“We’re sister companies. The owners are business partners, actually. Course, it’s a bit harder to have dogs in here, so we have pictures of the available pups everywhere, and they rotate out as they find homes and new dogs come in.” He swooped his hand in front of him, casting my attention to the walls full of adoptable dog photos. As I rotated in place to take in how many there were, he continued, “We have a binder over there by the condiments station of our success stories with letters from owners and updated photos.”
“That’s really great. I wish you a lot of luck.” I filled up the cup of water, then placed a clear cap on it before grabbing a straw and heading back outside.
As I handed Robin her cup and straw, the door to Feline Familiar opened.
A frantic barista ran outside pointing. “Someone get that cat!”
Chapter Ten
I barely had time to register the silvery blur darting across the sidewalk and into, of all places, the tour bus. Without hesitation, I took off running to follow the cat who could only be Trouble living up to his name once again. I ignored several yelled orders for me to stop as I hopped up the stairs of the bus.
The team investigating was split fifty-fifty between those concentrating on the crime scene—or whatever it was called since I still didn’t know if a crime had taken place—who hadn’t noticed anything going on around them and those who were very aware that there was now a cat on the bus. They were all so focused on what they were doing, it almost allowed me to approach unnoticed. Almost. Then Trouble spotted me.
“What are you doing here?” Officer Duvall barked when I was within a few feet.
I held my hands up, my eyes widening in surprise at his tone. “Trying to get the cat out of here. What do you think I’m doing?” I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything more. My tone had too closely matched his even though I hadn’t meant it. I didn’t want this to be further proof in his eyes that I’d had something to do with Mr. Meyers’ death.
“Both of you get off the bus!” somebody else bellowed. “I can’t have the two of you contaminating the scene.”
Trouble, who had been who had bounced onto the back of the seat in front of where I’d been sitting, jumped into one of the overhead cargo carriers, preventing another officer from grabbing him.
“Look,” I said, going for a softer, conciliatory tone, “I’m only here for the cat. But as for contaminating the crime scene, my DNA, hair, and fingerprints are all over that area. My seat was directly in front of Mr. Meyers.” I lifted my gaze to Trouble and held my arms out to him. “Come on, Trubbs. You’re not supposed to be out here. You’ve worried quite a few people back in the café.”
The cat, of course, took the most complicated route to make his way over to me, slinking in between bags and over others. Many were hastily secured gift bags, and Trubbs scattered their contents along the cargo area as he knocked a few over. He seemed like he would be able to escape without much more damage and mayhem, keeping the mess contained above, until his foot caught somebody’s bag strap as he jumped down. It fell onto the seat with him. Fortunately most of the pockets were zipped closed.
“What did I say about that cat?” the person who had yelled earlier now exclaimed. “You could have damaged the integrity of this entire scene. Both of you, off now.”
Honestly, I didn’t see how that was possible. Trouble hadn’t knocked anything over until he was beyond a foot or two away, and he was on the opposite side of where th
e active investigation was happening. I was still several seats away as well.
Trouble jumped from the seat and into my arms, then headbutted my cheek as he wrapped his front paws around either side of my neck.
Officer Duvall made a humph noise. “Cat seems to like you.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say, and took a step backward. Time to get off the bus. The baristas were probably worried about how long it was taking me.
The doctor who had been helping Robin stood. “Does anyone smell almonds?”
The interruption made them forget all about me, and the others began to sniff the air. I froze trying to see if I was able to smell it too. Their faces went blank as they shook their heads. For a moment, they talked in hushed tones, something harder than a whisper but nothing I could make out very well.
One word had stood out to me, though, said in surprise by the investigator I didn’t know.
Cyanide.
I’d never fallen into bingeing true crime shows nor did I use them to fall asleep like some of my friends, but I knew cyanide was a poison. One that killed quickly. Scenes from old spy movies I’d watched with my grandfather as a kid flashed in my head. Captive spies biting down on capsules to release the poison, killing them and preventing their secrets from being discovered. But what did almonds have to do with anything?
“If it helps you any,” I said, taking a step forward, “Mr. Meyers was eating candy that had almonds in it just before he died. I’m sure one of you bagged the box, right? Or asked the woman who’d had a piece that he gave her what it was that she ate?” I bit my lip again. Had I really scolded the police on if they’d done their jobs?
The four of them exchanged a look before the doctor shrugged. “She said she had candy and mentioned coconut, not almonds. I didn’t probe further.”
“Coconut almond candy, specifically. Wouldn’t be surprised if the coconut was stronger than the almond.” Coconut could be an overpowering flavor profile. Robin might not have realized the almonds were even in there.
