Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) (11 page)

“Swallowing what?”

Chase sighed. “Dr Pepper.” Chase set the glass on the side table and tucked her feet under the afghan she kept on the back. Her toes were icy from the floor. “So, does Anna believe Shaun?”

Quincy jumped onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly. He scratched his neck with his hind foot, then curled up in her lap.

“No, she says you told her you had proof Shaun was the thief. But she’s worried about you. Hey, I have a call from my boss. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Quincy jumped down with a solid plop. He stepped daintily into his cat bed in the corner of the room and pawed at it before settling down.

“That’s curious,” Chase said to the cat. The bed shouldn’t have made any noise, but there was a faint rustle when Quincy scratched at it. She recalled that he’d been doing that for a few days. Usually he climbed in, curled up, and settled down with no pawing.

“Let me see, little guy.” She knelt, with a groan of pain as her back acted up with her movement, and lifted him out of the plush-lined foam bed, adorned with orange paw prints on the outside. A scrap of paper lay curled in the corner. That must have been what had rustled, she reasoned. She extracted it and Quincy hopped back into his nest.

It was a corner, torn from a larger piece of paper. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it might have been a legal document. At the bottom, Torvald Iversen’s signature and handwritten date were clear below a printed line that had his name, “agent for” with the rest torn off. Above that, the letters GABRI remained under the line and there was no signature above it. She would show this to Julie and see what she could make of it.

But it looked like some sort of agreement between Gabriel Naughtly and Torvald Iversen. It was dated the day Gabe had died. And someone, it seemed, had torn it up. In a fit of anger? Just before a murder? How had it ended up in Quincy’s bed?

C
hase gave herself the luxury of sleeping in on Wednesday. A whole day stretched ahead, free of the shop, to do anything she wanted. She thought for a while about the people Hilda Bjorn had seen outside Gabe’s condo the day he died. Mike Ramos had said that Iversen was there before he said he was. Maybe Hilda missed that. She probably wasn’t on her front porch all the time. If only there was a way to prove that he was there, beyond one person’s suspicions.

And who were the others, a young man and a floozy? It sounded like Gabe had a mistress. Did he also have a stalker? The mistress didn’t stay long, Hilda had said. Was that because she ran in, killed him, and fled? She said the young man didn’t go in. How confusing!

The young man could have been Ted, but why would he stay outside and not go into his own father’s place? Could the young man have been the mysterious guy she’d seen with Vi out back?

The floozy? Too-tight clothes—Laci and Vi both wore tops that fit snugly. All the girls their age did. But tattoos and extremely high shoes—that wouldn’t be either of them.

As soon as Chase swung her legs off the bed to the floor, Quincy made it plain that she had duties. After pouring the food into his bowl—which he took three bites of before stalking away—she took a couple of pain pills and went downstairs to do some research on the computer.

She looked up
diet cat food
and found lots of ads and recommendations for commercial cat food. Adding the word
recipe
to her search netted more valuable results. Some of the webpages suggested using ground bone and canning the food, some debated between raw and cooked, one stressed the need to balance all sorts of vitamins, minerals, and amino acids, and sounded very complicated. None of them were specifically for weight loss, though.

Maybe she should just concentrate on treats. After another half hour, she began to get some ideas. To rest her brain from cat treats, she looked up the page for local news and found the headlines Julie had been anticipating.

LOCAL MAN ON TRIAL FOR CHARITY THEFT

The article didn’t mention Bill’s name, but did Marvin Shandy’s, of course. Bill had adopted him and his sister and changed their last names to his. Chase wondered if he regretted that now. Poor Bill. Poor Anna. The publicity was going to affect both of them badly. She shook her head and returned to a bit more cat treat research.

Back upstairs, she poked around in her refrigerator to see what she could use for a tempting cat treat. She put a couple of slices of leftover turkey through her meat grinder and mashed it together with hamburger and low-fat chicken broth, adding a bit of oatmeal and an egg. She made two patties and stuck them under the broiler. She took the patties out of the oven before they were thoroughly cooked. Quincy had never liked well-done meat. The cat, lured by the turkey, rubbed against her calves a few times, then sat staring up at the stove, his eyes wide and his ears pricked forward.

“You think you’ll eat this? I wonder. Should I call them Kitty Patties?”

While the Kitty Patties were cooling, she texted Julie to call her when she could. Two minutes later, her cell rang.

“We’re on break.” Julie’s voice was hushed. “I’m out here in the hall, but we have to go into the courtroom in a few minutes.”

“Still doing voir dire?”

“Yep. We should be able to finish that up today, if all goes well. Whatcha need?”

“I found a piece of paper in Quincy’s bed.” She picked it up from the kitchen counter where she’d put it, then walked to the balcony doors to inspect it again in the daylight coming through the glass panes.

“Oh yes, what is that? I remember seeing it there.”

“You saw this? When was that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was the night Gabe was killed. It was bothering Quincy. I took it from his collar, but you discovered the rats and we all ran downstairs before I could say anything. I dropped it into his bed right before Grandma and I left to see what was upsetting you. Forgot all about it until now.”

“Do you know where it came from?”

“No, just that it was stuck in his collar.”

“I never saw it, and neither did Mike.”

“It was folded up, tiny. I wouldn’t have seen it except Quincy was scratching like crazy and I poked around to see why.”

“Did you look at it?”

“Not really.”

“Can you meet me somewhere for lunch and take a look?”

“Sure. Oops, gotta go. I’ll text when we’re breaking for lunch. I think I can get away today. I’m supposed to run to the office for some papers and some online research anyway.”

Chase closed the call and looked out at the street below. She didn’t often have time to stand and watch the city going about its business in the morning. The café directly across the street was open for breakfast. People who looked like professors—and several students—went in and out, carrying coffee containers as they left and headed toward campus. They all wore substantial jackets and a few had hats and gloves on as well. The weather was turning.

When she went back to the counter, where she’d left the Kitty Patties cooling, Quincy was crouched over the broiler pan, steadily chowing down.

“Finally, something healthy that you’ll eat.” She broiled up a few more to have on hand. She would give Anna strict instructions to feed him these instead of dessert bars.

At 11:30, she was in a seafood restaurant a block from the court building. Julie made it there only fifteen minutes after the time she’d given Chase in her text message.

“Sorry,” she said, unbuttoning her coat and unwinding her scarf. “I got waylaid by my boss. I have to run to the office this afternoon and research a couple of points. I should have a few minutes now, though. Enough time to eat and chat.”

“I ordered you a cup of clam chowder and the iceberg wedge salad.” That was what both of them always got for lunch there unless they were splurging on the lobster bisque.

“Perfect.” Julie threw her coat and scarf onto the seat and slid into the booth. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.”

The waiter delivered the iced tea Chase had ordered and Julie held out her hand. Chase put the torn piece of paper in her palm. “Definitely some sort of contract to be signed by two people,” Julie said, squinting at the tiny scrap. “Looks like Naughtly and Iversen, doesn’t it?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“Aha. It’s also dated the day Naughtly was murdered.”

“So, somehow, Quincy got this stuck in his collar at Gabe’s.”

“Most likely,” Julie said.

“Which proves that Iversen
was
there before he said he was, just like Mike told me,” Chase said. “The torn bits of paper on the floor next to his body must have been something that one of them tore up before I got there.”

“Do you think they had a quarrel about some sort of agreement?”

Chase chuckled. “A disagreement about an agreement? Is there any way to find out what it was, exactly?”

“Do you know who Naughtly’s lawyer was? Or who Iversen uses?”

“No, but the police would.”

“I don’t know if this has anything to do with the murder, but I happened to overhear someone say that Torvald Iversen filed a restraining order yesterday.”

“Who is it against?”

“I didn’t hear that. I’ll try to find out if you think it’s relevant.”

“Probably nothing to do with this business.”

Chase’s next stop was the police station. After she asked for Detective Olson out front, she was shown back.

“Good to see you again.” He motioned her into the chair beside his metal desk. It was just as uncomfortable on her back as it had been the last time. The room vibrated, full of bustling people this time of day.

His blue eyes were so dark, and so steady. She blinked and he broke his gaze.

She handed him the scrap of paper. “I found this caught in Quincy’s collar.”

He looked at it, turned it over, and set it on his blotter. “Yes?”

“See?” She leaned over and pointed to the print. “It’s an agreement signed by Iversen, but not by Gabe, dated the day Gabe died. Iversen was there before he said he was, taking this to get Gabe’s signature. They had a fight about this—whatever it is—and Iversen killed Gabe over it.”

The unwavering gaze was back.

“There was probably a lot of money involved,” Chase ventured. “Don’t you think?”

“I think this is the rest of the document we found on the floor by the body. It
is
a document signed by Iversen, but that doesn’t mean he was there that day, when he says he wasn’t.”

“Can you see if his fingerprints are on it?”

“They’re on the other pieces, so they’re probably on this one, too.”

“He was there earlier! Michael—Dr. Ramos—saw him!”

“Yes, we have that information.”

He leaned toward her and gave her a gentle smile. She felt something inside warming up.

“Ms. Oliver, we’re still gathering evidence. This isn’t proof of anything, but thanks for bringing it in.”

She shot up out of the chair. “Am I still the main suspect?”

“Did I say you were?”

“You told me not to leave town.” She winced and grimaced from the back spasm caused by her sudden movement.

“Yes, I did. And that still stands. Are you okay?”

“Fine. If I can find someone else who saw him there, will that nail him?”

“Please let
us
interview the suspects.” There was no trace of that smile and the dark blue eyes glittered, looked hard.

“There were other people there, too.”

He raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on.

She sat down gingerly and told him about Hilda and the young man and the floozy. She was almost certain the young man was Ted.

“We’ll look into this,” he said, but he hadn’t taken any notes.

It was still up to her to clear herself.

D
riving away from the police station, Chase wanted to talk to Anna. She called, but Anna didn’t pick up. The lovely day that had stretched before her, free and empty, seemed dreary and weighty now. It was only midmorning. What would she do the rest of the day?

She headed for the hospital to visit with Laci. However, she had checked out early that morning and was, as far as Chase could tell, at home. Chase had never been to Laci’s home and had to stop by the office to find the address.

Before she went into the office to look up the records, she flew up the stairs to check on Quincy. He lay in his bed, snoozing. The Kitty Patties she’d left atop his diet food were gone—and so was the food that had been beneath. His bowl was clean!

Quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever force was at work, she backed out and shut the door. Quincy slept on. He hadn’t even raised his head. He must feel good, she thought, to have his tummy full of good food, finally.

She pulled the notebook out of the desk drawer below the computer. She hadn’t balanced the books from yesterday, but she wanted to put that off as long as possible. Laci’s information would be in Anna’s handwriting, since she was the one who kept employee records. She preferred to keep them on paper, but Chase knew they were in the computer somewhere, too.

She paged too far and saw the posh address of Vi Peters’s place. Flipping to the
C
s for
Carlson
, she found Laci’s information. She froze when she saw the address. It was the same building she’d seen Shaun Everly walking toward, that first time she saw him in Minneapolis. If she went to see Laci, would she encounter
him
?

Why on earth did Laci drive her PT Cruiser to work when she lived that close?

Oh well, Chase was going to have to figure out if she was brave enough to chance running into her nemesis. She walked the two blocks at a brisk pace, then hesitated when she got near.

Chase loitered on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building, where she could see the parking lot that belonged to it, until she thought she might be attracting attention. Laci’s PT Cruiser was there, but so was the silver Boxster that she thought was Shaun’s.

A black Lexus idled next to the door. The driver had the hawk-nosed silhouette of Torvald Iversen, and his long, thin fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

Chase felt a brazen anger rising from her toes. She walked to the driver’s window of the Lexus. It was open, and he turned when she approached, looking surprised to see her there.

“Some people have to work in the middle of the day,” she said.

“I am working,” he said, his eyes half-lidded and his manner cool. “Are you?”

“What kind of work is this, sitting in your car? Looking for someone else to attack?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for someone else to partner with my client.”

Shaun’s car was nearby. Could these two creeps be cooking up a scheme together?

As if her thoughts of him had the power to conjure up the man himself, Shaun Everly walked out the door of the building. He didn’t go to his car, though. Ignoring Chase, he got into the passenger seat of Iversen’s Lexus. The car pulled away without either of the occupants giving her another glance.

Good riddance, Chase thought. Those two deserve each other. Maybe Torvald would knock off Shaun when he found out what a cad he was. Maybe Shaun would steal money from Torvald and that would set things off. Maybe they were . . . what?

Puzzling over the association of those two bums, she marched up the front steps into the building. She pushed the door open and ran a finger along the name tags under each buzzer. None of them said “Everly.” Maybe the building manager hadn’t made up a tag for him yet. One was labeled “L. Carlson,” so she pushed that one.

Laci’s voice came over the intercom and she buzzed Chase in, not sounding upset to see her. How could Anna think about firing Laci? That would be like kicking a sick puppy.

After she climbed two flights of stairs, Laci ushered her into an apartment filled with ruffles and floral-patterned furniture. Chase decided Laci did resemble an ailing baby animal, maybe even a sick puppy.

Chase asked her how she was feeling and got a sigh and a woebegone expression. Laci lifted a limp wrist to wave Chase to a seat on the cabbage-rose sofa. She sat herself on a chair covered with Victorian striped fabric in various shades of pink. Laci’s other wrist was wrapped in an Ace bandage.

“What’s the wrapping on your wrist for? Did you hurt it?” Chase sank into the soft couch. When it bent her back the wrong way, she scooted to perch on the edge of the cushion.

“I sprained it when I fell, the doctors said.” She rubbed the bandage with her other hand. “I’m lucky I didn’t break it.”

“How long do you have to stay away from work?” Maybe, if she had to take a lot of time off, that would make it easier for Anna to eventually terminate her.

“Not long. I might be able to come in tomorrow. I could have a little bit of a concussion, they said. They’ll tell me when I can work again.”

“Well . . . why don’t you take another few days off. We can manage for a while. Business should be slower now.”

“Until the holidays. Then you’ll need everyone.”

That was true. If Anna got rid of Laci, she would need another worker. She still hadn’t talked to Anna about this.

“You know,” Laci said, “how I told you Vi was spreading rumors about Ted stealing things?”

“Yes,” Chase replied cautiously. She remembered. Also, Ted
was
stealing things.

“I think that’s what started making him so upset.” So upset that he dumped Laci? “He was bad then, but he’s ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times worse now. He’s almost been a different person since his father was killed. He totally blamed him for everything, you know.”

Chase wondered if that was because he had killed his father. Laci said he got very angry about his parents’ separation. Angry enough to do something to his father?

They both jumped when her buzzer sounded. When Laci answered the intercom, Ted’s voice came into the apartment.

“Should I go?” asked Chase.

“No, maybe you can help.”

“Help with what? What’s his problem now?” She might need some background before he made it up the stairs and arrived at Laci’s door.

“He’s going through some horrible things. He’s frantic.”

Chase had seen Ted before when Laci thought he was upset. But she’d never been able to detect distress in the guy so far.

When Laci opened her door, Ted grabbed her and held her in a boa-constrictor clinch until he noticed Chase on the couch.

“Oh,” he said, stepping back. “Hello, Ms. Oliver.”

He looked awful. His light brown hair, usually combed to minimize the premature retreat at the forehead, stood up in places and lay in messy wisps in others. His carefully cultivated three-day stubble had grown to be a week’s worth. Maybe he really was upset this time.

“Can I get you something?” Laci sounded formal toward him. Maybe that’s because Chase was there, or maybe it was because she had so recently almost lost him to someone else.

Chase cast Ted for the part of Hilda’s young man. She briefly considered Krystal, Ted’s former companion, for the role of the floozy, but didn’t think the woman had had any tattoos.

“A beer?” He sank onto the chair Laci had vacated.

When Laci brought him a can, Chase had to make an effort to contain her shock. Laci kept beer in her apartment? That was hard to picture. Although she did include a linen napkin.

“Tell Ms. Oliver about the . . . you know.” Laci perched on the footstool next to Ted’s chair.

Ted belted down half the can of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, ignoring the napkin. “It’s about my dad.”

“Yes, it’s terrible,” Chase said. “I don’t know how I’d deal with—”

“No, not that he’s dead. Well, that’s bad, but . . . just before he died, I mean, I thought maybe I could, I don’t know, talk to him, get him back together with Mom. I mean make him come to his senses.”

Laci was nodding slowly, her eyes large and soulful and sympathetic. Maybe she’d been right that he was broken up about his parents’ impending divorce. Chase wondered why he would be appealing to his father when it seemed his mother had kicked her husband out. Maybe to improve his dad’s behavior so she’d take him back?

“Mom was seeing that creep Iversen, and I thought Dad should know about it. I followed him home after he was in your shop that day.”

Doris
was
seeing Iversen. Interesting.

“The day he was killed,” Laci said, in case no one knew that.

“I wanted to go into his condo and talk to him, but right after he goes in, this woman shows up. I mean, I’ve seen her before, but I think I didn’t want to admit it.” He paused.

“Admit what, Ted?” Chase asked.

“That he has a mistress. Pretty sure that’s what she is. Or a hooker.”

The floozy that Hilda Bjorn saw? So Ted
was
the young man.

“So, after she goes in, I figure I’ll wait until she leaves. But it’s making me sick to think about them in there. . . . Anyway, she leaves pretty quick. I figure I need to go in now, but I’m not fast enough. Before I can cross the street,
Mom
shows up. She leaves even sooner. She runs out. She’s all shocked-like. I’ve never seen her look like that.”

Ted paused to finish the can. He handed it to Laci, who hurried to bring him another.

“Did you go inside then?”

After popping the new brew open and taking a sip, he replied, “Well, see, I mean, Mom has this, this big red splotch on her jacket when she comes out. It’s her tan jacket, so it really shows up. She stops at the bottom of the stairs and notices it. Then she takes the jacket off and throws it in the bushes.”

Big red splotch? Hiding the jacket? That sounded awfully suspicious. In fact, it sounded like Doris killed Gabe. If Ted was telling the truth.