Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) (16 page)

W
hen Chase answered her phone two hours after her thwarted attempts to connect with Hilda Bjorn and Dr. Mike Ramos, she was surprised to hear the voice of none other than Dr. Mike himself.

“Is your back feeling any better?”

She resisted the thrill his deep voice gave her and plunked down on her leather couch. “Yes, thank you. I got a massage earlier today.” Her back really was a lot better. She flexed it and moved side to side. Yes, it was definitely on the mend.

“In that case, I’ll go ahead and ask if I can take you out to dinner.”

Huh. His lover-girl must have left. “What did you have in mind?”

“Chase, are you all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“How do I sound?”

“I’m not sure. Upset? Bothered?”

How perceptive of him. She didn’t answer.

“Do you want to go to Moscow on the Hill in St. Paul to cheer up?”

Did she ever! She’d never been to the local purveyor of fine Russian dining, but that wasn’t for lack of desire. The place was a little too rich for her struggling shop-owner pocketbook. Her pique vanished. “That sounds wonderful.”

“How soon can you be ready? I skipped lunch and didn’t have much breakfast. That surgery took it out of me.”

“Give me twenty minutes.”

As soon as she hung up she wished she’d said ten.

•   •   •

The meal at
Moscow on the Hill was everything she’d thought it would be, from the piroshki appetizers, to the Duck Breast Ekaterina with Ukrainian dumplings, to the White Russian tiramisu. To say nothing of the wonderful Moskovskaya vodka. She had downed two glasses, but Mike had been more cautious and sipped only one, followed by strong coffee minus the traditional vodka. Chase was glad to see his restraint with the alcohol, since he was going to drive them home.

While Chase enthusiastically tucked into her dumplings, complete with caramelized onions and sour cream with dill, the conversation turned to what was on both their minds, the most recent murder.

“What have you heard?” asked Mike.

“Just that Iversen’s cleaning lady found him dead.” She longed to unburden herself about being a suspect in Naughtly’s murder, but didn’t want to ruin the meal by talking about the awful Detective Olson. “That’s what it said on the newspaper’s Internet site.”

“I noticed the same report. When I read her name, I realized we share the same cleaning lady.”

“You do? I’ll bet there’s a lot that hasn’t been reported.”

“I imagine so.”

“The cleaning lady might have seen things that are important.”

She was going to have to talk about this. After a nice hunk of duck washed down with a generous swig of the sweet vodka, she began. “I think Iversen is the one who killed Gabe Naughtly. Since I seem to be a suspect—”

“Whoa! You’re still a suspect?”

“As far as I know.” She didn’t bring up her most recent stay in the police station. “I truly think Iversen might be the one who killed Gabe, though. So how can I clear my name now?”

“Don’t you think it’s more logical that the same person killed both of them? They had business dealings together. They might have crossed the wrong person in their underhanded attempts to take over other people’s property.”

“Like mine.”

“They were after your shop?”

“Most definitely! That, and the fact that I put my fingerprints on the knife that killed Gabe, puts me in the spotlight. Or whatever they call that bright light in the grilling room.”

“You were put in a grilling room with a bright light?”

“Well, not actually. It was a grilling room, but there wasn’t a bright light. Being questioned by Detective Olson makes me feel like I’m in a cement room with no air.” If she told him about being left alone for all those hours, she’d probably break down and cry.

“I can imagine.”

“Can you see if your cleaning lady knows any details that might help clear me? For all I know, I’ll be suspected of killing Iversen now.”

“I’m not usually there when she comes, but I can leave a note for her to call me. Or, I’ll tell you what, since I worked a good part of Sunday, I’ll cancel some appointments tomorrow and be there when she comes.”

Chase let out a breath of relief. “That would be wonderful.”

After doing everything she could to get every last drop of the tiramisu, everything short of picking up the plate and licking it, Chase had a sudden thought.

“Something connects Gabe and Torvald,” she said.

“Their business dealings, I’m sure,” said Mike. “That’s what I’ve gathered from the news sources. Several people have posted online about Torvald’s possible shady business practices.”

“True. But I’m wondering if anyone else is in danger. Maybe those close to them.”

“Does Torvald have any family locally?”

“I’m not sure, but Gabe does.” There was the person named Elinda, who had signed the book at the funeral home, but who knew where she lived? “Do you think Doris and Ted might be in trouble?”

“Are those his wife and son?”

“They were getting a divorce, but I doubt it had gone through yet.”

“Since no one knows why either one was killed, I suppose it’s a possibility.”

Chase wondered if she should mention that to Detective Olson. Maybe her best strategy would be to stay away from both Doris and Ted so that if they were killed she wouldn’t be right there, gripping the murder weapon.

The streetlights, charming imitation gaslights, lit the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Mike had managed to find a parking spot a half a block away. It would be a nice place for a romantic stroll, thought Chase, if the wind weren’t blowing so hard and cold. Mike bustled her into the truck and slammed the door against the elements. He was quite the gentleman.

Coming down the hill on the way home, Chase loved the way the lights of the city spread out before them. “Are you recovered yet from your awful day at the clinic?” she asked.

She studied his profile, lit from below by the lights of the dashboard. The hollows around his eyes looked deeper than they had in the restaurant.

“When I got the call, I braced for the worst, but the dog came through surgery just fine. His owner said he’d swallowed a whole chicken, but none of the bones punctured anything and I got him all cleaned up. He’ll be good as new soon.”

“Good news.” Chase was sure he was an excellent animal surgeon. This seemed like confirmation of that.

“I know the dog will be fine, but his owner isn’t—feeling guilty for not putting the thawing chicken where he couldn’t get it. After all, it could have been serious if one of the bones had lodged wrong.”

Was the owner the redhead he’d hugged on his front porch? She’d test the waters to find out.

“I suppose
he
would feel that way. Is
he
an irresponsible owner?”

“Not he, she. And no, she’s not irresponsible. This could happen to anyone. She’s usually conscientious, but she’s had a lot on her mind lately.”

The subject wasn’t mentioned again, but Chase was left wondering if Mike was merely consoling an upset dog owner, or if there was something more between them. She also couldn’t help but wonder what those arms would feel like if they were wrapped around her, instead of the spiky redhead.

Her mood shattered when Mike pulled up behind the shop to let her off at the door to her apartment stairs. Shaun Everly’s silver Boxster was idling next to the building, exhaust smoke pouring from the tailpipe in the chill air.

“What’s
he
doing here?” she exclaimed.

Mike gave her an alarmed look. “Is something the matter? Who is he?”

“He’s someone I knew in Chicago. Someone I never want to see again. He’s just moved to Minneapolis and, well, I wish he’d move back.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Was he? “Nothing illegal. I just don’t like the sight of him.”

“Sounds like you two have a history.”

Chase grimaced. “You could say that.” She had a fleeting memory of seeing Shaun drive off with Torvald and wondered if Shaun could possibly be involved in the man’s death.

“Do you want me to take you someplace else?”

That was a thought. A good one. “Yes, could you take me to Anna’s? He doesn’t know where she lives.”

“I don’t either, but I can take you.”

Chase was relieved. Then she thought of Quincy. “Wait, I can’t do that. I have to go in and feed my cat.”

“All right, you do that. I’ll go with you. If he’s still here when we come down, I’ll take you to Anna’s.”

“Perfect.” Chase broke into a huge smile that turned into a slight giggle. Mike was so smart!

M
ike walked around the car to open the door for Chase. She climbed out of the big truck, studiously avoiding a glance at Shaun’s car. His silhouette showed in the driver’s seat. The exhaust sent a plume of ghostly vapor into the frigid night air. For a fleeting moment, Chase hoped something could plug the tailpipe so Shaun would asphyxiate. She scolded herself mentally for such an awful thought. She disliked Shaun Everly immensely, but couldn’t go so far as to wish him dead.

She sensed his eyes on her as she led Mike to the rear door that served both the restaurant kitchen and the stairs to her apartment. With any luck, Shaun would assume that Mike was staying for a while and would leave.

As they mounted the stairs, Chase remembered that she’d left dishes soaking in the sink. And where had she thrown her underwear last night, or rather, early this morning after she’d left the jail?

“The place might be a mess. I had a rough night.”

They reached the landing outside her door. “What happened?” Mike asked.

Chase fumbled with her key.

“You’re shaking. Here, let me.” It was a relief to let him take the key. Somehow, it didn’t fit into the lock while she held it.

After Mike slid the door open, Chase stood where she was, sudden tears streaming down her face.

“It was awful,” she whimpered. Yes, she was breaking down, just like she knew she would. And she was only
thinking
of being in the pokey.

Mike herded her through the doorway, kicked it shut with his foot, and put those nice, strong arms around her. She sobbed on his shoulder for a moment, then, mortified and embarrassed, pulled away from him and ran into her bathroom.

Dabbing at her splotchy face, she frowned at herself in the mirror.

What’s wrong with you? Take hold of yourself, dummy.

She had been in his arms, right where she wanted to be. However, she hadn’t wanted to be blubbering at the same time. She heard Mike talking to Quincy in her kitchen and Quincy meowing loudly, complaining that his din din was late.

When she finally considered herself presentable, she poked her head out the doorway. Mike was going through her cupboards! She cleared her throat and he turned around with a big grin.

“He thinks it’s long past dinnertime. Where’s his food?”

The cat and the vet, both looking at her for the important answer, made her laugh. It felt so good to loosen up like that. She opened the cupboard where a bag of Quincy’s food was stowed—not the cupboard Mike had been searching—and scooped out his diet cat food. Her hands were holding steady now. She got her homemade treat from the refrigerator and mixed it in before she set his dish on the floor.

“That’s impressive,” Mike said, watching Quincy wolf down his food. “Maybe you should print up the recipe for that stuff and I can give it out to my clients with overweight, picky cats.”

“Do you have a lot of them?”

“Do I ever. It looks like you’ve hit on something great.”

Quincy continued eating, though his ears pointed at them, telling them he understood they were talking about something to do with him.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee? I have decaf.” Mike was being so sweet, not mentioning her breakdown.

He was looking through to the living room and the balcony. “Sounds good. You have a nice place to drink it, too.”

“The living room?” Chase started the process, measuring out the beans and pressing the button to start the noisy grinder.

“No,” he shouted over the din, “your balcony.”

“Isn’t it too cold?”

“Do you have blankets?”

Great, thought Chase. He’s a hardy outdoorsman. It didn’t sound like fun to her, since it was probably in the twenties by now, but after the beans were ground and she started the coffee brewing, she got two eiderdown quilts from her linen closet. They were the warmest ones she had.

What Chase had failed to consider, was the need to snuggle in the cold. When she had filled two mugs with fresh brew, Mike settled himself on the chaise and beckoned her hither. Tingling a little inside, she nestled beside him and they tucked the quilts around themselves.

“Now,” he said after a big sip, “tell me what’s the matter.”

Holding her lips stiff so she wouldn’t cry again, she hoped, she told him she’d been questioned again last night. “Detective Olson wanted me to say I killed him.”

“Killed Torvald?”

“No, just Gabe, for the moment. Do you think the police will think I killed Iversen, too? Julie and her friend Jay got me out in the wee hours this morning. I had to spend ages in a suffocating, empty room. I didn’t know if I was going to be arrested, or thrown in jail, or what. First, I was questioned for hours. Then they left me alone there for hours. Detective Olson was trying to make me say I killed Gabe. I almost wanted to say it, too. I got so worn down.” Her chin was crumpling, but she didn’t let the tears fall. Her face got so ugly and red when she cried. She was
not
going to cry in front of Mike again.

“You poor thing.” Mike put his mug down, cupped his warm hand on her shoulder, and caressed her upper arm through her sweater.

Chase wished she could stay like this forever.

“Why would he suspect you for Iversen’s murder? You weren’t around there when he was found.”

Chase had no idea how it might happen, but somehow, the way things were going, she thought she would be a suspect.

C
hase was surprised she wasn’t cold. Mike put out a lot of body heat and snuggling next to him kept her toasty warm. The life of the city went on below them, lit by the tall, curved streetlamps. The tree near her balcony, planted in a hole in the sidewalk, filtered the light with its gently rustling leaves. The wind was dying down. Cars droned by and people, talking to each other or to their cell phones, strolled past. The horror of being a real murder suspect was retreating to the far recesses of her mind.

“Isn’t that the car?” Mike said.

“What car?” She lifted her head from his shoulder a quarter of an inch.

“There. The one that was in the parking lot.” He pointed to a silver Boxster creeping down Fourteenth Avenue.

Chase jerked upright, dumping her coffee in Mike’s lap. Mike jumped to his feet. Chase thought Shaun sped up a little. She hoped he’d gotten an eyeful of the cozy duo.

Mike grimaced.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Did I burn you?” She jumped up and waved her hands, uselessly.

“It’s not hot enough to do that. I’m all wet, is all.” He gave her a cute grin. “No harm done. It’ll wash out. Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and the guy in the Porsche?”

“Nothing’s going on. I told you, he just moved here. I knew him in Chicago.” She turned and paced the length of the small balcony.

“If nothing is going on, why is he spying on you?”

She might as well tell him.
She kept pacing while she talked. “He’s the reason I left Chicago.” She told Mike about how Shaun accused her of pilfering money from his uncle, then got her blacklisted so she couldn’t get a job anywhere in the city.

“Sounds like a jerk. Why did he trail you here?”

“He wants something that I have.” She stopped and faced Mike. “It’s something incriminating. I wonder if it’s time to take it to the police. I just want him to stop talking to people I know and spreading lies about me. The same lies he spread in Chicago.”

“I would think so. Is this something that would get him into legal trouble?”

“Criminal trouble. But then I’d have to get involved and testify and face him in court. There’s something else I did, too.”

Mike frowned. “What else did you do to him?”

She hadn’t told anyone this, not even Anna or Julie. “I took out a restraining order against him. When he found out, he got so angry, it scared me. That’s when I finally gave up and left.”

“He’s in violation, isn’t he? He shouldn’t be around you if it’s still in effect.”

“I don’t think it is. It was a
temporary
restraining order, and it was only good for a week. I was supposed to go to court and get an injunction.”

“But you didn’t?” His tone told her he thought she was an idiot. Maybe she was.

“I never wanted to face him again. I decided to leave instead.”

Mike shook his head. “Maybe that was a bad decision.”

Chase nodded in agreement. “I can’t change it now. But I do think I’ll spend the night at Anna’s. I’d better call to make sure she’s there.”

“Did you notice the other person in the car?” Mike said.

Chase stopped mid-dial. “Other person? No. Could you see who it was?”

“Just a silhouette.”

“Male or female?”

“I couldn’t tell. Shortish hair. Either a guy who needs a haircut or a gal who gets hers cut short.”

Who would Shaun be associating with? He had so recently gotten here. He had seemed to know Torvald, though. And he knew Vi. Chase continued punching in Anna’s number. Her call was answered right away.

“Charity! Julie has told me all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to rescue you.”

“Julie did a fine job of that, Anna,” Chase said, laughing. “She was my knight in shining armor.”

“I was with Bill. His son came into town. Their meeting upset Bill so, that I went over there.”

Chase wondered if she’d been there all night, and all day. “Where are you now?”

“I’m at home, of course. You just called my landline.”

That made her feel a little stupid. Yes, she had dialed Anna’s home phone. She heard talking in the background. Probably Anna’s television.

“Do you need something, dear?” Anna asked.

“I’m having a little problem. I wonder if I could stay with you tonight.”

“Just a moment.” Anna muffled the phone and spoke with someone. Was Bill there? “How soon do you want to come?”

“How soon can he leave?”

“What? How soon can who leave?” Anna was put out. Chase shouldn’t have been such a smart aleck.

“Just kidding. It sounds like someone is there. How about a half an hour?” She raised her eyebrows at Mike. He nodded.

“I’ll be here. Are you in some sort of trouble again?”

“No, not with the police. I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

They sat on the balcony another twenty minutes, mostly in easy silence, watching the street below, then Mike drove her to Nokomis Avenue.

Chase talked to Anna for over an hour before they bedded down. Over brandy nightcaps, Chase told her all about her date, then gave her the gruesome details about the horrible questioning when she thought she was going to be thrown into the clink. The more she shared her woe, the less of an edge it had.

Anna had read in the newspaper that Torvald’s funeral would be the next day. She said she wasn’t going to attend, but Chase thought she, herself, ought to do something. She wasn’t about to zip over to the visitation that night, as she’d done for Gabe Naughtly, so she decided she’d have to drag herself to the service on Tuesday.

When Chase woke up in the morning, she’d slept so soundly she couldn’t figure out where she was for half a minute. Then the powder-blue wallpaper, faintly striped, and the gauzy lace curtains on the guest room windows told her she was at Anna’s. They split a banana and each had a bit of yogurt before they left. It felt like old times.

•   •   •

After Anna dropped
her off Tuesday morning, Chase was acutely aware that this was her second day off. It had been a few weeks since she had had two days off in a row and she was at loose ends, not knowing what to do with the hours that stretched ahead. The funeral service was at two, so there was a lot of time to kill meanwhile.

Maybe she’d work on a new recipe for some treats for Quincy. Maybe not, since he liked the ones she had already concocted. Maybe she would go for a bike ride. The cold front that had arrived the day before was still hunkering over the city, giving the chilly air a blustery feel, with its wind gusts. Maybe she wouldn’t do that either. Maybe she’d just sit around and read a book. That was a good idea. She had finished the Bookmobile Cat book, but had the new Lydia Krause mystery from Marilyn Levinson. The last one had been such a fascinating read, she’d gotten this one last time she’d been to the bookstore.

A light drizzle started in the afternoon, which reinforced Chase’s decision to stay indoors as long as she could. She fixed hot chocolate for herself and fresh Kitty Patties for Quincy. Sitting close to the glass doors to her balcony, watching soft rain fall, and hearing light drumming on her roof, she read and drowsed until it was time to get ready for the funeral.

Chase dragged herself to her bedroom to put on something suitable for mourning a man—another man—whose death wasn’t something she was sorry about. It was still dripping outside. She put on dark brown slacks and a white blouse. Should she wear dressy shoes? Because of the continuing rain, she had decided to drive, even though it wasn’t far to walk. But she knew the parking lot at the funeral home—the same one where Gabe had been—had enough dips and waves in the pavement that the dry spots would resemble an archipelago. She’d have to hop from island to island if she wore shoes she didn’t want to get wet. So she slipped into a pair of sturdy brown oxfords. They had weathered many a puddle with no ill effects. No one would look at her feet anyway.

The parlor was nearly full, but Chase found a seat in the next to last row, on the aisle. She’d completely forgotten how early one must get to a funeral to get a “good” seat. The creamy ivory walls and the heavy silk curtains in the front and along the side wall gave her a peaceful feeling. That was probably the purpose of all the décor, from the plush beige carpeting to the softly glowing brass chandeliers depending from the rather low ceiling.

An elderly woman noodled on a small electronic organ at the front of the room for ten minutes after Chase arrived, playing sad, slow songs, then launched into a piece even more dirgelike.

That must have been the signal for the procession. Everyone on the wooden pews rose. The funeral workers, two men in dark suits, wheeled Torvald’s casket down the aisle on a gurney. Barely audible under the organ music, one of the wheels squeaked, complaining about carrying such a nasty man, Chase was sure.

The casket was followed by six men, the pallbearers. Chase didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t known Torvald, himself, until he barged in at Gabe’s and accused her of killing him.

Behind them, a woman, bent nearly double with osteoporosis and leaning on a cane, made her way forward, helped by two younger people. The bereft expression on her wrinkled face gave Chase a paroxysm of guilt. Here she was, thinking horribly bad thoughts about a man who was someone’s child, someone’s son. The woman looked as if her heart would break. The young woman and even younger man, maybe a teenager, on either side of her looked sorrowful, too, but nothing like the old, bent woman.

After shedding the animosity she’d been feeling, Chase found room in her heart for pity for this family. Iversen seemed to have been a successful businessman. Maybe he had provided well for his relatives. Maybe they would miss him. Maybe they would even have a hard time getting by without him.

The woman’s progress was so slow it took a minute or two for her to reach the row at the back where Chase stood. It would take them forever to get to the front pews that were reserved for the family. Chase turned to watch the procession. The young woman wore black, but her dress was inappropriately short and tight for the solemn occasion. A neck tattoo peeked out of her low top. The teenaged boy wore slacks and a white shirt, but looked ill at ease in them. His expression was more glum than bereaved, Chase thought. He seemed angry. Maybe he was angry that Torvald was dead.

The service was mercifully short. A Lutheran minister gave a generic message about our fleeting time on earth and about not knowing when it would end, then everyone stood and recited the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was printed on the small cards they’d been given when they’d entered.

Chase turned hers over to find Torvald’s birth and death dates. It also said he was survived by his grandmother, sister, and nephew. The sister’s name was Elinda. That was the same name she’d seen in Gabe’s book. The nephew was listed as Felix. Those must be the three who had followed the coffin. Torvald was predeceased by his parents and a brother who must have been Felix’s father.

To Chase’s dismay, the family stood at the rear to greet the attendees as they left. She had hoped to slip out and avoid them. Chase hated funerals. Could she leave without going past them?

No, the doorway was too narrow to avoid the line funneling past Torvald’s relatives. The line moved fairly quickly, at least. When Chase came to the boy, she shook his hand and said, “So sorry.” The young woman, Elinda, was next. Her young face was attractive, but she wore layers of slathered-on makeup, her eyes surrounded by thick, greasy black hollows.

“I saw your name in Gabe’s visitation book,” Chase said, taking her hand.

To her shock, Elinda’s pretty face crumpled and she suppressed a few sobs.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Chase patted the hand she held.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.” Her voice was thin through her tears.

Chase fished a tissue out of the packet in her purse and handed it to the woman, who swiped the mascara and eyeliner off her cheeks.

“Torvald must have been a good brother to you,” Chase said, still holding one of Elinda’s hands.

“Torvald?”

“You said you’ll miss him.”

Elinda sniffed. “Gabe. I’ll miss Gabe.” She drew her hand out of Chase’s and turned to the next person in line.

Chase gave her condolences to Torvald’s grandmother and fled.

•   •   •

Back in her
apartment, she fixed more hot chocolate to ward off the chill she’d gotten from being out in the rainy weather, and from Torvald’s odd family.

Elinda would miss Gabe? She had to be Hilda’s floozy. Her clothing was tight enough and she had at least one tattoo. She might have known Gabe through her brother. Torvald was quite a bit older than Elinda. She must be his baby sister. Why would she want to hook up with Gabe, who was so much older than she was? He’d probably made her think he had tons of money. Maybe he’d thought he actually would have tons after he acquired the location of the Bar None and started doing more business. Chase thought about how strange people are.

As soon as she sat down to think about Torvald’s family, and Elinda, and to sip her cocoa, her doorbell rang downstairs.

Reluctantly, she left the steaming cup on the counter and hurried down the steps. When she cracked the door open, she was shocked to see Doris standing in the cold rain. She was shocked that Doris would visit her, but even more shocked by the woman’s appearance.

Doris usually wore quite a bit of makeup. What was left of it was streaming down her face in orange and black rivulets.

Chase threw the door open so she could get out of the rain. Doris stumbled inside and Chase caught the fumes. She realized Doris had had more than she should to drink. The woman stood just inside the door, swaying, not even wiping the rain from her face.

“Mrs. Naughtly,” Chase said, “would you like to come in and sit down?”

Doris nodded, wordlessly. She looked about to cry. Although she may have been doing that already. It was hard to tell with the rain and makeup streaking her cheeks. Chase guided her to a stool at the kitchen work island, but Doris was so wobbly sitting there, they moved to the office and Chase pointed to her desk chair, complete with a back and arms. All Chase needed was for Doris to fall from the stool, conk her head on the floor, and sue the Bar None.