Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) (20 page)

M
ike picked her up at her place and drove to the restaurant Anna used to take her to when she was much younger, Lord Fletcher’s on Lake Minnetonka. They made small talk on the way, Chase saying that she thought Quincy was going to be able to lose quite a bit of weight with her homemade Kitty Patties, Mike telling her a hilarious story about a dog owner who thought the dog’s dewclaws were tumors and should be removed.

Underlying the pleasant banter was the tension, for Chase, of knowing that, sometime during the evening, she would confront him about what had happened on Wednesday. Mike held the car door for her and they strolled through the parking lot in the soft twilight to the bright lights of the restaurant.

It was set up for the boat crowd, with a dock where boaters could moor their crafts and jump out and eat in bathing suits in the summertime. Now, with autumn upon them, the boaters were outnumbered by diners wearing considerably more clothing.

They were shown to indoor seats overlooking the water of the West Arm Bay of Lake Minnetonka. Mike ordered a half carafe of chardonnay and they sipped as the sun set in a spectacular array of golds and bronzes over the barely rippling water, calmed for dusk.

After a platter of selected artisan cheeses and charcuterie, and a second glass of wine, Chase felt brave enough to carry out her intended interrogation.

“So, tell me something.”

Mike gave her a sharp look. Something in her tone had alerted him that her question might not be casual. “Okay,” he said. “Tell you what?”

“When we were on the phone, your next appointment was just showing up, you said.”

“This was on Wednesday?”

“Yes, the day I found Hilda Bjorn unconscious on her kitchen floor.”

“I remember. I hung up because I heard the front door open.”

Chase had heard the noise over the phone. “You said your next appointment was there.”

Mike nodded and took another sip of wine. Or was it a gulp? Did he have a guilty conscience? Was he actually meeting the redhead at his office?

“So, if you had an appointment, how did you get to Hilda’s house so quickly? You were there right after I got to her place.”

“My next appointment didn’t show up. The front door was the postman delivering my mail.”

Just as Anna had said. Chase let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. No redheaded assignation. At least not that day, at that time.

“I left to come home for lunch soon after we hung up and I saw the commotion right away. Somehow, every time there’s commotion on my street, you’re involved. I guess that’s why I decided to check out what was going on.” He grinned. “Sure enough, there you were, in the thick of it. You and Quincy.”

The waiter arrived to take their entrée orders. After Mike ordered king crab legs for them to split, with Caesar salads to start, Chase gave him a big smile. “You know, I’m very glad you did show up. I don’t know what to do with Quincy every time I get arrested.”

Mike frowned. “Do the police seriously suspect you had anything to do with that poor woman’s attack?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes the detective acts like he does, and sometimes he acts like he doesn’t. But he keeps questioning me.”

“I don’t like that one bit.”

“I don’t either!” She toyed with her wineglass as another thought occurred. “I don’t understand how the police got there just seconds after I dialed nine one one at Hilda’s house.”

“When I got there, I heard Hilda’s neighbor, the guy who rides the bike—”

“Professor Fear?”

“Yes, that’s him. He was talking to a policeman in front of the house. He said he’d called when he saw a suspicious person run out the back door.”

“The attacker! And not me either.”

Later, after Mike had dropped her off—without a good night kiss again—Chase wondered if she should have pursued her question further. She was satisfied that his reason for being in the vicinity when she found Hilda was innocent, but what about the woman he’d hugged on his front porch? Was that innocent?

Sunday started off slowly. The shop had only a half-dozen customers before noon. Vi wandered into the kitchen between the trickles to chat with Chase and Anna. Anna had quit baking for the day since there was enough stock if this lack of volume kept up. Chase was caught up in the office, so the three of them sipped iced teas at the island counter.

“Are you still hanging around with Shaun?” Anna asked.

Chase was glad Anna brought that up, because she wanted to—but, at the same time, didn’t want to. The less she said about Mr. Everly, the better.

“He’s been very good to me.” Did she sound defensive? “We get along well together.”

“That’s nice.” Anna had a way of making it sound not . . . nice.

Vi grimaced. “I am sorry I ever introduced him to Mr. Iversen, though.”

Chase choked on her tea. “You . . . introduced them to each other?” Vi must have forgotten she’d told Chase she didn’t know Mr. Iversen.

“I wish I hadn’t. Shaun was stringing Iversen along, just like Gabe did. And now I don’t know . . . well, I wonder if he had anything to do with what happened to Iversen.”

“What do you mean, ‘stringing him along’?” Chase asked. “How was Shaun doing that?”

“He was pretending he had a lot of money to invest in buying your shop. Heck, Shaun’s always bragging to me about how much money he has, but I don’t believe him. He’d take me to nicer places if he was rolling in dough.”

“And Gabe?” Anna said. “He was stringing Iversen along, too? The same way?”

“Sure. Gabe told him he could go halves with Iversen’s investor to buy this place.” Vi swept her arm around the room. “Make me laugh! Gabe didn’t have anything. His wife is the one with the money. She was leaving him high and dry.”

“How do you know all this?” Chase said.

“Torvald told me all about Gabe. He was getting fed up with him and had discovered he wouldn’t be able to hold up his end of their bargain. That was just before Gabe got killed.”

Chase was back to thinking that Torvald must have murdered Gabe, not that she’d ever been very far from that thought. “What about Shaun?”

“Shaun hasn’t told me he doesn’t have the money. But I’ve heard him telling Iversen how wealthy he is, how wealthy his father is, his uncle, his whole family. If they were all so loaded, I’d like to know why I don’t get better jewelry from him. Look at this.” Vi stretched out her right hand to display a ring with a bright blue stone.

“It’s pretty,” said Anna, leaning forward to see it better.

“It’s tiny.” Vi regarded her hand solemnly. “And it’s crystal, cheap.”

It
was
small, and probably hadn’t cost much, Chase thought. But it was one more piece of jewelry than Shaun had ever bought her.

“It doesn’t matter that much. I think he’s two-timing me, anyway.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to move too fast,” Anna said. “Some men like to take things slow.”

“He’s quick enough to tell lies about me to everyone he sees,” said Chase. “Be careful with him, Vi. He’s a snake.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t believe half of what he says. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, dear.” Anna patted the hand that bore the cheap, tiny-stoned ring. “I believe I heard the front door.”

“Finally.” Vi jumped off the stool and went to the front to sell dessert bars.

“I’m bored,” Anna said. “I think I’ll try out a new recipe.”

She rummaged in the cupboards, clanging her metal bowls and equipment onto the granite counter and pulling out bins of flour and sugar. Then she went through the cupboards again, ending up on her knees.

“What are you looking for?” asked Chase.

“My little blue marble rolling pin, my favorite one.”

“You were using it the other day, weren’t you? On Wednesday? It couldn’t be too far back.”

“You’d think so.”

Chase joined her, taking everything out of the cupboards methodically and putting it away.

Anna sat back on her heels. “It’s not here.”

Chase had to agree. “Did you take it home?”

Anna shook her head. “Did you take it upstairs?”

“Could Quincy have done something with it?”

“It’s awfully heavy for him. It weighs at least five pounds.”

“He weighs a lot more than that.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not slipping him treats anymore, if that’s what you were going to say. I do think that, if you’d listened to me and trained him to walking on a leash, like Sophie Winston, the Domestic Diva, suggests in her column, ‘The Good Life,’ he wouldn’t be having these weight problems now.”

Not that again. Anna hadn’t brought up “The Good Life” column for a while now, but she’d harped on it when Chase wrote her from Chicago that she had acquired a kitten from the shelter not too far from her apartment. Julie had met Sophie when she’d spent a summer in Alexandria, Virginia, between law-school semesters. Anna had been so thrilled that her granddaughter knew a genuine celebrity that she’d faithfully followed the column ever since.

It was nearly time for Vi to take her lunch, so Chase went to relieve her. She was startled to see Vi and Elinda, facing off in front of the sales counter. Torvald’s nephew, the one listed as Felix on the card at Torvald’s funeral, stood behind his aunt, looking embarrassed.

“You said you’d pay him.” Elinda jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her nephew.

Vi flinched when she saw Chase enter the room. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Excuse me.” Vi turned to Chase. “Would you please wait on these customers? I need to take a little break.”

“I just came in to relieve you for lunch, so go ahead,” Chase said. As Vi left the room, Chase asked Elinda, “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, there is.” As she had the last time she visited the store, she stalked out. Felix threw Chase an apologetic look and followed her.

When Vi returned from lunch, Chase tried to ask her what was going on between her and the Iversens, but she avoided answering.

“I have no idea what that woman is talking about. I think she has me confused with someone else.”

Chase concluded that several people seemed to be confused lately. She was certainly one of them. The afternoon continued as slowly as the morning had.

After a couple more hours, Vi wandered into the kitchen. “This is the slowest day we’ve had since I started here.”

“Did you sell some product just now?” Chase asked.

“Of course.”

That made Chase smile.

“Can I leave early?”

She sounded a bit whiny. Chase would rather she have stayed, but couldn’t think why she should with business so slow. “Do you want to leave now? I can cover for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Sure. I have my own car back, so I don’t have to call for a ride.”

Chase was glad she wouldn’t have a chance of confronting Shaun. Maybe Vi would see less of him since she wasn’t dependent on him for rides anymore. She followed Vi to the parking lot with a bag of trash. Vi climbed into her gray Hyundai, giving the rust spots a sad look, and drove off with a rattle of her tailpipe.

When Chase returned to the kitchen, Anna had abandoned her search and picked up her purse and car keys.

“I’m too low on shortening to bake anything anyway. I’ll run out and get some.”

While Anna was gone, Chase held the fort in the front. Perversely, as soon as she was alone in the shop, an influx of customers flooded the showroom and everyone seemed to want to buy dozens and dozens of treats. She scurried to keep up with the orders, wishing Vi hadn’t left. It was inconvenient and annoying.

B
y the time Anna returned from shopping, the crowd had thinned and there were only three customers browsing the shelves and display case. Chase was worn out from the influx that had arrived when she was alone, though. She stuck her head through the double doors and beckoned Anna to the front.

“Could you take over for just a bit?” Chase whispered. “I have to sit down a minute.” Her wrenched back, which had been feeling much better, was giving her twinges of pain once again.

“Was I gone that long?”

Now that Anna mentioned it, she
had
been gone longer than normal for a trip to the grocery store. It had been a couple of hours.

Anna looked sheepish. “I stopped in to see Bill. Sorry.”

“Tell me all about it later.” Chase fled to the office, where she could put her feet up on the desk. Her headache from yesterday was returning, and she hadn’t had that much wine at dinner with Mike. Maybe she’d give it up entirely for a while. She rubbed her temples, which made it worse.

After telling Anna she would be upstairs, she went to her apartment for some aspirin. Quincy, whom she’d left upstairs today, greeted her with a loud meow. She stooped to stroke his soft back. By the time she reached the medicine cabinet, the headache was blinding. Her back felt worse, too. She downed a few pills, then started downstairs.

The treat maker was in the apartment at an odd time of day. The cat went on high alert with the departure from normal daily routine. When no treats materialized, he started to head for his bed, then stopped and listened. She was going out again. The middle of the day stretched so long between the two feedings. The human wasn’t being as careful as usual lately. The butterscotch tabby was able to slip out of the apartment and down the steps. Thwarted by a closed back door, he scurried through the kitchen and was able to push through the swinging doors, then dart out the front with a trio of departing customers.

“Not again!” Chase ran down the stairs, tripping at the bottom in her haste. She caught herself against the wall, feeling the awkward position in her aching back, and went after Quincy.

She spied the tip of his tail. He had run into the salesroom! That was surely some sort of health code violation. She hurried to get him out of there as soon as she could. But when she reached the front of the shop, she didn’t see him.

“Did you see Quincy come in here?” she asked Anna, who was bent over in the far corner, restocking a low shelf.

“Is he loose
again
?” She straightened, an alarmed look in her bright blue eyes.

“I saw him push through the swinging door. He has to be in here.”

“Lady, are you looking for a striped cat?” An elderly man wearing an argyle vest and thick glasses pointed to the front door. “He left out that way.”

“How could he?” Chase said. She had been surprised he got through the swinging double doors, but surely he couldn’t work a doorknob. She went to the front window, followed by the man.

“Went out with those people.” He gestured through the glass to a group of three women strolling toward the corner.

“Just what I need.”

“Go,” Anna said. “I’ll stay here. You go get him.”

Chase did, but couldn’t locate Quincy outside. He wasn’t visible on the sidewalk, on either side of the street, or even in the street. She went around to the back and checked near the trash bin, but he wasn’t there either, unless he was crouched under it where she couldn’t see him. Sighing and groaning, she knelt on the pavement and managed to peer underneath the bin. No cat.

She went all the way to Hilda Bjorn’s house, but he had vanished.

As she crossed the street to check around Gabe’s empty condo, Anna came running up the street.

“I warmed some of your special treats for him.” She waved a plastic bag as she approached. “Maybe we can lure him out if he’s hiding.”

“Why would he hide from me?”

“Maybe he’s upset by his latest vet visit and the ingrown dewclaw. Or something might have scared him out here after he got outside.”

“That could be, I guess. He’s not used to being out.”

“He ought to be, by now.”

“No kidding.” Chase took the bag from Anna and opened it. The aroma of fresh meat rose from the warm Kitty Patties. “Oh, Quincy,” she called. “Num nums!”

Anna opened the other baggie and they split up, covering both sides of the street on the way back to the shop, stopping and peering into bushes and under cars.

No Quincy.

Chase saw the “Closed” sign in the front door.

“I flipped it before I left,” said Anna. “It was nearly closing time and no one was there.”

Chase glanced at her watch. “It’s past time now. It’s after seven.”

The sun was fast approaching the horizon over the trees and buildings across the street.

“What if we don’t find him?” Chase struggled to keep the tremor out of her voice.

“We’ll find him, dear. Cats sometimes take off for a while, but they always come home.”

“Always? Unless they get run over. Or trapped somewhere and die of thirst. Or attacked by dogs. Or—” Her voice was rising, getting screechy. She was waving her arms like a wild woman, but she couldn’t stop.

“You can’t talk like that. You can’t think like that.” Anna grabbed Chase’s shoulder and spun her around to face the woman who was, after all, her surrogate grandmother.

Chase grew still on the outside, but was still quaking on the inside. “He’s never been out all night before. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself on the streets.” Her voice betrayed her, cracking and squeaky.

Anna frowned. “Do I have to slap you silly? Stop this right now.” She gave Chase’s shoulder a shake, not a gentle one, and let go of her. “Let’s go over every place again.”

The treats were cooling by then and Chase wasn’t sure Quincy would be able to smell them. Especially if he was trapped somewhere, dying of thirst. “Will it do any good? I’ve been everywhere twice, up the street and back.”

Anna tapped her foot. “He must have gone somewhere else. Where could it be?”

Chase took her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m calling Mike. He might have some ideas.”

He didn’t.

Chase stuck her cell into her pocket. “He just says that this happens sometimes.”

“Exactly what I said.”

“And Mike said that wherever Quincy is, he’s probably all right and will come home when he’s ready.”

“Exactly what I said.”

“All right, but neither of you are making me feel any better.”

Chase texted Julie as she trudged back to the shop. Julie returned the message saying that she’d call later.

Just before Chase crawled into bed, Julie rang.

“Did you find Quincy yet?” she said. She sounded tired.

“Is the trial going on today? Sunday?” Chase asked.

“No, but we met in the office most of the day. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m cut out for this kind of litigation. Grandma said Quincy ran away again.”

“He’s still gone. We looked in the places he usually goes. I don’t know where else to look.”

“I sure wish I could be there with you, at least. And wish I could help look for him, too.”

“I don’t think it would do any good.”

“He’ll come back. You know cats do that.”

“Mike and Anna both told me that. But this is Quincy. My babykins.”

“He’s still a cat. I don’t think he’s even used up one of his lives yet, has he?”

Chase had to chuckle at that. “No, he’s led a sheltered life. I worry that he doesn’t have any experience being out on the streets.”

“The mean streets of Dinkytown?”

Her spirits lifted after the phone call until she started fretting again five minutes later.

Chase lay awake most of the night, dozing for short periods, getting up often to run downstairs to see if Quincy was clawing at the door, trying to get in. In the morning, she was a wreck. Anna came over to keep her company Monday, the day the shop was closed. She kept Chase supplied with hot chamomile tea. The warm spell was gone. Near-freezing temperatures were expected overnight.

Chase lurched through the day, running to the rear door every fifteen minutes until Anna commanded her to stop.

“We’ll hear him if he’s there. His meow is loud enough to hear in the next county, you know.”

Chase pictured him barely able to stand, let alone meow, lying outside the door, but she started checking only every half hour to appease Anna.

Another sleepless night and another awful day passed the same way. At least the shop was closed Mondays and Tuesdays.

Mike came over Tuesday night with a thermos of hot chocolate. The weather was taking a turn for the worse, getting colder and blustery.

She cried in his arms most of the time he was there. After he left, she didn’t feel any better. For two hours, she sat in front of her television, not seeing anything but the weather report. Colder and windier. She shivered. Her poor kitty! Where was he?!

Dragging every step of the way to her bedroom, she took off her clothes and pulled on a flannel nightgown. She stopped with one arm in the sleeve. She’d heard something! A meow! A loud meow!

She thrust her other arm through the flannel and grabbed her robe, stepped into her fuzzy slippers, and tore down the stairs. She threw open the door and took her breath in sharply.

Quincy lay on the cement, almost exactly as she had pictured him. Limp and lifeless.