Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) (6 page)

In spite of her steamy bath, accompanied by a cup of chamomile tea, Chase slept fitfully.

C
hase had finally fallen into a deep sleep at five, so the alarm startled her at 6:15. It startled Quincy, too, who stiffened beside Chase, then jumped off the bed and scooted out of the room.

Chase groaned and slapped the alarm off, then got up, dressed, threw food into Quincy’s bowl, and stumbled down the stairs. She was looking forward to the university classes starting on Tuesday and the parents going home so she could relax and maybe get more sleep.

Al’s Breakfast, a tiny place but a Dinkytown institution, was across the street and down a couple of doors from the Bar None. Chase went through her shop and out the front door, locking it behind her, and made it to the restaurant a few minutes after 6:30.

Laci sat on one of the red-vinyl-covered stools, halfway down the narrow dining room. She had done her hair up again, in spite of the early hour. How long must it take to fix it that way? She was staring down at the counter. Chase suspected she wasn’t seeing the napkins standing at attention in their basket, or the plastic dinosaur that, inexplicably, lived on the counter. She had on a high-necked dark red blouse with lace on the collar and cuffs. She looked like a child playing dress-up, trying to be Queen Victoria.

Chase lifted Laci’s huge cloth purse off the seat next to her and gave her the best greeting smile she could this early in the morning. Laci merely tented her eyebrows. Her eyes glittered, full of tears ready to spill.

“What is it, Laci? What’s wrong?”

Before she could answer, they were interrupted by the server, a middle-aged woman in a white shirt as plain as Laci’s blouse was fancy. Laci sighed and ordered coffee and toast. Chase gazed longingly at the eggs Benedict on the plate of the man beside her, but ordered the buttermilk pancakes. If they were going to do a lot of talking, she wouldn’t have time to do justice to her favorite.

“It’s Violet,” Laci began, then halted with a loud sniff.

“Just a couple more days. It’s Saturday and classes start Tuesday. We need you both there until then. After Monday, why don’t you take—”

“No, it’s not that. I’ll work when you need me. It’s Ted.”

“All right.” Chase was puzzled. She sipped her coffee. Laci had just said “it” was Vi. Now “it” was Ted?

“She’s spreading rumors. It’s not true!”

“What rumors? What’s not true?”

“About him stealing things.”

Chase braced herself. “Laci, dear, he was taking the boxed merchandise. I saw him.”

“Not that. The money. Oh, I’m not explaining anything, am I? Vi says Ted is taking money from the cash register.”

Anna had said she would talk to the young man about that. Chase wondered if she’d had time to do that yet.

“He’s not,” said Laci, still on the verge of tears. “He wouldn’t do that.”

What world did Laci live in where Ted would shoplift at college and steal boxes of cookie bars, but wouldn’t steal money?

“Ted’s always felt so out of place and awkward, he says. He was a late baby and his parents are more the age of grandparents. I think that affects him psychologically.”

Sure, thought Chase. That makes perfect sense. Most late babies steal things and flunk out of college. Not.

Their food arrived and Chase busied herself applying butter and syrup to her pancakes.

“Can you please tell Violet to stop? She’s upsetting Ted.” Laci bit into her toast as if she were biting off Vi’s ear. Chase knew that Ted was a sensitive soul in Laci’s world.

“I’ll speak to Vi.” She lifted her fork. The first bite was always the best. She closed her eyes so she could taste the buttery, syrupy concoction to the fullest.

“Hm.” Laci looked suspicious, as though she understood that Chase wasn’t going to tell Vi to stop spreading rumors just because Laci asked her to. “The stuff with his parents is so devastating. Ted has so much anger toward his father. Sometimes he scares me when he talks about him.”

“Laci, I said I’ll talk to her. That’s all I can do. When the rush is over, you won’t have to work together.”

Laci’s half smile and nod made Chase sad. She probably thought they were going to fire Vi, when Laci seemed to be the one Anna most wanted to fire. Chase finished as quickly as she could and hurried to the store for her next confrontation, this one with Anna.

Even at this early hour, the sidewalks were filling with college students and their families, moving their children into the dorms. At the end of the street, a number 6 bus rumbled along University Avenue, flashing its blue and yellow stripe in a stray band of light from the newly risen sun. In an hour or so, the sun would climb above the buildings where it now hid behind the Bar None. This would be a beautiful day if Chase didn’t have so much on her mind. She squared her shoulders as she unlocked the door and entered her shop from the front.

She found Anna in the office, sitting at the computer with the financial spreadsheet open on the screen. She was frowning.

Chase took a seat in the chair next to the desk, wordlessly, waiting for Anna to tell her why she’d summoned her.

“There’s more,” Anna said. Her blue eyes, usually warm and cheerful, were troubled.

“More money? We have too much?”

“More pilfering. Less money.” Anna gritted her teeth, still staring at the screen.

“Have you talked to Ted?” Chase slipped her purse off her shoulder and set it on the corner of the desk. “I just had breakfast with Laci.”

Anna looked up at her now, questioning. Her eyes were still clouded.

“She called last night and asked to talk to me. She’s convinced Vi is spreading vicious rumors about him taking the cash and that Ted is innocent. And after we caught him red-handed stealing merchandise.”

“Yes, we did.” Anna spoke slowly. “He was, wasn’t he?” She studied the corner where the wall met the ceiling for a moment. “But he hasn’t been near the register since this last bunch went missing. Last bunch of money, not merchandise.”

“How much?”

“You don’t know?”

“Anna, I haven’t been doing the books. You have. How would I know?” What was Anna getting at? Could Anna be . . . No, that wasn’t possible.

Anna glanced away.

Then Chase got it. A coldness crept up her spine. “How long have you known me? Have I ever stolen anything?”

“Have you?”

“What?” Chase stood, trembling. “How can you ask me that?”

Anna’s head sank into her hands and her head nearly touched the computer screen. “Charity, darling, I’m not sure what to think. No, of course not. How could I have thought that? I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. But who could be stealing from us?”

Anna
had
thought Chase was the thief. The fact that she had thought that, even for a moment, turned something over inside Chase.

Chase stalked out and stomped up the stairs to her apartment. Her hands shook so she could barely get her key to work.

She stormed inside, slammed the door, and dialed Julie.

Julie answered right away and Chase let out a breath of relief. She needed to talk to her best friend so badly right now.

“You got a minute?” Chase asked.

“Maybe two. I’m due in a conference soon. Shoot.”

“You’re working on Saturday?”

“My huge case is coming up. We’re working all weekend to prep.”

“I don’t know how to say this. Anna . . . have you talked to her recently?”

“Sure. She came over for coffee last night. Oh. Is this about the missing money?”

“Julie, she thinks I took it.”

“What makes you think that?”

Should Chase interpret that last statement as a nondenial? “It’s obvious. Did you get that idea?”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Why is she doing this?”

Julie’s deep breath came over the airwaves clearly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Why would Julie hesitate to confide in her?

“Are you doing all right with money?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are the vet bills expensive?”

Chase frowned. “Not especially. Should they be? Do you think Dr. Ramos is giving me a special rate?”

“No, no. But, well, Violet has been talking to Grandma and now she thinks that you’re desperate for money to pay Quincy’s bills and that, maybe . . .”

“Maybe I’ve been dipping into the till?”

“I told her that was ridiculous.”

“It
is
ridiculous. Anna doesn’t really believe Vi, does she?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to her about it for more than a few words. Chase, let’s talk about this later. I think that Grandma’s having some other problems, but she won’t talk about it. I gotta run, really. I’ll call after work.”

The cold that had entered Chase’s spine downstairs now spread inside her. Her very heart felt chilled. It seemed Anna didn’t find it hard to believe she would steal money from her business partner. From her own shop, for that matter.

Now she had to spend the entire day in Anna’s company, knowing she’d harbored those thoughts about her, and refereeing her incompatible employees. A few tears of self-pity escaped her nondescript blue-gray eyes. All she could see before her were Anna’s periwinkle blues, giving her a steely stare of suspicion.

She splashed cold water on her face and returned to the fray.

After a couple of hours of pure torture—working in her kitchen had never been this hard before—her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the ID, but it seemed official.

“Detective Olson here.” Niles Olson, the good-looking policeman working on the murder case of Gabe Naughtly.

“Can I help you?”

Anna started paying attention when Chase used that polite, formal tone. She stopped mixing dough and cocked her head toward the counter where Chase had been sprinkling coconut onto some cooled Lemon Coconut Bars.

“We need to ask you a few more questions, Miss Oliver. Could you make it down to the station today?”

“Not . . . not right now. We’re terribly busy.”

“After hours, then. Give me a time and I’ll be here.”

“We . . . we’re staying open late tonight. It’s one of our busiest days of the year.”

“What time?”

He was going to make her come to the station no matter what she said. “I’ll be there at eight.”

Could anything else go wrong today?

The cat was bored and hungry. He heard welcome sounds outside the office door. It sounded like a delivery person had entered the rear of the shop. That usually meant the back door would be propped open. The last time the older woman had darted in to leave him some cookie crumbs, the office door hadn’t shut properly. He’d bided his time to use this knowledge, but now was the right time.

Hooking a claw around the protruding bit of the door, he nudged it open, just far enough for him to slip out. Slinking along the wall, no one saw him until he was at the rear door. The commotion and din made him move faster and he dashed through it. The alley and parking lot beckoned.

“There goes Quincy,”
said Anna. She pointed toward the back door with a spoon that dripped creamed butter and sugar.

“Not again.” Chase shook her head and dashed out the door the delivery man had come through. She almost knocked the boxes of cleaning supplies out of his arms. Twisting to help catch his wares, she felt her back wrench.

“Sorry, ’scuse me,” she called, scrambling after her cat. Right outside the door, she halted. He hadn’t gone far and she didn’t want to frighten him into running away. Quincy crouched next to the trash bin, peering at something beneath it. Chase tiptoed to him and scooped him up, wincing at the pain that shot through her spine, hoping rats weren’t under the bin staring out at her and Quincy, ready to invade her shop.

“Such a bad, bad boy,” she cooed, cradling him and stroking his back.

The sounds of an argument reached her from the other end of the parking lot. A man and a woman stood on the other side of a car, only their heads visible above the roof of a small Toyota. The woman raised her arms and chopped the air repeatedly, her voice rising. She had a cute, short haircut.

It was Vi! Chase strained to hear what was going on. Was this guy the source of her recent distress? Chase wondered if she should go confront the young man—he looked to be the age of a college student or younger—and tell him to quit upsetting Vi. But Chase was holding Quincy. She needed to put him in a safe place first.