The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (11 page)

“Sure.” I explained about Shawn’s request—okay, his
demand
—that I meet him at the mill because of the arrival of the shelters.

“Oh boy,” Candace said as she slid behind the wheel. “That crime scene is gonna be like a three-ring circus today.”

I waved good-bye as she pulled out of the driveway. Once I stepped inside my house, I saw the chase was on—presumably Syrah, Merlot and Boots being the ones involved. Poor Chablis apparently was as clueless about this little ghost as most everyone besides my boy cats and Jeannie. Chablis wanted treats and a lap and she’d be happy. I could provide the former, but no lap—not on what looked to be another busy day.

I opened the treat jar and took two out as I tapped the keypad on my phone with my other hand looking for Dustin’s contact number.

He answered right away and said, “I’m so glad you called. I’m going crazy. I’ve worked up a few ideas from what I saw today on my iPad, but that’s about all.”

With Syrah and Merlot looking up at me, I explained he was needed at the mill and why. No doubt Boots was right beside my two living, breathing cats.

“That is
fantastic
,” Dustin said. “Those bones may have creeped me out, but to actually be able to say I helped with a job like this?
Wow
. I’m on my way.”

“I have to go there to meet Shawn, so I can pick you up,” I offered.

“I’m finding my way around town without a problem,” he said. “Meet you there.”

“Sure.” After I disconnected, I spoke to my onlookers, making sure to blink a lot. Cats respond to human blinks. “Well, friends, I made someone happy today. But Jeannie’s in a hospital and she needs you, Boots.” I closed my eyes.
Jillian, you just spoke to an invisible cat.
I shook my head and mentally prepared myself for the next encounter of the day—with an impatient Shawn.

Before I left, I grabbed a bagel and filled a travel cup with sweet tea. I was certain I would be playing referee between the police and Shawn. He’d want those expensive shelters inside the fence, if not inside the mill. That could be a problem if the entire mill was indeed a crime scene.

When I turned into the village and passed the church, I first noticed a yellow Penske moving van. Then I saw a crowd of people standing outside the mill fence. What was happening? Had my stepdaughter and editor-in-chief, Kara, gotten wind of the bones and played town crier in the
Mercy Messenger
this morning?

But as I drove up to the side street leading to the mill, I knew this wasn’t about anything in the newspaper. This was all about town politics.

Penelope Webber, wearing a ruby red wool coat, stood between two groups of men in suits. After I slid from behind the wheel and approached them, I heard the men shouting questions at Penelope. But because they were all talking at once, I couldn’t understand anything they were saying. I doubted Penelope could, either.

I didn’t even hear Shawn come up beside me until he whispered, “Will you look at that?”

I stopped and faced him. “What’s going on?”

“Bunch of idiots going at it,” he said.

“A few faces look familiar. Where have I seen them?” I said.

“Probably at the town council meeting. To the right of Penelope Webber, you got Ward Stanley’s group of investors. To the left, you got Lucas Bartlett’s crew.”

“Ah. Condos versus urban village,” I said with a nod.

“That sums it up. Inside the mill is the woman who belongs to the SUV parked over there. I saw her go in with Chief Baca and Candace.” Shawn nodded at a black Expedition parked near the gate. “Penelope unlocked the gate for them. And ignored me completely. I’m left here with fifty grand worth of donated cat shelters.” He thumbed behind him at the rental truck. “And I’ve got to get that truck back by five this afternoon. Can you help me move these shelters beyond the fence so they won’t get stolen?”

“Let me talk to the woman with the keys,” I said.

As I walked toward the crowd filled with some people I knew but many I didn’t, and all of them talking at once, Dustin pulled up in his Volkswagen.
Ah,
I thought.
Here’s my ticket inside.

He hurried toward me, pulling his jacket tightly around him in the stiff breeze. “Dumb me managed to get lost after all.”

“These country roads can be confusing.” I hooked his arm and whispered, “Come with me and follow my lead on this, okay?”

“But—”

“You’ll understand in a minute,” I said.

When we reached the little crowd, Penelope turned and said, “There you are, Dustin. So nice to see you
again, too, Jillian. Have you met these wonderful people?”

Before I could get a word out, Penelope introduced Ward Stanley. “This mill was named after his great-grandmother, Lorraine, may she rest in peace. He’s gathered this group of people hoping to get his mill back and change it into something amazing.” She rattled off their names and each man nodded a greeting. Then she turned to Bartlett. “And Mr. Lucas Bartlett has a committed group of investors who hope to save this piece of history from destruction. We will have a difficult choice to make in the coming days and weeks.” More introductions followed.

Oh boy,
I thought.
We’re having a town council meeting right here.

The rather rumpled Ward Stanley stood in sharp contrast to Lucas Bartlett, whose manicured nails and sculpted eyebrows told me this guy was
not
from Mercy. The two men stared at each other wearing tight, fake smiles. Dustin shook hands all around, but when the thirty-something Stanley began to introduce the four men he’d brought with him, Dustin surprised me by interrupting.

He said, “I would love to meet all you people, but there’s been a development inside the mill and I understand my help is needed.”

Penelope’s gaze swept across all the men surrounding her. “And we’re sure this
development
won’t interfere with any future plans for the Lorraine Stanley Textile Mill. It’s just a little bump in the road.” She laughed—a tittering laugh that sounded quite counterfeit to my ears.

How inappropriate,
I thought. All she cared about was that one of these investor groups would produce a shiny new and profitable project, one that would relieve the town of Mercy of any obligation to care for this crumbling eyesore. Meanwhile, inside the mill, bones lay
waiting to be identified. Human bones. To paraphrase Emily Dickinson, Penelope dropped very low in my regard right then.

I cleared my throat and said, “Since Dustin might need my help inside getting to the back office, he’s asked me to go with him. Can you allow us room to get through the gate, Penelope?”

She looked at Dustin. “Why would you need help? You have blueprints and spent a good deal of time in there yesterday.”

“Jillian is quite familiar with the layout of old mills,” he said, looking down at me. He turned back to Penelope. “I could really use her expertise, if you don’t mind.”

“First professors and police officers and now the two of you.” She turned to the suddenly silent crowd—who rather reminded me of those twelve angry men of movie fame. She gestured broadly and stepped back, her entourage following her lead. “Go right ahead.”

Dustin fumbled with the lock, but finally we were through the gate and heading toward the mill. The stares of those we’d left behind seemed to pierce my back, but when I felt that familiar thing that cats do—jump dolphinlike against my leg and then surge ahead to lead the way—I knew Boots had come along. And somehow, this provided a kind of reassurance.

Before we reached the door, I heard Penelope call my name. I turned.

She gestured for me to come back, saying, “I need to ask you something, Jillian. It will only take a second.”

Dustin sighed heavily. “Go on. She
is
my boss on all this. Let’s make the woman happy.”

I returned to the fence and Penelope didn’t open the gate. She simply leaned against the chain links and whispered, “I understand there’s a skeleton in there. Let’s be clear. You’re here as a volunteer and not connected in any official capacity to this mess. Don’t say a word to
anyone. This could be a PR nightmare. Everything goes through me? Understand?”

“If you believe I’d gossip about what we found, you don’t know me very well.” I forced a smile.

“Your stepdaughter works for the media. You cannot tell her about this…this
mess
.”

“The mess you’re referring to might be human remains,” I said, my patience quickly fading. “And Kara runs a small-town newspaper. She’s not a CNN producer or anything.”

To her credit, she looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I sounded unsympathetic. Please, assist Dustin, if you would. Just remember what I said.” She turned on one heather gray heel and walked back to the men vying for the mill.

I rejoined Dustin. Just inside the massive door, he’d left a box with hard hats and bulky leather protective gloves. We donned the gear and, with our flashlights leading the way, walked to the office, being careful to dodge the debris on the floor—cheese cones, reed hooks, heddle hooks, spools and scatterings of settled lint.

The halogens in the office shed their light well outside the office door and seemed to be summoning us. We heard voices and picked up our pace.

Mike Baca wore jeans, a zippered dark green jacket with the Mercy PD logo on the chest and a baseball cap with an identical logo—far more sensible clothes for this operation than the suits outside were wearing.

A plump woman was kneeling near the fireplace, her back to me. She wore a navy blue jumpsuit of some kind and her head was covered with what looked like the kind of hat worn by doctors in surgery. Candace stood looking down at her, but when we entered the room, surprise registered on her face. Surprise directed at me.

I felt silly in a hard hat when none of these people considered it necessary.

The chief said, “Jillian,” with a nod. He then extended his hand to Dustin. “Good to see you again, Mr. Gray.”

Dustin introduced himself to the kneeling woman, and she struggled to her feet. She seemed to be trying not to touch anything as she rose.

She wore latex gloves and said, “I’m Dr. Ruth Maddison. You don’t want to shake my hand, Mr. Gray. I do need your assistance, sir. This is a tricky operation we got going, so let me ask your opinion on removing these bricks so we can see what we’ve got.” She waved him toward her and he eagerly joined her.

Mike whispered, “You needed to hold the guy’s hand or what?”

I said, “I came to collect a few of Jeannie’s things, though that’s not the story we offered the town council meeting that’s going on outside the gate. Jeannie might feel more comfortable in the hospital if she has something familiar.” I glanced around, ready to get to the most important reason I’d come in here. “Then there’s the matter of the cat shelters. All Shawn wants to do is unload them, set them inside the gate, but away from anything that might be related to the…skeleton. He’s worked hard to get those shelters donated and wants them stored in a safe place.”

“So, you’re a messenger.” He looked at Candace, who was engrossed in the hushed conversation going on between Dustin and Dr. Maddison. “Deputy Carson. Any problem with Shawn bringing the shelters inside?”

Candace looked at us, seemingly perturbed. Then she sighed heavily. “If we do have a crime scene, I suppose we can’t protect every inch of this property. It’s just too big.” She turned pensive. “But where to put them?”

Dustin glanced at her. “Can they stay outdoors?”

“From what Shawn told me,” I answered, “they’re meant to be outside eventually. But I know he’d prefer them to be locked up in this building. If that’s impossible
right now, we can find a place that’s out of sight from the road.”

Mike turned to leave, saying, “I’ll take care of Shawn and his shelters.”

He didn’t ask me to go with him and I sighed with relief. I wanted to know what the professor would find in that fireplace. And apparently I wasn’t the only one.

Sitting on the hearth, and watching with intense curiosity as Dr. Maddison and Dustin resumed their discussion, was a small black cat with white paws.

Oh boy. Now I could
see
her.

The cat glanced at me and quietly meowed while I swallowed a gasp.

“Are you okay?” Candace said to me. “You look as if you saw a ghost.”

I blinked several times and Boots didn’t completely disappear, but rather went translucent. “I-I’m simply worried about what they’ll find.”
And concerned I truly am losing my mind,
I added to myself.

“If you don’t like skeletons, I suggest you leave,” Candace said. “But even though I understand you want to help Jeannie, I can’t let you take anything out of this room. Cat shelters are one thing, but this area will need to be searched for evidence.”

“I understand. But I’d like to stay and watch them work.” Even if I was taken aback by what I saw beyond Candace, I was still mesmerized.

Boots had found a way into the right side of the fireplace while Dustin and Dr. Maddison concentrated on the left. Only her tail was sticking out. I suppose ghost cats
could
travel right through brick. I stepped closer and said, “Perhaps the feral cats can give us a clue about this fireplace. Earlier we decided they seemed to be coming in and out through this room.” I pointed to the small opening where I could still see the tip of Boots’s tail. “Like right through there.”

Dr. Maddison turned and looked up at me. “Feral cats?”

“I’ll explain later.” Candace, hands on her thighs, peered into the fireplace, glancing left and then right. “There is a space a few feet to the right of where Dustin pulled out that hand.”

Dustin scrambled over and stuck tentative fingers into the opening. “Ah. This might give us a shot at removing bricks and concrete with minimal disturbance to what might…lie beyond.” He looked up at me. “Good call, Jillian.”

Thanks, Boots,
I said to myself.

Dustin said, “If we can reach in through this opening and remove a few bricks, we might be able to see what we’re dealing with. I’m sure you understand, Dr. Maddison, that this
structure
of debris began in the middle and then whoever filled this fireplace piled on to the outside. Sort of like a pyramid.”