The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (9 page)

Billy burst into the office a second later, flashlight in one hand and Candace’s evidence kit in the other. Soon, Dustin was gripping his own wrist while Candace carefully eased the bones into an evidence bag. She looked around the room. “I need something firm to rest this on and then secure it.”

Grant said, “I saw several loose planks in the hallway.”

“Get one for me, would you?” she said.

He hurried from the room.

Dustin’s gaze was still fixed on his open and now-empty palm. “I never held the hand of a dead person before.”

“Let’s hope you never do again,” I said.

He nodded solemnly and closed his hand into a fist, then let his arm drop.

Billy told us the chief would be here as quickly as possible. Grant then brought in the plank and Candace taped the evidence bag to it.

While we all watched her, I was thinking how those bones once belonged to a living, breathing human being. These thoughts were interrupted by Grant.

He said, “If I’m not mistaken, I saw tool marks along
the baseboard where I found the plank. Someone loosened a few floorboards.”

“Interesting,” Candace said as she set the plank on the old desk. “I’ll have a look later.” She asked Grant to stay next to the bagged and secured hand so anyone else who arrived wouldn’t accidentally disturb it. Then she sent Billy to wait for the chief and guide him in here.

Candace turned her flashlight back on and addressed Dustin. “Point the light to exactly where you found the bones.”

He held up the piece of twine. “You might need this, too. Found it first.”

“Ah, good.” She smiled. “Thanks for being so conscientious about this evidence, Dustin.” She turned to Grant. “You’re pretty observant, too. I like that.”

Candace had both young men blushing.

After the twine was also placed into an evidence bag and labeled, Candace looked through the small tunnel where Dustin found the hand.

“Can’t see much except wadded tarp,” she said.

Dustin moved his flashlight beam over the bricks now sitting on the hearth. “I took those bricks out after I saw that tarp crammed back in there.”

“I guess I should have noticed someone was trying to hide something,” Candace said. “Why else fill a fireplace up like this?”

“Oh, it’s not unusual,” Dustin said. “See, they fill these old, tall chimneys with bricks and cement hunks to stabilize them. Don’t want them falling down during high winds. A chimney collapse of this size could hurt or even kill someone.”

“If it’s not unusual, what made you go looking in there?” Candace asked.

“It caught my eye because the packing wasn’t done the way I’ve seen in pictures,” he answered. “Too many bricks neatly stacked on one side.”

“Guess your training gives you a good eye for detail.” Candace took her camera from her evidence bag and snapped pictures.

Though I was interested in what she was doing and what secrets the fireplace would reveal, I was distracted by the phenomenon in my lap. I not only continued to feel the light pressure of what seemed to be a small cat, but now I swore I heard purring. If I moved, would all this stop? Did I want it to stop? Was it supposed to stop? I had no idea, so I continued to sit and feel comforted by this…this
presence
.

Chief Mike Baca and Deputy Morris Ebeling arrived within fifteen minutes. I could tell Morris was stewing by the glare he fixed on Candace. He remained tight-lipped as Candace detailed the situation, spilling everything from this morning on. But then the mention of Jeannie Sloan turned his skin a tad ashen.

Mike Baca asked Billy and Grant to wait outside and make sure anyone who noticed all the cars by the fence didn’t wander in here—and they weren’t to give out any information.

After they left, he turned to Candace. “You made the decision to gather old case files, read them and come out here to this mill with your only backup a friend and a civil engineer?” Mike looked her up and down and by the fire in his eyes, he was as angry as I’d ever seen him. “And without your uniform? What were you thinking? That you were on a little scavenger hunt in an old building?”

Candace examined her Nikes. “I made a mistake, sir.”

“I should take you off this case,” he said.

Morris nodded, almost smiling.

“But you’re my best officer,” he said, though still grim. “You’re special, Deputy Carson. But don’t you
ever
do anything like this again.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Morris’s color had changed again—to an unhealthy shade of red. “This is
my
case.”

“With all respect for your years of service to Mercy PD,” the chief said, “you closed a missing person’s case maybe you shouldn’t have closed.
Maybe
. Time will tell whether Jeannie Sloan has been holed up here for ten years or ten days. No matter what, you’re on this as a loyal partner to Deputy Carson. Am I clear?”

“Clear as day,” a seething Morris said.

“Good.” Chief Baca ran a hand through his hair and focused on me. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

His accusatory tone made me feel as if I needed to defend myself. “I was asked to help because of my knowledge of textile mills, Mike. If I remember right, you were at the council meeting when the decision was made.” My imaginary cat nudged my hand just like one of my own would do knowing I was upset.
Imaginary, Jillian. Keep that in mind.

“Yes, you were invited to help,” he said. “But a homeless woman seems out of your range of expertise, wouldn’t you agree?” But his focus was now on the fireplace—the one Candace and Dustin stood in front of like sentries. Dustin’s gaze remained on the floor and I guessed he wanted to be as invisible as the cat in my lap.

“Not completely out of my range, Mike,” I said. “Jeannie’s a former mill villager and I know about her roots and—”

“I get it. I respect your knowledge.” Mike sighed heavily. “Sorry if I sounded rude, but a squatter and now a skeleton will not be easy to explain to a council eager to shed this mill from the town’s fiscal responsibility. See where I’m coming from?”

I nodded, but I felt disappointed in Mike’s reaction. Dustin found the hand of a dead person. Finding out whom those bones belonged to seemed far more important than small-town politics.

Mike must have read my mind or come to his senses, because he said, “I’m sorry. Our priority is to find out who died, how they died and why.”

Morris cleared his throat. “How we gonna do that, Chief?”

“For starters, I’ve made a few friends at the many workshops and conferences I attend. One of those friends happens to be a forensic anthropologist.”

“A
what
?” Morris’s bushy brows came together.

“Skeleton expert,” Candace said.

“She’s a university professor,” Mike said.

“How long before she gets here?” I said, resisting the urge to stroke an imaginary cat.

“Tomorrow,” Mike said. “Meanwhile, this room could be a crime scene.” His expression changed from concern to consternation. “Heck, this whole mill could be a crime scene.”

“We don’t have enough crime scene tape, then,” Morris said.

Dustin found his voice. “I haven’t even gotten to the upper levels of this building to assess the structural integrity. If you plan on bringing people in here, can I finish my evaluation first?”

“What if you find another skeleton?” Candace said. “You’d want one of us with you, right?”

Dustin paled.
“Another one?”

“Yeah, kid,” Morris said. “Word in town is that this old place is haunted. Could be a bone factory for all we know. Serial killer dumping ground.”

Knowing Morris, I understood he was kidding, but from the look on Dustin’s face, he was buying every word.

He said, “I—I guess a police presence would be needed, then.”

“You guessed right,” Candace said. “Chief? You want Dustin and me to check this place out?”

“I’ll go with you.” Mike turned to Morris. “You’re on guard duty. I don’t want any unauthorized people in or out of this place. Park your squad car at the gate and stay there.”

Morris checked his watch. “How long? I ain’t even had my supper.”

“As long as it takes. Go on. Get out there.” Mike waved his hand toward the door.

Morris’s ears grew scarlet to match his already ruddy cheeks. “Whatever you say, Chief.”

Dustin and Candace slipped out the door and I heard them start up the stairs that lay just beyond this office door to begin their search of the upper levels. Morris stomped out and we heard his heavy steps for several seconds—but then they stopped.

A female voice echoed in the distance.

“Maybe the professor was able to get away sooner than she thought.” Mike started for the door.

But he didn’t make it.

Councilwoman Penelope Webber stormed into the room and stopped, hands on hips. “Just what in heck is going on here?”

The invisible Boots hissed.

Mike Baca said, “Hello, Penelope. As you seem to have heard, we’ve run into a small snag here.” He laughed nervously.

She glanced down at me where I sat on the floor. I was a little afraid to get up, first because this cat—or my own failing mental health—seemed to be holding me hostage. I also feared I might disturb anything in what I now considered a tomb. And then there was Penelope herself. I had to admit, the woman, with her ageless beauty and tall, commanding presence, intimidated me.

But Penelope’s tone softened when she addressed me. “I heard about the paramedics and the ambulance, though I’m not sure why
you
are here so late in the day.”

“Kind of a long story,” I said.

She cocked her head and fiddled with the loosely knotted cashmere scarf at her neck. “Fill me in. I’m all ears.”

“I can do that.” Mike looked pointedly at me. “Mrs. Hart was just leaving.”

I placed my hands behind me on the dirty floor so I could get up and as soon as I made a move to rise, the pressure on my lap disappeared. Mike offered me a hand and I stood. I started to brush the dust off but then thought better of it. Candace had taught me about the
importance of every piece of evidence and I didn’t want dirt off my hands or jeans contaminating anything.

“Can you find your way out or do you need help?” Mike said.

I pulled my trusty flashlight from my coat pocket. “I’ll be fine—probably right on Morris’s heels.”

I hurried past Penelope, whose heavy perfume, combined with the dust and mold in this place, made my nose itch. By the time I was halfway out of the mill, I was capturing sneezes in the crook of my arm.

Guess Tom wasn’t able to keep Penelope occupied,
I thought as I walked out into the night.

Morris, Grant and Billy were gathered outside the fence and Billy opened the gate for me.

He said, “Trouble came calling, huh? As if a skeleton’s hand weren’t enough. I tried to call Candace to warn you about Ms. Webber, but I couldn’t get through.”

I smiled. “Thanks for thinking of us. Would you mind telling Candace I went home?” I felt Morris’s stare and turned to him. “I’m sorry the chief was so hard on you.”

“Been there, done that,” he said. “Chief has his favored child to do his work now. Time was, I’d be the one he’d turn to. Not your fault. You go on home and take care, Miss Jillian.”

He sounded sad and resigned, and for some reason I still felt partly to blame. Maybe we could talk about all this later, without Grant and Billy paying such close attention. “Good night, y’all,” I said, and started for my van.

I put my phone on speaker and called Tom the minute I left the mill village. “Can you meet me at my house?” I said.

“Sure. Penelope Webber showed up, didn’t she?” he said.

“Oh yes,” I replied.

“Sorry about that. She got a phone call and suddenly
that woman was ablaze. Sent me packing because she said there was an incident at the mill and her presence was necessary. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in person. I should be home in five,” I said.

“Meet you there,” he said.

We disconnected and I tossed my phone onto the seat beside me.

And I heard a tiny mew of displeasure.

I blinked several times, keeping my eyes on the road and my hold on the steering wheel tight.
This is all in your head, Jillian, so don’t even look over to that passenger seat.

I sped up and after I pulled into my driveway and parked, I reached for my phone, keeping my eyes straight ahead. I found it right away. And that was all I felt.
Thank goodness
.

Just as I was getting out of my van, Tom pulled up behind me. His headlights offered a little illumination and I couldn’t help but take a peek beside me.

See? Nothing there, silly
.

I got out, shut my van door and greeted Tom. The hug we shared felt wonderful. I definitely needed a hug.

Gripping my upper arms, he held me back so he could look at me. “You’re upset. I mean, every muscle is tense. Let’s talk.”

With his arm around me, we went inside.

Three cats waited in the kitchen when we walked in. Chablis arched her back and squinted up at me, almost smiling, and I reached down to pet her. Syrah and Merlot sat stock-still, however.

“What’s with them?” Tom stepped around the cats and into the kitchen.

“They’ve been acting strange today,” I said.

But with their gazes fully engaged on a spot beyond me, I was putting the pieces together. My logical,
grounded side wanted to reject the explanation, but because of what I’d been experiencing all day, coupled with their reactions, another part of my brain started to believe the illogical. The spirit of Jeannie’s cat was with me—and Syrah and Merlot knew it. I shivered at the thought.

“I’m thinking hot chocolate. What about you?” Tom said. He was standing in front of the open pantry.

I didn’t answer. I felt stuck to the floor. Stuck in my mind. This was ridiculous. And yet I watched as Merlot’s and Syrah’s stares moved in tandem, observing what could not be seen.

There it was again. The brush against my leg. The little nudge to remind me I had a visitor of a very different kind.

Tom looked at me around the pantry door. “Jilly? Hot chocolate or coffee?”