Fat Cat At Large Page 4

  “Now we go away for a bit,” Anna said.

  When they returned, half an hour later, the tall bucket held three large white rats and one black and white one. The food was gone and the rats seemed lazy and content, not at all distressed by the steep, unclimbable sides that confined them.

  “What’s that little clatter noise?” asked Chase.

  “It’s called bruxing,” Anna said. “That black-and-white one is chattering his teeth together.”

  “Is he mad?”

  “He’s probably content. It’s usually a happy sound. They’re obviously from a pet store. I’ll see how tame they are.” Anna bravely stuck a hand into the bucket. One rat sniffed her fingers. She picked it up and put it into the cage.

  “Aw, he’s so nice and soft,” Anna murmured.

  Chase was impressed. “This is a skill I didn’t know you had, Anna. Where did you learn to handle rats?”

  “One summer in college, I worked in the science lab. These are tamer than those were, by a long shot.”

  When all four were contained, Anna said she’d take them to the pet store on the next block over tomorrow morning.

  Chase had dreams all night long of swirling, flashing lights, dead bodies rolling over, rats climbing her kitchen counters, and her own bloody hands. Morning took forever to arrive.

  As she showered, she began to wonder when Gabe could have put the rats inside. How long had he been dead when she found him? His shoulder wasn’t warm when she touched it. His body was starting to stiffen. Didn’t that mean he’d been dead more than a few minutes?

  So how could Gabe have done it? The rats were put there while everyone was searching for Qunicy. Gabe had to have been dead at that time. Who else hated Chase—or Anna—or the shop—enough to commit such horrible sabotage?

  • • •

  Early Wednesday, Chase got her bike out and took a turn around Dinkytown. Since they were so busy at work this week, she was missing Chase Time, some moments to unwind by herself and get some sorely needed exercise. Standing in a kitchen or hunched over a computer were the opposite of exercise.

  She pedaled out of the large parking area behind her store, past the trash bin where Gabe had once planted the other rats. Since the rodents had been released this time inside her store, she expected a visit from the health department. The oven could probably use cleaning, especially the rack Anna had used to trap the rats, but everything else was neat as apple pie. Anna always saw to that. She and her husband, when he was still alive, had run the sandwich shop where the Bar None now did business. After his death at the early age of sixty-eight, she had closed the business down and the property had stood vacant for several years. The experience had given Anna the sharp business sense she now possessed, and the knowledge of what the health department came looking for.

  Chase steered her bike south, down Fifteenth Avenue, past the campus substation, then along University Avenue with the campus on her left, pedaling to Tenth Avenue and onto the bridge, where she could catch a glimpse of the Mississippi River.

  A light breeze came from the west and the air promised a warmish day. It was still August, after all. Chase loved autumn and fall colors, and couldn’t wait to get her sweaters out of the under-bed box in her apartment. She spied a small sumac, beginning to flash its brilliant red leaves. Soon the others would follow, then the bigger trees, until Minneapolis was kissed by the jewel tones of turning leaves.

  The sight of the Mighty Mississippi always calmed her. She stopped, straddling her bike for a few moments, watching the progress of the water that was near the beginning of its two-thousand-mile journey. When she was a child, she’d floated paper boats on its surface, then imagined their trip, picturing them making it all the way to New Orleans. Now that she was an adult, she knew a piece of paper would never make it that far. Still, she could imagine the voyage. She took a deep breath of the clear, crisp-tasting air over the cool water and pedaled to the shop, renewed and ready for another long day.

  • • •

  In her apartment, showered and dressed, Chase poured the diet cat food into Quincy’s bowl and called him.

  “Come get your din dins, little guy. Yummy, yummy.”

  Quincy, who had been lying on the floor five feet from his dish, turned his head toward her with all the speed of a snail and stared. He didn’t even glance at the cat food.

  “Quincy, baby, you have to eat something.” Chase knelt and held a piece of kibble before him. If a cat could look disgusted, that was Quincy’s expression.

  Chase sighed, plunked the morsel into the bowl, and headed downstairs to work.

  Chase had asked both Vi and Laci to work on Wednesday. Her inclination last night had been to shut the shop down for at least a day, but she didn’t know why she felt that way. Respect for the dead? She hadn’t respected Gabe when he was alive, so why should she start now? At any rate, she’d ignored that inclination. This week was too profitable to close down for a day.

  The two young women weren’t respecting anybody, but started in on each other almost as soon as the shop was open.

  “No, Laci.”

  Chase listened in from the kitchen where she was helping Anna get out the ingredients she’d need for today’s baking.

  “Why can’t you remember where the big bills go? Are you defective or something?”

  Anna rushed to the front. When she returned to the kitchen she was tugging Vi by the arm. “That’s enough. You can’t speak to her that way.”

  Vi shook Anna’s hand off and drew herself up to her full height. She looked down on Anna, which only made Anna stand taller and stick her chin out.

  “You’ll speak respectfully to Laci,” Anna said, “as long as you’re both working together in the shop. Do you understand me?”

  Vi glanced away. “You’re right, I was rude.”

  “I can always hire someone else.”

  That was true, Chase thought, but she would hate to lose Vi. She had such a way with the customers. Maybe Anna was being a little too hard on her. Sometimes Anna made Chase feel like a junior partner. Yes, she was a lot younger, but she wanted to be treated as an equal. Chase was going to stand up to Anna and tell her they needed both of them, as soon as she summoned the gumption. She was not fond of conflict by a long shot. She’d had enough lately.

  Now Vi looked worried. Her hand flew to her neck. “I need the job, Mrs. Larson. I really do.”

  “Then don’t make me fire you. Now go sell some goodies. The front is full of college students and their parents. And lay off your coworker.”

  “Laci doesn’t remember anything I tell her. I think she does it on purpose sometimes.”

  Anna closed her eyes and took a breath. “It doesn’t matter that much where the bills go in the cash drawer. We’ll get it all straightened out at night. Don’t worry about it so much.”

  Vi pursed her lips, glossy pink today and matching her silk blouse. Her blouses always bore either matching or contrasting cloth-covered buttons. Today the buttons were lilac. “I’ll try to be patient.”

  The rest of the morning went smoothly. Chase had fun helping bake one of their best sellers, Lemon Bars. She hummed “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma! as she zested the lemon peels and juiced the lemons. Such a fresh smell.

  At lunchtime, Laci came to the kitchen to eat the lunch she’d brought in. She perched on a swivel-top stool at the island and munched her sandwich while Anna cleaned up her bowls and baking utensils in the huge sink. Chase finished dusting the cooled lemon bars with powdered sugar, took her yogurt from the refrigerator, and sat beside Laci.

  “How are sales today?” Chase asked.

  Laci fiddled with a loose bobby pin. She’d come to work with her long hair in a complicated but stylish updo. It looked nice on her. “We’re selling tons. We might run out of the Peanut Butter Chocolate Bars.”

  �
�I have some in the oven,” said Anna.

  They ate in silence for a bit while Anna clattered in the sink. Chase drew in the chocolaty smell of the baking goodies as she ate.

  “Some people were asking if there were any rats in the kitchen,” said Laci, wadding up her plastic sandwich bag and shooting a basket in the big wastebasket at the end of the island.

  Anna froze with a soapy hand in the air and Chase stopped eating midbite.

  Anna turned from the sink slowly. “Who was asking that?”

  How would anyone know about the rats? thought Chase. Anna had whisked them away to the pet store early in the morning.

  “I don’t remember.” Laci bit into a crunchy apple.

  “No,” said Chase. “We don’t have rats. You told them that, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. There was just that one time, and Gabe put them there.”

  “Put what where?” Vi pushed through the swinging doors.

  “You remember when Gabe put those rats in the alley?” said Laci.

  “So he’s the one who put the last ones here?” Vi asked.

  “Chase says there aren’t any more.”

  “It’s your turn in front,” said Vi to her coworker. Chase was glad they were being civil to each other. For now. “I’m ready for my lunch.”

  When Laci had left, Chase turned to Vi, perched on a stool and unwrapping her sandwich with a self-assured air. “What’s this about rat rumors? Do you know who started that?”

  Vi raised a smooth, perfectly groomed eyebrow.

  How could the girl look so sophisticated? wondered Chase. She was almost ten years younger than Chase, but Vi made her feel awkward and young sometimes. Laci, who actually was younger and more awkward, probably felt ten times less capable around her. “What have you heard?” Chase said.

  “Do you think Laci released the rats?” Vi said. “As a favor to Ted’s dad, to make Ted like her more?”

  “That’s crazy,” said Chase, pushing her yogurt carton away, no longer hungry. “There aren’t any rats, and if there were, Laci wouldn’t be involved.”

  “You should see those two,” said Vi. “I had to tell Ted not to come behind the counter. He’s got his hands all over her.”

  “It doesn’t sound like Laci needs to curry his favor, then.”

  Chase wondered if Vi was jealous. After all, Laci had a steady beau and she had none. That was probably because, as Vi had told them, she dumped every guy she dated after a few weeks. Anna thought Vi was waiting for one with a lot of money, trying them out to see how deep their pockets were.

  The phone sounded in the office and Chase gladly quit the conversation to answer it. It was a paper-product supplier trying to get her business, and she made short work of the call.

  While she was there, she opened the business spreadsheets to double-check something she thought she’d seen last time she balanced the books. Chase frowned. That was odd. Something wasn’t adding up.

  As she quickly reached for the door to have Anna look at the computer, she heard Vi speaking in the kitchen, near the closed office door.

  “I’m talking about the money. It’s not there. No, I don’t have it, Felix.”

  She seemed to be speaking on her cell phone, probably unaware of how little soundproofing the office door provided.

  “No, I can’t. She’s the owner. . . . Okay, co-owner. Same thing. I need to talk to you.”

  Did Vi know something about missing money? Which co-owner was she referring to? Anna? Herself?

  “Yes, I know it happened, but I can’t prove it.”

  The door was thin enough that Chase heard Vi let out an exasperated breath, then stomp away. Chase cracked the door open after another minute and Vi was gone. She picked up her iced-tea glass from the counter. Anna had finished the dishes and was slipping another batch of bars into the oven.

  Chase didn’t dare speak about the rats—or the accounts—with Anna when either of the sales workers could come in at any time and catch them. She’d ask her later if she was sure no one saw her returning the vermin this morning.

  Anna had come back from the pet shop this morning saying that the owner hadn’t sold any rats lately, but he’d taken them from her. Anna and Chase wondered if they should bother to find out where they’d come from. Had the owner told someone else that the rats had been in their kitchen?

  “No,” Anna had said. “He promised to keep quiet. He was upset about the dirty trick someone played on us.” The man had gone to high school with Anna and she trusted him.

  Now Chase wondered if Anna’s trust had been misplaced and he’d let it slip somehow.

  Anna went into the office to give Quincy some petting and keep him company for a few minutes between batches.

  Vi pushed the doors open and returned to the kitchen. “There’s a guy out there,” she said.

  “And?”

  “He says he’s an environmental something.”

  Chase gasped. “Environmental health inspector.”

  “Oh.” Vi’s eyes grew wide. “What should we do?”

  “Business as usual. Let him wander around wherever he wants.”

  Vi turned to go.

  “And Vi, don’t talk to him at all. Act like he’s not there.”

  Anna emerged from the office. Chase ran over to her and inspected her for cat hairs. She plucked three off Anna’s shoulder and stuck them into the wastebasket. “Health inspector’s here,” she whispered.

  “Oh, that’s just great. I hope everyone out front isn’t discussing you-know-what.”

  “Me, too!”

  In a few minutes, the man entered the kitchen, clutching a leather folder and a pad of paper with a pen clipped to it.

  “Harold Johnson,” he said, heading for the sink. He was tall and thin with a full mustache, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt. His round glasses emphasized his large, wide eyes.

  All the better to see your rats with went through Chase’s mind, and she gave a slight shudder.

  After scrubbing his hands, he peeked into the tiny employees-only restroom in the corner. He emerged with a slight frown, then rescrubbed his hands. He went straight to the oven and whipped a fancy thermometer from his fanny pack.

  Chase tried not to hold her breath or appear nervous. She had the idea that a health inspector could smell fear. When she imagined telling Anna or Julie about that, she smiled. They would probably point out that, despite the large bristly growth under his nose, the man was not a bear.

  In fact, he was extremely polite and didn’t write a thing on his pad of paper. After he’d taken the temperature of the oven (which Anna had cleaned first thing in the morning, scrubbing the rack thoroughly) and the refrigeration unit (which had been emptied and cleaned last week) and poked around among all the shelves, he nodded, gave them a smile, and left.

  Chase and Anna toasted each other with Sprite to celebrate. Not that they knew for sure they’d passed the inspection, but if Harold hadn’t made any notes, that was a very good sign.

  Yesterday, at the scene of the crime, Chase had been told to come into the police station at two o’clock the next day to give a statement. It was well after one, so she left the shop in the hands of Anna, Laci, and Vi and drove to the Second Precinct building. She found a shady parking space on the street, before the imposing stone-faced brick building. She walked past the Eastside Guardian statue, three figures representing police officers and a lost child. The authority figures in the sculpture, although they were a bit bigger than life-size, didn’t seem forbidding. That reassured Chase, who was irrationally nervous about being in a police station. Or maybe not that irrationally. After all, there may have been outstanding warrants for her in Chicago.

  After a brief wait in an outer room, she was ushered into a small, green-painted room with one table and four straight-backed chairs. The detective from l
ast night sat in one chair and pointed her into one across the table from him.

  She hadn’t noticed much about him last night at Gabe’s condo. Now she could see that he wasn’t as old as she’d thought, and was better looking than she remembered. The cut of his light brown hair was shorter than Chase thought looked good, but his very dark blue eyes, giving her an earnest but not unfriendly expression, were compelling.

  Almost mechanically, Chase recited again what she’d told over and over the evening before. She’d gone out searching for her cat. The condo door was ajar. She’d entered and found her cat, and the dead body of Gabe Naughtly. Yes, the knife was already in his chest. Yes, she touched it. Yes, it was bloody. But she hadn’t killed him.

  She fidgeted a bit while she talked, trying to find a comfortable place for her hands. She put them in her lap, on the table, and then ended up sitting on them.

  The detective, who told her his name was Niles Olson, was almost gentle with his questions, apologizing for making her go over everything she’d said one more time.

  “This will be the last time,” he said. “You’re doing well. I appreciate the effort.”

  “I’ll never have to tell this story again?” Chase immediately regretted using the word story. It made her recitation sound like it might be made up.

  Detective Olson gave her his clear, direct gaze again. “I won’t say never. You might have to testify in court. The defense might want to see if what you say when you’re in court matches your statement today.”

  Chase wasn’t worried about that. “I could never forget a bit of what happened. It’s etched into my mind, like it’s carved into a piece of stone.” She shuddered.

  Detective Olson leaned forward and raised his hand. She thought he might be thinking about patting her shoulder. She realized she wouldn’t mind if he did. His hand dropped before touching her.

  “What did Torvald Iversen tell you?” she asked. “Do our stories match?” There she was again, saying stories.

  He didn’t answer, merely turned off the recorder and told her to come in and sign her statement when it was typed up. They’d call her.