Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) Read online

  “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.

  Back inside the kitchen, she deposited Quincy in the office and made sure the door was latched securely.

  “I think that might be my fault.” Anna cringed. “I might not have closed the door hard enough when I came out.”

  “When you came out from sneaking treats to him?”

  Anna’s softened demeanor vanished and her hostility returned. She turned her back to Chase and hit the button on the mixer with a vicious stab.

  Way to go, Chase. Anna had started to apologize and Chase had immediately put her on the defensive. “Anna?”

  She raised her head, but didn’t look around and didn’t reply.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. We need to have a talk. I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m all right.” Anna’s shoulders tightened and rose a notch, contradicting her words. “I just have some things to work out for myself. I seem to be taking it out on you.”

  “I didn’t steal the money.”

  “We do need to have a talk. I need to tell you—”

  Vi burst through the back door. “Sorry, I had to duck out for a minute.” She hurried through the kitchen to the salesroom. Within seconds Laci rushed into the kitchen, sobbing.

  “She’s so mean! I can’t work with her.”

  Now what?

  NINE

  Chase didn’t get another chance to speak to Vi about the parking lot confrontation or to Anna about being suspicious of Chase before closing time at 7:30 PM. She’d soothed Laci by telling her she would give her a week off, starting Tuesday, when their rush would be over. Laci had considered that a whole week without seeing Violet Peters would be a much-needed balm for her. Chase hadn’t pointed out that, after the rush, there would be no need for them to work together until the holidays. By that time, Chase hoped to have stood up to Anna about the situation. She would have to make time to speak to Vi about her treatment of poor little Laci, though. Vi had told Chase that she’d seen Ted making out with someone else. Even if she had, there was no need to tell Laci that, knowing she’d go off the deep end.

  At precisely 7:30, Chase shooed the two women out the front door and turned the sign on the door to say they were closed. She flicked the overhead lights off and leaned her poor aching back against the door, but only for a moment. The wood partitions for the little glass panes dug into her sore spine. She pushed away and strolled through the darkened shop humming “Tomorrow” from Annie. Stepping behind the counter, she pulled the trays from the display case, wincing each time she bent over. Most of them were empty, but three held a few bars that she would package and freeze to take to the homeless shelter when she had time.

  Anna had left at 7:00, pleading an appointment, so Chase quickly did the cleanup that remained and headed for the police station. Walking through their parking lot at night was scarier than doing it during the day. The building was more forbidding, too. It loomed dark and gave her the chills.

  She was buzzed through from the lobby to a sea of desks. Most were empty, but a lamp shed a pool of yellow on a desk at the far side of the room. Detective Olson’s chestnut hair caught an edge of the light as he bent over some paperwork. The sound of her echoing footsteps alerted him to her presence in the otherwise empty room and he waved her to a seat beside his desk. This was much better than the stuffy interrogation room she’d been in before, although the stale air held odors of sweat and, possibly, fear.

  She sat and noticed that his dark blue eyes looked weary.

  “I just have a few more questions. I know I said we were done, but I want to try something.”

  She nodded. That didn’t sound too ominous.

  “Close your eyes and think back to the day you discovered Gabe’s body.”

  “Okay.” She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “You’re searching for your cat, you said.”

  “Right. Quincy is missing.”

  “Where are you?” His soft, smooth voice soothed her. She felt tension seeping out of her body.

  “I’m searching for him. Walking down the street. Coming to the condos.”

  “Look around you. Is anyone else there?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not looking for anyone, any people, I’m only looking for Quincy.”

  “Go ahead.”

  This felt almost like a hypnotism session she’d watched onstage in Chicago once. “There’s a door standing open.”

  “Wide open?”

  “No, just a crack. I walk up the steps and push it open.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  She let out a puff of impatience. “To see if Quincy is in there.” Why else would she enter a condo where she didn’t know the resident?

  “Why do you think he might be?”

  “The way the door is barely open. He likes to squeeze through narrow places. It’s a cat thing.” She opened her eyes and stared at hi
m defiantly. “Why do you think I went in there? To kill Gabe Naughtly?”

  “You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else? No one on the sidewalk or across the street?”

  “I didn’t kill him.” Her voice caught. If she started crying right now, she’d never forgive herself. “Just because I didn’t see his killer doesn’t mean I killed him. The killer had time to wipe his fingerprints off the knife. He probably left long before I got there.”

  Detective Olson leveled those serious eyes at her.

  “What? What did I say? You’re the one who told me about the fingerprints.”

  He drew a deep breath. “There was a lot of blood on that knife. I’m sure you remember that.” Yes, she did. “That knife wasn’t wiped after the blood got there.”

  “Oh.” Her mind worked on high speed. “So . . . the killer wore gloves.”

  “Possibly.”

  “But Gabe’s prints weren’t on it either?”

  Detective Olson shook his head.

  “Was it even his knife? Did you test it for onions?”

  “Onions?” He looked at Chase like she was crazy. “He wasn’t killed by onions.”

  “Did his meatloaf have onions in it? Or bell peppers? That’s what I put in mine. If the knife was his and was out of the knife block, he’d probably chopped onions with it. If not, maybe it’s not his.”

  “Miss Oliver, I want you to concentrate on what you saw that night. Over the next few days, if anything occurs to you, let me know right away.”

  “Why do you think I saw someone?”

  He didn’t answer.

  An idea popped into her head. “Because someone saw me, right? If they did, then they saw I didn’t have time to kill him, right? Right?”

  He handed her his card. “Call me if you remember anything.”

  On her way home, her hands started hurting from gripping the steering wheel so tight. She was livid, so angry at the detective she felt like squeezing his neck instead of the steering wheel. Why couldn’t he at least tell her exactly why he was suspicious of her? He seemed to think she was lying. She had to convince him she wasn’t. But how?