Fat Cat At Large (A Fat Cat Mystery) Page 8

  She called Julie as soon as she was in her bathrobe, settled in her favorite cinnamon-hued chair with a glass of red wine. She tucked a pillow behind her to ease her sprained back muscles. Chase held her breath as she listened to Julie’s cell phone ringing away, afraid she wouldn’t pick up. In the moment before it would have gone to voice mail, Julie answered, breathlessly. “I only have a minute. We’re down to the wire on some paperwork.”

  “Two? Could I have two minutes? Please?”

  Chase thought she must have sounded pitiful because Julie gave a light chuckle and said, “Aw, poor baby, what’s the problem?”

  “I just got home from being cross-examined by that Detective Olson.”

  “He has to question people, doesn’t he?”

  “But he doesn’t have to suspect me of murder.”

  “He thinks you killed Gabe Naughtly? For real?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure. But he intimated that someone saw me leave, or maybe enter, the condo. He acts like he doesn’t think I’m telling him the truth about when I was there and what I did. I need to know what that person is saying. If they’re lying about the times, it could look like I did it.” An additional thought occurred to her. “Maybe that person is even the killer, trying to throw suspicion on me.” Chase gulped some of her tart wine. It felt good.

  “How awful! That would be hard to defend against.”

  “Could you find out who it is?”

  “Well . . .”

  “It has to be in a police report somewhere. Have you been able to get to those?”

  “I can, but—okay, I’ll try. I’ll tell you, though, I may not be able to. I have no business being in those files, so I’ll have to sneak.”

  “Love you, Jules. I understand. Don’t jeopardize your job.”

  “I’ll try my darnedest, Chase. I can’t have you accused of murder!”

  “Maybe, if I can find out who this is, there might be more information that hasn’t been given to the police. This person might have seen someone else besides me.”

  “Then why wouldn’t he mention it?”

  Chase heard Julie’s name being called.

  “He might have seen someone familiar who belongs there,” Chase said, in a rush. “Someone more likely to kill Gabe. One more quick question. What’s with Anna lately?”

  “She won’t tell me. It’s so aggravating! Gotta go. Talk to you later. Maybe tonight, late.”

  It was already too late to be considered early. Poor Julie, slaving away all weekend. Chase wished she’d had time to complain about her back. Julie’s sympathy would make her feel better, she knew. Quincy jumped with one fluid motion into Chase’s lap as she cut the connection. He bumped his head against her arm and her wine sloshed onto the sleeve of her robe.

  “Quince! Now look what you did.”

  He turned his round, staring, all-knowing cat’s eyes on her, the picture of innocence.

  “I know, you didn’t mean it.”

  Her robe was dark blue, so maybe the wine wouldn’t show too badly. She scratched the top of his head. “I guess you want your treats, although I know you won’t eat them.”

  She set her glass and her cell phone on the side table and went to the kitchen to sprinkle some diet cat treats into his dish. Quincy sat on his haunches and wrapped his tail around his front paws. He made no move toward the bowl on the floor. Chase shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  After rinsing the wine spot from her robe sleeve, she went back to her chair and picked up her phone.

  “Dr. Ramos,” Mike answered on the first ring. “Is that you, Chase?”

  “You know it is. My number is right there.”

  “It’s dark where I am. Couldn’t quite see it before I answered.”

  “Where are you?” Immediately, she wished she could retract those words. It was no business of hers where he was. Or who he was with.

  “I’m looking over some X-rays before I leave. It’s been a long day. What do you need?”

  X-rays. Right. Not a date in a dark restaurant. Come to think of it, maybe she needed X-rays herself. “The treats aren’t working for Quincy. Neither is the diet cat food. I’m going to have to feed him something.”

  “Has he lost any weight at all yet?”

  Chase squinted and thought, recalling the cat jumping into her lap. Was he lighter? “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I know. Anna is slipping him things that he shouldn’t have. I don’t know how I can stop her. But can’t I feed him something that tastes good to him? Then he wouldn’t play on her heartstrings like he does.”

  “I’ll dig around and see if there’s anything new on the market that might work better. But you’re a baker, aren’t you? Maybe you could make something for him. Meanwhile, I want you to bring him in every couple of days so I can weigh him.”

  Unbidden, unwanted tears sprang from Chase’s eyes. It was too much. Nothing was going right. She sniffed loudly.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right,” she wailed. She took a breath and calmed her voice. She was sounding like Laci. One more sip of wine. “Everything’s going all wrong. Two of my employees hate each other. It’s all I can do to keep them in the same room. Someone is stealing money from the cash register. My cat is miserable. And Detective Olson thinks I killed Gabe Naughtly.”

  “Why does he think that?” Mike sounded incredulous, which made Chase feel a smidgen better.

  “Someone says they saw me that night, either entering or leaving the condo.”

  “So that makes him think you killed the man? Sounds far-fetched.”

  “If I could find out who the witness is, maybe I could see if he or she saw anyone else.”

  “There was someone else hanging out on the sidewalk earlier, before you got there.”

  Her heart leaped. “There was? You saw someone?”

  “That guy Torvald Iversen. He was standing on the sidewalk outside the condo when I got home. I noticed him because he wasn’t doing anything, wasn’t going anywhere, just standing outside Gabe’s unit.”

  “That was before I got there, then?”

  “Oh yes, quite a while before. Let me see if I can remember what time that would have been.”

  Torvald was there earlier? Had he already had his business meeting by the time Chase got there? Had he killed Gabe during their meeting? It would make sense that he was trying so hard to frame Chase if he were, in fact, the killer.

  She heard Mike shuffle some pages. “What are you doing?”

  “I keep an old-fashioned appointment book in my pocket. It’s the only way I can organize my life. That day I had a three thirty appointment, so I would have been coming home about four. That’s when I saw him. Then, when I went out later, sometime after eight thirty, I saw the commotion at Gabe’s and came over and took Quincy.”

  Chase felt better after her call to Mike. She started humming “Everything’s Coming Up Roses” from Gypsy. She hoped Julie could find the name of the nosy eyewitness. Surely the person would have seen Torvald, too. She wondered if he was being questioned as strenuously as she was.

  TEN

  It was Sunday, but not a day of rest for Chase and her crew. It was September 2 and classes would start Tuesday, the fourth. The Bar None would close at six on Tuesday. They would stay closed on Wednesday to recover from the onslaught of the last week. It would be relaxing with just Vi working on Tuesday, and Laci gone for a week. After that, Anna had told Chase she was going to tell the girl she was no longer needed. Anna had said they needed to replace her with someone less histrionic. Chase hadn’t spoken up, but she was determined to do so, if they could get some uninterrupted moments. She wished they could hire a third worker, but they couldn’t afford that.

  These were Chase’s thoughts as she p
edaled her bike south along Fourteenth Avenue on her way home from an early ride. She’d taken a couple of pain pills at bedtime and two more this morning. The pain seemed to be easing up in the small of her back. The song “Any Dream Will Do” from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was on her lips.

  The day was fine. The warm, clear autumn weather was holding. She had felt the humidity today on her ride. Crisp days weren’t too far away, though, and cooler temperatures. Brilliant fall days with bright leaves swirling from lofty tree branches were her favorite times in Minneapolis.

  Her cell phone rang as she stopped for a red light at Fourth Street. It was Julie. She hadn’t called back last night. Chase would suggest a getaway for the two of them when their crunch times were over. Maybe Julie had found the identity of the witness. Chase hoisted her front tire onto the curb and answered the call.

  “I came in early, before anyone else got here.” Julie was almost whispering.

  “Won’t that look suspicious?”

  “No, I still have lots to do today. I need to get an early start on that anyway.”

  “So?”

  “Yes, I found her.”

  “Her? For some reason, I’ve been picturing a ‘him.’”

  “The name is Hilda Bjorn. She lives almost directly across the street from Gabe Naughtly’s condo. If I’m not mistaken, she has a small house with a nice front porch. I think I’ve seen a rocker there. I’ll bet she’s as old as the hills and sits and watches everyone and everything.”

  “I hope you’re right, that she sees everything. Then she’ll have seen Torvald Iversen, too. Mike says he was there quite a bit before I was. But if she’s too old, her memory might be bad.”

  “Yah, there’s that. Let’s hope not. Are you going to talk to her?”

  “I sure will. This should be a superbusy day in the shop. Maybe I’d better go over there right now.” She hadn’t worked up too much of a sweat. Her shower could be skipped and she could throw on her working clothes in a minute.

  “Anything else interesting? Did you read Iversen’s statement?”

  “I did. Nothing much to it. He states that he’s an investment broker, but it doesn’t say who any of his clients are. He made a point of saying he hadn’t been to the condo that day until he arrived and saw you with the dead body. The way this is written, it sounds like they don’t believe him. Let me know what you find out from the woman. I hear voices. Some of the others are showing up. Gotta go.”

  “Thanks a million. Love you, Jules.”

  Chase’s heart lifted as she stuck her phone into her jacket pocket. She turned around and rode her bike to the block where Gabe’s condo was. Iversen lied in his statement! Would an innocent person do that? Dr. Ramos had said he’d seen him there earlier. She’d have to think of a way to use this.

  Meanwhile, she’d talk to Hilda Bjorn. Sure enough, right across the street was a cute little house, painted red, with a white wicker rocker on the porch. Chase leaned her bike against the railing and mounted the steps to knock on the front door. After an interval, she knocked again, but not a sound issued from inside the little red house. The front door of the neighboring house flew open. A harried young man with a disorderly mop of hair clattered down his steps, then noticed Chase on the porch.

  “Are you looking for Hilda?” he asked, peering through thick glasses.

  “Yes, Hilda Bjorn. Do you know when she’ll be here?”

  His brow puckered in thought. “Don’t know. She’s in the hospital again. Sometimes she doesn’t stay long.”

  Her hopes were dashed. She couldn’t invade an elderly woman’s hospital room to interrogate her. “Okay,” said Chase, descending the wooden steps.

  “Do you want me to tell her you were here?” He seemed anxious to be helpful.

  “No, no, I’ll catch her later.”

  “She might appreciate a visit. She’s at the U Medical Center.”

  Chase waved her thanks and hurried back to open up her shop. She pedaled across the parking lot behind her store and picked up her bike so she could carry it up the stairs. The pain meds seemed to be wearing off.

  A movement caught her eye at the edge of the parking lot. The sun glinted off a head of blond hair. A tall man faced her, staring intently across the top of a sedan. The man turned and walked away quickly. Shaun Everly! He’d been standing behind a car, watching her. He knew where she lived. She unlocked her door with an unsteady hand and carried her bike in.

  She was still breathing more quickly than usual when she came down to the shop with Quincy. Anna had gotten in before her and made coffee. After Chase deposited Quincy in the office and shut the door tightly, she saw Anna notice her tremor as she poured herself a cup. Well, if Anna could have secrets, so could she. Anna hadn’t told her why she’d left before closing the day before, what the appointment was for, or what was bothering her so much that she couldn’t look Chase in the eye this morning.

  Soon, the Bar None was thrumming along and almost felt normal. Anna was mixing up batter for Amaretto Lemon Bars, Laci and Vi were swamped with customers, too busy to bicker, and Chase was humming “Circle of Life” from The Lion King and cutting up a batch of Cherry Oat Bars and placing them on a tray to slide into the display case in front.

  The sight of Shaun, staring at her across the pavement, stayed with her, though. Every once in a while, she shivered and broke off her song. She had no idea what to do about his presence.

  In the middle of the morning, the strident tones of Doris Naughtly drifted to the kitchen. Chase saw Anna’s back stiffen, but neither of them commented . . . until Chase heard Torvald Iversen’s disturbing, spooky voice no more than two minutes later. Doris raised hers, becoming even louder than usual. Was she upset? Chase wondered. She wouldn’t put anything past that horrible man.

  Chase wiped her hands on her apron and poked her head through the double doors. Doris was backed up to the pink shelves on the side wall, hemmed in by Torvald. He stood over her, leaning in, his long, thin arms surrounding her, with his hands on the shelves. She wasn’t making an effort to escape. In fact, she was tilting her head and giving him coy looks. Evidently, thought Chase, she wasn’t wasting any time getting over the death of her husband.

  Stealing up behind the man, Chase asked, “Can I help you?”

  She stifled a smile when he jumped at her being so near without his detecting her arrival. He threw Chase a glare and straightened up. Doris smiled at Chase and smoothed her hair, although it was sprayed so vigorously that it couldn’t possibly be disarranged.

  “Yes, please,” breathed Doris. She grabbed a carton of Lemon Bars from the shelf behind her. “I’d like these, please.”

  “Violet will help you at the register, Mrs. Naughtly.” Chase gestured toward the sales counter in the rear of the shop.

  Torvald had no choice but to step aside, glowering, and let Doris proceed to the cash register.

  Chase kept her voice low. “I need to ask you a question.”

  He gave her a haughty look, easy to do from his height.

  “What were your dealings with Gabe? I know you and he were doing business together. I also know you weren’t there for a dinner meeting, like you told me.” It was a bluff. Would it work?

  She seemed to have penetrated his armor. A line of worry appeared between his pale eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know he wanted to buy my shop. Were you helping him do that?”

  “Ha.” It was a mere syllable, devoid of humor. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Is that what you killed him over?”

  “The man led me to believe he could pull his weight, financially. I was a fool to believe him. It was nothing worth killing over.”

  He spun on his heel and left the shop.

  Would Torvald be in hot water for not securing the deal for his client? Would it be worthwhile
for him to kill Gabe? It didn’t seem too likely. But the man had lied to the police. Something was very off-kilter about that man.

  Chase returned to the sales counter, where Vi was ringing up Mrs. Naughtly’s purchase.

  “What was that about?” Chase asked her.

  “That horrid man was coming on to me,” Doris Naughtly said. “He wanted to have dinner! And my husband still warm in his grave, poor soul.”

  Chase shuddered. For one thing, she was sure the man in his grave was not still warm. Graves were cold places. For another, the thought of being hit on by Torvald Iversen made her skin itch. For yet another, Doris hadn’t acted upset about him until Chase had interrupted them.

  After Doris calmed down and left, Chase went back to the kitchen.

  “Doris was being a drama queen again?” Anna asked. She drew out the word drama with an unattractive sneer.

  “Anna, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  The older woman walked to the storage shelves and ran her fingers along the bins, examining them, probably not for anything except an excuse to ignore Chase.

  “Doris was . . . well, Torvald Iversen was . . . He had her cornered.”

  “Good.” She kept her face away from Chase. “She’s probably sleeping with him.”

  “She didn’t seem to mind it until after he’d left. Anna, I love you. You’re like my grandmother and my mother. I couldn’t make it without you. It hurts when you shut me out.”

  Chase’s grandparents had passed away before her parents’ deaths. She had one dim memory of watching her grandfather fill his pipe, but didn’t even remember her grandmother at all.

  Anna turned from the shelves slowly, dropping her hands to her sides.

  “I suppose I’m overreacting. But Doris is . . .”

  “Yes?”

  Anna slumped onto a stool and propped her elbows on the counter. “She’s always been like this. I should be used to it.”

  Chase sat beside her business partner–cum–beloved substitute grandmother and waited for her to continue. Chase lifted a hand to pat Anna’s back, then hesitated. Maybe she’d wait for Anna to get whatever it was off her chest first.