Fat Cat At Large

FIFTEEN

Chase gave herself the luxury of sleeping in on Wednesday. A whole day stretched ahead, free of the shop, to do anything she wanted. She thought for a while about the people Hilda Bjorn had seen outside Gabe’s condo the day he died. Mike Ramos had said that Iversen was there before he said he was. Maybe Hilda missed that. She probably wasn’t on her front porch all the time. If only there was a way to prove that he was there, beyond one person’s suspicions.

And who were the others, a young man and a floozy? It sounded like Gabe had a mistress. Did he also have a stalker? The mistress didn’t stay long, Hilda had said. Was that because she ran in, killed him, and fled? She said the young man didn’t go in. How confusing!

The young man could have been Ted, but why would he stay outside and not go into his own father’s place? Could the young man have been the mysterious guy she’d seen with Vi out back?

The floozy? Too-tight clothes—Laci and Vi both wore tops that fit snugly. All the girls their age did. But tattoos and extremely high shoes—that wouldn’t be either of them.

As soon as Chase swung her legs off the bed to the floor, Quincy made it plain that she had duties. After pouring the food into his bowl—which he took three bites of before stalking away—she took a couple of pain pills and went downstairs to do some research on the computer.

She looked up diet cat food and found lots of ads and recommendations for commercial cat food. Adding the word recipe to her search netted more valuable results. Some of the webpages suggested using ground bone and canning the food, some debated between raw and cooked, one stressed the need to balance all sorts of vitamins, minerals, and amino acids, and sounded very complicated. None of them were specifically for weight loss, though.

Maybe she should just concentrate on treats. After another half hour, she began to get some ideas. To rest her brain from cat treats, she looked up the page for local news and found the headlines Julie had been anticipating.

LOCAL MAN ON TRIAL FOR CHARITY THEFT

The article didn’t mention Bill’s name, but did Marvin Shandy’s, of course. Bill had adopted him and his sister and changed their last names to his. Chase wondered if he regretted that now. Poor Bill. Poor Anna. The publicity was going to affect both of them badly. She shook her head and returned to a bit more cat treat research.

Back upstairs, she poked around in her refrigerator to see what she could use for a tempting cat treat. She put a couple of slices of leftover turkey through her meat grinder and mashed it together with hamburger and low-fat chicken broth, adding a bit of oatmeal and an egg. She made two patties and stuck them under the broiler. She took the patties out of the oven before they were thoroughly cooked. Quincy had never liked well-done meat. The cat, lured by the turkey, rubbed against her calves a few times, then sat staring up at the stove, his eyes wide and his ears pricked forward.

“You think you’ll eat this? I wonder. Should I call them Kitty Patties?”

While the Kitty Patties were cooling, she texted Julie to call her when she could. Two minutes later, her cell rang.

“We’re on break.” Julie’s voice was hushed. “I’m out here in the hall, but we have to go into the courtroom in a few minutes.”

“Still doing voir dire?”

“Yep. We should be able to finish that up today, if all goes well. Whatcha need?”

“I found a piece of paper in Quincy’s bed.” She picked it up from the kitchen counter where she’d put it, then walked to the balcony doors to inspect it again in the daylight coming through the glass panes.

“Oh yes, what is that? I remember seeing it there.”

“You saw this? When was that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was the night Gabe was killed. It was bothering Quincy. I took it from his collar, but you discovered the rats and we all ran downstairs before I could say anything. I dropped it into his bed right before Grandma and I left to see what was upsetting you. Forgot all about it until now.”

“Do you know where it came from?”

“No, just that it was stuck in his collar.”

“I never saw it, and neither did Mike.”

“It was folded up, tiny. I wouldn’t have seen it except Quincy was scratching like crazy and I poked around to see why.”

“Did you look at it?”

“Not really.”

“Can you meet me somewhere for lunch and take a look?”

“Sure. Oops, gotta go. I’ll text when we’re breaking for lunch. I think I can get away today. I’m supposed to run to the office for some papers and some online research anyway.”

Chase closed the call and looked out at the street below. She didn’t often have time to stand and watch the city going about its business in the morning. The café directly across the street was open for breakfast. People who looked like professors—and several students—went in and out, carrying coffee containers as they left and headed toward campus. They all wore substantial jackets and a few had hats and gloves on as well. The weather was turning.

When she went back to the counter, where she’d left the Kitty Patties cooling, Quincy was crouched over the broiler pan, steadily chowing down.

“Finally, something healthy that you’ll eat.” She broiled up a few more to have on hand. She would give Anna strict instructions to feed him these instead of dessert bars.

At 11:30, she was in a seafood restaurant a block from the court building. Julie made it there only fifteen minutes after the time she’d given Chase in her text message.

“Sorry,” she said, unbuttoning her coat and unwinding her scarf. “I got waylaid by my boss. I have to run to the office this afternoon and research a couple of points. I should have a few minutes now, though. Enough time to eat and chat.”

“I ordered you a cup of clam chowder and the iceberg wedge salad.” That was what both of them always got for lunch there unless they were splurging on the lobster bisque.

“Perfect.” Julie threw her coat and scarf onto the seat and slid into the booth. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live.”

The waiter delivered the iced tea Chase had ordered and Julie held out her hand. Chase put the torn piece of paper in her palm. “Definitely some sort of contract to be signed by two people,” Julie said, squinting at the tiny scrap. “Looks like Naughtly and Iversen, doesn’t it?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“Aha. It’s also dated the day Naughtly was murdered.”

“So, somehow, Quincy got this stuck in his collar at Gabe’s.”

“Most likely,” Julie said.

“Which proves that Iversen was there before he said he was, just like Mike told me,” Chase said. “The torn bits of paper on the floor next to his body must have been something that one of them tore up before I got there.”

“Do you think they had a quarrel about some sort of agreement?”

Chase chuckled. “A disagreement about an agreement? Is there any way to find out what it was, exactly?”

“Do you know who Naughtly’s lawyer was? Or who Iversen uses?”

“No, but the police would.”

“I don’t know if this has anything to do with the murder, but I happened to overhear someone say that Torvald Iversen filed a restraining order yesterday.”

“Who is it against?”

“I didn’t hear that. I’ll try to find out if you think it’s relevant.”

“Probably nothing to do with this business.”

Chase’s next stop was the police station. After she asked for Detective Olson out front, she was shown back.

“Good to see you again.” He motioned her into the chair beside his metal desk. It was just as uncomfortable on her back as it had been the last time. The room vibrated, full of bustling people this time of day.

His blue eyes were so dark, and so steady. She blinked and he broke his gaze.

She handed him the scrap of paper. “I found this caught in Quincy’s collar.”

He looked at it, turned it over, and set it on his blotter. “Yes?”

“See?” She leaned over and pointed to the print. “It’s an agreement signed by Iversen, but not by Gabe, dated the day Gabe died. Iversen was there before he said he was, taking this to get Gabe’s signature. They had a fight about this—whatever it is—and Iversen killed Gabe over it.”

The unwavering gaze was back.

“There was probably a lot of money involved,” Chase ventured. “Don’t you think?”

“I think this is the rest of the document we found on the floor by the body. It is a document signed by Iversen, but that doesn’t mean he was there that day, when he says he wasn’t.”

“Can you see if his fingerprints are on it?”

“They’re on the other pieces, so they’re probably on this one, too.”

“He was there earlier! Michael—Dr. Ramos—saw him!”

“Yes, we have that information.”

He leaned toward her and gave her a gentle smile. She felt something inside warming up.

“Ms. Oliver, we’re still gathering evidence. This isn’t proof of anything, but thanks for bringing it in.”

She shot up out of the chair. “Am I still the main suspect?”

“Did I say you were?”

“You told me not to leave town.” She winced and grimaced from the back spasm caused by her sudden movement.

“Yes, I did. And that still stands. Are you okay?”

“Fine. If I can find someone else who saw him there, will that nail him?”

“Please let us interview the suspects.” There was no trace of that smile and the dark blue eyes glittered, looked hard.

“There were other people there, too.”

He raised his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on.

She sat down gingerly and told him about Hilda and the young man and the floozy. She was almost certain the young man was Ted.

“We’ll look into this,” he said, but he hadn’t taken any notes.

It was still up to her to clear herself.