Fat Cat At Large

TWENTY-FIVE

Chase was surprised she wasn’t cold. Mike put out a lot of body heat and snuggling next to him kept her toasty warm. The life of the city went on below them, lit by the tall, curved streetlamps. The tree near her balcony, planted in a hole in the sidewalk, filtered the light with its gently rustling leaves. The wind was dying down. Cars droned by and people, talking to each other or to their cell phones, strolled past. The horror of being a real murder suspect was retreating to the far recesses of her mind.

“Isn’t that the car?” Mike said.

“What car?” She lifted her head from his shoulder a quarter of an inch.

“There. The one that was in the parking lot.” He pointed to a silver Boxster creeping down Fourteenth Avenue.

Chase jerked upright, dumping her coffee in Mike’s lap. Mike jumped to his feet. Chase thought Shaun sped up a little. She hoped he’d gotten an eyeful of the cozy duo.

Mike grimaced.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Did I burn you?” She jumped up and waved her hands, uselessly.

“It’s not hot enough to do that. I’m all wet, is all.” He gave her a cute grin. “No harm done. It’ll wash out. Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and the guy in the Porsche?”

“Nothing’s going on. I told you, he just moved here. I knew him in Chicago.” She turned and paced the length of the small balcony.

“If nothing is going on, why is he spying on you?”

She might as well tell him. She kept pacing while she talked. “He’s the reason I left Chicago.” She told Mike about how Shaun accused her of pilfering money from his uncle, then got her blacklisted so she couldn’t get a job anywhere in the city.

“Sounds like a jerk. Why did he trail you here?”

“He wants something that I have.” She stopped and faced Mike. “It’s something incriminating. I wonder if it’s time to take it to the police. I just want him to stop talking to people I know and spreading lies about me. The same lies he spread in Chicago.”

“I would think so. Is this something that would get him into legal trouble?”

“Criminal trouble. But then I’d have to get involved and testify and face him in court. There’s something else I did, too.”

Mike frowned. “What else did you do to him?”

She hadn’t told anyone this, not even Anna or Julie. “I took out a restraining order against him. When he found out, he got so angry, it scared me. That’s when I finally gave up and left.”

“He’s in violation, isn’t he? He shouldn’t be around you if it’s still in effect.”

“I don’t think it is. It was a temporary restraining order, and it was only good for a week. I was supposed to go to court and get an injunction.”

“But you didn’t?” His tone told her he thought she was an idiot. Maybe she was.

“I never wanted to face him again. I decided to leave instead.”

Mike shook his head. “Maybe that was a bad decision.”

Chase nodded in agreement. “I can’t change it now. But I do think I’ll spend the night at Anna’s. I’d better call to make sure she’s there.”

“Did you notice the other person in the car?” Mike said.

Chase stopped mid-dial. “Other person? No. Could you see who it was?”

“Just a silhouette.”

“Male or female?”

“I couldn’t tell. Shortish hair. Either a guy who needs a haircut or a gal who gets hers cut short.”

Who would Shaun be associating with? He had so recently gotten here. He had seemed to know Torvald, though. And he knew Vi. Chase continued punching in Anna’s number. Her call was answered right away.

“Charity! Julie has told me all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to rescue you.”

“Julie did a fine job of that, Anna,” Chase said, laughing. “She was my knight in shining armor.”

“I was with Bill. His son came into town. Their meeting upset Bill so, that I went over there.”

Chase wondered if she’d been there all night, and all day. “Where are you now?”

“I’m at home, of course. You just called my landline.”

That made her feel a little stupid. Yes, she had dialed Anna’s home phone. She heard talking in the background. Probably Anna’s television.

“Do you need something, dear?” Anna asked.

“I’m having a little problem. I wonder if I could stay with you tonight.”

“Just a moment.” Anna muffled the phone and spoke with someone. Was Bill there? “How soon do you want to come?”

“How soon can he leave?”

“What? How soon can who leave?” Anna was put out. Chase shouldn’t have been such a smart aleck.

“Just kidding. It sounds like someone is there. How about a half an hour?” She raised her eyebrows at Mike. He nodded.

“I’ll be here. Are you in some sort of trouble again?”

“No, not with the police. I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

They sat on the balcony another twenty minutes, mostly in easy silence, watching the street below, then Mike drove her to Nokomis Avenue.

Chase talked to Anna for over an hour before they bedded down. Over brandy nightcaps, Chase told her all about her date, then gave her the gruesome details about the horrible questioning when she thought she was going to be thrown into the clink. The more she shared her woe, the less of an edge it had.

Anna had read in the newspaper that Torvald’s funeral would be the next day. She said she wasn’t going to attend, but Chase thought she, herself, ought to do something. She wasn’t about to zip over to the visitation that night, as she’d done for Gabe Naughtly, so she decided she’d have to drag herself to the service on Tuesday.

When Chase woke up in the morning, she’d slept so soundly she couldn’t figure out where she was for half a minute. Then the powder-blue wallpaper, faintly striped, and the gauzy lace curtains on the guest room windows told her she was at Anna’s. They split a banana and each had a bit of yogurt before they left. It felt like old times.

• • •

After Anna dropped her off Tuesday morning, Chase was acutely aware that this was her second day off. It had been a few weeks since she had had two days off in a row and she was at loose ends, not knowing what to do with the hours that stretched ahead. The funeral service was at two, so there was a lot of time to kill meanwhile.

Maybe she’d work on a new recipe for some treats for Quincy. Maybe not, since he liked the ones she had already concocted. Maybe she would go for a bike ride. The cold front that had arrived the day before was still hunkering over the city, giving the chilly air a blustery feel, with its wind gusts. Maybe she wouldn’t do that either. Maybe she’d just sit around and read a book. That was a good idea. She had finished the Bookmobile Cat book, but had the new Lydia Krause mystery from Marilyn Levinson. The last one had been such a fascinating read, she’d gotten this one last time she’d been to the bookstore.

A light drizzle started in the afternoon, which reinforced Chase’s decision to stay indoors as long as she could. She fixed hot chocolate for herself and fresh Kitty Patties for Quincy. Sitting close to the glass doors to her balcony, watching soft rain fall, and hearing light drumming on her roof, she read and drowsed until it was time to get ready for the funeral.

Chase dragged herself to her bedroom to put on something suitable for mourning a man—another man—whose death wasn’t something she was sorry about. It was still dripping outside. She put on dark brown slacks and a white blouse. Should she wear dressy shoes? Because of the continuing rain, she had decided to drive, even though it wasn’t far to walk. But she knew the parking lot at the funeral home—the same one where Gabe had been—had enough dips and waves in the pavement that the dry spots would resemble an archipelago. She’d have to hop from island to island if she wore shoes she didn’t want to get wet. So she slipped into a pair of sturdy brown oxfords. They had weathered many a puddle with no ill effects. No one would look at her feet anyway.

The parlor was nearly full, but Chase found a seat in the next to last row, on the aisle. She’d completely forgotten how early one must get to a funeral to get a “good” seat. The creamy ivory walls and the heavy silk curtains in the front and along the side wall gave her a peaceful feeling. That was probably the purpose of all the décor, from the plush beige carpeting to the softly glowing brass chandeliers depending from the rather low ceiling.

An elderly woman noodled on a small electronic organ at the front of the room for ten minutes after Chase arrived, playing sad, slow songs, then launched into a piece even more dirgelike.

That must have been the signal for the procession. Everyone on the wooden pews rose. The funeral workers, two men in dark suits, wheeled Torvald’s casket down the aisle on a gurney. Barely audible under the organ music, one of the wheels squeaked, complaining about carrying such a nasty man, Chase was sure.

The casket was followed by six men, the pallbearers. Chase didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t surprise her. She hadn’t known Torvald, himself, until he barged in at Gabe’s and accused her of killing him.

Behind them, a woman, bent nearly double with osteoporosis and leaning on a cane, made her way forward, helped by two younger people. The bereft expression on her wrinkled face gave Chase a paroxysm of guilt. Here she was, thinking horribly bad thoughts about a man who was someone’s child, someone’s son. The woman looked as if her heart would break. The young woman and even younger man, maybe a teenager, on either side of her looked sorrowful, too, but nothing like the old, bent woman.

After shedding the animosity she’d been feeling, Chase found room in her heart for pity for this family. Iversen seemed to have been a successful businessman. Maybe he had provided well for his relatives. Maybe they would miss him. Maybe they would even have a hard time getting by without him.

The woman’s progress was so slow it took a minute or two for her to reach the row at the back where Chase stood. It would take them forever to get to the front pews that were reserved for the family. Chase turned to watch the procession. The young woman wore black, but her dress was inappropriately short and tight for the solemn occasion. A neck tattoo peeked out of her low top. The teenaged boy wore slacks and a white shirt, but looked ill at ease in them. His expression was more glum than bereaved, Chase thought. He seemed angry. Maybe he was angry that Torvald was dead.

The service was mercifully short. A Lutheran minister gave a generic message about our fleeting time on earth and about not knowing when it would end, then everyone stood and recited the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was printed on the small cards they’d been given when they’d entered.

Chase turned hers over to find Torvald’s birth and death dates. It also said he was survived by his grandmother, sister, and nephew. The sister’s name was Elinda. That was the same name she’d seen in Gabe’s book. The nephew was listed as Felix. Those must be the three who had followed the coffin. Torvald was predeceased by his parents and a brother who must have been Felix’s father.

To Chase’s dismay, the family stood at the rear to greet the attendees as they left. She had hoped to slip out and avoid them. Chase hated funerals. Could she leave without going past them?

No, the doorway was too narrow to avoid the line funneling past Torvald’s relatives. The line moved fairly quickly, at least. When Chase came to the boy, she shook his hand and said, “So sorry.” The young woman, Elinda, was next. Her young face was attractive, but she wore layers of slathered-on makeup, her eyes surrounded by thick, greasy black hollows.

“I saw your name in Gabe’s visitation book,” Chase said, taking her hand.

To her shock, Elinda’s pretty face crumpled and she suppressed a few sobs.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Chase patted the hand she held.

“I’m gonna miss him so much.” Her voice was thin through her tears.

Chase fished a tissue out of the packet in her purse and handed it to the woman, who swiped the mascara and eyeliner off her cheeks.

“Torvald must have been a good brother to you,” Chase said, still holding one of Elinda’s hands.

“Torvald?”

“You said you’ll miss him.”

Elinda sniffed. “Gabe. I’ll miss Gabe.” She drew her hand out of Chase’s and turned to the next person in line.

Chase gave her condolences to Torvald’s grandmother and fled.

• • •

Back in her apartment, she fixed more hot chocolate to ward off the chill she’d gotten from being out in the rainy weather, and from Torvald’s odd family.

Elinda would miss Gabe? She had to be Hilda’s floozy. Her clothing was tight enough and she had at least one tattoo. She might have known Gabe through her brother. Torvald was quite a bit older than Elinda. She must be his baby sister. Why would she want to hook up with Gabe, who was so much older than she was? He’d probably made her think he had tons of money. Maybe he’d thought he actually would have tons after he acquired the location of the Bar None and started doing more business. Chase thought about how strange people are.

As soon as she sat down to think about Torvald’s family, and Elinda, and to sip her cocoa, her doorbell rang downstairs.

Reluctantly, she left the steaming cup on the counter and hurried down the steps. When she cracked the door open, she was shocked to see Doris standing in the cold rain. She was shocked that Doris would visit her, but even more shocked by the woman’s appearance.

Doris usually wore quite a bit of makeup. What was left of it was streaming down her face in orange and black rivulets.

Chase threw the door open so she could get out of the rain. Doris stumbled inside and Chase caught the fumes. She realized Doris had had more than she should to drink. The woman stood just inside the door, swaying, not even wiping the rain from her face.

“Mrs. Naughtly,” Chase said, “would you like to come in and sit down?”

Doris nodded, wordlessly. She looked about to cry. Although she may have been doing that already. It was hard to tell with the rain and makeup streaking her cheeks. Chase guided her to a stool at the kitchen work island, but Doris was so wobbly sitting there, they moved to the office and Chase pointed to her desk chair, complete with a back and arms. All Chase needed was for Doris to fall from the stool, conk her head on the floor, and sue the Bar None.

Doris took off her raincoat, handed it to Chase, and sank into the chair. There were hooks inside the back door, so Chase shook out the raincoat and ran to hang it there. She didn’t want Doris messing with her computer or looking through her desk, but when Chase ran back, Doris was sitting motionless, hunched over with her hands between her knees. She looked frightened.

When a long minute passed without Doris speaking, Chase said, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The look Doris gave her was tragic. “Yes. No. How could you? I don’t know.” She shook her head and a few drops of rainwater flew to the floor. Her dyed blonde hair, usually stiffly sprayed, was soaked and hung in limp, dripping hanks. “They’re all dead. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You mean . . . Gabe?”

“And Torvald. They’re both dead. I don’t understand it. Could it be my fault?”

“Your fault?” Had she killed both of them? “Why do you think that?”

“I quarreled with Gabe. Violently. Then he died the same day.”

“You quarreled with Torvald, too?”

“Yes.” The word was almost a cry. “It was just a fling, he said. Then he . . . insulted me. Then he was dead.”

The wind picked up outside and flung rain against the back windows. Was everyone in Dinkytown having affairs?

Doris started coughing and Chase ran to get her a glass of water. Doris sipped it and that seemed to help her spasms.

“How would quarreling with them make you think you killed them?” Chase asked. “Did you, well, did you attack them? With knives?”

“No!” She looked at Chase with horror. “No, not me. But maybe . . .”

“Maybe who?”

Doris shook her head slowly enough that no more raindrops flew from her hair. “Ted. Ted knew I’d fought with Gabe. He saw me leave and even told me he’d hidden my jacket so the police wouldn’t think I murdered him.”

Chase had wondered if Ted had told his mother about that.

“And Torvald?”

“Ted may have known about that fight, too.”

“Did Torvald attack you? Throw anything at you?”

“No, nothing like that. But I think Ted saw me leave his car.”

“So you think that Ted . . . killed them?”

“No, not Ted! Well, maybe. Do you think he did?”

“Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you talk to the police?”

“You seem to have the ear of the handsome detective. Can you find out if anyone knows anything about where Ted was when they were both murdered?”

“Mrs. Naughtly, have you talked to your son about this?”

Of course, if her son were a murderer, voicing her suspicions might seal his fate. Chase changed tactics.

“It would be better for you to talk to the police yourself. Lay out everything you know. Let them gather the evidence and find out what’s going on.”

Doris didn’t answer. She took another sip of water. Her hands seemed steadier now. The storm outside had subsided and reverted back to being the gentle rain it had been for the past several hours of the evening.

“Don’t you think that’s best?” Chase urged.

“I can’t throw suspicion onto my own son.”

That would be one consideration, Chase thought. The other would be that, if her own son were out murdering people, it would be good to get him stopped.

“So you’re afraid Ted might have actually killed his own father? And Torvald?”

Doris raised her head and frowned. “I’m so confused.”

She wasn’t the only one.

“I think both you and Ted should be very careful, just in case you become the targets of this killer. You’re all connected in some way.” They should be careful, that is, if they weren’t murderers themselves. Chase had a hard time seeing ultra-feminine Doris or shifty-thief Ted as murderers, but what did she know? No one knew why either one of the victims had been killed, let alone who had killed them.

Doris eventually left, a little more sober than when she had arrived. The rain quit entirely and Doris was able to get to her car without getting any wetter than she’d been when she entered the back door of the shop.

Chase got ready for bed but lay awake for a short time wondering about Elinda, the angry young nephew, Doris—and Ted.

• • •

Chase was so rested by Wednesday morning, she made an early trip by car to pick up some flour and sugar. She’d noticed they were a little low and the regular delivery wouldn’t come for another few days. Anna was arriving as she returned.

As Anna and Chase walked together from their cars toward the shop, Chase saw Vi waiting outside the door. The weather had suddenly turned warm and sunshiny. Chase knew this was an aberration and wouldn’t be likely to last this time of year. It was almost too warm to wear a sweater, let alone a jacket. Chase shed hers as soon as she got inside.

“You’re here early,” Anna said to Vi, who followed Chase through the door into the kitchen. Today Vi wore a lilac sateen blouse with designer cloth-covered buttons. Her brown eyes picked up a bit of purple tint from the fabric.

“My rattletrap car broke down. I got a ride here, but my ride had to drop me off early.”

“Oh my. I’m so sorry,” said Anna, touching Vi’s arm. “Will you be able to get it fixed?”

Vi shrugged. “I haven’t called anybody. I can get rides for now.”

“Do you want me to call a mechanic to look at it?”

“You don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to go to any fuss. I’ll be okay.”

Vi didn’t seem very concerned that she had no transportation. If it had been her BMW that broke down, Chase wondered if she would be more concerned. But, since the BMW had been repossessed, maybe she was putting on a show of not caring about this car. Or maybe she’d decided to actually not care about them anymore. Buying what she couldn’t afford had gotten her into trouble. Or maybe she was being brave, or trying to take care of herself.

Chase ran upstairs to tend to Quincy. He complained loudly about his breakfast being late, but forgave his mistress when she dished out the homemade treat he liked so much. As Chase watched her pet daintily chomp his food, she wondered who Vi had gotten a ride from. Shaun? Had he merely been chauffeuring Vi last night and not tailing Chase, after all?