A Case Of Cat And Mouse

chapter 15

Marcus showed up the next morning with a mint chocolate chip cupcake for me from Sweet Thing. All of the alibis had checked out. Eugenie, Russell and Stacey were in the clear.

“Thank you,” I said. I would have kissed him but we were standing just inside the library door.

“Did you bring enough of those to share with the class?” Mary asked from the circulation desk.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Marcus said, bringing a cardboard box with the Sweet Thing logo on it out from behind his back. He set it in front of Mary with a flourish.

She smiled approvingly. “Nice work, Detective Gordon.”

He smiled back at her. “You’ll notice two of them are mocha fudge, which are your favorite.” He caught my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Mary watched him leave. “If I were you I’d get some rope and tie—”

Still holding the little bag with my cupcake, I put my hands over my ears. “I’m not listening,” I said, heading for the stairs. Even with my ears covered I could still hear her laughing.

It was a busy morning at the library. I gave a class of fourth graders and their teacher a tour and was pleased by how many of the kids were readers. Keith King dropped off some information about a program he thought the library might qualify for that would give us a thirty-percent discount on the new computers we needed.

“I’m still looking for other options,” he said. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Harry stopped by before lunch with a couple of prices for security cameras. I looked at the numbers and shook my head.

“I know,” he said. “That has to be out of the library’s budget. How do you feel about a jerry-rigged temporary solution, just until we catch whoever keeps putting stuff in the gazebo?”

“Jerry-rigged suggests it’s not going to cost a lot of money,” I said. “I like the sound of that.”

Harry squeezed the brim of his Twins baseball cap. “Probably just the price of a few rolls of duct tape, I’m thinking.”

I smiled. “I like that a lot. What do you have in mind?”

“You remember when Mariah was doing that project for school and she put together that drone?”

I nodded.

Harry’s daughter had done more than just put together a drone. She’d figured out how to attach a camera and fly the drone. She’d also recorded footage that gave a potential murder suspect an alibi. What she hadn’t done was tell her father or anyone else what she was up to.

“Well, it turns out Uncle Larry was giving her a little help.”

Harry’s younger brother, Larry, was an electrician who liked to tinker with anything electronic. It struck me that maybe he’d be able to come up with a way to keep our computer monitors working.

“I hope you don’t mind that I talked to him about what’s been happening down here,” Harry said. “He thinks he might be able to rig some kind of camera along the roofline at the back of the building. It won’t cost you a cent. Larry has a workshop full of junk and after what happened with Mariah, he figures he kinda owes me.” He grinned. “Might as well take advantage of it.”

“Yes,” I said. “If Larry can come up with some way we can catch the culprit, why not?”

“I’ll give him a call,” Harry said.

It was about quarter after twelve when Levi Ericson came in. Mary had taken the early lunch break. I was putting books on our holds shelves.

“Could I talk to you about something?” he asked. His expression was serious and I hoped he wasn’t going to tell me he was quitting.

“Of course,” I said. “We can go up to my office. I just need to get Abigail.”

“Here is fine,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Did you know World Mental Health Day is in October?”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”

“I was wondering, could we do something here at the library? Maybe on the day or during the week? Some kind of display, or maybe a talk or . . . something?”

“Yes,” I said. “We could do all of it.”

A smile lit up his face. “Really?”

“Really.” I was happy not to be losing Levi and his suggestion was a good one.

“I, um, I kind of have some ideas for what we could do,” he said, swiping his hair back out of his eyes with his long fingers. “I have this friend who has anxiety. She looks like she has her life together but it’s not how she feels inside. I think a lot of people feel that way and they’re scared to let anyone know.”

“Put your ideas on paper,” I said. “You don’t have to do anything fancy. I’m not asking you to write an essay. Just organize your thoughts. Then you and I will sit down and come up with a plan.”

“I can do that this weekend,” he said. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

I smiled back at him. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

He started for the door and then turned around. “Thank you, Kathleen. Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Levi all but bounced out of the door. I loved his enthusiasm and how much he obviously cared about his friend. “She looks like she has her life together but it’s not how she feels inside.” I realized that the way he had described his friend sounded a lot like the way Russell had talked about Stacey just last night: “I know it seems like Stacey has it all together, but lying like this just makes her anxiety worse.”

Stacey had anxiety? How was she managing it? I knew that not everyone with anxiety used medication. I also knew people were sometimes desperate enough for help that they bought drugs illegally. Marcus had said that no one involved with the show had a prescription for the drug found in Kassie’s system. Was I jumping to conclusions thinking Stacey could be the source of the lorazepam?

At one o’clock I took my lunch break and headed to the community center to give Eugenie my research into making butter. It would have been easier to e-mail everything, but she liked to check the information while I was with her and it really wasn’t that big of a hassle.

I stopped to say hi to Maggie and let her know I might be late for tai chi. Roma wanted to check Hercules’s leg one more time. She was squeezing us in at the end of the day and I was going to pick him up as soon as I left the community center. I was lucky Mayville Heights was the kind of place where my cat could spend the afternoon at the library and no one would think that was strange.

Stacey was just crossing the parking lot when I came out the back door. She waved and changed course to intercept me. “I’m glad I saw you,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for encouraging Russell to talk to the police.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I was just a little moral support. Russell already knew what he needed to do.”

Stacey fingered the strap of her brown leather cross-body bag. “I don’t like lying, especially to the police. I was getting so anxious I started having panic attacks.”

“I’m claustrophobic,” I said. “I know a little about how panic feels.”

“Usually I can manage my anxiety with meditation and exercise but, being on the show, it’s been a lot harder.” I noticed that her nails were very short and the cuticles on both hands looked ragged.

I smiled. “I think you may be doing better than you realize. I didn’t notice anything.”

Stacey ducked her head for a moment. Her fingers were still fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “That’s because I’m pretty good at fooling people, and, to be honest, I’ve been taking something—not all the time. Just when I need it.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. “I know we’re not friends but I sometimes think librarians are like bartenders—you’d be surprised the things people tell us.”

That made her smile. “I appreciate the offer but now that I’m not on the show most of the pressure is gone. I’m glad I did it, but I don’t think I’d do something like that again.” She shook her head. “I got so anxious I swiped a few pills from a friend who has a prescription for antianxiety medication. Dumb, right?”

“Not dumb,” I said, choosing my words with care, “but maybe not the best way to handle things.”

“Russell said the same thing, and I am going to see my doctor when I get home.” Her gaze slipped away from my face for a moment. “Last night I gave him the ones I had left and he got rid of them. I wasn’t really keeping track of how many I took and I know that isn’t good.”

“I’m glad you’re not self-medicating anymore and I’m glad you have Russell.” I touched her arm for a moment. “Russell has my number. Please use it if you want to talk or just get a cup of coffee. Or tea.”

Stacey nodded. “I will.”

We said good-bye. She headed for the door and I made my way across the lot.

I got in the truck and dropped my bag on the seat. I propped my elbow on the armrest and leaned my head on my hand. There was a good chance Stacey was the source of the medication in Kassie’s system. By her own admission she hadn’t kept track of those pills she’d taken from her friend. It would have been easy for someone to borrow one or two. But if I told Marcus what I had just figured out, Stacey would know I’d betrayed her confidence. I couldn’t do that. There had to be some other way for him to get the information. I just needed to figure it out.

I drove home and found Hercules upstairs, seemingly rearranging the shoes in my closet. “I’m not even going to ask,” I said, bending down to scoop him up. “Want to come and spend the afternoon at the library?”

He squirmed in my arms. His green eyes narrowed and one ear turned sideways. He was rightly suspicious. “You can sit in my chair. You can shed cat hair all over my desk.”

He seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he stopped squirming. I wondered if it was the chair or the shedding that had won him over.

Hercules climbed in the cat carrier bag without complaint. I felt a little guilty because I knew he would feel I’d tricked him when we ended up at Roma’s clinic after work. I also knew I was attributing a lot of human emotions to a small black-and-white cat.

When we got to my office I set the carrier bag on my desk and unzipped the top. Hercules climbed out, stretched and then jumped down onto my chair, which sent it slowly spinning in a circle.

“You’re going to make yourself dizzy,” I warned.

He gave me a slightly loopy look as the chair swung past me. Hercules may not have cared for catnip the way his brother did, but he did like going around in circles in my chair.

The next time an arm of the chair passed me I grabbed it. I leaned my face close to his and he licked my chin. “I love you, too,” I said. “Please stay in here. The last thing I need is to have to explain what you’re doing here. I don’t think anyone is going to believe you came to borrow a book.”

He gave an indignant murp as though the idea that he couldn’t read was insulting. For all I knew maybe he could. Both Hercules and Owen were far from ordinary.

I gave him one last scratch under his chin and headed downstairs.

“Would you give Lita a call when you have a chance, please?” Abigail asked. “She called about half an hour ago.” She reached over and plucked a clump of black cat hair from my shirt.

“Hercules is in my office,” I blurted.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “He waved a paw at me as you skulked past the desk.”

“I did not skulk.” I wasn’t going to argue about the waving.

“Please,” Abigail said with an eye roll. “If Hercules was a Great Dane instead of a cat, it would have been an episode of Scooby-Doo.” She glanced in the direction of the stairs. “Does he have to go see R-O-M-A?”

I laughed. “I don’t think he can hear you all the way in my office. And yes, he does. She just wants to check his leg one more time.”

“You know, Kathleen, Hercules is a pretty smart cat. Pretty soon he’s going to figure out that every time he gets to come to the library he ends up you-know-where.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.

Hercules stayed in my office—or at least, if he went roaming around, he didn’t get caught. When I went up for my break he was sitting in the middle of my desk. It looked like he was reading something.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Mrrr,” he said, putting a paw on the page in front of him. It was Ray Nightingale’s CV.

I hadn’t had much time to look for more information on the connection between Ray and Kassie.

“I need that,” I said to Hercules. I tried to pull the sheet of paper away from him but he kept his paw in place and there was a stubborn jut to his chin.

“Mrrr,” he said again.

I looked down at the page. The cat’s paw was resting just below the listing of the artists Ray had studied under. Tim Dougall.

“Why does that name seem familiar?”

Hercules didn’t seem to know.

I reached for my computer. I wasn’t sure why that name mattered, but it did. A quick search told me that Timothy Dougall was an artist who had done the illustrations for more than two dozen children’s books.

“Maybe Abigail mentioned his name to me,” I said.

Hercules wasn’t interested anymore. Now he was sitting in the middle of the paper, carefully washing his tail.

I went back downstairs. Abigail was shelving books. “Are you familiar with an illustrator named Tim Dougall?” I asked.

She smiled. “Of course. Do you remember when you worked a shift for me so I could go see that documentary in Minneapolis? That’s who it was about. Tim Dougall.”

“That’s why the name seemed familiar,” I said. I remembered how much Abigail had looked forward to seeing that documentary.

“Where on earth did you see Tim’s name?” she asked. “He’s been dead for close to seventeen years now.”

“Seventeen years? Are you sure?”

Abigail nodded. “Give or take a year, yes. You can google it if you need the exact date.”

“There’s something I need to do,” I said. “Can you cover for me for about ten minutes?”

“Sure,” she said. “Take your time.”

I went back up to my office.

Hercules was lying on his back now, jabbing the air with one paw as though he was boxing but not putting much effort into it.

I picked up Ray’s CV. If he had taken a class with Tim Dougall, the last possible time he could have done it would have been when he was about sixteen—pretty much the age he looked in that photo of him with Kassie.

“As Alice would say, ‘Curiouser and curiouser.’”

Hercules looked a little confused. If he did read, it seemed he hadn’t read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

I checked the CV again and found the name of the art program where Ray claimed to have studied with Dougall. It only took me a minute to get the exact year of the illustrator’s death and then I did the math in my head. Ray would have been sixteen. Had he spent a summer studying with the artist? It wasn’t impossible. Maybe there was a way to find out.

I looked up the phone number of the art school online, took a deep breath and called. I was rerouted three times before I reached the right department. I explained to the woman on the other end of the phone that I was a researcher for The Great Northern Baking Showdown and that I was trying to clarify the background of one of our contestants.

“His name is Ray Nightingale and he was supposed to have taken a summer art course there seventeen years ago. I’m trying to verify the date.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a slightly bored monotone. “I can’t give out any personal information about any of our students.”

Hercules had given up on his quasi-workout and was nosing around the telephone receiver. I nudged him back, which just made him all the more determined to get in the way.

“But I’m not certain Mr. Nightingale was a student,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to confirm.”

“And as I told you, I can’t give out any personal information about students.”

This wasn’t going to work. Hercules butted the receiver again and I moved him back again. He gave a loud meow in protest.

“Was that a cat?” the woman asked.

I glared at Hercules, who glared back at me.

“Yes, that was Hercules. I apologize. He thinks he’s a person when it comes to phones. Anyway, thank you for talking to me.”

“Not Hercules from the calendar?”

“Umm . . . yes.”

“The little tuxedo cat?”

“That’s right.” The conversation had taken a very strange turn.

“I have that calendar right here in my office,” she said. Her voice was suddenly a lot warmer. “My name is Dena, by the way.”

“Hello, Dena,” I said. “I have that calendar and, as you can hear, that cat right here in my office at the moment.” The subject of the conversation had turned his back on me in annoyance and was washing his face.

“The calendar makes me smile every time I look at it. I think my favorite photo is the one of them on the circulation desk in the library.”

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” I said. “The photographer, Ruby Blackthorne, is very good at getting them to pose. They are cats after all.”

“Dogs come when they’re called. Cats take a message and get back to you later.”

I laughed. “Dena, you have cats, don’t you?”

“Ellery, Agatha and Ngaio.”

“And you’re a mystery fan,” I said. “Ellery Queen, Agatha Christie and Ngaio Marsh.”

“Very good,” she said. “People usually don’t get the Ngaio reference.”

“She’s one of the Queens of Crime. More people should read her books.”

“Yes, they should.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “So, you wanted to know if Ray Nightingale was here in what year again?”

I repeated the date. I heard the clicking of computer keys. “Let me just check something else,” she said.

I waited.

Silence and then, “Ah, there’s the problem. He was here.”

So I was wrong.

“But he was kicked out at the end of the first week.”

So maybe I wasn’t wrong.

“Is that a problem?” Dena asked.

“No,” I said slowly. “I don’t think it is.”

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

I thanked Dena for the information and told her there was talk of another calendar. Then we said good-bye.

I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes and tried to sort out what I knew. Ray had lied—again—about his credentials. Not only did I have to share the information with Marcus, but Maggie and Ruby needed to know as well. Had Kassie known what Ray had done? Was that why she had that photo of the two of them? Was it more than just a walk down memory lane? I was going to have to talk to Ray to find out. One thing I did know was that he was the kind of person who took shortcuts.

I stretched and stood up. Hercules was still washing his face and ignoring me. I leaned over and took his furry black-and-white face in my hands. “I love you, furball,” I said. Then I kissed the top of his head. “Two sardines when we get home tonight.”

He nuzzled my right hand, his way of saying all was forgiven.

We were out of the library at the end of the day pretty much on time, maybe even a few minutes early. Abigail waved at Hercules and mouthed “Good luck” to me.

We headed across town. I glanced at the cat. He’d climbed out of the carrier as soon as I’d unzipped the top. He was lying on the seat, head on his paws, a glum expression on his face. Had he figured out where we were going or was I just attributing human feeling to a cat again?

“You know, don’t you?” I said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him give me a look.

He knew.

“It won’t take long. All Roma is going to do is look at your leg. No poking at you. No stitches. I promise.”

“Mrrr,” he grumbled.

“She’ll probably have a treat for you.”

I looked over at him again. He seemed to be thinking about the treat. “And after Roma is finished I’ll take you home for those sardines I promised.”

He shook his head, sat up and made a sound like a sigh. I figured that was as good as I could hope for.

The visit with Roma went well. I held on to Hercules while she checked his leg and he protested.

Loudly.

Once she was done she put two little fish crackers on the examining table. I let Hercules go. He used a paw to drag the treats into the middle of the table, away from Roma.

“He’s fine,” she said to me, pulling off her gloves. “And it went a lot better than last time.”

I nodded. “I remember last time.”

“Tell Maggie I’m sorry to miss class. David wants a second opinion about a hip replacement surgery on a German shepherd. I’m leaving in a few minutes. If I agree with him, he wants to do the surgery as soon as possible.”

David was another vet, a friend of Roma’s. He’d helped her on a couple of surgeries and she’d done the same for him.

“I’ll tell her,” I said. I held up crossed fingers. “Good luck.”

Once Hercules was settled on the front seat I checked my watch. There just might be time to tackle Ray if he was at his studio.

I headed for Riverarts. Hercules wasn’t paying any attention to where we were going so he didn’t object. I pulled into the parking lot and as luck would have it both Ray’s and Ruby’s cars were there. I slipped into Maggie’s allotted spot since I knew she was over at the tai chi studio.

“Do you want to go see Ruby?” I asked Hercules.

He immediately sat up and took a couple of passes at his face with a paw. Then he looked at me, cocking his head to one side. “You look very handsome,” I said.

I pulled out my phone and called Ruby’s cell. She answered on the third ring. “Hercules and I are in the parking lot,” I said. “Could we come in?”

“I’m on my way down,” she said.

I rummaged in my bag for a second, picked up the cat, locked the truck and reached the back door of Riverarts just as Ruby reached the bottom of the stairs. She let us in and smiled at Hercules. She was wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back and a pair of baggy overalls.

“Does Maggie have another interloper down at the store?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. We just came from seeing Roma. And before you ask, he’s fine.”

“You had a doctor’s appointment?” Ruby said. She made a face. “I hate doctor’s appointments. You’re so brave.”

He preened in my arms. Ruby’s words seemed to carry a lot more weight than mine did.

“I’ve been playing around with a couple of ideas for another calendar. I’d love to hear what you think.”

She was still talking to Hercules, I realized, not me.

He murped an okay.

“Actually, could he stay with you for a few minutes?” I asked. “I was hoping I could go talk to Ray.”

“Sure,” Ruby said. Her hands were in her pockets and she rocked forward and back just a little in her red high tops. She looked like she wanted to say something so I waited for a moment.

“You haven’t found anything to clear Elias yet, have you?” she finally asked. “I, uh, I’ve been trying not to bug you by calling or texting.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t come across anything that puts Elias in the clear. I’m sorry. I’ve eliminated some people but I haven’t found anything that eliminates him.”

She played with one of the several earrings in her right ear. “If someone accused your father of murder you’d know they were wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And it wouldn’t just be because he’s your dad. It would be because you know what kind of a person he is. You know him better than just about everyone.” She tapped the left side of her chest with a closed fist. “You know what he’s like in here.”

I nodded. “I do.”

“I know Elias that way. He’s not my dad, but he’s the closest thing I have to one.” Her eyes were locked on to my face. “He wouldn’t lie to me. If he had killed Kassie he would have told me. I’m not saying he would have told the police, but he would have told me. So I don’t mean to put pressure on you—” She stopped abruptly and a tiny smile played at her mouth. “Actually, that’s not true. I do want to put pressure on you. Elias didn’t do this, which means somebody else did.”

Hercules was getting restless and I set him down. He shook himself and moved to sit next to Ruby.

“I wish I had answers for you,” I said. “I can tell you this much. I haven’t given up. And I know that Marcus hasn’t, either.”

Her expression grew serious again. “One question. Do you think Ray could have killed Kassie?”

“No, but I do think they had more of a connection than he’s admitting to. That’s why I need to talk to him.”

She sighed. “Okay. I guess I’m going to just have to go with that.” She looked at Hercules and tipped her head at the stairs. “Let’s go,” she said. He didn’t give so much as a backward glance to me. I had a feeling even with sardines waiting at home I was going to have a problem getting him back into the truck.

I followed the two of them up the stairs, pushing through the doors to the second floor and walking down the hall toward Ray’s studio. His door was partway open.

I tapped on the door frame and Ray looked up from his easel. “Kathleen, to what do I owe the pleasure? Again.” His tone made it clear that me being there wasn’t something he was happy about.

I’d had the picture of Ray and Kassie in my messenger bag and I’d fished it out before Hercules and I had gotten out of the truck. Now I pulled it out of my pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles before holding it up. “This,” I said.

“You’re not still beating that dead horse, are you?”

I took several steps toward him. “How old do you think that photo of the two of you is, Ray? Sixteen years? Seventeen, maybe?”

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Seventeen years ago you were taking a class from Tim Dougall.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure of the date.”

I smiled. “I am. I checked.”

He was good. He didn’t break my gaze. His face didn’t flush. “If you say so.”

I was still holding the picture. I turned it around so I could take another look. “Why did Kassie have this photo of the two of you?”

He shifted on his stool and looked at the drawing he was working on before he looked at me again. “I already told you I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie,” I said. “I think Kassie had that picture of the two of you because it was a way to remind you that you didn’t spend a summer studying with Tim Dougall. You got kicked out in the first week. Which means you’ve been lying on your CV.”

He swore and looked up at the ceiling for a moment as though he’d find answers up there. His eyes dropped to mine again. “You can’t just stay out of things, can you, Kathleen?”

I was surprised how angry I suddenly felt. “And you keep lying and cheating, looking for the easy way out. I don’t get it. You have talent. Genuine talent. Why do you have to keep lying about who you studied with and who liked your work? You’re better than that.”

Ray pulled a hand over the back of his neck. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like to do something creative. I’m not explaining myself to you.”

“You knew Kassie was going to be one of the judges, didn’t you?” I said. “It was one of the worst-kept secrets in town after the news got out that Elias was going to be filming the show here in Mayville Heights.”

He didn’t say anything but the way the muscles tightened in his jaw made me think I was onto something.

“You used that connection with her to get on the show, or at least up the odds in your favor.”

“You can’t prove any of that,” he said.

I folded the picture and stuck it back in my pocket. “Kassie saw your CV. It was probably in the information packet on the contestants that the producers put together. You spent that summer hanging out so she knew you’d been kicked out of Dougall’s class.”

“Yeah, fine, she knew.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye. “She was trying to get me to throw the competition for some reason. But I didn’t kill her.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Why should I believe you?”

His mouth twisted and pulled to one side. “Because when Kassie was killed I was in bed with Caroline.”