Cat Sitter on a Hot Tin Roof: A Dixie Hemingway Mystery

29

Ieased out of the driveway, drove the short distance to Laura’s house, and pulled behind the locksmith’s truck at the curb. As I walked up the driveway, I saw Celeste and the locksmith in front of Laura’s front door, and from the way they were glaring at each other, it didn’t seem like a friendly meeting. When Celeste saw me, color rose in her face and her eyebrows drew together in a furious frown.

“Oh, this is perfect! The pet sitter has come to join the party! I suppose the Sheriff’s Department sent out a special invitation to you. Did they give you a key to the house too? They won’t give me one, but they’ll give one to anybody who lives in this godforsaken dump! I couldn’t even go through my sister’s house by myself, had to have a deputy watch while I got her jewelry and some of her clothes. She was my sister, you know, and we were close—even with all I had to put up with, we were close. I didn’t take anything she wouldn’t want me to have. Not that I don’t have nice things of my own, because I do, but there’s no point in leaving these things here. In any civilized town, the neighbors would have helped me carry things, but not here. Here the cops keep the keys to my sister’s house from me.”

The locksmith heaved a huge sigh. “Ma’am, as I’ve told you probably a hundred times now, the cops aren’t keeping the keys from you, I am. You can have the keys as soon as you pay me for changing the locks. You’re the one who ordered the change, you’re the one who has to pay for it. As soon as you pay me, I’ll give you the new keys.”

“I’m not paying you for something I have the right to have. It’s my sister’s house. I had the right to have her locks changed.”

“Yes, ma’am, but I have the right to be paid for changing them. You’ve made three appointments to get the keys, and you missed all of them. Now you want the keys for free. Sorry, not gonna happen.”

Whirling to me, Celeste said, “And exactly what is your purpose here?”

Mildly, I said, “I just came to tell you I’d found a good home for Leo. I thought you might want to know.”

“That cat? You think I care about that stupid cat?”

“He was your sister’s cat, so I thought you might.”

It didn’t seem like a good time to tell her that the Kitty Haven charged fifty dollars a day for boarding a cat. Legally, the charge should go to her sister’s estate. In reality, I would pay it.

Even allowing for the shock of learning that her sister had been brutally murdered, Celeste’s behavior was bizarre. She was not a stupid woman. If she were Laura’s legal heir, she surely knew she had a right to everything in her sister’s house, no matter when she returned to Dallas. But she must also know that the house was devoid of art and had extremely modest furnishings. Any valuables would be jewelry or furs, which Celeste had apparently already taken.

She said, “You think I’m a selfish bitch, don’t you? Both of you think that.”

Neither the locksmith nor I answered, at least not out loud.

With her face the color of new radishes, Celeste dived into her handbag and took out a leather wallet. As if she were thumbing out playing cards, she slipped some bills from the wallet and flung them at the locksmith.

“Here’s your money.”

The money fell to his feet and he left it there while he pulled a small paper packet from his pocket. “Here’s your key.”

She held it on her open palm. “Just one?”

“One comes with the lock change. You want more, you pay for more.”

Her head jerked backward, and in the next instant she spat at him and threw the key against his chest.

“Take your damn key and to hell with you!”

Brushing past me, she stomped to the Camry and got in with a loud door slam. When she pulled out, she came within inches of hitting both the truck and my Bronco on the street, and left with a loud revving of her engine. The locksmith waited until she was out of sight before he picked up two hundred-dollar bills at his feet.

He said, “That woman is a nut.”

I couldn’t disagree.

He said, “You want this key?”

I shook my head. “I’m just the pet sitter. I’ve got the cat that belonged to the woman that was killed here, that’s all.”

“She left a cat?”

“A Havana Brown. Beautiful cat. I’ve found him a good home.”

He handed me the key. “You might need something for the cat.”

I didn’t want the key, but I could see his quandary. He’d changed locks on the house and been paid for it, and he felt duty bound to leave the new key with somebody, even if the somebody was just me.

I said, “I’ll give it to Lieutenant Guidry. He’s handling the murder investigation.”

“Okay, that’ll work.”

He stuffed the bills Celeste had thrown at him into his pocket and went out to his truck. I followed him. I had been tired and sweaty and hungry before, now I was tired and sweaty and hungry and totally disgusted with Celeste Autrey.

The locksmith had been only half right. Celeste wasn’t just a nut, she was a vicious nut. She and Laura must have been two halves of one disturbed whole, but while Laura had been disturbed and sweet, Celeste had soaked up all the bitter.