Fat Cat At Large

NINE

Chase didn’t get another chance to speak to Vi about the parking lot confrontation or to Anna about being suspicious of Chase before closing time at 7:30 PM. She’d soothed Laci by telling her she would give her a week off, starting Tuesday, when their rush would be over. Laci had considered that a whole week without seeing Violet Peters would be a much-needed balm for her. Chase hadn’t pointed out that, after the rush, there would be no need for them to work together until the holidays. By that time, Chase hoped to have stood up to Anna about the situation. She would have to make time to speak to Vi about her treatment of poor little Laci, though. Vi had told Chase that she’d seen Ted making out with someone else. Even if she had, there was no need to tell Laci that, knowing she’d go off the deep end.

At precisely 7:30, Chase shooed the two women out the front door and turned the sign on the door to say they were closed. She flicked the overhead lights off and leaned her poor aching back against the door, but only for a moment. The wood partitions for the little glass panes dug into her sore spine. She pushed away and strolled through the darkened shop humming “Tomorrow” from Annie. Stepping behind the counter, she pulled the trays from the display case, wincing each time she bent over. Most of them were empty, but three held a few bars that she would package and freeze to take to the homeless shelter when she had time.

Anna had left at 7:00, pleading an appointment, so Chase quickly did the cleanup that remained and headed for the police station. Walking through their parking lot at night was scarier than doing it during the day. The building was more forbidding, too. It loomed dark and gave her the chills.

She was buzzed through from the lobby to a sea of desks. Most were empty, but a lamp shed a pool of yellow on a desk at the far side of the room. Detective Olson’s chestnut hair caught an edge of the light as he bent over some paperwork. The sound of her echoing footsteps alerted him to her presence in the otherwise empty room and he waved her to a seat beside his desk. This was much better than the stuffy interrogation room she’d been in before, although the stale air held odors of sweat and, possibly, fear.

She sat and noticed that his dark blue eyes looked weary.

“I just have a few more questions. I know I said we were done, but I want to try something.”

She nodded. That didn’t sound too ominous.

“Close your eyes and think back to the day you discovered Gabe’s body.”

“Okay.” She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

“You’re searching for your cat, you said.”

“Right. Quincy is missing.”

“Where are you?” His soft, smooth voice soothed her. She felt tension seeping out of her body.

“I’m searching for him. Walking down the street. Coming to the condos.”

“Look around you. Is anyone else there?”

She shook her head. “I’m not looking for anyone, any people, I’m only looking for Quincy.”

“Go ahead.”

This felt almost like a hypnotism session she’d watched onstage in Chicago once. “There’s a door standing open.”

“Wide open?”

“No, just a crack. I walk up the steps and push it open.”

“Why do you do that?”

She let out a puff of impatience. “To see if Quincy is in there.” Why else would she enter a condo where she didn’t know the resident?

“Why do you think he might be?”

“The way the door is barely open. He likes to squeeze through narrow places. It’s a cat thing.” She opened her eyes and stared at him defiantly. “Why do you think I went in there? To kill Gabe Naughtly?”

“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else? No one on the sidewalk or across the street?”

“I didn’t kill him.” Her voice caught. If she started crying right now, she’d never forgive herself. “Just because I didn’t see his killer doesn’t mean I killed him. The killer had time to wipe his fingerprints off the knife. He probably left long before I got there.”

Detective Olson leveled those serious eyes at her.

“What? What did I say? You’re the one who told me about the fingerprints.”

He drew a deep breath. “There was a lot of blood on that knife. I’m sure you remember that.” Yes, she did. “That knife wasn’t wiped after the blood got there.”

“Oh.” Her mind worked on high speed. “So . . . the killer wore gloves.”

“Possibly.”

“But Gabe’s prints weren’t on it either?”

Detective Olson shook his head.

“Was it even his knife? Did you test it for onions?”

“Onions?” He looked at Chase like she was crazy. “He wasn’t killed by onions.”

“Did his meatloaf have onions in it? Or bell peppers? That’s what I put in mine. If the knife was his and was out of the knife block, he’d probably chopped onions with it. If not, maybe it’s not his.”

“Miss Oliver, I want you to concentrate on what you saw that night. Over the next few days, if anything occurs to you, let me know right away.”

“Why do you think I saw someone?”

He didn’t answer.

An idea popped into her head. “Because someone saw me, right? If they did, then they saw I didn’t have time to kill him, right? Right?”

He handed her his card. “Call me if you remember anything.”

On her way home, her hands started hurting from gripping the steering wheel so tight. She was livid, so angry at the detective she felt like squeezing his neck instead of the steering wheel. Why couldn’t he at least tell her exactly why he was suspicious of her? He seemed to think she was lying. She had to convince him she wasn’t. But how?

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.