Fat Cat Takes The Cake

TWENTY-TWO

Chase was up, barely, when her phone rang on Tuesday, her last day off for the week. She squinted at the caller ID and groaned.

“Hi, Eddie. What are you doing up so early?” She aimed her squint at her bedside alarm clock. Eight o’clock. She had said she would call him, but not this early.

“It’s not that early, is it? I was driving into work and saw you walking your cat yesterday. I wondered if I could walk with you today.”

“I’m still in bed.”

“I’d really like to see you. I remembered something else about the reunion.”

Chase stifled another groan. If he had information that could shed some light on the murder, she should meet him. “I can be ready in an hour.” Maybe waiting that long would discourage him. Eight wasn’t early, she agreed, unless it was your day off and you were sleeping in.

“No problem. Give me a jingle when you’re ready. My new manager is opening for me today.” The guy was so doggone cheerful and it was way too early for that.

An hour later, bundled against the cold wind, Chase and Quincy in his harness were walking the route to the Meet N Eat with Eddie, the place where they had met for lunch last week. Eddie handed her one of the two hot drinks he’d brought along.

“What is it?” Chase was suspicious. The heavy paper cup bore the words Health from the Heath Bar so she knew it might be anything. Maybe a boiled root from Tasmania or an infusion of exotic herbs from the Siberian tundra.

“Hot chocolate.” He grinned and took a sip of his.

She eyed the cup, but couldn’t tell what was inside, since it had a lid with a drink spout. “Okay. I love hot chocolate.” She was sure there wouldn’t be any marshmallows. She took a sip. There wasn’t any chocolate either. It was carob.

“Thanks, Eddie.” She decided to hold the cup for a few minutes and pretend to sip. For her, a true chocolate lover, carob was nothing but a dirty trick. It was almost chocolate, but not quite. Your nose was fooled until your tongue got the full, deceptive impact.

As they approached the corner before the diner, a familiar pickup truck drove past. It looked very much like Mike Ramos’s truck.

Great. Now the morning was perfect. Her sleep-in was ruined, she was mocked by hot carob, and Mike had seen her taking a walk with Eddie Heath. She probably couldn’t pretend this was a business meeting.

She was going to have to make up her mind. Either she kept seeing Eddie Heath or she didn’t. The trouble was, her brain knew which decision she should make. But here he was next to her, exuding a distinctly sexy aura, touching her hand when he handed her the cup and sending shock waves through her admittedly weak body. To make everything worse, when he trained those bedroom eyes on her, as he did now when he talked about how well Quincy was doing, she had trouble tearing her gaze away, even to check on her obedient (for a change) cat.

“Hey, look where we are,” Eddie said as they approached the front of Meet N Eat.

The morning was very cold and Chase was sorry the place wasn’t open yet so they could go in and warm up. They probably wouldn’t have let Quincy in, however.

“We saw that drunk guy here,” Eddie went on. “Remember? Langton Hail. I wonder if he was ever sober before he started coming into my health bar.”

“He visits your place?”

“He started coming a few days ago. I think he’s serious about going straight. He’s talked to me about his addiction. People do that. They talk to me like I’m a bartender.”

“So he’s an alcoholic?” Chase wondered if Ron North knew the man had an alcohol addiction. He was giving him shots from the flask. That seemed like cruelty to Chase, tempting the man with his vice. Did Langton Hail get angry about that and kill Ron North?

“That’s what he says. He was drunk at the reunion, looked like he was still drunk the next morning, and then—”

“What did you say? What next morning?”

“After the reunion.”

“You saw him? Where?”

“I drive past the high school to get to work. I told you I saw a car there? I didn’t tell you this part. I didn’t know who he was then. But it was Hail in his car the next morning. It looked like he was just waking up, stretching and everything. Like he’d slept in his car there all night.”

“You had time to see all that?”

“I was at a red light. When I thought about it, it seemed funny he was still there. He got out and started clearing his windshield, full of snow, as the light turned.” Eddie thought for a half a second. “Maybe he wasn’t that drunk, then. He was moving well, standing up okay.”

“We need to turn around here,” Chase said. She wanted to think this out. It wouldn’t be good for the detective to get wind of Eddie’s story. That would eliminate one more suspect and drive another nail into—not Julie’s coffin, exactly, but her murder charge. This was Tuesday and her hearing was Friday. There wasn’t much time left to figure out a way to save her best friend from a horrible ordeal, an indictment and a trial.

Then another thought took her a different direction. Why on earth did Langton Hail and Van Snelson bother to alibi each other if they had actual alibis?

“You on a tight schedule?” Eddie’s words dripped skepticism.

“Not that. I just remembered something I need to do.”

These two stood there talking. That’s not how you took a walk, the cat knew. Taking a walk meant moving. It was cold out here and the annoyed tabby wanted to go inside and curl up on the soft chair. He shook himself to keep warm. That was when he noticed that the harness wasn’t fastened all the way. He wondered if he could get it off again and return home. He worked at it with his left hind leg, then his right hind leg. It was coming undone. Another little bit and he could start moving.

“Anyway, I think Hail is making a real effort to—” Eddie spun around at the same moment Chase felt the slack on the leash. “Your cat’s loose.”

“Yes, he certainly is.” Chase sighed. “It looks like he might be headed home, at least.”

“That would be a first, wouldn’t it?” Eddie said, taking off at full speed.

Eddie and Chase scrambled after the fleeing Quincy. A flash of ginger fur disappeared around the corner and they both sped up.

Chase started panting after half a block, but Eddie easily could run another twenty miles.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine.” It was annoying that she was winded after less than a block.

“You oughta join the gym I belong to. Working out is so good for your body.”

Talking while running wasn’t helping her at all. They raced down the short end of the block, then rounded another corner.

Chase held out her arm to bring Eddie to a halt. Quincy sat on his haunches half a block away, in front of an apartment building. She didn’t want to charge up and make him take off again. Chase held the empty harness tightly in her hand so that it wouldn’t jingle and walked slowly toward her cat. Eddie stayed a few steps behind her. She was relieved that he understood what she was doing and followed her lead.

“Hi there, Quincy Wincy,” she crooned.

He turned his head toward her, but stayed put.

When she was two feet away, a door opened and he took off.

“Well, hello. Charity Oliver, isn’t it?” Dickie Byrd said. He was coming from the apartments. With him was a much younger woman. Chase was pretty sure it was the person she’d seen him kissing a week ago. She was short, with ample curves. Chase hadn’t been able to tell how young she was last week at a distance. Dickie’s face turned red.

“Hi, Dickie. I have to go get my cat.”

“Dickie?” the woman said. “Really?” She looked at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Richard?”

Chase hesitated, curious about the two. Dickie didn’t say a word. After a brief glare at Chase and a glance at Eddie, he stared at the ground, his lips clamped tight.

“Gotta run,” Chase said, and hurried off.

Quincy came to a stop at the end of that block and let Chase put the harness back on. When she had to take off her gloves to make sure she got the harness fastened securely, she realized how cold it was. Her fingers were stiff as she pulled her holey gloves over them.

“Why did he stop?” Eddie asked. Chase noticed that he still wasn’t breathing hard. She was panting so much she could barely speak. All that health food probably was good for a person. It just wasn’t . . . good.

“Who knows why a cat does anything?” A couple more deep breaths, and she was back to normal.

“I’m telling you, a gym membership is the way to go. You get muscles without that scary steroid bulk.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. People like Bart Fender. He’s got that look. Those lumps between his neck and his shoulders, know what I mean?”

Yes, that’s what Bart was like. Lumpy. Very solid lumps, but unnatural.

“What was that all about?” Eddie asked.

“I think I didn’t get it fastened all the way. I was in a hurry—”

“No, I meant that business with Dickie Byrd and . . . whoever that was with him.”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“He wasn’t eager to introduce us, was he?”

“Have you ever seen her before?”

Eddie shook his head. “Maybe she’s his niece or something. Looks like she lives in those apartments.”

Or something. Chase was sure the voluptuous woman wasn’t Dickie Byrd’s niece.