Fat Cat Takes The Cake

TWENTY-SEVEN

“I have to go,” Anna said. “That was the florist. They can’t get the light blue orchids I wanted and they’d like me to pick out some calla lilies to replace them.”

Chase was relieved it was about the wedding.

Anna’s wedding was mostly lavender and blue, with some bright lime-green accents. She and Julie had ordered matching lavender dresses, but they hadn’t come in yet.

“I’d better go right now and see what they have. I don’t want anything too bright.”

Yes, Anna preferred muted pastels for everything to do with her wedding. Except the bridesmaid bouquets. Those were lime green. She wished the dresses would arrive and she could make sure they would be all right. If they never came, Anna would whip out her sewing machine and make them, and she didn’t need to be doing that right now.

She hadn’t seen Anna’s dress. No one had. Anna was keeping it a secret from everyone, including her groom-to-be, Bill.

Anna finished her soup and whisked her bowl to the sink. “I’ll check on you later tonight.”

Probably to make sure I haven’t gone to the police, Chase thought. But the wedding was a week from yesterday and the dresses weren’t here yet. That was something she should work on. She called Julie.

“Have you heard anything about our dresses?”

“For the wedding? No. I’ve had my mind on a couple of other things. Can you check? I’m still at work. Gotta go.”

Chase dragged herself downstairs to the computer to look up the order. Anna had assured them she would be able to do any alterations they might need. Better than actually making them, but was that fair? Having the bride alter her own bridesmaids’ dresses? Fair or not, Anna wouldn’t hear of letting anyone else touch them.

There was a customer service phone number listed on the website, but when she called it, a message said they had hours of eight to five Eastern time. It was five thirty and Central time, besides.

She sent an e-mail inquiring about the delivery date. There were no tracking numbers to trace where they were. She was getting a sinking feeling about the dresses. At least she and Julie had shoes. She’d been surprised when Julie told her she had bought Chase’s for her and, amazingly enough, they fit perfectly. Better than any she had tried on. Julie knew her shoes. The dresses wouldn’t have to match them since Julie had chosen a contrasting shade of dark blue. That and the bouquets were the exceptions to the “all pastel” rule Anna had laid down.

She trudged upstairs, probably puzzling Quincy, who wasn’t used to going up so soon after he had come down. The soup sitting in her bowl on her kitchen table had cooled, but there was plenty left in the pan on the stove. She poured in the cold soup and heated it up. When it was warm, she ate it all, then fell asleep again on the couch.

When she awoke in the morning, she had a vague recollection of moving to her bed in the night. As her eyes opened, Quincy stood up and started complaining. Oops! She hadn’t fed him his nighttime din dins. It was a wonder he hadn’t awakened her during the wee hours. Maybe he’d tried but she had slept soundly.

After she hurried to the kitchen and fixed his morning meal, she stretched, realizing she felt good. That soup had revitalized her and finally knocked out the cold.

Then she realized it was Thursday! Julie’s hearing was tomorrow! She had to draw attention to Monique Byrd today. She watched Quincy eat, puzzling out what to do. Monique didn’t have a place of business, except maybe the vacant storefront she and Dickie rented for his campaign headquarters. It was doubtful his campaign would continue, now that they had split. Monique might or might not be home, but Chase didn’t want to call to find out. Wherever she accosted the woman, she wanted to take her by surprise. Ideally, Monique’s car would be somewhere close and Chase would find an excuse to look into the trunk.

That’s as far as her thinking had gone. How on earth could she come up with an excuse to at least peek into the trunk? Monique wouldn’t let her, of course, because Ron North’s blood would be there, but she wanted to hear her refuse to open it. That, to Chase, would be an indictment. More like a verdict.

She called Julie. “Do you have a sec?”

“I’m due for a short break in ten. I’ll call you back.”

When Julie called, Chase had eaten and was ready to lay out her latest conclusion. “Help me think of an excuse to look into Monique Byrd’s trunk.”

“Um, her car trunk?”

“Yep.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“To see if she’ll refuse to let me.”

“I’m sorry, girlfriend. You’ve totally lost me.”

She was making it a habit to lose people lately. First Anna, now Julie. “I’m pretty sure she killed Ron North and that means there’s blood in her trunk. So if she won’t let me look at it, that means she killed him. His body was transported, right? It had to be in a trunk, right?”

“Some of what you said is logical, but what’s that first part again? Why do you know she killed him?”

“She’s the only suspect left who wanted to and doesn’t have an alibi.”

“Chase, I can’t see her lifting a man’s body into her trunk. She couldn’t weigh more than one-twenty. Besides, he was strangled. How much blood would there be?”

“Okay, DNA. His DNA has to be there.”

“She’s not going to be afraid you’ll find DNA with your naked eye.”

Chase had to admit Julie was right. “Well then, how am I going to prove to Detective Olson that she killed him? As for lifting him, she would be full of adrenaline and he’s not very big.”

“He wasn’t very big.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said he’s not very big. Present tense. Anyway, I have to get to work. Love you.”

Chase hung up, knowing that Julie suspected she was still sick and was raving feverishly. People were arriving below. She heard the door to the kitchen open and close twice. It was time she showed up for work.

In spite of what Julie must think, Chase felt much better this morning. She hummed “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” from The Sound of Music in the shower. She felt like that’s what she needed to do, climb every last ever-lovin’ mountain so she could clear Julie. In fact, she almost felt like she could climb one. It was so good not to be achy anymore. She was singing the words now, as she got dressed and racked her brain for a solution.

“Who’s that tripping down the stairs so lightly?” Anna called when Chase showed up.

“You sound like the ogre talking to a Billy Goat Gruff.” Chase laughed.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood. Is that new boyfriend working out?”

Chase frowned. “He’s not my boyfriend. Quit saying that. I’m having a hard time getting rid of him.”

“Maybe you’re not trying very hard?”

She shrugged. No, she sure wasn’t. “Anna, what are we going to do about Julie? I know Monique should be in jail, but—”

Anna held a finger to her lips and Chase heard Monique’s voice out front.

“A dozen of those new ones. The pumpkin ones.”

“The Harvest Bars?” Mallory asked.

Chase and Anna stood silent, listening. Chase hoped a clue would drop. Anna, she was sure, was relieved Monique hadn’t seemed to hear the fact that Chase wanted her in jail.

“And a couple of Peanut Butter Fudge Bars for your husband?”

It occurred to Chase that a lot of husbands like those. Even Ron liked—peanuts! There might be peanuts in Monique’s trunk.

“Definitely not.”

Chase couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed some replacement boxes and pushed through the double doors, aiming for the round table nearest the kitchen. “Oh, hello, Monique. How nice to see you here.” She hoped her wide eyes looked surprised.

Monique answered with a frown.

“I’m sorry. Is something the matter?” Chase was putting on the best innocent, helpful face she could.

Nothing. Only more frowning.

“By the way,” Chase tried again, “the reunion was such a good idea. I’m sure it was you who thought of having it. It’s so terrible that tragedy had to ruin the wonderful memories of that night.”

“It actually wasn’t my idea. It was Dickie’s.”

“Ah. Well—”

“I told him it was stupid. No one has a fourteen-year reunion.”

“It’s too bad—”

“My idea was to invite the whole class to a fund-raising dinner. That way, we would know who his supporters were.”

And raise funds, Chase added silently.

“And it wouldn’t be limited to our high school graduating class, either,” Monique said. “I have favors all around town I could have called in. I hated the thought of kicking off his campaign in a rinky-dink high school gym. I would have rented a hotel downtown, or the Minneapolis Club.”

“You belong?” That was a swanky, exclusive place.

“No, but I know someone who does. He would gladly have arranged it. But no. Mr. Know-It-All Dickie Byrd had to hold a replay of the high school prom, complete with horrid punch and basketball hoops, with bleachers folded up at the sides.”

“I agree about the punch, but—”

“Also complete, I might add, with the bad boys spiking it.”

“There was one difference.”

Monique shook her head. “Yes, we’re all too old for that nonsense now.”

Chase had been going to mention the murder in the parking lot. Monique’s car sat at the curb in front. “Can I help you out with that?”

Monique held up her one box of dessert bars and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh. I thought you bought a lot more.” No, she didn’t think that, but she was desperately fishing for a way to get Monique to open her trunk. “You know, I think I have a flat tire.”

“That’s too bad.” Monique moved toward the front door.

“You don’t have a jack I could borrow, do you?”

“No idea. You’re welcome to look. I have Triple-A. If I have a jack, I’ll never use it.”

Rats. She didn’t have any objection. Or was she smart enough to figure out why Chase wanted to peek into her trunk and was trying to throw suspicion off herself?

“Could I? I’ll be right out.”

Chase ran into the kitchen and borrowed Anna’s jacket off the hook by the rear door. “Be right back.” She couldn’t take the time to run upstairs for her own coat.

Monique was staring into her open trunk when Chase got out there. “What does a jack look like?” she asked.

“I think it’s that thing over there.” Chase pointed to the jack that was strapped to the sidewall. The trunk was tidy and clean. It looked brand new.

“Help yourself.” Monique waved at the jack and set her purchase on the floor of the trunk.

Would she put food where she had transported a dead body? There was certainly no blood. No peanuts either, unless Monique had just removed them. Traces of peanuts wouldn’t prove anything anyway, now that she thought about it. But, as Julie had pointed out, there could be piles of DNA that were undetectable with the human eye.

“You know”—Chase was thinking fast—“I don’t think this jack will fit my car.” That might even be true. Monique drove a Toyota and Chase a Ford Fusion. “Thanks anyway.” She put her hand on Monique’s arm, knowing how she hated to be touched.

“You always were a little different.” Monique jerked her arm back, brushed off her sleeve, got into her car, and drove away.

Chase made a face and repeated her words aloud. “You always were a little different.” She decided to add something of her own. “And you were always nuts, Monique.” As much as she hated to admit it, Monique acted entirely innocent. And that trunk was pristine. It was true that DNA would be invisible, but surely something would be amiss if a dead body had been transported in it. That carpeting looked like nothing heavier than a box of dessert bars had ever been set on it. She argued with herself that a good vacuuming would fluff up the fibers after Ron’s slight form had crushed them. If he’d ever been there.

When she went inside, she wasn’t needed in the salesroom, so she retreated to her office to think. Were any of the suspects on her own list ruled out completely? Were any of them even good possibilities? Were there any reasons for her not to lose hope?