Fat Cat Takes the Cake

THIRTY-NINE

After lunch alone in her apartment—alone except for her furry guy, Quincy—Chase became aware of the sun streaming through her balcony French doors.

“You know what we should do, don’t you?” She dangled the harness and leash and Quincy jumped up and came over.

“I think we’ve done it, old boy. I think we’ve conquered this leash thing.”

As they strolled in the bright, crisp air, she called Anna.

“You were right.”

“I usually am, but what about this time?”

“We finally have it mastered, the walking on a leash.”

Quincy stopped walking to study a noisy junco in the tree above them. The small bird with its soft gray back and white breast sent out a trill that made Chase check her cell phone. Quincy swished his tail and walked on, his ears pointed rearward at the sassy bird.

“And Quincy likes it?” Anna said.

“He seems to. He comes running when I get the harness out.”

“Be sure you fasten that thing, Charity. I don’t want him finding a dead body two days before my wedding.”

“I sure wish we could find the bridesmaid dresses.”

“Oh, didn’t Julie tell you?’

“I haven’t talked to her.”

“They came! Julie dropped them off on her lunch break a few minutes ago.”

Chase had forgotten they were being sent to Julie’s place instead of hers, since they received so many baking supplies already at her place.

Whew! “That sure is good news. Should I come over and try mine on?”

“Come over when Julie’s off work and I’ll see if they need altering.”

What a relief. Chase couldn’t think of a single other thing that needed doing before the wedding. The Bar None would close Wednesday and Thursday, Christmas Eve and Christmas, and Anna would be married Wednesday evening.

Feeling like she weighed less, Chase walked on, musing about life and death and murderers.

Was Ron North a thoroughly bad person or not? He had a borderline-dangerous habit of stalking women. Okay, it was dangerous, since it had driven Dillon Yardley to try to end her life to escape him. So she came down on the side of thoroughly bad for him.

Bart Fender must have been head over heels in love with Dillon, but that didn’t excuse his actions. He must have been driven by knowing that his love wasn’t enough to keep Dillon going. All of that was on top of his drug dealing. Bart’s future would be decided by a jury, but Chase wondered what Dillon’s would be.

On the other hand, Principal Snelson and Mr. Hail had been deliberately defrauding defenseless older people for their own financial gain. They were just as evil as the others involved in this whole mess. She chuckled to think of Mrs. Snelson throwing her husband’s clothing in the dump. She had heard of women leaving their husband’s belongings in the front yard, even in the rain, but never driving them to a dump.

It looked like Dickie Byrd’s campaign had fallen through. The last time she drove past his headquarters, it was empty. A few of Monique’s posters still clung to poles and stared out from shop windows, but most were gone. Monique had been seen in the company of a local bank executive. Dickie, Rich, or whatever he was called now, had left town. Chase was confident he would run for office somewhere else eventually. He’d been politicking his whole life.

They were now in front of the Meet N Eat, since it lay along their regular route. Another few pounds of weight lifted when she thought about how she was through fending off the charming, electric Eddie Heath. A person who ran a health food place had nothing in common with a person who baked decadent cookie bars.

Julie was tied up with the rest of the real estate case, as well as an additional one she had been given in an e-mail late Saturday. She had yet to celebrate not being a murder suspect, but Chase was making plans for that. They would celebrate. Exactly where and how and with whom wasn’t clear, but Chase was thinking about it a lot. It would happen.