Six Cats A Slayin'

TWENTY-FOUR

That constituted a rather big leap in logic, I told myself—going from a chance, overheard remark at the party to a connection between a prominent dentist and a secretive real estate scheme.

If Melba had heard correctly, however, then Jared Carter obviously knew something about Ronni. Was it really a person’s name? Or perhaps it was simply a code word. There might not be a Ronni Halliburton at all, at least in this case.

Kanesha had the resources to trace the true identity of Gerry Albritton. I had no access to databases used by law enforcement agencies, and presumably one of Kanesha’s deputies had checked the yearbooks by now. If Kanesha couldn’t turn up anything through her sources, though, the mystery might never be solved. I needed to let go of my curiosity over this investigation and stay out of Kanesha’s way. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, whether Milton had picked up the phone and called her. Not my business, I reminded myself sharply, and concentrated on driving.

Finally, I got clear of the slow-moving traffic around the square and made my way home. The kittens would be clamoring for their dinner, no doubt convinced they would never eat again. I grinned as I pictured them. I had to admit that I was quickly growing attached to them, one in particular. But I reminded myself that I did not need six cats in the house. Two, maybe, but not six. Diesel had tolerated them all so far, even seemed fond of them, but he might not take to the idea of having them become part of the family.

Azalea had departed by the time I got home. I found a note on the fridge. She had already fed the kittens. I would have to thank her especially for helping with them. I suspected that she was fonder of them than she would be willing to admit. There was a tender heart protected by the gruff personality she presented to the world.

Diesel appeared quickly, and I listened to him meow and warble as he told me all about the kittens. If only I could understand him, I was sure I would be highly amused by what he had to say. I wondered if he was tiring of his self-imposed babysitting duties. Perhaps he was telling me that he wished I would hurry up and find out where the kittens belonged, so he could have the house to himself again.

After some stroking and a few comments from me, he ceased his vocalizing and trotted off to the utility room. I finished reading Azalea’s note. She had left a shepherd’s pie in the oven, and there was a fresh salad in the fridge. She had also made a lemon icebox pie, one of my favorites.

Was it any wonder I had high blood pressure and a weight problem? I really should sit down with Azalea and have a talk with her about making some changes in the food she prepared for me.

Or I could stop being a slug and join the gym. Stewart periodically raised the subject, and I always put him off. I couldn’t see myself working out in the gym, but I also hadn’t had much success exercising on my own at home. Maybe I should let Stewart work with me. I’d think about it, but I wasn’t going to do anything until after the holidays.

I wasn’t quite ready for my dinner. I wandered into the living room to check on the kittens. I took them out of the cage by turns and spent half an hour playing with them and talking to them. While I did that, I also thought about the note I wanted to write and leave on the door for the mysterious child.

What if I took a direct approach and asked the child to talk to me? Would she be willing to do that? I would be perfectly happy to let her visit the kittens. If she happened to confide in me the identity of the man she’d referred to in her original note, I would promise to help her talk to him about the kittens.

Worth a shot, I decided. I put Ramses back in the cage with his siblings. Not for the first time I wondered how many different fathers had sired this litter. Perhaps two? I knew it wasn’t unusual for litters to have multiple fathers. Since three of them were orange tabbies and the other two were dark gray, I thought two fathers was a reasonable guess. I had no idea what their mother looked like, so perhaps some of the kittens had her coloring while the others had the father’s. Feline genetics was not one of my areas of expertise.

Back at the kitchen table, pen in hand, I composed the note that I would put on the door. I kept it simple. I’m sure you would like to see the kittens and play with them. Can we talk? I want to help however I can. Thank you for the money, too.

I read it through a couple of times. Simple, but to the point, I hoped. I made some calculations based on the height of the living room windows on the outside, then watched the video again to get some idea of how tall the child was. From these two factors I decided on how high to place the note.

With note, thumbtack, and yardstick in hand, I went to the front door and opened it. Diesel came with me and watched, curious as to what I was doing. I stood on the stoop and pulled the door nearly shut. I measured with the yardstick, and as I had anticipated, the point where I calculated the note should be was in the center of the large wreath, itself hung several inches above the center of the door.

I tacked the note in place and stood back to look at it. Unless I’d known where to search, I don’t think I would have spotted the small camera hidden in the greenery of the wreath. I went back inside the house, and half a minute or so later my phone pinged to announce the availability of a new video.

I watched it once, amused to see that the camera had captured close-ups of my chest. Not so amused, however, to see the size and shape of said chest. Toned, I was not.

Half an hour later, finished with dinner, I was cleaning up after myself in the kitchen when my cell phone rang. After hastily wiping my hands on a dish towel, I grabbed the phone off the table and read the caller ID.

“Hi, son, how is Alex?” I said.

“Doing better. She’s home,” Sean said. “She’s slept for over twelve hours, and even though she’s a bit disoriented from some of the meds, I think she’s a little better mentally.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Do you think she’s in any condition to have visitors?”

“Maybe by tomorrow evening,” Sean replied. “Right now, they’re keeping her calm with medication while we try to build her up again. I guess I hadn’t realized how much weight she’d lost. She hadn’t reached the point of malnutrition yet, but she was too close.”

I had noticed the weight loss, and it had worried me, but recently Alex had taken to brushing off any inquiries about her appetite and her general state of well-being. I could only be thankful that she was now getting the care she needed.

“You need to catch up on your sleep, too, you know.”

“I’m going to after dinner,” Sean said. “Cherelle wants to make a run home to pick up some clothes and a few other things, so I’m going to take care of Rosie while she does that. I’m going to cook myself a steak, microwave a big potato, load it up with sour cream, butter, and cheese, and have a feast. Have you had dinner yet?”

“Yes, and as good as it was, yours sounds better,” I said with a laugh. “Enjoy your meal, and give my beautiful Rosie a few kisses from her old grandpa.”

“Will do, Grandpa,” Sean said. “I’ll call you sometime in the morning with another update.”

“Thanks. I’ll be praying for more good news. Good night.” I ended the call.

Satisfied that I had properly tidied the kitchen, I turned out the light and went to the living room to have a look at the kittens. Diesel and I watched for a few minutes while they tumbled and tussled with one another. They seemed perfectly happy in their corral.

In the den I settled on the sofa with Diesel stretched out beside me. I had recorded a program from one of the cable channels that I wanted to watch. I hoped a documentary on recent archaeological discoveries in Egypt would interest me enough to help me keep my mind off worries about Alex, concern for Milton and Tammy, and my interest in the murder case. Thanks to the writer Elizabeth Peters, I had become fascinated with ancient Egypt years ago.

I became engrossed in the documentary, and time slipped by. I checked my phone a couple of times, but no new video appeared. Perhaps the child wouldn’t come to check on the kittens until the morning. She ought to be home getting ready for bed. It was nearly nine o’clock.

Helen Louise called at nine thirty. The documentary had ended a few minutes before, and I was surprised that she called earlier than usual. When I mentioned this, she explained that two of her evening staff were closing the bistro tonight.

“I’m glad you got away early,” I said. “I know you’re tired.”

“About the same as usual,” Helen Louise replied. “Do you have any update on Alex? I’ve been praying that whatever treatment they’re doing is already making a difference.”

“I talked to Sean a few hours ago,” I said. “Alex is home now. Sean seems to think she has improved. She slept for over twelve hours, he said.”

“I’m so glad,” Helen Louise said. “I’ve been so worried about her. I tried talking to her one day last week, but she got upset, almost hysterical, and it was all I could do to calm her down again. She kept talking about Rosie being colicky. She seemed so worried that the baby wasn’t getting enough to eat. It’s a good thing Sean acted when he did.”

“I’ve been worried, too. I would never tell Sean this, of course, but I had hoped he would do it sooner, before Alex got quite this bad,” I said. “But I think she finally frightened him badly enough he did what had to be done.”

“To be fair, I don’t know that Sean was thinking all that clearly himself,” Helen Louise said. “From what I gathered, he wasn’t getting more than a few hours’ sleep a night. That kind of sleep deprivation can wreak havoc with your thinking processes.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “He was not in the best shape himself last night when I got there. Thank the Lord that Azalea’s cousin’s daughter Cherelle was looking for a job. Sean says she’s great with Rosie.”

“I believe that’s Lurene’s daughter,” Helen Louise said. “She worked for me for one summer a few years ago, and I was sorry when she left. Hard worker, always on time, learned quickly. But she left when school started again. She had saved enough money to get her through the school year, and she wanted to concentrate on her education.”

“She seems to have a way with babies,” I said, “and for that I’m powerfully grateful.”

“Change of subject here,” Helen Louise said. “What’s the latest on Gerry Albritton’s murder? I’ve been itching to call you all day, but we were too busy.”

I brought her up-to-date on my discovery of Gerry’s house purchases, my conversations with Kanesha and Melba, and my spotting Jincy Bruce coming out of the building where Jared Carter had his dental practice. I did not mention my conversation with Milton Harville. He had spoken to me in confidence, and I didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with anyone, not even Helen Louise, until Milton either told Kanesha about it or gave me permission to tell her.

If Milton had talked to Kanesha, the investigation might soon end. If Kanesha determined that Tammy was the killer, that is. I hoped Milton had made the call, but I had no way of knowing unless he told me himself or Kanesha shared the news. I considered going by the pharmacy the next day to check in on Milton. He would surely tell me then, unless he was afraid to face me after his confession today.

What would I do if I found out he hadn’t called Kanesha?