Six Cats A Slayin'

TWENTY-EIGHT

Startled, I sank into my chair. “Killed her? What possible motive could he have?”

“Money.” Melba practically spit out the word.

I was right about Jared’s connection with Gerry Albritton, I decided.

“He was her sleeping partner,” I said, not considering my choice of words.

“He was sleeping with her, all right,” Melba said grimly.

“That isn’t what I meant,” I said. “I meant he was financing her real estate deals.”

“Oh.” Melba looked taken aback. “Yes, he was. I think he was having an affair with her, too.”

“How do you know about the financial relationship?” I asked.

“I went to see Dr. Carter this morning,” Melba said. “It’s been bugging the heck out of me, ever since I heard what he said to her at the party the other night. So, I decided to have it out with him.”

“Did you go to his office?” The thought appalled me. Surely Melba hadn’t made a scene at his office.

“No, of course not,” she responded impatiently. “I have more class than that. I was at his house just now. I called him and told him I had to talk to him, and he asked me to come to his house. I think he knew I was out for blood.”

Braver men than Jared Carter had quailed before the wrath of Melba Gilley, I reflected. I was surprised he hadn’t tried to put her off, though.

“Oh, he tried to put me off,” Melba said, correctly discerning my thoughts. “But I told him if he didn’t talk to me, I’d show up at his office and throw such a fit that he’d never live it down.”

That made me suspicious. This wasn’t like the Melba I knew. “Why are you so riled up about him and the fact that he might have been seeing another woman?”

“Because he told me that I was the first woman he’d been interested in since his wife died,” Melba said. “I believed him, and all that time he was probably carrying on with Gerry Albritton.”

“I think you’re letting your emotions get the better of you,” I said gently. “It is possible for a man and a woman to have a business arrangement without any personal, intimate relationship to go along with it. Do you have any real proof that he was having an affair with her?” I wondered what she’d think if I could tell her what I knew about Gerry.

“No,” Melba said in a grudging tone. “I don’t.”

I suspected that she cared a lot more for Jared Carter than she herself realized or was willing to admit. Otherwise, why would she act this way?

“When I asked you why he would murder her, you said money. That doesn’t really explain it.”

“He told me that money was missing from the account he set up, and he couldn’t figure out where it went. He thought maybe Gerry had siphoned it off and put it in a personal account.”

“Did he give you any hints as to how much money he was talking about?” I asked.

Melba nodded. “Over four hundred grand. I had no idea he had that kind of money.”

I shared with her the figures that I had shared with Kanesha earlier that morning. “He has to have a pretty large amount of disposable income,” I concluded, “if he could finance deals like this and still have four hundred grand on top of it.”

“He must be rich,” Melba said, sounding bemused.

“I think he must be,” I said. “I don’t know how much dentists make, but I suspect he’s been making money from investments on top of the income from his dental practice.”

Melba didn’t respond to that.

“Do you think he would kill Gerry if he suspected her of embezzling?” I said. “Wouldn’t that make it hard for him to get the money back? She could have put the money in a secret Swiss bank account for all he knew. Then he’d never be able to get it back.”

She thought about that for a moment. “I guess you’re right. I’ve really made a mess of things this time.”

An appalling thought struck me. “You didn’t accuse him of murder, did you?”

“Yes,” she said. “Then I stormed out of his house and came right over here. By now he must be thinking he never wants to set eyes on me again.”

I couldn’t argue that point with her. If I were Jared, I’d be pretty upset with Melba right then. I wasn’t going to tell her that, however.

Diesel was doing his best to console her, and I left her to his ministrations for the moment. There was enough coffee in the pot for one last mug, and I prepared it for Melba. When I set it in front of her, she looked up at me through her tears and whispered her thanks. She fumbled for her purse and found some tissues. She started blotting the tears from her face and ended by blowing her nose. She held the crumpled tissues in one hand while she lifted the mug to sip at her coffee.

I gave her time, waiting until she indicated she was ready to talk again. After a few more sips of the coffee, Melba stood and excused herself. She grabbed her purse and headed for the half bathroom under the stairs.

When she came back several minutes later, she seemed composed and in control again.

“I stopped for a minute or two to have a look at your hallway,” she said. “It’s gorgeous. When did you do it? I guess I was too upset earlier to pay attention.”

“I didn’t do it,” I said. “Stewart came up with the idea and the design, so I’ve been told. Frank, Laura, and Azalea helped put it together while I was out running errands this morning.”

“Goodness, how long were you gone?” Melba asked. “Surely that took several hours.” She checked her watch. “It’s only a quarter to twelve now.”

“I was gone a little over two hours, I’d say. I’m amazed they could put it up so quickly myself. Stewart is a whiz at organizing, though, so I’m sure they were prepared to work fast. I am thrilled with what they did. I needed some Christmas spirit, and they provided it, bless them.”

“How is little Charlie doing?” Melba asked. “I haven’t seen him in three weeks.”

“He’s doing fine,” I said. “Thriving, in fact. Six months have flown by.”

“What about Alex? Any more word on her?”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve been waiting for Sean to call me. Between keeping tabs on Alex’s condition and trying to get work done, he’s stretched pretty thin. If I don’t hear from him in another hour, I’ll call.”

“Let me know what you find out,” Melba said. “I’ve been so worried about Alex. Breaks my heart to see her go through this.”

“Thank the Lord she’s finally getting help. I really want to go see her, but I’m waiting until Sean tells me she’s up to a visit,” I said.

“I hope that’s soon,” Melba said. “Guess I’d better get going. I’ve cried on your shoulder enough for one day.” She smiled, and the sadness of it made me want to hug her and tell her everything would be okay.

“You don’t have to rush out on my account,” I said. “If you’re not in that big a hurry, why don’t you go and visit the kittens? They’ll help cheer you up. Won’t they, Diesel?”

Diesel warbled a loud and firm agreement, or so I interpreted it. Melba smiled again, a little more brightly this time.

“I think I’ll do that,” Melba said. “I don’t have anything that can’t wait awhile longer. Come on, Diesel, let’s go play with the babies.”

I did not accompany them. I wanted to give Melba the chance to calm down even further, and without me present she could focus on the kittens and hopefully forget about Jared for a little while.

I decided to hang out in the den until Melba was ready to leave. I could check my e-mail while I waited. I was still reading through messages when Melba and Diesel came to the den in search of me.

I set the laptop aside. “How were the kittens?” Diesel jumped onto the sofa next to me.

“Full of energy, and shedding hair,” Melba said with a rueful glance at her dark skirt. I started to apologize, but Melba said firmly, “Don’t worry. I have one of those lint brushes in the car. Won’t take me a minute to get rid of the hair.”

“If you’re sure,” I said.

“I am,” Melba said. “I’d still be in there playing with them, but I got a text message. I’ve been waiting for it for a couple of days now.”

I knew Melba and that arch tone of hers. She expected me to ask about the text.

“What’s up with the text message?” I asked obligingly. “Is it important?”

“It could be,” Melba said. “It took me a while, but I finally tracked down someone I’ve been looking for.”

“Who would that be?”

“Mrs. Ima Jean Norwood,” Melba said with an air of triumph.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Who is Ima Jean Norwood? Last living relative of the Russian royal family?”

Melba shot me a look of disdain. “You used to be so funny. No, Mrs. Norwood was good friends with Billy Albritton’s mother, and she knew his grandparents, the Albrittons, too. She’s in a nursing home here in Athena, and I’m going to talk to her.”

“Still on the trail of Gerry Albritton,” I remarked.

“Yes, I am,” Melba said. “I’m determined to find out exactly who she was.”

I really wanted to share the news about Gerry’s birth gender, but if Kanesha found out I had told Melba, she might not trust me again with sensitive information. So I kept it to myself.

Melba’s eyes narrowed while she gazed at me. “You know something, don’t you? What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” I said. “Something Kanesha told me, and I can’t tell anyone else, not even you.”

“Since it’s Kanesha, I’m not going to press you. I know how she is,” Melba said.

“You think Mrs. Norwood may actually know something?” I asked.

“If she’s not gaga, I think she might,” Melba said. “I figure she’s in her late eighties, at least. I’m praying that she’s still mentally all there.”

“Good luck,” I said. “I hope she can help us.”

“I’ll let you know,” Melba said.

“We’ll see you out,” I told her.

“No need, I know the way.” Melba gave a little wave. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye,” I said. Diesel added a couple of meows to my farewell.

“Okay, buddy,” I said to Diesel. “It’s time to wrap some presents. I know you’ll help me, but don’t help too much, okay?” Diesel was like a kitten around ribbon and boxes. He couldn’t resist them. Other than locking him in another room while I wrapped gifts, however, I didn’t know how to stop him. The trick was to distract him with a box and some ribbon, and I could wrap while he played.

I needed a large flat surface. I could use my bed, because I knew by now Azalea would have stripped it, remade it with clean linens, and put the bedspread on. The kitchen table would be better, however, and unless Azalea needed it for the next half an hour or so, that would be the best place to work.

Azalea was working at the stove when I entered the kitchen toting my two bags of books. I had left them in the hall, thanks to the wonderful surprise I’d had earlier. I needed to find the wrapping paper, bows, and tape, and then retrieve the other items from the car.

“Azalea, are you going to need the table for the next thirty minutes or so?” I asked.

“No, you go right ahead with whatever you want to do,” she said.

“Thanks. I need to wrap some presents. Shouldn’t take too long.” I set the bags on the table. The wrapping paper and other gift paraphernalia resided year-round in the hall closet. Once I’d retrieved what I needed, I went to the car and brought in the toys I’d bought for the kittens and Diesel, as well as Helen Louise’s bottles of perfume.

I didn’t need to wrap the toys for the kittens, and they certainly didn’t need ribbons to chew on and potentially eat, so I set those aside. I found a suitable box in the utility room and put it down near the table. Diesel immediately crawled into it for an inspection. I tossed him a couple of old bows that had seen better days, and he batted them aside. While he had fun getting in and out of the box and batting the bows around—out of Azalea’s way, because he was smart enough to realize he had to stay clear—I started wrapping.

The perfume bottles in their lovely packaging provided little challenge. I knew the books would be a little hard to wrap neatly, at least for me. First I had to sort the books by recipient, but that didn’t take long. I wrapped and labeled as I went and soon had a tidy pile of gifts. There was one stack of seven books left over, but those didn’t need wrapping, as they were for me. Somehow I always managed to buy books for myself when I went Christmas shopping.

I began to clear the table, but my cell phone sounded. I had a new text message.

From Kanesha. It read: New information. Call me when available.