The Cat, The Professor And The Poison

Seventeen

The next day, I made pancakes for all three of us. When given the choice of sleeping on the couch, downstairs with a bunch of cats and their litter box or in my king-size bed with me, Candace had chosen my room. I’d told her she shouldn’t feel the need to stay that close to me, but she’d laughed and said her choice was all about comfort.

Though Kara complained that the “overloaded with carbs” breakfast would make her bleary for the rest of the day, she ate twice as many pancakes as Candace did. And that’s a lot of pancakes. Would she have to double up on her Red Bull today? And would I need extra coffee?

When we were finished, I decided to be proactive, take more of a motherly role, and suggested that Kara do the dishes. She agreed without so much as a pout. Progress, maybe? I thought.

As Candace and I left the kitchen, I said, “I have a couple new quilts I want to show you.” I grabbed her elbow and squeezed before she could say anything. Candace had no interest whatsoever in anything that had to do with quilting, but I wanted to talk to her alone.

Chablis had joined us this morning-she does enjoy a few nibbles of pancakes-and she and the two boys led the way to my sewing room. Maybe she was getting over her love affair with Dame Wiggins and the kittens. Once the cats took their usual places-Syrah on the windowsill, Merlot on the cutting table and Chablis next to the sewing machine-I closed the door.

“I saw you were stuck to your laptop last night. Were you working on the case?” I said.

She nodded. “Chief Baca sent me information on the family. Plus he has ties with someone from the college and forwarded an e-mail from this person. A former associate of the professor indicated-and it’s all in university-type lingo and thus kinda fuzzy-that VanKleet was terminated. I mean before he was really terminated. But I don’t know why.”

“Can you find out more today?” I glanced at the pile of unbound quilts I had to finish-and soon.

“Spring break, so it might be hard,” she said. “Maybe a trip to that little college town to find anyone willing to sit down and talk about this guy is in order-that is, if anyone is around and not on vacation.”

“Can’t you have one of their local officers help you?” I said.

“I wish. You think Mercy’s small? In Denman, they depend more on the campus police than their four officers. Baca e-mailed me a couple names of the campus cops. But they could be on spring break, too.”

“I heard you get a phone call last night, too,” I said. “From the look on your face before you left the living room with your phone, I’m guessing it was Billy.”

Candace blushed. “You are way too observant. It was him. The professor’s relatives had arrived in town even before I found Rufus’s body. The sons are staying at the Tall Pines Motel, but guess where the ex and her boyfriend are shacked up?”

“How would I-oh no. The Pink House?” I said, referring to the grand old Victorian painted an outrageous pink where last year’s murder had taken place.

Candace pointed at me. “You got it. Did you know the new owners advertise their bed-and-breakfast as haunted? What a crock.”

“Will you talk to the professor’s family today?” I said.

“You want to invite them all here for lunch? I don’t think so,” she said.

“We don’t have to stay here like we’re prisoners. I mean, don’t you need clothes and your toothbrush?” I said. “We could pick them up at your place and then stop at the police station-try to time it so we end up there with the family.”

“You want me to find out from the chief when and where he plans to talk to them and just show up?” From her half smile, I could tell she liked this idea.

“Sounds easy enough,” I said.

“What about Kara? I don’t want her within a country mile of our investigation,” Candace said. “But if we leave her here and Mr. Ski Mask shows up, I’ll be in deep doodoo. Especially if she brings her weapon inside while we’re gone and then feels justified in using it.”

“We’ll drop her off at Belle’s Beans. From all that Red Bull in my fridge, I’d say she’s a genuine caffeine addict. Plus, she said she wanted to learn more about the town. We’ll just share with her the fact that Belle’s is the best place to do that.”

Candace grinned. “Perfect.”

“There’s one more thing you should know.” Something that had kept me awake half the night.

“What’s that?”

“I was so shaken yesterday, I wasn’t thinking. We probably have the whole attack on video,” I said.

Candace’s eyes widened. “Your cat cam.” She thunked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I should have thought of that.” She started toward the door. “Come on. Show me.”

The cats and I followed as she hurried down the hall to my office. “I’ll bring up the feeds, show you how to look at stored video, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not watch.”

“I get it. No problem,” she said.

A minute later, I left Candace in my office to view the man scaring the bejesus out of me. The cats didn’t seem interested, either, and followed me out, but then took off in the opposite direction for my bedroom. It was nap time already. Oh, to be a cat.

Kara was sitting in the living room talking into a small recorder when I returned. She quit speaking and shut it off, but before I could tell her the plan that would get her started on her study of Mercy’s proverbial flora and fauna, her cell phone rang.

She smiled after she said,“Hello,” and listened for a second and then held out the phone. “It’s Tom. He wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks.” I walked over to where she sat in John’s chair and took the phone. It was more modern than I was used to and felt awkward in my hand, and even more awkward up against my ear. “Hi.”

“Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” he said.

“Um, my phone sorta went bye-bye,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “But why was Kara the one to call this morning and tell me what happened? You could have borrowed hers or Candace’s and let me in on this. I thought after the other night… Hell, I don’t know what to think now.”

I turned away from Kara’s probing stare and walked into the kitchen. “I was upset and didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to go to sleep. I’m sorry.”

“But you’re all right? That jerk didn’t hurt you?” he said.

I was touched, and I had to admit surprised, that he was so concerned. I realized I wasn’t used to someone worrying about me like that. I softened my voice. “I’m fine. And Candace is here for-oh, but you already know.” I lowered my voice. “Kara told you. I’m beginning to think she’ll fit right into this town. It only took her a couple days to join the grapevine.”

“That’s what reporters do. I spent several hours with her, and she’s bright and funny.”

“She is, but she’s hardly ever shared that side with me,” I said quickly and with instant regret. “I’m sorry. That’s my problem, not yours. Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

“Okay, on to a safer topic. You’ll need a new phone.”

“I did plan to call you about that. Do they still make the model I had so I can get my live cat-cam feeds?” I said.

“They stop making the same model of anything techlike the day after it’s on the shelf. I’ll look at a few phones on the Internet that will support your videos, and then we can order one or maybe see if your local wireless provider has what we need.”

I liked the way he said what we need.

Then he said, “Pass me back to Kara, would you?”

“Are you putting her to work?” I said.

“I’m thinking about it,” he answered with a laugh.

I went back into the living room and handed Kara the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

I then went down the hall and met Candace coming out of my office.

Her face was tight with anger. “What that guy did to you was downright vicious. But the audio wasn’t any good, and I didn’t see anything that you haven’t already described in excellent detail. Wait, I did learn one thing.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“I’m taking that man down, and when I do, he’s gonna get some of what he likes to dish out.”

At first Kara didn’t seem thrilled with the idea of heading into town, saying she wasn’t afraid of anyone sneaking in the back door. But when I said we’d be dropping her off at a coffee place where she could literally drink in Mercy’s atmosphere, she abandoned her reluctance.

We piled into my minivan, and once we arrived, we decided we all could use a fix of the best coffee in the South-east. We gave our orders to Candace and, no surprise, Kara ordered a large black coffee with a double shot of espresso. I pulled enough money from my purse to cover the tab. The white-haired and oh-so-sweet owner, Belle, sat at a corner table, and I led Kara over for introductions. Since I wasn’t sure whether Kara liked my calling her my stepdaughter, I simply told Belle that Kara was John’s daughter.

“Aren’t you the cutest thing?” Belle said. Her coral lipstick, as usual, was misapplied. The top lip had a straight line today, but the color on the bottom went well below her lip. Sometimes the top lip was as messy as her lower lip, but two things never changed: It was always wrong, and it always made me want to take out a tissue and fix it.

Kara’s cheeks colored, and I guessed she’d decided that cute was not her favorite word. But to her credit, she kept quiet about this and said, “Thanks. This place of yours is cute, too.”

Belle leaned close to me and whispered, “We got a whole lot of visitors in town since the murders. I heard you was with Candace when she found that first body. Horrible thing, poison. Just a miserable way to die. Heard they found strychnine at Rufus’s place of business, too.”

“What?” I said.

“Morris was in for his coffee and a nice big Danish-all sniffly and out of work on a sick day. He’s the one who told me.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Morris is usually more careful about keeping the details of a case from the public,” I said, glancing Candace’s way. She wouldn’t like this slip one bit.

“The man’s sick. Blame it on a fever and forget you heard what I said.” Belle held her thumb and forefinger-both fingernails painted coral like her lips-an inch apart. “He’s this close to retirement. And we don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“Probably best if you don’t tell anyone else, don’t you think?” I said.

Belle examined those well- manicured nails to avoid my question.

“You already have?” I was again thinking how Candace would react to the leak in the case. And then I reminded myself that this was Mercy and I should quit worrying about who knew what.

“I mentioned it to a few people. Poor Rufus is dead, Jillian. What are we gonna do? Talk about the rain?”

“You’re absolutely right.” I glanced at Kara and could see by her wide eyes that she was surprised at how much Belle knew about the case.

“Have these visitors you mentioned earlier been in here?” I asked.

“They’re here now.” She nodded quickly at the other corner without looking at the four people seated at a table.

A woman and three men. I recognized the woman from the newspaper photo I’d found on the Internet the other day, despite the change in hair color from blond to brunette: Sarah VanKleet. I assumed the two young men with her were her sons, and the older man with his wavy head of steel gray hair and matching goatee was the boyfriend. But he was no boy; that’s for sure. He looked like an actor in one of those Viagra ads.

Kara said, “That’s the dead man’s family?”

“Well, aren’t you cute and smart. You must be proud of her, Jillian,” Belle said.

“I am proud, but I can’t take credit. She’s an accomplished young woman,” I said.

Candace arrived at the table with our coffee. Kara picked up the largest cup and sat down in the chair that offered her the best view of the town visitors.

Candace took her seat, and the strangers captured her attention, too. Out of the side of her mouth she said, “That’s them, isn’t it?”

Belle laughed, and her generous belly jiggled with the effort. “See what I was saying, Jillian? There are no secrets in this town.”

“Hush,” Candace whispered. “Don’t want them noticing us as much as we notice them.”

“Oh, Candy, you are such a naive young thing,” Belle said. “That woman over there is no dummy. By the way, I’m taking up a collection for Rufus. Word is he was about broke. Might not be enough for a casket or a burial.”

I reached in my bag and pulled out my checkbook. I wrote a fifty-dollar check from my money-market emergency fund since I’d used up most of my routine monthly cash. I gave it to Belle. Candace pulled a crumpled twenty from her pocket and handed the cash to her, too.

“Thank you, ladies,” Belle said.

Without glancing our way, Kara said. “You two can leave. I’ll be happy here with my laptop and my excellent coffee.” Kara had already set her computer case on the table.

Candace glanced at her watch. “The family should be leaving soon. They have a meeting with Chief Baca in about twenty minutes.”

“Then we need to get to your place and fetch your overnight bag.” I looked at Belle. “Kara is a writer, and she would love to hear some stories about Mercy.”

“Does she have all day? ’Cause you know me, Jillian,” Belle said with another laugh. “But what’s this about an overnight bag?” She glanced back and forth between Candace and me.

“Um… they might be painting my apartment, so I’m staying with Jillian,” Candace said.

“Now, don’t go lying to Belle. I won’t pass on that you’re staying with Jillian to protect her,” Belle said. “Even though it was passed on to me not an hour ago. I just wanted you to confirm my source.”

“Let me guess. Billy told you,” Candace said through her teeth.

“I swear that boy knows everything,” Belle replied. “He came in on the heels of that bunch in the corner. Think he followed them over here?”

“It would not surprise me,” Candace said.

I tugged on Candace’s arm. “We need to go.” I looked at Kara. “I don’t mind you sitting close and listening in on the conversation over there, but you need to pass anything important on to Candace.”

“I do?” Kara looked momentarily confused. “Oh… to help with the case. They’re suspects, aren’t they?” Belle put her hand on Kara’s forearm and looked straight into her eyes. “You should act like you’re busy, but keep both ears open. I’ll sit here with you and show you how it’s done.” She winked at Kara and then made a shooing gesture with her free hand at Candace and me. “Go on about your business. We got this covered.”

We hurried out, and once we were back in my minivan headed toward Candace’s apartment, she burst out laughing.

“What a great idea dropping Kara with Belle. Kara will get the complete lowdown on Mercy, and we might end up with useful information.”

“You know Belle believes every citizen of Mercy is her child,” I said. “I feel so calm when I’m around her. And speaking of that, promise me you’ll stay calm when I tell you what I just heard.”

“Of course I’ll stay calm. I’m always calm,” she said.

“And I’m Michelle Obama. Let me just spit this out. Belle announced to Kara and me that they found strychnine at What’s Bugging You.”

A long silence followed, and I took my eyes off the road for a second to look over at Candace. Her jaw was set, and she didn’t appear calm at all.

But after a deep breath, she said, “I am most surely glad I heard this before I walked into the station. A cop who’s the last to know about a key piece of information looks stupid.”

A long and very quiet five minutes later we pulled into the apartment complex parking lot.

We always visit at my place because Candace’s apartment remains mostly barren. There’s a mattress, a treadmill, a futon and a television, but that’s about it. She spends little time at home and only rents the place to have space away from her overprotective, overinterested mother, who would have preferred that she still live at home.

I packed her underwear, a few T-shirts and jeans into a canvas tote she threw at me. Meanwhile, she grabbed her toiletries and a uniform that had just come from the dry cleaners. We were almost out the door when Candace realized that the telephone-and-answering-machine combo that sat on the living room floor was blinking with at least one unchecked message.

“Wait,” Candace said. “That’s probably from my mom. She might need something.” She set her bag and uniform down and went over to the telephone.

But when she knelt and pressed PLAY, a familiar raspy whisper made my heart skip. The male voice said, “Don’t think you can protect her. You want your friend safe, you tell her she’s done playing investigator.”

Candace stood and pointed at the phone. “You don’t tell me what to do, you turd. You don’t tell Jillian what to do, either.” She looked at me. “He’s not getting close to you. I promise.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t speak.

Candace’s expression was steely as she pulled the cord from the wall and picked up the phone. “Now. We go to the station and I let the chief listen to this. Gives me a decent excuse to show up there.” She walked over and put her free arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “He’s a brute and a coward, Jillian. And I like nailing those types.”

I nodded again, but now I was frightened for her as well as for myself.

Since Candace lives practically around the block from downtown, we reached the courthouse in less than five minutes. That’s where the police station is located.

I had to run to keep up with Candace when she raced up the courthouse stairs with her answering machine. We entered the lobby, and the security guard manning the metal detector opened a gate so we could bypass this part of entering the building. We headed left down the long corridor that led to police headquarters.

Wrong name. That sounds way too fancy. Benches and molded plastic chairs lined the hall leading to the police station in this, the older and unrenovated part of the historic courthouse. A woman with a swollen jaw and black eye was holding a squirming toddler. She was the lone person outside the police station door.

Candace stopped dead. “Margie?”

The woman looked up at Candace with sad eyes. The little boy freed himself and waddled across the hall. He climbed onto one of the benches and stuck his thumb in his mouth. He wore a diaper and a T-shirt bearing a red truck.

“You’re here to press charges, right?” Candace said.

Margie hung her head.

Candace put her hands on her hips. “No. You are not bailing that bastard out. Please tell me that’s not why you’re here.”

No response came from Margie, and Candace’s frown showed her frustration. “I can’t stop you. But you’re making a mistake.” She looked at me. “Come on, Jillian.”

As Candace opened the door that led into the police offices, I thought about Kara. She should be here to see this side of Mercy. It wasn’t so different from Houston or from any other part of the country, for that matter. Crime, domestic violence, even prostitution met up with law enforcement here.

Inside was another very cramped waiting area that had one advantage-it wasn’t as smelly as the corridor outside. B. J. Harrington sat at the cluttered desk to the left. I nodded at him in greeting, but Candace was already headed down the hall.

Over her shoulder she said, “Wait here while I talk to Chief Baca. I’m thinking this guy is too smart to have used a traceable phone to call me, but we have to go through the motions.”

I took the seat in front of the desk and smiled. “Hey, B.J. How’s it going?” B.J. was a new addition to the Mercy PD. He was taking criminal justice classes at the local community college and did dispatch and paperwork when not in class.

“I’m thinking about sandwiches,” he said. “There’s a lot of different sandwiches these days. There’s your regular kind, but then there’s quesadillas and flatbreads and Hot Pockets, not to mention anything wrapped in lettuce. And if you fold your slice of pizza, that’s sort of a sandwich, and-”

“You hungry, B.J.?” I said with a laugh.

The phone rang, and B.J. listened for a few seconds and then said, “We’ll take care of that, ma’am.” He hung up and got on his radio. “Deputy Dufner. Over.”

“What is it?” came the staticky reply.

“We have a 10-79 near the residence.” B.J. rattled off an address and said, “Over,” again.

“A bomb threat? And not at the high school where they always are?” said the officer.

B.J. blinked rapidly. “Th- that’s wrong. Wait.” B.J. picked up a sheet of paper and scanned it. “I mean a 10- 91b. Sorry. Over.”

“Would you quit with the codes and tell me what this is, B.J.?” Dufner said.

I stifled a laugh, but I didn’t hear B.J.’s response because the professor’s family walked in at that moment.

Sarah VanKleet began talking to B.J. even though he was still on the radio, saying, “We have an appointment with the chief of police.”

B.J. held up his hand as the officer asked for a repeat on the address.

I stood. “Maybe I can tell the chief you’re here.”

The gray-haired man, who looked like he could have been related to the Kennedy clan, looked me up and down. “You’re a plainclothes officer?”

“Uh, no. But I can help.” I hurried down the hall before they could say anything else and rapped on the chief’s office door.

I heard him say, “Enter,” and cracked the door. I saw Candace sitting in the chair on the other side of Baca’s desk.

“They’re here,” I whispered. Why I was whispering, I didn’t know.

“Good. Candace, Sarah VanKleet is mine. You’ll interview the boyfriend. The kids will have to wait since Morris decided he needed a day off. Says he sick.” Baca rolled his eyes. “Thanks for letting us know they’ve arrived, Jillian. Seems like we need volunteers in this place.”

Candace followed me out to the waiting area.

B.J. started to apologize for being occupied, but Candace waved him off. “Mrs. VanKleet, you’ll be speaking with Chief Baca.” Candace looked at the man. “Professor Lieber, is it?”

The distinguished-looking man nodded.

“You’ll be talking to me. I may not look the part, but I’m Deputy Candace Carson.” She pointed to the badge she’d pinned on her jeans waistband. “As for your sons, Mrs. VanKleet, we’ll be interviewing them when we’re done with you two.”

I took notice of the young men, who both looked to be in their early twenties, having paid little attention to them over at Belle’s. One had wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes; the other had shaggy dirty blond hair and green-gray eyes. The only trait they seemed to share was their height. Both were over six feet and lanky. The professor had been a small man, but Sarah VanKleet was at least five foot ten, so they must have gotten their height from her.

Sarah VanKleet scowled. “Why can’t we all talk to the chief of police together?”

“That’s not how we do things,” Candace said. “B.J., please take Mrs. VanKleet to the chief’s office. Professor? Follow me.” She turned and started down the hall, leaving Sarah sputtering in protest.

B.J. stood and smiled at Sarah VanKleet, but her mood didn’t improve. She ignored him and looked at her sons. “I’m sorry about this, but it seems you’ll have to wait here.” She glanced around. “In this place.”

The blond one spoke. “What about the death certificates? Don’t we need those to get Dad’s affairs in order? He’s probably left us a mess.”

She raised her eyebrows and offered him a “You better shut up” look.

The other son said, “Later, Evan.”

Mrs. VanKleet smiled and said, “Thank you, Brandt.” Then she followed B.J. down the hall.

I smiled at Brandt. “Hi. I’m Jillian Hart. I sort of volunteer around here.” Baca said it, not me, I thought. I looked at the other young man. “Hi, Evan.”

“Hey, what’s happening?” He offered a straight arm and a fist, and we bumped knuckles.

“You guys want a Coke or something?” I said.

“Yeah, sure,” Evan said.

B.J. came back around his desk, and I said, “You got money for the machine?”

“Oh. Sure.” He opened a drawer and gathered several coins. But it wasn’t enough.

“For all three of us,” I said. I’d dropped by here enough to know that unless you were being arrested, you got free Coke.

“Sorry. Right. Um, thanks, Jillian,” he said.

“This way, guys,” I said to the VanKleets.

I led them out of the office and down the hall to the vending machines. We passed Margie, the baby and the husband, who must just have been released from the basement jail. He didn’t have a black eye or a swollen face. And he looked smug. I hated that.

Once Evan and I had our drinks-Brandt refused-we went back inside the office. There was more space to sit out in the corridor, but the smell of vomit was particularly strong today.

B.J. found two folding chairs for the sons, and I reclaimed the wood chair. I decided to play dumb. “You must be visiting Mercy on upsetting business,” I said.

“I saw you looking at us in that coffee place,” Brandt said. “And I’ll venture you know exactly why we’re here.”

“I didn’t say otherwise. I’m only trying to be friendly,” I said.

“We’re not feeling very friendly,” Brandt said.

“Speak for yourself, brother,” Evan said. He swigged his Coke. “I like friendly, and you seem nice enough. So here’s the deal if you haven’t heard. Our father got himself killed.”

“Shut up, Evan. Remember what I told you,” Brandt said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, the law student speaks. Mea culpa.” Evan looked at me. “Please make me shut up, Ms. Hart. Or read me my rights. Brandt can help you with those words, since I’m sure he’s memorized them.”

“Evan.” Brandt spoke that one small name with so much contempt, I felt sorry for his brother.

“You don’t have to talk,” I said. “I know this is a rough time.”

Evan laughed. “Rough time? This is easy compared to everything that’s happened before. Except the mother unit latched on to another professor. Must be some kind of fatal attraction.”

Brandt looked ready to drag his brother out of here before he said anything else, but all this family drama came to a halt when Kara walked in the door.

Oh boy, can she stop traffic, I thought.

“Hi, Jillian,” Kara said. “Thought I’d walk down here and see what’s going on. Interesting old building.”

B.J. stood, his cheeks as rosy as two ripe peaches. “Can I help you?”

She flashed her charming smile and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Jillian’s my stepmother.”

B.J.’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Are we like a circus act that you all couldn’t get enough of in the coffeehouse?” Brandt said.

But Kara turned that smile on him, and the tense atmosphere in the room seemed to float away. “Strangers in Mercy are probably treated that way all the time,” she said. “I’m so sorry you feel like some sort of spectacle.”

“It’s not that,” Brandt said, his attitude melting by the second. “This has been a difficult time for our family.”

“You want to get coffee and talk about it when you’re done here?” Kara said.

There are some things a forty- two-year-old woman cannot accomplish that a twenty- nine-year-old one can. Especially one who looked like Kara.

Brandt stood and offered Kara his seat.

She took it and then looked up at Brandt, her smile still shining.

He reached into his creased chinos pocket and produced what looked like a phone similar to Kara’s. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you when we’re done here.”

While this was going on, Evan leaned toward me and said, “The pretty boy gets all the action.”

I smiled. “You said he’s a law student. Are you in college, too?”

“Not right now. I’ll be heading back in the fall. If Mommy can get the boyfriend to help her with the finances, that is. There’s been a cash- flow problem ever since my now-deceased father got fired.”

“Evan,” Brandt said. “Keep quiet. Please?” Not as much disdain in his voice this time, but I was guessing that was so Brandt didn’t seem like such an ass in Kara’s presence.

“That would be no, Brandt. I’m not inclined to keep quiet just because you think I should.” Evan turned his chair, holding the Coke can between his knees. “While they bond, why don’t we? I like you, Ms. Hart. What are you doing here?”

“The officer who’s interviewing Professor Lieber is a good friend. We were together when she got the call to come in and help out. There’s an officer out sick.” A small lie about being called in, but Evan had already spilled plenty and I had the feeling there was more. Candace would want me to take advantage.

“So you’re friends with Deputy Candace Carson? She’s pretty darn hot for a cop. Think you can make sure she’s my interviewer rather than me having to endure some stuffy police chief?”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’ll have a say in that.”

He brushed hair off his forehead and smiled. Beneath the facade, I got the sense this was a nice kid who didn’t know quite how to respond to murder. Who would?

“Had to try and see if she’d be the one I could talk to.” He gulped down the rest of his Coke and tossed the can in the wastebasket near B.J.’s desk.

B.J. was on the radio again, that piece of paper with the police codes in his hand. He was determined to use those codes no matter what.

The Sprite I’d bought wasn’t sitting well after that latte I’d consumed earlier. I stood and put my mostly full can in the trash, too, and slid the change meant for Brandt’s drink onto B.J.’s desk.

Kara and Brandt were deep in conversation, but Candace’s appearance with the boyfriend interrupted them. The look on Candace’s face when she saw Kara said it all, but she immediately put her thoughts into words. “What are you doing here?”

Brandt said, “This is a public building. That means she has every right to be here.”

Showing off his law-school learning for a pretty girl. Guys like to impress, no matter how old they are.

“Brandt,” the boyfriend, Lieber, said, “I know you’re on edge, but can you tone it down a notch? Deputy Carson has a job to do.”

“Thanks, Dr. Lieber, but I can handle this,” Candace said. “Brandt VanKleet, come with me, please.”

Brandt looked at Kara and made a motion with both thumbs. I’d seen Candace do that before and learned it was the “Text me” signal.

As Brandt followed Candace to the interview room, Evan said, “Man, he gets them all. Guess I should consider law school.”

Lieber stood by Evan and patted his shoulder. “You have a creative mind. There are better things ahead for you.”

Evan looked embarrassed and changed the subject, saying, “This is Ms. Hart, Doug. She’s a volunteer. I can see why they need one. I mean, for a police station there’s hardly anyone here.” He gestured at B.J. and said, “Except for him.”

Kara said, “I had no idea you’d gotten into volunteer work, Jillian. You are full of surprises.”

Thank goodness she didn’t blow my story. From the gleam in her eye, I could tell she was enjoying this. But that little hint of conspiracy between Kara and me didn’t get past Evan.

“What are you so happy about, Kara? Guess you haven’t lost a father lately like we have,” he said in annoyance.

“Oh, but I have,” she said quietly. The gleam was gone in an instant.

Lieber gripped Evan’s shoulder so hard, his knuckles turned white. “Cool it, Evan. I know you’re stressed, but let’s not take it out on strangers.” He turned to Kara. “Douglas Lieber,” he said, holding out his hand to shake hers.

Kara’s small step into grief was over. She introduced herself, again referring to me as her stepmother. “What are you a professor of?” Kara asked.

“I teach sociology and an occasional chemistry course. Dual PhDs,” he said. “I try not to be too boring, but fresh-men are a tough audience.”

“I wouldn’t be bored,” Kara said. “I just left my job as a newspaper columnist. I wrote about social networking, pop culture and trends, so I’m a big fan of sociology.”

Evan looked at me with a silly grin. “Aren’t they the intellectuals? What do you do, Ms. Hart?”

“I’m a quilt maker,” I said.

“The simple life. Good for you,” Evan said.

Sarah VanKleet marched down the hall toward us, her high heels clicking on the tile. She motioned to Evan. “Go talk to Chief Baca. And remember what Brandt told you earlier.”

Evan rose, hiking up his loose jeans. “Certainly, Mommy.”

B.J. started to get up and lead Evan down the hall, but Evan said, “I read every one of those Where’s Waldo? books and found him every time. Sit down, bro.” He took off for the chief’s office.

Sarah glanced back and forth between Kara and me, her smile tight. “ Douglas, who have you been talking to?”

Lieber gestured at me and said, “This volunteer who helped us earlier is Jillian Hart.” He waved a hand at Kara. “And this is her stepdaughter, Kara.”

I glanced at B.J. He was looking at me, obviously puzzled at that volunteer reference. But to his credit, he didn’t say anything about charity work he knew nothing about.

Sarah examined the metal folding chair Evan had vacated, obviously looking for grimy police station crud. Apparently satisfied it was safe, she sat down. Lieber picked up her hand and held it between his own. She looked up at him, appearing nervous.

“That interview wasn’t so awful, was it?” he said.

“I had to provide an alibi, so yes, it was awful,” Sarah said. “Even the suggestion that I would be involved in murder is absolutely ludicrous. These people have a lot of nerve.”

“I wish I’d been home with you Friday,” Lieber said. “That would have made things easier.”

Kara waved her hand back and forth between the two of them. “So you can’t help each other out. That’s too bad.”

Douglas Lieber, it would seem, wasn’t under Kara’s spell, because he said, “Yes, too bad,” in a curt tone.

Sarah looked at Kara. “I know why your stepmother is here, but what’s your reason?”

“Just like you, I’m a stranger in town. Here for a visit. Jillian thought I should see more of the town. And for a writer, what better place to start than the police station? This is the pulse of Mercy, South Carolina.”

What a load of dirty kitty litter, I thought smiling inwardly. The girl was quick. Good for her.

“I see,” Sarah said. She again looked up at Lieber. “I want this whole sordid mess over. But I have to identify his body. I’m not prepared to walk into a morgue, Douglas.”

“Maybe they’ll allow me to do that,” he said.

“If it helps any, you won’t have to get near the body,” Kara said. “They’ll show his face on a video feed or wheel the body into a room. You’ll be in an adjacent room with a window for viewing.”

“Is that so?” Lieber said. “That should make things easier, right, Sarah?”

“I suppose.” She sighed heavily.

“You seem to know a lot about that procedure, Kara. How’s that?” I said.

“I once covered a rapper who’d come to Houston for a concert,” she said. “Rap music remains an evolving and interesting part of the social landscape. Anyway, this man was shot in a drive-by outside his hotel before the concert. Since I’d done the research on him, the crime reporter let me share a byline. Part of the story involved interviewing the medical examiner-or trying to. All I got was a tour of the morgue’s outer offices.”

As she told us the story, Kara dropped her guarded facade. She seemed like that eighteen-year-old girl I’d met so many years ago. I could tell she’d enjoyed covering that shooting, and for me, that partly explained her interest in the murders. Maybe she was meant to be a crime reporter.

“That’s horrible,” Sarah said. “Murders there, murders here. It’s making me ill.”

Lieber said, “She was trying to help you feel more comfortable with the process; that’s all. Knowledge is power, Sarah.”

“So is prayer.” Sarah bent her head, her hands clasped in her lap.

That certainly shut us all up. Sarah VanKleet remained in that position until her sons both came down the hall almost simultaneously.

She stood. “Were the officers polite with you?”

“We can leave, Mother,” Brandt said. “That’s all that’s important.” He allowed Lieber, his mother and Evan to go first, and before he left, he made that double-thumb signal at Kara again.

Down the hall I saw Candace walk across the hall and enter the chief’s office.

B.J. said, “No one told me about you volunteering. That is so nice of you, Ms. Hart.”

“I’m here to help,” I said.

The phone rang, and he picked up.

“Do you really volunteer here?” Kara whispered.

“I did today,” I said with a smile. “You did a little volunteering yourself.”

She said, “I did make a genuine connection with that family, didn’t I? I’ll have Brandt VanKleet eating out of my hand-”

“Eating out of your hand?” Candace had arrived in the waiting area without either of us noticing.

“Just a figure of speech,” Kara said.

“You keep away from our witnesses, understand?” Candace said. She was carrying a folder and said, “Let’s go back to your place, Jillian. I have to transfer these statements to my computer.”

Kara rose, her expression revealing what I interpreted as restraint. She’d wanted to fire one back at Candace, but she didn’t. Instead, she followed Candace out the door. I suddenly felt like a mother with feuding daughters. Which made me about as comfortable as a cat being subjected to a bath. I started to leave, too, but stopped to wave good- bye to B.J. before we left. He was on the radio trying to explain what a 10-58 was to poor Officer Dufner.