The Cat, The Professor And The Poison

Twenty-one

Though rain fell throughout the night and thunder woke me several times, by morning the sun snuck through the slats of my wood shades and one beam of light fell right across my eyes. There was no sleeping through that. Besides, we needed to get moving.

I shook Candace’s shoulder, and she moaned in protest. “Five more minutes.”

No five minutes for me. I needed coffee. When I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I was surprised to see Chablis sitting on the floor and staring at me. “Hey, sweetie,” I whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

In response, Chablis offered one of her more insistent meows and, fluffy chocolate-colored tail in the air, hurried out of the bedroom.

I knew that voice and that behavior. She wanted me to follow her. Cats do talk in their own way and have so many different sounds-more than a hundred by some estimates. I hurried after her.

Chablis led me to the basement, as expected. I filled one dish with dry food, even though it wasn’t empty. I noticed that no one seemed interested in food-even the kittens were curled in the cutest little pile, fast asleep. But Chablis was licking away at Dame Wiggins back near the shoulder blades-and really going at it. She stopped for a second, looked at me and then started up again. This wasn’t normal grooming.

I knelt by the cats and saw that Dame Wiggins’s fur around this area was downright wet. “What are you doing, Chablis? Does she have an injury we don’t know about?”

Wiggins could definitely have been bitten and developed an abscess after being around so many cats, so I lifted Chablis and set her next to me while I examined the area. Not an abscess at all. But definitely a small bump just below the skin.

Aloud, I said, “If they scanned her, no one told me. Bet they forgot.” Indeed, Dame Wiggins had a pet-locator chip embedded under her skin. I’d have to get Shawn over here pronto. Dame Wiggins and her litter probably had a home to go to.

Candace’s voice made me start when she said, “I’ve called the chief, and he wants us to go to Denman in a squad car. This is official police business. Let’s get going.”

This from the woman who wanted five more minutes of sleep? I told her about the implanted microchip and how I had to notify Shawn.

“It’s been four days,” Candace said. “Waiting another day to scan the cat won’t be a problem. You’re sure Tom can keep Kara occupied?”

“He was more than happy to help when I called him last night,” I said.

“Let’s go.” Candace’s eyes were bright with the promise of police work that was a little more challenging than babysitting a grown woman.

We took my van to the courthouse and drove around behind the building where the squad cars were parked. Kara had been awake when we left and questioned why Candace was wearing her uniform, and then asked where we were going. She’d noticed I had my purse and was fiddling with my new phone to make sure I knew how to bring up the cat cam. But Candace didn’t get a chance to answer because Kara’s phone started ringing. Candace pulled me out the back door, but not before I heard Kara say Tom’s name. Great timing, my friend, I thought.

Soon we were on the road, and though Candace was driving, I felt fairly safe because she was always more careful when she drove a squad car. Once we were out of town and on the highway heading toward Denman, Candace shut off the police radio so we didn’t have to endure hearing B.J. screwing up more police radio codes. But her phone rang a minute later.

She had her cell attached to the car somehow, and all she had to do was press a button and the call came out on the speaker feature. It was Mike Baca.

“Candace, I got the info you wanted on Rosemary Bartlett. She lives in town with her parents, and they said she’s home.”

“Good. What was your take when you spoke to her?” Candace said.

“I spoke to her parents. They didn’t seem all that surprised that a police chief was calling. I got the feeling the father wanted to say, ‘What’s she done now?’ but he just said she’d be waiting for you, that he’d make sure of it.”

“Great. And the head of the college?” she asked.

“That’s another story,” Baca said. “I had to work him pretty hard, saying we didn’t want to involve the college in our investigation beyond a few simple questions about the professor. Once he knew we were aware of why Professor VanKleet was fired, he said he’d cooperate.”

“Sounds like we’re all set. I downloaded a campus map, but give me the Bartletts ’ address.” Candace pulled her notepad from her pocket and tossed it to me.

I wrote down the address Baca rattled off.

He said, “I’ve got to go. Lydia ’s decided to hand deliver the autopsy report, and I think she’s just arrived if that shrieky voice I hear outside my office is an indication. What did I do to deserve this personal delivery? And what was I thinking-never mind.”

He hung up, but I could have finished that question. What had he been thinking when he got involved with her several years ago? Miss Upstate Winnebago, as Lydia had once been titled, was a certifiable nutcase.

With all the rain, the South Carolina landscape was lush, and I was enjoying this ride. I’d brought several quilts to finish, but just when I was in a good stitching rhythm, it was my turn to receive a phone call-and thank goodness I’d practiced with the new contraption. The caller ID read ROBIN WEST, but it was Jack.

“Hi, Jack,” I said when I answered.

Candace gave me a puzzled sideways glance.

“I wanted you to know that my mom took your excellent advice. I even got to play in the mud.”

“That’s great, Jack. Are you off from school?” I said.

“Yeah. Spring break, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. My cat, Lucy, has new friends. Two of them. One is black-and-white and the other one is orange. Of course, Mom won’t let them in the house.”

“Two new cats? Did you go to Shawn and Allison’s shelter to pick them out?” I asked.

Candace said, “Ah,” while nodding.

“No,” he said. “They just showed up. Very smart cats to find shelter during that awful storm we had the other night. They’ve been staying in the barn, and they don’t seem to want to leave. And that’s fine with me.”

“How’s Lucy handling two new friends?” I said.

“She wasn’t thrilled at first. Lots of hissing and spitting the first day, since felines are very territorial. She’s coming around.”

“Yes, she’ll be best buddies with them soon enough,” I said. “I have three cats myself.”

“Are they house cats, or do they stay outside?” he asked.

“They’re indoor cats. But, Jack, glad as I am to hear from you, I sense a hidden agenda,” I said.

“Yes. I am determined to have an indoor cat myself. And since you did so well with my mother before, well…” His voice trailed off.

“You want me to convince her to let you have a cat in your immaculate house? That’s a tall order. Cats can destroy things, and your mom’s vacuuming, which I’m guessing is already very time-consuming, might increase a whole lot more.”

“Do your cats destroy things?” he said.

“No, because they have scratching posts and early on I trained them to behave.”

“Here’s my idea, though,” he said. “My mom needs to quit obsessing. A cat might be a way for her to realize that she can enjoy something without having to constantly clean around it. She does love animals.”

How did such a young kid get so smart? “Did you try to convince her with your logic?”

“I haven’t brought it up. I thought I’d let you do that part because she doesn’t listen to me.”

He sounded so hopeful, how could I turn him down? But this would be a challenge. “I’m out of town on a little trip today. Can I meet your new cats another day?”

“Sure. I’m off school all week.”

“I’ll call you, Jack. Take care,” I said.

“Bye, Miss Jillian. And thank you.” He hung up.

I looked at Candace. “Did you get the gist of that?”

“You honestly believe that Robin West will allow a cat in her house? I don’t think so,” Candace said.

“At least I can try. Plus, those cats that showed up will need their shots and should be checked for parasites and feline AIDS, like we did the night the professor-oh my gosh.”

“What?” Candace said.

“Ruth Schultz and Robin West don’t live that far apart,” I said. “Ruth had at least one stray that came from the professor’s property that we know about and probably a couple more. What if these two that showed up at Robin and Jack’s place came from the professor’s farm, too?”

“Do you believe some of the cats escaped the evening of the murder and weren’t carried off?” Candace said.

“It’s very possible. And if there are more, Shawn will have his hands full,” I said. “They’ll come his way eventually.”

“And he’s so overloaded now that Allison’s in school, we had to work a night shift,” Candace said. “Not that I minded. It was fun.”

“That seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? I have to volunteer more there,” I said. “He needs the help. I hate to even tell him about the microchip I found on Dame Wiggins this morning because he’ll have to make a trip to my place to scan her.”

“Chief Baca told me that lazy Chester called the station to make sure Shawn scanned the cats left at the house,” Candace said. “ Chester ’s looking for any reason to bust Shawn. Scanning rescued animals is the law.”

“Then we’ll make sure Chester doesn’t get Shawn in trouble,” I said.

We settled into silence. I so loved the South Carolina countryside. Focusing on the budding trees and blooming flowers along the way relieved the stress I feared would return full force once Candace started asking questions at Denman College. Everything about the VanKleet family seemed to be connected to stress with a capital S.