The Cat, The Professor And The Poison

Three

I had never worked the graveyard shift, but I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that there is nothing my three cats like better than my spending the day in bed. Even Merlot, my twenty-pound red Maine coon, had stretched out beside me. He rarely joins me for sleep, so I was surprised he chose to hunker down on the bed. Chablis, the Himalayan, planted herself on my chest, and Syrah, my Abyssinian, used my legs for a bed.

Robin’s cow was back home, and all was well with the world. Okay, her world, not Candace’s. My friend had been extra quiet during the drive to her house, tightly clutching the paper lunch bag where she’d stowed the piece of rope. As my threesome’s purring lulled me to sleep, I wondered whether Police Chief Mike Baca would let her work a case if the stolen “item”-not the best word for a cow, I admit-was no longer stolen. Somehow I didn’t think so.

I awoke at about three o’clock in the afternoon. My cats may have been used to sleeping away most of the daylight hours, but I wasn’t. I felt groggy, which I decided was due to a serious coffee hangover. I stumbled into the shower for a wake-up call, and when I came back into the bedroom, I saw all three cats circled around a bug on the floor. On closer inspection I saw it was a dead spider. They’d made quick work of the poor thing, and before one of them ate it, I grabbed a tissue from the bedside stand and tossed the spider in the trash.

The disappointed trio wandered in the direction of the kitchen while I made the bed. The quilt, which was large enough to cover the entire bed, had been a favorite of my late husband, John. I’d completed it for him before we’d married-a bear-paw design made from plaids I’d bought during a trip to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Having something he loved close to me while I slept made the nights easier-and it was getting easier now that more than a year had passed. Grief was a fickle friend-embracing me at times and abandoning me at others. I supposed that was better than the constant companion it had been during the six months right after John died.

As soon as I’d smoothed out the quilt and propped the sham-covered pillows against the headboard, Chablis appeared and jumped back on the bed to settle down for another snooze.

Merlot was waiting for me in the kitchen. He’d changed into even more of a watch-cat than before. After all, last fall his best buddy, Syrah, had been nabbed, and then I’d allowed a murderer into our home-albeit unknowingly. Yes, Merlot had been in hypervigilant mode ever since, his usual warbly meow all but disappeared. His vocals were deeper, almost as if he felt he needed to sound strong. Every bedroom door had to be open, every noise attended to.

I fed Merlot and Syrah-Chablis enjoyed her naps too much to appear right now-and was making a fresh gallon of sweet tea when I heard Candace’s familiar rappity-rap-rap on my back door. Merlot sat down by the door, staring at the knob. I called to her that it was unlocked as I squeezed the tea bags over the big pitcher and threw them in the trash can under the sink.

“Hey there,” she said as she entered, bending to pet Merlot. He didn’t stay around, just sort of hopped playfully and took off to a new hiding place, one never far from me.

Candace looked so fresh, so wide awake, so… young. Boy, how I missed bouncing back awake like that.

“I can’t believe I didn’t have sweet tea ready for this awful afternoon awakening,” I said.

“Sweet tea can fix anything.” She wore blue jeans and a pink T-shirt, and her blond hair was loose on her shoulders. I considered her pretty even without makeup. Especially when her eyes still glittered as much as when we’d parted this morning.

This visit had to be about her piece of evidence. Candace is enamored of evidence, is engaged in a constant love affair with all things criminal. “Grab some ice, would you?” I poured liquid cane sugar into the hot tea while Candace scooped out a handful from the ice maker.

As she plopped the cubes into the pitcher, she said, “I have an idea. But I think you should have tea first.”

She was right about that, because Candace obviously had an agenda. I put two glasses on the counter, and she poured. I added more ice to our drinks, and we went around the counter, past the dining room table and into my connecting living room.

Candace settled onto the sofa and got right to it. “I’m staking out Robin’s barn tonight, hoping the thief will come back. That cow got away, and I’m betting someone wants it back. Care to join me?”

“Um, I am not exactly a police officer,” I said. Another night shift? I might not survive.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve gotten permission for you to do a ride-along. Citizens pay the bills, and they’re entitled to see how we officers spend our time.”

“Your boss, Mike Baca, gave you permission to take me with you?” That seemed impossible considering how we’d gone nose to nose last year and the chief of police was sure I’d been wrong about… well, just about almost everything.

“The chief is on vacation. Did you know he has a daughter from his first marriage? He’s gone to see her in Florida for spring break.”

“I didn’t know.” It made me realize that Candace didn’t know about Kara, John’s daughter-and my stepdaughter-either. Talking about Kara was difficult for me, but I did miss hearing from her. In fact, I hadn’t heard from her since her dad’s funeral, but I figured she’d call when she was ready. “So you don’t exactly have permission for this stakeout? I’m not sure I-”

“Morris Ebeling, my once and future partner, is in charge since he’s the senior officer. When I told him about the missing cow and the possible break- in, he said I could investigate all I wanted. He laughed about a missing cow and said that a ride-along was fine since he wouldn’t be the one with me.” Her lips thinned almost into a sneer. “You know what he’s like. That man is as lazy as a lobster.”

“Lobsters are lazy?” I said.

“I don’t know. My mother always says that. Anyway, you stayed up last night, so your brain’s in night-shift mode anyway.”

“I feel drugged, if that’s what you mean. But don’t you think Mike Baca would take issue with me being involved in anything police related, even while he’s on vacation?”

“He is so over you getting involved with that whole murder thing last year. After all, you did help figure things out at the Pink House.”

The Pink House is a Mercy landmark and now under new ownership as a bed-and-breakfast. “Mike Baca is over what happened? I can’t believe that, Candace. He looks the other way every time we pass each other at the Piggly Wiggly.”

“That’s because he’s embarrassed about everything that happened. I’ve heard him say you’re one of the smartest women he’s ever met. Says you have good instincts. And I agree with him.” She smiled. “Come on. The second night shift is always easier; you’ll see. We’ll bring a giant bag of Cheetos and pick up peanuts from Harvey Weatherstone’s roadside stand.”

I polished off half my drink, wondering how I could get out of this one. “You sound like we’re heading for the Cinema Ten in Greenwood. Should we stash Cokes in our purses, too?”

“This particular movie will probably be boring as all heck. That’s why I need you with me, so you can nudge me awake every so often. Come on. I stayed up with you last night, didn’t I?”

She had me there. “Okay,” I said wearily. “What time do we leave?”

My cats were confused when I left late Thursday for another night shift. But then, I’d slept most of the day, so maybe they thought I’d finally turned into a cat and was ready for fun in the dark, as they always seemed to be. I’d made sure to take a headache medicine that contained caffeine-because, boy, did I have a headache. I did feel more awake, but a dull throb lingered at the back of my skull. My IOU to Candace would be paid in full after this second and last overnighter.

Unfortunately, she was driving this time since this was police business. Not her squad car, since any potential thief wouldn’t be dumb enough to raid a barn with one of those in the driveway. We went in the only unmarked car Mercy owned-a Taurus that smelled like someone had spilled beer on the carpet about ten years ago.

I was wide awake when we reached Robin’s house. Candace’s driving-which was like that Wild Mouse ride they used to have at amusement parks when I was growing up-jangled my nerves big-time. I’d given up asking her why she had to take every corner with squealing tires. I could tell by her smile that she loved speed-simple as that.

Robin was expecting us and came outside to direct the car around the back of the house, where we’d have a good view of both the barn and the driveway. Harriett, Candace had postulated from the tire treads, was taken away in a trailer last night, and if the thief returned to take her again, that truck would probably return.

Robin wore a terry-cloth robe and held it tightly against the night chill. The temperature had dropped from pleasant seventies this afternoon to around fifty now. She held out a key to Candace. “This is for the back door. There’s a powder room right past the washer and dryer in the kitchen. Just try to be quiet. Jack needs his sleep. Poor Harriett had no milk after her ordeal, so Jack’s a little run-down without his daily fix.”

Isn’t raw milk bad for you? I wondered. I’d heard something about people saying it was good for you again, and I guess if you owned a cow and drank it right after it was milked it might be. Certainly, people drank milk like that for years before Pasteur came around, but I wouldn’t be asking for any samples. We thanked Robin for letting us use the facilities, and she went inside.

We climbed back in the car. I’d brought my pillow and now tried to position myself so I wouldn’t end up feeling like I’d slept on the ground after this little adventure ended. The headache was returning in force, so I added a Coke to help with the tension headache pills I’d taken earlier. Enough caffeine, I decided, to keep an entire police force awake.

We were parked in the shadow of a huge pecan tree to make the car a little more difficult to spot, but Candace told me to recline my seat just in case we were visible. She did the same.

The promised Cheetos appeared, as well as the peanuts. Eating all that salt made for two thirsty women. It was the four Cokes we consumed between us that did us both in. I had to sneak into the house at about one a.m., but Candace managed to hold on until about three before she needed to relieve herself.

Wouldn’t you know, as soon as she left, I saw a dark-clad figure skulking around the driveway curve, a pair of what looked like bolt cutters in his or her left gloved hand.

My heart started thumping in my chest as I focused hard on the intruder. There was something else in the other hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was… Then I caught a glint as it swung by the trespasser’s side. A gun? God, please not a gun.

My heart sped up so much, I could feel it pounding in my throat now. But curiosity wouldn’t let me hide under the dash. I saw the person set down the shiny thing-a pail, I realized with relief. He or she needed only one quick snap of the tool on the replaced padlock, and the barn door swung open.

Candace, hurry. Please.

But she wasn’t hurrying… or maybe time had simply stopped. I thought about heading for the house now that the thief was in the barn. Candace needed to get out here fast.

My fear intensified when I spotted Lucy the cat creeping toward the open barn.

No. Not the kitty. Please not the kitty.

I was about ready to try to distract Lucy when Candace opened the car door. I swallowed my surprise before it came out as a screech. “Someone’s here,” I whispered harshly. “In the barn. Right now.”

“Gosh darn it, wouldn’t you know.” Candace reached beneath her seat and pulled out her gun. The gun I hadn’t known was there.

I swallowed what little saliva I had left. “You brought your gun?”

“Duh, yeah. I’m on duty. Stay put. I’ll take care of this.” She was out the door without another word and edging toward the barn door as quietly as Lucy had.

I was afraid for her-scared stupid, to put it bluntly. What if that… that horrible person had a gun I hadn’t seen? What if there was a shoot-out and Candace was injured… or worse? No, I couldn’t think like that. She was smart, a good cop. She knew what she was doing.

Though I couldn’t and shouldn’t follow, at least I could listen, so I rolled down the window.

A few seconds passed before I heard Candace’s angry voice say, “Professor? What in hell do you think you’re doing?”