by Cate Conte
Craig knelt to inspect it more closely. “I can probably take this busted wall off. That way you could still put food in there,” he said.
I thought about that. Normally I’d worry that with a big opening, a larger animal could trap a cat in there. But here on the island, there were no predators—like coyotes—like there were out on the mainland. “Can we move it closer to the other one? I’ll help.”
“Yeah. Let me see how heavy it is.” He started to move it alone. I’d forgotten how strong he’d gotten since we’d dated as kids. But still, it was heavy, so I got on the other side and pushed while he dragged.
Once we had it where we wanted it, Craig said, “I think I have something I can use to pry this off in the car.”
“Okay. I’ll go put the water in the shed while you get it.”
He started to reply, but we both heard it at once. Something—or someone—crashing through the woods.
We both froze. Craig whirled around, hand automatically going to his waist. Looking for his weapon, but he wasn’t on duty.
Even though my heart was pounding wildly, I managed a nervous laugh. “It’s probably a deer. Relax.”
But he held up a hand. I fell silent, hardly daring to breathe.
I heard it again. Unmistakable footsteps. Human, not a deer or another animal. And they sounded like they were getting closer. I hated how dark it was out here. I couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black, and Craig had grabbed my flashlight and switched it off.
It felt like ages that we were suspended there, waiting to see who or what was coming. Who would be out here at this time of night? In this neighborhood? It wasn’t exactly the kind of woods where people would go for a walk on a sunny summer day, never mind a below-zero winter evening with snow. I thought of the thefts I’d been hearing so much about and wondered if the culprit could be skulking around.
The footsteps picked up speed, and sounded like they were right behind us. Craig flashed his light on. “Who’s there?” he called out, his voice commanding. No response. Then, suddenly, rapidly retreating footsteps. He started moving toward them, then stopped when he realized they were running in the other direction.
We waited until the sound had faded away, then I turned my flashlight beam up again and looked at Craig.
“Let’s finish up and get out of here,” he said.
I wondered if it was our decoration thief back to wreak more havoc. But wouldn’t someone who was stealing stuff like that need a car? How on earth were they getting away with the stuff on foot?
He picked up the trap and we hurried out of the woods to his car. He put the cat in the backseat and rooted around in his trunk for a minute, then pulled out a small crowbar. “This’ll work for the cat house. Wait for me here and we’ll do the other thing together.”
“I’ll just go do it,” I said. “It’s in her backyard—”
“Maddie.” He shot me a look. “You shouldn’t be out here alone at this time of night.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you gonna come out with me every night? Because the cats need to get fed.”
He sent me a side-eye. “I’m serious.”
“I am too.”
“You don’t know what’s going on out here. Didn’t I hear there’s been a lot of thefts? That could’ve been the thief. If they’re bold enough to steal from people’s yards, they’d probably think nothing of robbing you blind in the middle of the woods.”
I didn’t mention that the same thought had gone through my mind. Still, I tried to keep up my confident act. “For what? My cat food?”
“Stay here.”
I thought about arguing, but that meant we’d be out here all night and I was getting cold. “Fine,” I grumbled.
“Lock the door,” he said, then took off back to the woods.
I watched him jog through the Hacketts’ yard then sighed and cranked the heat a bit higher. “Well, either way, I’m glad we got you,” I said to Toby in the backseat, glancing behind me.
Toby didn’t look super glad, but I was used to that. I’d sleep better knowing he was safe for at least a few days.
Craig was back in less than ten minutes with the cat food. “All set,” he said. “I filled up the bowls. They were still inside. Now where’s this shed?”
I started to get out but he said, “I’ll do it. Just show me where.”
“I thought we were going together?”
“Maddie. I’m offering to help. Just tell me where it is.”
I pointed out my window. “That yard. Food and water.” It was kind of nice to have help.
“Did you see any cats?” I asked when he returned.
He nodded. “There were a couple in the shed. They ran and hid when I came in.” He locked the doors and put the car in DRIVE. “All set?”
I nodded. “Did you see Whitney?”
“No. But there was a guy who came out onto her back porch when he saw me. I told him I was with you.”
“A guy?” I wondered who. “That’s good. At least he didn’t shoot you.” I was kidding, but he looked grim.
“Don’t joke. That’ll be next. This doesn’t seem like the friendliest community. So where to?”
“The animal care center,” I said. “I’ll call Katrina and tell her we’re on our way.”
Katrina didn’t answer, though. I left her a message to call me back ASAP, that I had a cat to drop off, then sighed and looked at Craig. “I don’t suppose you have a way to get in if she doesn’t call me back.”
He shook his head. “We don’t all have access to the center. Only the chief and her backup.”
“Who is her backup?”
He glanced at me. “Mick.”
I made a face. Sergeant Mick Ellory and I had a bit of a history. Not an entirely favorable one, mostly due to the fact that I’d been his number-one suspect in a murder right after I’d moved back to the island. We were mostly okay now—especially since I didn’t do it—but I didn’t usually seek out his company.
“Great. I guess Toby is coming home with us.” I needed a place to put him. Looks like Grandpa was getting an office mate for a few days.
But at that moment my phone rang. Katrina, thank goodness. “I have a cat,” I said.
“Awesome. Which one?”
“Toby.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you at the Dunkin’ over by the town line in less than ten minutes.”
I frowned. “What town line?”
“Turtle Point and Daybreak.”
“I can just drop him off at the center. I’m sure that’s closer for you,” I said. “Are you at home?”
“No, I’m out and about so it’s fine. I’ll see you there soon.” She disconnected.
Odd. Why would she be over by the town line? She lived in downtown Daybreak and the center was five minutes from her house. I hoped she wasn’t trying to do stuff on the down-low over here at Sea Spray. Or maybe she was just out Christmas shopping and I was totally overthinking it.
I pushed it out of my mind and directed Craig to the Dunkin’ to deliver our cargo.
Chapter 10
Tuesday, December 22: the night of the murder
8:45 p.m.
I stood frozen, staring at the lifeless form in the snow in front of me, not quite knowing what to do. Was Virgil alive? Dead? My instinct told me the latter, given the bluish tint to his skin, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. It was cold out, after all. He was bundled up, making it hard to see if he was breathing or not. I didn’t want to touch him since this looked … suspicious, especially with the broken gnome nearby. I wished the gnome could talk.
How long had he been like this? There were no footprints aside from mine nearby. Not his, or anyone else’s. So whatever had happened had been before the snow had really started piling up, wiping away any of that evidence.
I stared at his back, trying to see if it was moving even slightly. I needed to call for help if there was a chance.
But I saw nothing. Everything in my body shouted at me to get
out of there. I took a few steps backward, fumbling in my coat pocket for my phone. I should call 911 and get out. Wait by my car for the nice, safe police to come.
“Ah, come on,” I muttered, coming up empty. I searched my other pocket. Nothing. I felt around my jeans pockets. Not there either.
Then I remembered I’d left it in my bag in the car. Mentally head-smacking myself, I turned and started to run back toward the street, then detoured back into the Hacketts’ yard, slipping and sliding through the snow. I didn’t want anyone to see me running away from Virgil Proust’s body. That could only bring additional problems I didn’t need right now.
But as I hit the Hacketts’ driveway, snow exploding from around my boots, Harvey Hackett’s car pulled in. He got out, looking at me curiously. “Maddie? What’s going on?”
“Harvey!” I burst out. “I need help. A phone. It’s Virgil Proust.” I pointed behind me, noticing my finger was shaking.
“Virgil? What about him?” Harvey looked behind me, peering through the shrubs.
“He’s hurt. Maybe…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “We need to call someone and I don’t have my phone.”
“Where is he?”
“There. In his backyard.”
He started to follow my pointing finger. “Go to my door. Monica is home,” he instructed.
“But—” I protested.
“Go!”
I ran up their front steps and pressed the bell, missing it the first time I tried. Monica Hackett opened the door a minute later. She looked like she was ready for bed, in a pair of comfy flannel jammies and a cup of tea in her hand. She smiled when she saw me, but her smile faded when she saw the look on my face.
“Maddie? What’s happened?” she asked, opening the storm door and ushering me inside.
“Call an ambulance!” I burst out. “Harvey’s going over—”
“Harvey? What happened to Harvey?” In a flash, she’d deposited her mug on the hall table and leaned out the door, looking for her husband.
“Harvey’s fine. He’s checking on Virgil. Virgil needs an ambulance,” I said, finally getting the words out.
Monica snapped into action. She moved into the kitchen and picked up her phone, moving out of earshot. I heard the TV in the other room and figured the kids were in there and she didn’t want to call their attention to whatever was going on.
She was still in the kitchen when Harvey came in. It hadn’t taken him very long to assess the situation. His face was white. He put his hand on my shoulder, but didn’t speak. I understood what he was trying to say.
Virgil was dead.
Monica returned just as the boys realized their dad was home. They raced out of the living room to Harvey, chattering and reaching for him, giving me curious looks. Harvey bent down and gave them each a hug, then told them to go upstairs and he’d be up in a few minutes.
Monica took them up. Harvey and I stood in silence. Snow dripped off our boots onto the expensive hall carpet, but Harvey didn’t seem to notice, much less care. By the time Monica returned, I could hear sirens in the distance.
“What happened?” she asked, looking from me to Harvey.
Harvey shook his head. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t look good.”
“Where…?”
“He’s outside. In the yard. Maddie saw him when she was cutting through to go feed the cats.” He looked at me for confirmation.
I nodded, realizing I’d forgotten all about the cats. I still needed to feed them. They had probably given up on me by now. I felt terrible.
The ambulance and police cars pulled up together. Harvey went outside to meet them. Monica turned to me.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked. “You look like you’re freezing.”
“No. I mean, I’m not freezing. Yes I’d love some tea. I’m just…” I looked outside again.
“Come into the kitchen.” Monica slipped an arm around me and led me off. “You’ve had quite a shock.” She flipped on an electric teapot to heat up the water, then pulled out a couple of tea bags. “Chamomile, mint, or rose?”
“Rose, please.”
She reached for a mug. “When did you get here?”
“Just a few minutes before I came to your door. I was heading out through your yard when I noticed there were no Christmas lights on next door.” I closed my eyes, remembering the sense of foreboding I’d gotten from the dark yard. “I thought about how weird that was. They love their Christmas lights. And then I saw this … lump in the snow. At first I thought it was a cat, but … it wasn’t. I was glad it wasn’t, but then I felt terrible.” I wasn’t aware I was shivering until Monica pressed the hot mug into my hands. I wrapped my fingers around it gratefully.
She kept going to the window and peering out. I could see the worry on her face, although she tried to mask it when she turned back to me.
The door opened and Harvey came in, followed by a police officer. Not the one who had almost arrested Avery, thank goodness, although this one didn’t look friendly either. Harvey said something to the cop that I couldn’t hear, and then led him into the kitchen. He went over and squeezed Monica’s hand.
The cop nodded at Monica. “Ma’am. Sorry to disturb your evening.” Then he homed in on me. “Miss…” He glanced at his notes. “James?”
I nodded, still holding on to the mug.
“I’m Officer MacDonald. I need to ask you about what happened when you got here tonight.”
I recognized the name from Becky’s article. “Okay,” I said.
Harvey and Monica exchanged a glance, then Monica said, “We’re going to go check on our boys.”
Officer MacDonald nodded, not even looking at them as they left the room. He didn’t really care about them. I was the one he wanted to focus on. He indicated the table. “May I sit?”
I shrugged. “It’s not my table.”
Officer MacDonald frowned, but sat. “What’s your full name?”
“Madalyn James. Maddie.” I paused. “My grandfather is the former Daybreak Harbor police chief. Leo Mancini,” I added for good measure.
He didn’t look impressed. “You told Mr. Hackett you came across Mr. Proust this evening?”
“I did.”
“Do you live in the area?”
I shook my head.
“Are you friends with the Hacketts? Or the Prousts?”
“No. Acquaintances with the Hacketts,” I amended.
“So you were here visiting them?”
I shook my head again.
“Then why were you in the neighborhood? Specifically the Prousts’ backyard?”
“I wasn’t in the Prousts’ backyard. At least not until I saw … I was here to feed the cats,” I said, trying to stifle my impatience. I was pretty sure all the cops in Turtle Point knew about the situation here with the neighbors versus the cats, but clearly he was going to make me go through the whole story.
“The cats?” he repeated in a tone of disbelief.
“Yes,” I said. “The cats. I’m sure you’ve heard all about it.”
“Actually, I haven’t. But now I can’t wait.” Officer McDonald sat back as if this was the most interesting story he’d ever anticipated hearing. “Can you tell me what happened? Starting from when you got here.”
I took a sip of tea, trying to stop my hands from shaking. My brain kept flashing back to Virgil Proust in the snow with the broken Christmas gnome next to his head. “I got here about…” My eyes flicked to the clock on the Hacketts’ microwave. It was almost nine. How could it be almost nine? My family would be looking for me soon. “About eight fifteen. I parked a little ways down the street.” I jerked my finger behind me as if he could see Grandpa’s truck from here. “And I came down to walk through the Hacketts’ yard to get to the cat shelters out in the woods.”
“So you drove the”—he studied a page in his notebook—“pickup truck?”
I nodded. “It’s my grandpa’s.”
“And you were sneaking through t
heir yard because…?”
“I wasn’t sneaking through their yard,” I said. “They told me I could cut through their yard whenever I wanted. Some of the other neighbors aren’t so … accommodating.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of the neighbors were not happy about the cats, and they weren’t happy that there were people who wanted to feed them and take care of them.”
“So these cats. Where, exactly, do they live?”
I sighed. I didn’t mind explaining, but I didn’t like this guy’s condescending tone and I doubted he really cared about the cats and really, didn’t we have more pressing matters to discuss right now? “They’re feral. Meaning, they don’t have experience with humans. They live outside. They usually stick to the woods behind this neighborhood. That’s where their shelters are.”
“You come take care of them?”
“I’m one of the feeders. We provide food and shelter to the extent we can.”
“And you said the neighbors don’t like it.”
“I said some of them don’t like it. Others, like the Hacketts, are really helpful.”
“So did Virgil Proust not like it?”
I hesitated. “Not really. His wife definitely didn’t. He wasn’t as outspoken as she was, but I’m guessing he had the same opinions.”
“So you weren’t on good terms with Mr. Proust,” Officer McDonald said.
“I didn’t say that. I’ve barely had any contact with Mr. Proust.”
He consulted his notes again. “There have been a few calls out to this area recently. One in particular was put in by Mr. Proust.”
The Avery incident. I inclined my head in acknowledgment.
He regarded me as if he expected me to crack under his gaze and give him the real story. When I didn’t, he said, “So how did you find Mr. Proust?”
“I noticed the Christmas lights were out.” I couldn’t stop picturing the blackness next door where there was usually bright white lights. “But I had my flashlight and I saw what looked like a jacket out in the snow. I went closer to look.” I swallowed hard. “And I realized it was a person, not just a jacket. And I saw the gnome. And … blood.”