As the evening wore on, the financial advisor/volunteer curator/cake auctioneer and apparent philanderer was an obvious “no show.”
Later, Russell Krow caught Katherine coming out of the ladies room and said, “We meet again.”
“Hello,” she said to the handsome reporter. “Did you just get here? I didn’t see you earlier.” Katherine hoped he wouldn’t interpret her last comment as an expression of interest.
“I’m just here to take a few pics for the paper. Then I have a deadline to meet.”
“Reporter and photographer,” she commented. “Cool.”
“I’m late because I’m also a wedding photographer. I just got back from the city. You wouldn’t know of anyone who is getting married and wants a photographer?”
“Can’t think of anyone,” Katherine answered, inching away and discretely looking for Jake to rescue her, but he was busy talking to the doctor and her husband.
“I’m new to the Erie beat and I don’t know very many people. I hear you just moved from New York City. I do hope we can meet for lunch soon.”
“Of course,” she said with one foot poised to make her escape.
Russell continued, “I just started an Erie Community web page. Pictures that don’t make the newspaper will be posted on the website. I took some wonderful pics at the fundraiser today. You’ve got to check them out.”
“I will.”
The mayor made a dash over and tapped Russell on the shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about . . . ”
Katherine made her exit to find Jake, who was now looking for her.
“There you are,” he said, holding a plate. “They just brought out these appetizers. Do you want to try one?” He had an ornery grin on his face.
Katherine glanced at his plate loaded with puffy cheese bites. “Let me guess. Baked by Vicky the caterer and they explode at will. I’ll pass.” She remembered her Halloween party and how the appetizers seemed to have it out for her.
The museum event was a big success. Margie received lots of compliments. Guests asked Katherine countless questions about the Colfax exhibit. In between glasses of champagne, Katherine’s head began to spin. She grew tired of answering the same questions about her bootlegging great uncle, and was thankful when Jake came to her rescue. He was a godsend. In his true history-professor fashion, he explained Prohibition and how important bootlegging was to the Erie economy. He was in his element and enjoying it immensely. The evening was a happy occasion — a fun mix of people, holiday cheer, an open bar, and savory appetizers.
A few minutes after eleven, Julie Miller — screaming at the top of her lungs — ran from the back of the museum to the main room. “Help! Someone’s murdered Robbie. He’s dead!”
Mayor Newman said firmly, “Julie, calm down. Where’s Robbie?”
Julie sobbed, “In the utility closet by the kitchen. He did it!” She shook an accusing finger toward the rear.
“Who did it?” the mayor asked as he headed to the back of the museum.
“Cokey Cokenberger! He killed Robbie.” The distraught woman collapsed to the floor and cried, “My Robbie . . . no, not my Robbie.”
Her husband Nick came to her side. “Get up! You’re causing a scene.”
All eyes turned from Julie to Margie. “That’s a lie,” Margie said. “Cokey’s home with our kids.”
“You don’t call my wife a liar,” Nick threatened.
“Okay, Nick, relax,” Jake barked, rushing over to stand between the irate Nick and his aunt Margie.
Detective Linda Martin called after the mayor. “Don’t touch anything. I’m getting Chief London over here ASAP.” She yanked her cell out of her evening bag and joined the mayor outside the utility room. Katherine, Jake and Margie followed her. The mayor moved to the front of the hallway and with the help of Mark, formed a barrier so none of the other guests could approach the area.
Jake and Margie walked into the kitchen. Through the utility room door, and looking over Detective Martin’s shoulder, Katherine could see a very dead Robbie. He had been stabbed repeatedly. Strangely, there was blood on his white shirt, but only a few splatters on the floor. They could see a partial shoeprint on one of the blood spots. A knife lay nearby. Someone had crudely stuffed dollar bills in his mouth. The inside of Robbie’s shirt was stuffed with them as well. A colorful Hawaiian necktie was knotted tightly around his neck. It wasn’t clear what had killed him — the stab wounds, or strangulation.
Detective Martin visually examined Robbie through the doorway and confirmed he was dead. “Folks, this is now a crime scene.”
The mayor announced to the group. “We’re sorry for Robbie’s loss, but please everyone stay put until the chief gets here.”
“Why can’t we leave?” Nick said defiantly.
Katherine rushed to the kitchen.
Margie whispered urgently to Jake and Katherine, “We need to go — now!”
Jake directed them to the back entrance off the kitchen. As they rushed out of the museum, they could hear Detective Martin address the guests, “No one leaves until the police have interviewed you.”
Chapter Six
As she left the museum building, Katherine tried to run in her Gucci pumps but slid on a patch of ice and fell into a snowdrift. Margie was already at the car and didn’t see the accident. She yelled, “Jake, hurry up, you’ve got to get me home as soon as possible.”
Jake rushed to Katherine’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked, helping her up. “Do you think you broke anything?”
“Only my vanity,” Katherine said, embarrassed. “I can’t run in my new shoes.”
Jake picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. “I’ll carry you, baby doll.”
Shivering, she said, “I left my coat.”
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” Jake answered, setting her down. “Here, wear my suit jacket.” He hurriedly took it off and draped it over Katherine’s shoulders.
Once they were in the car, Jake floored the accelerator and took Margie home. Parking in front of the house, he had barely stopped the car when Margie jumped out and ran up the front walk. Ten-year-old Shelly was standing on the porch in her pajamas, and was crying her head off.
Jake and Katherine got out and met each other on the sidewalk.
“Daddy’s hurt,” Shelly cried. “He’s bleeding.”
“Shelly, sweetie, what happened?” Margie asked.
The girl sobbed some more. “He went to get pizza and when he got home he was bleeding. Mommy, you’ve got to help him.”
Jake looked at Katherine with concern.
Margie rushed into the house, “Cokey?”
Tommy was nearby holding a large, plump orange cat. “Dad’s locked up in the bathroom. He won’t open the door.”
“What the hell,” Margie muttered under her breath. Shelly continued sobbing. “Shelly, it’s okay. Mommy’s home. I’ll go check on Daddy.”
Jake hurried down the hall, saying, “Listen, I’ll try and coax him out.”
“I don’t know why he’s acting like this,” Margie said, stunned. She raced past Jake and pounded on the bathroom door, “Cokey, let me in.”
Cokey slowly opened the door with a fresh bandage on his hand.
“What’s going on?” Margie demanded.
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to the museum —”
“Why?”
“You left your cell phone on the dresser so I told the kids I’d drop it off after I picked up the pizza. I didn’t want anyone to see me in my ratty jacket and jeans when everyone was dressed up, so I used the museum’s back door.”
“What time was this?” Margie asked.
“Around eleven.”
“Why did you have the kids up so late, and then leave them to go get a pizza? It makes no sense.”
“We were watching a DVD and the kids got hungry. When I first got to the museum, this woman nearly knocked me down r
unning out the door — ”
“What woman?”
“Will you let me finish? What’s her name? Emily something. Then the principal’s husband — I think his name is Nick — came out of the utility room. I asked him to give you your cell phone. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost, and was really nervous. He took the phone and walked to the front of the museum. I got suspicious and went inside the room and found Robbie slumped on a stool.”
“What was the principal’s husband doing in that room?” Margie asked.
“Beats the hell out of me,” Cokey said, throwing up his hands. “But when I tried to help Robbie, a butcher knife fell out of his neck. The blade must have grazed my hand because I started bleeding. When I reached in my pocket for my phone to call 911, Julie Miller ran in and started accusing me of murdering Robbie. I panicked and got the hell out of there. Now the damn knife has my prints on it, and I’m going to be framed for killing Robbie.”
“But you didn’t do it,” Margie implored. “You’ve got to tell the chief that. Why didn’t you just explain to Julie what happened?”
“She was hysterical and wouldn’t stop screaming. Margaret, I have that misdemeanor conviction on my record. I don’t want to go to prison,” Cokey said.
Katherine gave Jake a curious side glance. Jake shook his head and mouthed the words, “I’ll tell you later.”
They heard the sound of police sirens coming down Alexander Street. Two Erie cruisers pulled in front.
Tommy, still holding the orange cat, was standing by the window and shouted, “Dad, there’s a whole bunch of cops out there.”
“I’ll get the door,” Cokey said, coming down the hall with Margie by his side. “It’s okay, son. Get your sister and take her and Spitfire to your room.”
Tommy ignored the request and opened the door. Chief London walked in. He was flanked by several officers.
Shelly began wailing again. “Daddy’s hurt,” she cried. Katherine moved over and put her arm around her. She led Shelly down the hall, then motioned for Tommy to come, too. Spitfire struggled to get down, but Tommy held him tight.
Chief London cuffed Cokey and then read him the Miranda warning.
Margie said, horrified, “Chief, what’s this about?”
The chief answered, “We’re arresting Cokey for the murder of Robbie Brentwood. We have an eye witness who saw Cokey leaving the scene of the crime with blood dripping from his hand.”
Margie protested, “He didn’t do it!”
Katherine returned to the room and gasped, “Chief, he didn’t do it. Cokey just explained what happened.” Then she remembered overhearing Cokey threaten Robbie at the mansion during the tea.
The officers took Cokey by the arms and led him outside. Cokey called back to Margie, “Get me a good criminal lawyer. I love you.”
Chief London stayed behind. “I want to talk to the three of you. According to Detective Martin, you left the scene when Robbie’s body was found. What was the hurry?”
Margie sat down on a chair and began to cry. She then calmed herself and said, “Chief, everyone in this town could be a suspect.”
“How’s that?” the chief asked.
“Because everyone had a beef with Robbie Brentwood. For starters, I’ll give you some suspects. How about Nick Miller? He threatened to kill Robbie if he didn’t leave his wife alone. How about the girlfriend, Emily? I heard her fighting with Robbie at the museum a few hours before the opening. Want me to keep goin’?” Margie said angrily.
“Be my guest,” the chief said, irritated.
“What about me?” Margie continued.
Jake intervened, “Aunt Margie, the chief is just trying to get the facts.”
The chief said, “You may be the last person to see Robbie alive. Why were you at the museum?”
“I’m a volunteer. After the holiday fundraiser at the armory, I stopped by to drop off some flyers for the door greeters to pass out when the guests arrived. Emily was shouting at Robbie —”
“Who’s Emily?”
“She’s the museum’s graphic artist. She was hanging posters on the wall. When she heard Robbie’s voice in the back room —”
“The utility room?”
“No, the kitchen. When she went back there, they started yelling at each other. They got into a big argument.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“I don’t know. I could hear their tone but not their words. When I looked out the window, Julie Miller was running to her car. Chief, Julie was having an affair with Robbie.”
Katherine, who had been quiet, added, “Chief, maybe Emily caught Robbie and Julie in a compromising position and freaked out. She told me a few days ago when she came over to my house that Robbie was going to announce their engagement at the opening. Maybe she should be a person of interest.” She remembered the fang-marked card from Emily, but didn’t want to mention the cats’ involvement, if there was an involvement. Just a clue, perhaps. A big one.
The chief said to Margie, “Anything else you want to tell me?”
Margie shook her head. “My husband didn’t do it. He’s the fall guy because everyone knows Cokey has a temper, and that Patricia Marston business.”
The chief scratched his beard, “What about you, Jake? Why did you flee the scene?”
Jake shrugged his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “Because the ladies wanted to go home and I’m the driver.”
“Okay, that’s all I need to hear . . . for right now. I’m sure Detective Martin will want to talk to you, but not tonight. We’ve got our hands full with this mess.”
As the chief moved to the door, Margie got up and asked, “Where will Cokey be?”
“Holding cell down at the jail. Don’t fret, Ma’am. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” He tipped his hat and left.
When the chief was out of earshot, Jake said, “Aunt Margie, I’m calling Dad. Let’s get him over here to talk about what we should do.”
Margie choked back a sob and said, “I need the kids to go to their grandparents’ house.”
“I’ll call them,” Jake said, leaving the room. He walked outside and stood on the porch to use his cell. Katherine stayed with Margie and tried to console her. When Jake returned, he said, “Okay, Dad’s on his way. Mom’s coming over to take the kids to Grandpa Cokenberger’s.”
Margie nodded thanks and then said to Katherine, “Katz, go home, kiddo. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“But Margie, are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Katherine asked, genuinely concerned.
“No,” Margie said, shaking her head. Tears had reformed in her eyes. “I’ll be okay.”
Jake said to Katherine, “I’ll take you home.”
“Okay, Margie, but if you need me for anything, just call.”
Jake escorted Katherine out of the house and back into the car. On the way to the pink mansion, he reached over and held her hand. “Cokey’s been in trouble with the law before.”
“What was that about a misdemeanor?”
“It’s been a million years ago. I guess these kind of things come back to haunt you.”
“What kind of things?” Katherine asked adamantly, wanting him to just tell her.
“When he was dating Patricia Marston, the two of them were involved in a minor car wreck. Patricia was acting weird, so the officer searched the car and found marijuana. Cokey didn’t want her to get arrested, because she had a former conviction. So he took the fall for her. He pled guilty and got probation and some sort of conditional release, with no jail time. But I guess there’s still a permanent record. That’s when he broke off the engagement to Patricia.”
“It’s all starting to gel,” Katherine said, then added, “But, why would Cokey have an affair with Patricia with this thing hanging over his head?”
Jake just shook his head. He climbed out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. Katherine had already opened the door and was getting out. She said, “Call or text me as soon as you le
arn anything.”
Jake held her in a quick embrace. “Sure thing, sweet pea.”
They quietly walked to the front of the house. Scout and Abra were sitting inside the parlor window, watching the couple curiously. Katherine turned the key in the lock and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jake nodded and turned to leave. Katherine went inside to find three cats waiting for her. Scout and Abra didn’t waste time joining them. Taking Jake’s suit jacket off, which she’d forgotten to return, she hung it on the Eastlake hall tree. She sat down on the floor and asked, “How about a group hug?” The cats looked at her inquisitively, but didn’t move in for the ‘hug.’ She knew they had special ‘sleuth’ abilities, but wasn’t quite sure how and why they did the things they did. “My treasures, I’m leaving my computer on. Google me a clue as to who killed Robbie Brentwood.” She said it out of jest more than anything else.
Scout gave her a long, hard look and then trotted to the office. “Waugh,” she cried. The other cats took off and followed her.
Katherine got up with an amazed look on her face. That was strange, she thought. I think I’ll faint if I go to my office and find one of them surfing the web.
She kicked off her Gucci pumps and walked in her bare feet to the office, a little bit afraid of what she’d see, but instead found the cats in the kitchen, hovering over their empty food bowls.
“Fakers! You just want a bedtime snack.”
“Ma-waugh,” Scout agreed.
She removed the kibble jar and scooped out food for each cat. Turning out the kitchen light, she said, “Bon appétit!”
* * *
The next morning, Colleen and Katherine were sitting at the kitchen table when Mrs. Murphy walked in.
“Top of the mornin’,” she said in her heavy Irish brogue, then laughed.
Katherine got up. “Sit here. I’ll get you some tea or coffee. I just made a pot of hazelnut.”
Mrs. Murphy sat down. “Never had hazelnut. I’d love a cup. I hope you slept well,” she said to Katherine, completely oblivious to what had transpired the night before.
The morning Erie Herald lay flat on the table, its front page covered with photos of the fundraiser, museum event, and a large picture of the late financial advisor/curator/cake auctioneer.
CATS THAT PLAYED THE MARKET, THE Page 8