The Cat That Got the Cream

by Fiona Snyckers

  When they drew apart, Fay smiled at David. “I was wrong about one thing.”

  “What was that?”

  “I wouldn’t have noticed a car driving past.”

  He smiled back at her. “Me neither. I don’t think I’d have noticed a bomb going off. I hope we didn’t miss anything.”

  “We’d better keep our eyes on the target.” But she kept her hand in his and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

  “Why did you wait so long to do that?” she asked.

  He sighed. “I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of playboy flitting from woman to woman. I wanted you to know that this wasn’t a rebound situation.”

  “That’s what your father said. I thought I’d read the whole situation wrong and that you weren’t interested in me after all.”

  He turned his face to plant a kiss against her forehead. “I’ve been interested in you from the moment I saw you. You were standing at the top of the stairs in Penrose House and telling me there was a dead body in one of the guest rooms. I was so disconcerted by my feelings for you that I was rather rude.”

  Fay snuggled against his shoulder. “I was right about the dead body, though.”

  “You always are.” His hand tensed under hers and he sat up.

  “What was that? I thought I saw a flash of light.”

  “I saw it too.” Fay put her seatbelt back on. “There’s a car coming.”

  They could hear it now. A pair of headlights appeared as a car drove down the narrow lane and turned onto the main road. There were two people in it.

  “What do you think?” asked David. “Is it them?”

  Fay looked at the shape and color of the car and nodded. “I think it is. You’d better follow them - but keep your lights off.”

  David started the car and pulled into the road just as the vehicle ahead disappeared over a rise. “Lights off? Are you sure? It’s very dark.”

  “If they catch even a glimpse of headlights behind them, they’ll know they’re being followed. There’s enough moonlight to see by. Just drive carefully.”

  At first it seemed as though the car in front of them was heading down into the village, but then it turned right onto the westbound road that led to the most rugged and inaccessible part of the island. Some of the roads were barely passable there. The Land Rover was an SUV, but the car they were following wasn’t.

  As they followed at a discreet distance, the car seemed to fishtail out of control as it hit a patch of soft sand.

  David slowed almost to a stop. “They’re going off the road.”

  “No, it’s okay. They’ve got control again.”

  With a spurt of sand and spinning wheels, the car continued on its way.

  David hunched over the wheel. “Where are they going? There’s nothing out here.”

  “They must be headed for the cliffs. It’s the perfect place to dispose of evidence. Don’t let them get too far ahead. We need to catch up with them before anything gets tossed out to the sea.”

  “Call Sergeant Jones. You were obviously right about this.”

  Fay called him on her phone, hoping she wasn’t summoning him to a false alarm.

  The minutes ticked by as the overland track took them all the way to the western side of the island. Eventually it stopped near the highest and most precipitous cliff on Bluebell Island. A man and a woman got out of the car and retrieved something from the trunk. It was quite clearly a sword.

  “Quick!” said Fay. “We need to stop them before they dump it.”

  Abandoning all attempts at stealth, David brought the car to a screeching halt, and the two of them flung themselves out of it.

  “Stop!” yelled Fay as she ran towards them. “Stop what you’re doing.”

  The two people froze in their tracks, eyes wide and mouths comically agape.

  “What?” said Frances King. “Who …?”

  “It’s her,” said Bob Haggit. “The one who’s been asking questions. You told me you took care of her.”

  “I did,” said Frances. “She was supposed to be …”

  “I was supposed to be off on a wild goose-chase – the one you set for me when you sent me that riddle. I was meant to be down in the village chasing my tail between Jack O’Lanterns and toy coffins. People have tried to fool me before, but not quite as clumsily as that.”

  Frances’s hand tightened on the hilt of the sword. “How did you know it was us?”

  “You were the only person who hated Massimo Galliano enough to try to frame him for murder. And your car was seen on the night that the body was dumped. A dark sedan with a skeleton hanging from the rearview mirror.”

  “You had no reason to hate Edward Mayweather,” added David. “So, you must have been helping someone who did.”

  “That’s right,” said Fay. “Edward came to Bluebell Island at Danny Baines’s request in order to broker a sale of land to Argyle Holdings. Danny had no reason to kill him because he was doing what he asked. And Maria had no reason to want her own brother dead. That left you, Mr. Haggit.”

  Bob took a step closer to Frances. “This is pure fantasy. I’m just the foreman. What possible reason could I have for wanting to kill Maria’s brother?”

  Fay didn’t hesitate. “You’re in love with Maria Baines. You like to imagine that if Danny were out of the picture, you and Maria could be together. Danny only started drinking after you came to the farm. A witness heard a man with your Cornish accent pouring whiskey for Danny in the middle of the day.”

  “So, why didn’t I kill Danny instead of Edward in this fantasy of yours?”

  “I don’t know,” said Fay. “I wasn’t there. I know that the sale of land - much as Maria opposed it - would have saved the farm’s fortunes. It would have brought in an injection of cash worth tens of millions of pounds. Edward was driving that sale. Perhaps you lost your temper in the heat of the moment. Perhaps you figured that if you stopped the sale Maria and Danny’s marriage would collapse naturally. What you didn’t count on was how deeply they still love each other.”

  “They do not!” Bob scoffed.

  “Maria hasn’t turned her back on her marriage even after you made her believe that Danny had accidentally started the fire – the same fire that you started deliberately.”

  “It was him. He passed out with a lit cigarette in his hand.”

  “Chief Barlow says otherwise, and he can prove it. You’re going away for a long time, Mr. Haggit. And Maria and Danny will be just fine. Without your influence, Danny might finally get the help he needs to stop drinking.”

  “I’ll make sure he does,” said David. “And your side-kick here will go to jail too. She lent you her car to dispose of the body and helped you in trying to frame Galliano. That’s called being an accessory after the fact.”

  They paused as the unmistakable sound of a car engine reached their ears.

  “That’s Sergeant Jones and Constable Chegwin now,” said Fay. “You need to lower that sword and come with us.”

  “Make me,” invited Frances, flourishing the sword in a semi-circle in front of her.

  “Be careful with that thing,” said David. “You don’t want to add assault with a dangerous weapon to your charges.”

  Frances shuffled forward, her feet moving with startling speed. Suddenly, she was within arm’s length of Fay. She retracted her sword arm and lunged forward, causing Fay to retreat with more speed than grace.

  “Are you crazy?” demanded Fay. She heard the sound of doors slamming as the policemen got out of their vehicle.

  Frances lunged again. And Fay danced backwards again. Then she caught her heel on a rock and fell backwards heavily.

  “Now then.” Sergeant Jones’s voice boomed against the roar of the sea. “What’s all this?”

  Undeterred, Frances leapt towards Fay, brandishing the sword. She stopped when she found herself looking down the barrel of Fay’s pistol.

  There was an immediate outcry from the islanders.

  “
A gun?” said David. “I didn’t know you were carrying that.”

  Frances lowered her sword and took a step back. “Hey, now. Wait a minute. There’s no need for that.”

  “Fay, love,” protested Sergeant Jones. “Put that thing away. You’ll hurt someone.”

  Fay scrambled to her feet. “It’s the same model as the service weapon I carried for ten years. I have a license for it, and I visit the range once a week to keep my skills current. The only person I’m likely to hurt is this crazy lady who keeps coming at me with a sword.”

  Sergeant Jones tutted. “This isn’t the wild west, Fay love. We don’t go shooting people around here. Miss King is going to put that sword down and come along quietly. Isn’t that right, Miss King?”

  Frances put the sword on the ground and nodded.

  “Wait a moment,” said David as the policemen led Frances and Bob to their patrol vehicle. “There are two things I want to know. First of all, why did you dump Mayweather’s body in the middle of the village? Why not drive here and throw it off a cliff?”

  Frances’s laugh was scornful. “He got down to the village and realized he would be late for the milking, which he was due to supervise at five o’clock. So, he panicked and dumped the body in town before speeding back up to the farm.”

  “What did I say?” Sergeant Jones was pleased with himself. “The milking. Didn’t I say that from the start?”

  “You did, Owen,” David agreed. “And the second thing I want to know is why you would help Haggit like that, Frances? What are you to each other?”

  “Didn’t you know?” said Bob Haggit. “She’s my sister.”

  “That’s right,” said Frances. “When he phoned me at four o’clock in the morning and told me what he had done – with one of my foils - I knew I had to help, so I rushed over right away.”

  “And Galliano’s sword?” asked Fay.

  “Oh, I took that last week just to annoy him. Do you know how pretentious it is to have your initials engraved on a foil? Then after what happened with Bob, I saw that I could put it to good use.”

  Epilogue

  Fay double-checked the number of the cottage.

  Eighteen.

  She was at the right place. She remembered the neatly trimmed box hedge that surrounded the little garden. Thank goodness for that. Her arm was starting to ache.

  “You have definitely put on weight during your stay with us,” she told the contents of the carrier she was holding. A slight shuffling was the only response.

  As Fay walked up the path towards the cottage, the front door burst open and Laura Schuyler emerged like a track star breaking the tape.

  “Is he here? Have you got him? I’m so excited! I spent the whole morning staring out the window waiting for you to arrive.”

  Fay smiled. It was impossible not to be cheered by such infectious enthusiasm. “Spooky is excited too, or he will be when he sees his new home.”

  “Do you think he’ll remember this place? I hope he remembers it.”

  “I’m sure he will,” said Fay. “It’s only been a few days since I trapped him. He probably sees your cottage as a safe place where the nice lady used to give him food.”

  “The sweetheart! I’ve missed him so much since you took him.”

  “Just keep him indoors for a few days until he is completely used to regarding this cottage as his home.”

  “I will. And I’ll get a nice, bright collar for him, with my phone number on it.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Bring him in.” Laura hovered over the carrier, touching it constantly as Fay brought it into the cottage. “Bring him into the parlor. I’ve set his basket and litter tray up in there, and also his toys and a scratching post. There’s another basket in my bedroom in case he wants to sleep with me at night.”

  Fay remembered how Spooky had spent hours of the previous day curled up in a ball on her duvet.

  “I’m afraid that if you let him into your bedroom at night, he’ll be sleeping on your bed in no time. Spooky knows all about beds - and he likes them.”

  Laura hugged herself with glee. “I don’t mind. He’ll be company for me. He can snuggle right under the covers if he likes.”

  Fay suspected that Spooky would indeed like that.

  Laura closed the parlor door, and Fay unzipped the side of the carrier. Spooky emerged slowly.

  “Oh, the poor boy. He’s so timid. Why is he so frightened?”

  “He’s had a hard time lately. I think he was someone’s pet for most of his life and then became a stray. But he’s getting used to human contact again and will soon settle down. He just needs to get familiar with you and this cottage.”

  Laura bent to stroke Spooky as he sniffed the rug cautiously. Fay was pleased to see him arch his back in response. Then he turned sideways and gave her ankle a soft bump with his head.

  “Did you see that?” said Laura. “Did you see what he did?”

  “He likes you.”

  She stroked him some more until a faint rumble reached their ears. Spooky was purring.

  Laura made tea as Fay watched the cat become acquainted with his new home. By the time Laura came back in with the tray, he was perched on the back of an armchair, looking as though he owned the place.

  “I’m afraid he was sharpening his claws on your furniture,” said Fay. “But I guess that as a former cat owner you would be used to that.”

  Laura touched the armchair fondly. “This chair still bears the scars of my late kitty, Ollie. I never thought I would have another cat after Ollie. I thought I was too old. I’m already sixty-five, you know.”

  “That’s why it’s so perfect that you’re adopting an older cat. At eleven, Spooky is about the same in cat years as you are in human years. You’ll be great company for each other.”

  Laura beamed down at the cat who was currently rubbing his chin against her hand. “Yes, we will be. Won’t we, Spooky?”

  More From Fiona Snyckers

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  The Cat’s Paw Cozy Mysteries

  The Cat That Had a Clue

  The Cat That Got Your Tongue

  The Cat That Played the Tombola

  The Cat That Wasn’t There

  The Cat That Was Bigger Than You

  The Cat That Got the Cream

  The Eulalie Park Mystery Series

  Hacked

  Hooked

  Haunted

  Hunted

  Hitched

  Hatched

  About the Author

  Fiona Snyckers is the author of the Trinity series of young adult novels, the Eulalie Park Mysteries series, as well as the suspense novel Now Following You, the high-concept thriller Spire, and a literary novel Lacuna published in 2019 by Pan Macmillan. She has had various short stories published in magazines and collections. The Cat’s Paw Cozy Mysteries is her latest series of murder-mystery novels. Fiona has been nominated four times for the Sunday Times Fiction Prize. She lives in Johannesburg, South Africa, with her family.

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