by Cate Conte
Her eyes narrowed into slits. Despite Grandpa’s joke about her being old and skinny and no match for any of us, suddenly I could see the potential for danger there. “That a threat?”
I knew I should shut my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to. Just thinking about this woman trying to put her hands on JJ made me crazy. “If it has to be a threat, it will be. Stay away from my house. And my family.”
I was about to spin off in a dramatic exit, but I felt a hand on my shoulder and nearly jumped a foot. I spun around. Craig stood directly behind me. And no doubt he’d heard most of that.
“Maddie? What’s going on?” he asked, looking from me to the woman.
“Oh, look. Officer Tomlin.” I smiled sweetly at my nemesis. “The cops are here. Anything you wanted to say?”
“Yes, actually. I’d like to file a complaint,” she said, turning to Craig. “Public harassment! Unless you’re one of the corrupt cops who would cave because her grandpa was the chief.” She said the word grandpa with a sneer that made me want to slap her.
But Craig didn’t like her comment, either. He turned to her, his lips settling into a thin line. “Ma’am, that was out of line,” he said. “Our officers are certainly not corrupt. Now what’s the problem here?”
“She’s stalking me,” I said, before she could say anything.
“Stalking you?” Craig asked, frowning.
“She’s full of crap,” the woman snapped. “And a little insane, if you ask me.”
“I’m insane? You’re the one trying to steal my cat!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Craig stepped in between us. “Maddie. What do you mean, she’s trying to steal your cat?”
“JJ! She’s after JJ.”
“It’s my cat,” she said, her gaze steely. “You can cry to your precious grandpa all you want, but it’s the truth. He’s lying about how you got him.”
I turned to Craig, furiously blinking back tears. “You need to get her off this island,” I said, hating the way my voice shook.
“Okay, calm down,” Craig said. “Let’s all take a minute to get composed and we can talk—”
“Maddie? Are you okay?” Lucas, who must’ve seen the confrontation from his window, rushed out of his shop. When he reached us, he slipped an arm around my shoulders, looking from Craig to the woman. “What’s going on?”
Grateful, I hugged him around the waist. “She’s back,” I whispered.
“Harassing you about JJ?”
I nodded.
“Well, what’s he doing about it?” he asked, motioning to Craig.
I could see Craig’s jaw set out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m right here,” Craig said. “Feel free to ask me.”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “What are you doing about it?” His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes were steely.
“This is ridiculous,” the woman said before Craig could answer. “I’m the one who has a gripe here. Talk about public harassment! Not to mention, she does have something of mine.” She pointed with a skinny, long finger at JJ.
“Something?” I heard my voice rise to a screech and hated it, but I couldn’t help it. I stuffed JJ’s head deeper in my coat, trying to get him out of her sight line. “You’re referring to JJ as something?”
Craig sighed and turned back to my nemesis, stepping slightly in front of me to block my view of her. “Ma’am, can you prove it?”
She faltered a bit. “I know my cat’s markings.”
Craig waited for her to say more. We all did. I held my breath. But his words made me feel a bit better. Of course she couldn’t prove it. It wasn’t like this foolishness would hold up in any kind of a court. But, a little voice reminded me, she could still try to steal JJ out from under my nose.
That thought left me cold.
“I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, ma’am, but cats can have similar markings,” Craig said finally. “Especially ones with the same lineage, which we see a lot out here on the island. There’s a lot of inbreeding, given the more narrow population of strays and ferals.”
I listened, impressed. I hadn’t realized Craig had become an expert on cats.
“I know cats can look similar,” she snapped. “But I know my cat.”
“Can I get your name please?” He pulled out his notebook. “And your address? Do you live on the island?” He held his pencil poised over the notebook, waiting expectantly.
She glared at him. “My name is Thea Coleman. I don’t live on the island.”
Craig, who had begun writing, paused. “Where do you live?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking,” he said. His tone was still polite, but I could tell he was getting annoyed, too.
“I live in California,” she said finally.
“Then how did you lose a cat here?” Craig asked.
“I come here a few times a year for vacation. One of the times I was here I rescued a litter of kittens. I was going to take them back with me, but one of them escaped.” She turned her gaze on me. “The orange one.”
“Well, maybe if you’d taken better care of them—” I countered.
Craig held up a hand to silence me. “When was this?”
She thought about it. “About three years ago.”
I felt my heart sink a little. The initial vet estimates put JJ right around three years old. Although it’s impossible to tell, with strays. Sometimes they appeared older than they actually were, especially if their living situations had been difficult.
But Craig’s expression didn’t change. “I see.” He flipped his notebook closed. “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about it now,” he said. “If there’s no way to prove this was your cat—like if you don’t have papers or anything to support your claim—there’s really no standing. I’m sorry, Ms. Coleman.”
I had no idea if what he was saying was true, but the fact that he said it meant a lot. I felt my throat tighten a bit, that kind of tight that means tears are coming. On the days I wondered why I’d come back here, this was what I always came back to. I had family and other people who’d known me all my life who still cared about me. No matter how annoying they got at times, you couldn’t beat that.
Thea looked like she was about to argue with him, then apparently thought better of it. She muttered something under her breath, then turned and headed toward the deli. “Thanks for nothing,” she spat over her shoulder.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Craig called. “Did you still want to pursue harassment charges?”
She ignored him and shoved through the deli door. I swatted his arm. “What do you mean, does she still want to pursue harassment charges?”
He grinned. “I was just showing her that I really wasn’t taking sides.”
Chapter 23
Lucas had some appointments to finish up and promised to meet me at home after. But he was later than usual and seemed subdued. A few times I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong but hesitated in case it was related to Craig coming to the rescue out on the street earlier. He was a little sensitive about that whole thing.
But he didn’t stay over, either, begging off because of an early ferry. He sent me a sweet text as he was boarding the boat at seven Friday morning and promised to miss me tons. I was kind of bummed that he was leaving, especially since he might not be able to make it back on schedule given the predicted storm. I was still hoping it was all just hype.
But my more immediate problem was my schedule for the day. I had to go to Dr. Drake’s today, which didn’t seem like the best way to spend a Friday. Plus, I couldn’t get Holt and Thea Coleman off my mind. All of it put together had me in a foul mood when I headed downstairs for coffee, earlier than usual because I couldn’t sleep.
Ethan took one look at me and handed me a mug. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” I grumbled. “What did you make for pastries?”
“Blueberry cheese Danish.” He motioned to the plate on the counter. “Still cooling. Want one?”
“Yes.” I stared into my cup as he put one on a plate and handed it to me. “I’m kind of cranky.”
“Gee, I couldn’t tell.” He blinked innocently at me.
I rolled my eyes and bit into my Danish. It was delicious. “You are wasting your talents,” I said. “Not that I want you to leave or anything, but man.”
He smiled modestly. “I’d much rather be here than on some chef reality show. So what’s bugging you?”
“This whole Holt thing. And Thea Coleman. And on top of all that, I have to take Muffin to that new vet today and I’m just in a bad mood.”
“Who’s Thea Coleman?”
“That’s the crazy woman’s name. I saw her on the street yesterday and it … became a thing. Anyway.” I waved it off, not wanting to get into yesterday’s altercation. “Everything’s just weird right now.”
“I understand. But you can’t let the Holt thing consume you, Mads. The cops are on it.”
“I know.” I picked up my Danish and stood, not wanting to hear about how I should go about my business and live in la-la land. I had to do something to help if I could. I was going to tell the cops about Thea Coleman and Holt. And I was going to do a bit of my own research.
Rick, my sister’s ex who was still in love with her, was one of the ferry attendants. If I could get him to give me the passenger lists going back a couple years, I could see if Holt and Thea had been here around the same time. It could explain how they knew each other. Rick would do anything for another shot at Val. I felt a little guilty using that to my advantage, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
“I have to go out for a bit.” I took my Danish and coffee with me and left the room, ignoring Ethan’s protests.
I still wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do for Leopard Man, and my sister probably wouldn’t be happy with me for jumping the gun. I’d try to keep the Ava-Rose thing out of it for now. Although sometimes my mouth went faster than my brain.
I went upstairs, grabbed my iPad, and pulled up Google. I typed in Thea Coleman. I didn’t get a ton of hits. The first one was an “article” called “Playboy’s Natural Beauties.” Since it was recent, I assumed it wasn’t my Thea Coleman, unless Playboy’s business model had drastically changed. The other hits took me to a knitter’s blog. This Thea Coleman shared patterns, gave knitting tips, and posted friendly pictures of scarves, socks, hats, and other items you could make just as easily as she did. The thumbnail accompanying the blog was small, but I could tell right away this was not my Thea, either. This woman was older, with reddish-pink hair and a chubby face.
The next one I came across was a painter and photographer from California. Possibly. I clicked to her website. No photos of her, just of her work. The “About” page had pictures of a cat, which did make me wonder. I did a little more digging on her and found out Thea the painter and photographer was about thirty years old, whereas my gal was way older.
I found a couple of white page listings and a mention of a Thea Coleman in a jazz band. Which made me think of Lucas, which made me cranky again. By the time I was half through the results, I was getting frustrated. I wished I knew where this woman came from so I could at least narrow the search down a bit, since there were twenty pages of results. But when I skimmed through the rest of them, they were more generic, like ads claiming: We found Thea Coleman’s address and phone number.
I frowned. Nothing that seemed even remotely related to our visitor. Shouldn’t something have come up? I tried Facebook, too, but to my surprise there were a lot of Thea Colemans out there. And most of them had profile pictures that convinced me they were not the woman on Daybreak.
I called Craig’s cell. “Are you working?”
“I am.”
“Good. Are you at the station?”
“I’m on my way there now. What’s up?”
“I need to come down. And I wanted to talk to you and Sergeant Ellory.”
A pause. Then, “About what?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. Can you just make sure Ellory will be there?”
I heard Craig barely suppress a sigh. “Yeah. Are you coming now?”
I glanced at the clock. If I took care of this now, I’d be able to get back, collect Muffin, and head to Drake’s for my appointment—and interrogation—at one. “I’ll be on my way in about fifteen minutes.”
* * *
I got in Grandma’s car and drove down the street, pulling into the ferry lot. I was relieved to find Rick behind the counter. He grinned when he saw me. “Maddie James. How are you? How’s Val? Is she doing okay? I know she had a hard time with … well, you know.” He looked genuinely interested in my sister’s well-being, which I thought was sweet.
“Hey, Rick. I’m good. Val’s good.” I decided to not mention Ethan. “Listen, I need a favor. I’m doing some research for a project and I wondered if you could share copies of incoming ferry passenger lists going back a couple years?”
Rick thought about that, tapping a pencil against his chin. “I’m sure I can do that. I have to run the reports, though. Do you need it right now?”
“No. I can come back later.”
“Sweet. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
I gave him my cell, blew him a kiss, and headed back to the car. I felt better already. It still might tell me nothing, but I needed to feel like I was moving forward.
Chapter 24
Craig was in the lobby when I arrived about twenty minutes later. He raised an eyebrow at me. I motioned to the door leading to the inner sanctum. “Shall we?”
He led me through the “official” doors and down the hall. I hadn’t been in the office area in a long time—since Grandpa had retired. It still looked the same. The same ratty carpeting in the hall, the same ancient furniture in the offices we passed. The chief’s office—Grandpa’s old office—was on the third floor, and I doubted I’d get invited up for a trip down memory lane.
Craig led me to Ellory’s office. Ellory sat behind his desk, typing on the computer. He was surprisingly fast. He didn’t glance up when we appeared, but he said, “Ms. James. Please have a seat.”
I suppressed an eye roll. He ran so hot and cold. “Thanks,” I said. “And you can call me Maddie. Like you did the other night.”
Craig motioned to a chair in front of the desk and took the other one. Ellory hit a few more keys, shook his head, then turned to me. “Paperwork,” he said. “Even though it’s digital now, it’s still the worst part of the job.”
I smiled. It was a common refrain I’d heard from Grandpa during his career, too. Especially the last part of it, when he was behind a desk most of the time. He’d loved being chief, but his heart was on the street. He’d found any excuse to be out there and avoiding paperwork even at that level. And he hated typing and computers and the like. “I hear you,” I said.
He studied me for a minute, and I resisted the urge to squirm. “So what can I do for you, Maddie?”
I took a breath. “It’s about that woman. Thea Coleman,” I said, with a sidelong glance at Craig.
“Thea Coleman?” Ellory asked.
“The woman who caused a minor disturbance at the cat cafe,” Craig filled in.
“Ah. The one you had words with on the street yesterday,” Ellory said, leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingers together.
He didn’t miss a trick. Although odds were Craig had written it up. I nodded. “She’s a visitor on the island. Apparently she comes here often. She came to my cafe on Wednesday and made a scene about JJ being hers.”
Ellory’s face remained impassive, and he didn’t speak, just inclined his head and waited for me to go on.
I squirmed a bit under his gaze. “So, like I said, she came in and caused a bit of a scene—”
“And you want to file a complaint now?” Ellory asked, a look passing between him and Craig.
“No, actually. I’m hoping she’s going to leave it alone after the conversation she and Craig had yesterday. But
there was something else about that visit I wanted to mention in case it was important. That was the last day Jason Holt was there. I think she knew him. I think they knew each other, actually.”
Neither of them was expecting that. I could tell because I actually got a rise out of Ellory—as much of a rise as someone like him would show. Which meant a slight look of surprise and a head tilt as he leaned forward. “The dead writer. You think they knew each other?”
I nodded.
“That’s right, I heard he was a frequent customer,” Ellory said.
“Yes. He’s been in every day I’ve been open for the past few weeks. I … didn’t realize it at first,” I said with a sheepish smile. “My sister finally told me.”
“What was he doing in there? Playing with cats?”
I didn’t like his tone. So much for that truce I thought we’d established. “Actually, he was working. And spending time with cats. It’s kind of what you do in a cat cafe,” I added, unable to resist. “He didn’t say much while he was there. And I left him alone. I try to give people peace and quiet if that’s what they seem to want. He had his computer, a notebook, and he did have a cat on his lap. He paid for a week in advance. He drank coffee and ate Ethan’s pastry. And he was super quiet, even when the construction crew sounded like they were going to knock the walls down around him.”
“So he didn’t speak to you.”
“Not really. Just to ask about a cat’s name, or order something.”
“He talk to anyone else?”
I shook my head. “It’s been quiet in there most days. A few of my regulars would come in, but they only cared about the cats, too. Until … that woman showed up.”
Ellory and Craig exchanged a look. That made me curious.
“Why do you think they knew each other?” Ellory asked. “Did they speak? Hug?”
“Nothing that obvious. They kind of caught each other’s eye—not, like, in a romantic way or anything—and had a little staring contest. I got the sense she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.”