Cat Got Your Tongue (The 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Louise Clark

  Hammer had a temper. Both Gowdy boys did. Most of the time he kept it under wraps. After a long moment of charged silence, Hammer asked, "What do you want to know?" There was an edge to his voice that said he was still annoyed, but he wasn't going to erupt right now.

  "Take us through what you did, from the moment the argument ended. Don't hold back. It's the small details that are often the ones that are the most important."

  Hammer drank more beer, then he said, "I was furious at Vince. I felt choked, like all the words I wanted to say to him were stuck in my throat. I had to get out of there. I didn't want to go back out onto the deck. Kyle was out there and if I saw him, I knew I'd only get madder. So I rushed up the stairs to the front door and went out. It was a nice night, a little cool, but there were no clouds and I could see the stars." He'd been staring at the beer can in his hands, but now he looked up and glanced from one to the other of his listeners. "As soon as I got outside I started to calm down. I knew I was going to have to sort things out with Vince and I figured that if I took a walk and thought things through, I'd be better able to make him understand me."

  "So you left the property and headed down the street," Trevor said.

  Hammer nodded.

  "Did you see anyone who might know what time it was when you set off? Or who might notice where you went? Hear anything unusual?"

  Hammer looked thoughtful. "I heard a rustling in the trees that surround Sledge's house. At first I thought it was the wind, but it couldn't have been." He grimaced. "In fact, I know it wasn't. It was that damned cat of yours, Ms. Jamieson. He was stalking the Siamese that lives near Sledge."

  "You're sure of this?" Trevor asked.

  Hammer nodded. He grinned, then glanced at Ellen and wiped the smile from his face. "I saw the cats near the end of the driveway. Together. They were, ah, mating." He cleared his throat. "I ignored them and turned onto the road."

  "How long did you walk and how far?" Trevor asked.

  Hammer considered that. "I was almost at the entrance to the development by the time I turned back."

  "That's a five-minute walk," Sledge said. "The houses are on good sized lots. If you were there you couldn't have killed Vince and got back to my house when you did. Why is Szostalo hassling you?"

  "Because unless he has proof Graham was where he said he was, it's only his word. Szostalo can ignore it." Trevor said.

  "It might have been ten," Hammer said. "I wasn't walking fast and when I heard the cat howling, I had to run to get back to your place. Do you know how steep the grade is in your area?" he asked, aiming the question at Sledge. "I was panting by the time I got there."

  "Why did you rush back when the cat howled?" Ellen asked.

  Hammer frowned, then shrugged. "I'm not sure. I thought about the rustling sounds, then I wondered if there was a bear or a cougar in the area. I thought the cat might be in trouble. The old guy walking his dog might have been what caused me to wonder."

  "An old guy walking his dog?" Ellen asked. Her eyes were open wide, her expression invited confidences.

  Hammer nodded. "Yeah, Sledge knows him. He lives in the second house from the end of the street."

  "You mean Mr. Hulbert? Has a black and white Sheltie?"

  Hammer nodded.

  "You talked to him?" Sledge asked.

  Hammer nodded again.

  "Did Mr. Hulbert happen to notice the time, Graham?" Ellen asked. Her voice was even, soothing almost. There was no evidence of rush, though Sledge was certainly feeling it.

  Hammer said, "He must have. He looked at his watch, then shook his head and said, 'Cougar's probably caught a cat. Stupid to let a pet out at five minutes past midnight around here.' I agreed, then I thought about your cat and the Siamese and I wondered if anyone in the house had heard them. I had this vague idea that I needed to help, so I ran back to your place, Sledge."

  "Did you tell Szostalo this, Graham?" Trevor asked.

  Hammer frowned, then shook his head. "I only thought of it now."

  Trevor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, don't." He looked at Sledge. "Can you phone this neighbor and see if he corroborates Hammer's story?"

  "Sure." Relief washed over Sledge. He never believed Hammer had killed Vince, but he'd been afraid it would be impossible to prove his friend's innocence.

  "Once we have a name, address, phone number and a willing witness, we'll hit the good detective Szostalo with our information and let him know he can start looking elsewhere for his murderer." Trevor's expression was smug, as if he was going to take great pleasure in making the detective's life more difficult.

  Eliminating Hammer as a suspect would certainly shake up the cop, but how long would it take for him to find the real killer? If he did. Sledge hated the idea that someone had used his house and his party to take Vince's life. He needed to know who that was.

  And he wouldn't rest easy until he did.

  Chapter 22

  The sky over the San Diego Zoo was a deep blue, dusted with the odd fluffy white cloud. The temperature on this March day was warm, but not hot, and the air was freshened by a light breeze. It was the perfect day to stroll along the many winding paths and enjoy the animal exhibits that were the best there were in providing a compromise between animal comfort and visitor viewing.

  Christy, Quinn, and Noelle had entered the zoo about an hour after it opened. They'd wandered for a couple of hours then paused for lunch before they'd set out again to enjoy the exhibits they hadn't yet viewed. When they first arrived Noelle had skipped along the trail, full of energy and excitement. Now, several hours later, she was still in awe of the animals she was seeing, but her steps were dragging. Still, she didn't want to leave until she had viewed absolutely everything.

  So they ambled lazily down the path, pausing to take pictures and point out animals that were difficult to see in their habitats, or watch others that were putting on a show. They could have been any of the hundreds of families wandering the grounds. A mom, a dad, and a daughter, happy and carefree on their day out.

  But they weren't. Christy was still wrestling with the news that Roy had imparted to Quinn. Could it be possible that Frank was gone? That he had slipped away while she and his daughter were away? If she and Noelle hadn't come down here with Quinn, would Frank still be living in Stormy the Cat, irritating her with his comments and his apparent assumption that he remained her husband, even though he wasn't alive anymore?

  Had Frank truly left Stormy's body? And was it her fault?

  As if he sensed her dark thoughts, Quinn slipped his hand over hers and squeezed. She looked over at him and smiled. He'd been wonderful since Roy's phone call. He'd held her as her first blank shock had turned to grief and when tears started to trickle down her cheeks, he'd pulled her close and soothed her while she cried. Then he'd listened while she babbled about loss and endings and who knew what else. She'd fallen asleep in his arms, but he must have stayed awake, or perhaps merely dozed, because he woke her well before Noelle's usual time so that she could slip back into the bedroom she shared with her daughter.

  He must be exhausted, but looking at him now she could see only the smallest hints of it in shadows below his eyes and the strain around his mouth. Instead he appeared alert, watchful, and ready for anything. She was so lucky to have him here with her, but was she expecting too much of Quinn by dumping her grief over her late husband on him?

  He caught her look and smiled. In that moment she could believe that he didn't mind. That he was glad she felt comfortable enough in their relationship to lean on him. Their lovemaking had brought them closer. Perhaps Frank's passing would bring them closer still.

  "We're coming up on another of the big cats," he said now.

  Noelle, who was a little ahead, looked over her shoulder and asked, "What kind is it?"

  "It's called a Clouded Leopard and it's only found in Southeast Asia."

  Noelle still had enough energy to do a little skip while she processed this. "What's it look like?"
<
br />   "You'll see," Christy said. She laughed at her daughter's scowl.

  Quinn said, "We'll tell you all about it when we find it."

  Noelle had to be satisfied with that. Christy could see that she was looking around with sharpened interest now that there was another of the big cats to view. They'd already passed the tiger exhibit, and the lions, leopards, and cheetahs. The white snow leopard had been a big hit as well. She'd thought they had already reached the end of the supply of felines and had been relieved. She had half expected Noelle to compare the cats to Stormy and she wasn't sure what exactly she'd say if her daughter brought up the family pet.

  Last night, their second to last night in California, she and Quinn had talked about how and when to tell Noelle that her daddy would not be in Stormy when they got back to Vancouver. Christy wanted to choose a moment before they got back to Burnaby, but one that would not mar Noelle's pleasure in her holiday. They'd tentatively decided that she would do it once they deplaned in Vancouver. That way they'd be on home turf, and Noelle would already be transitioning from being on vacation back into everyday life.

  The plan would work only if Noelle didn't mention her father. If she did, Christy couldn't lie outright. Or even lie by omission. She'd have to tell Noelle, then deal with the grief that would follow as best she could. This late in the day, Christy hoped that the clouded leopard, which was supposed to be rarely seen in the wild, would have decided that it had had enough of being on display and gone to ground for the night in some private part of its compound. Noelle would be disappointed, but the danger of a chance remark about her father would be over.

  Christy was out of luck. When they reached the exhibit there was the clouded leopard, front and center in his enclosure, dozing in the late afternoon sun, clearly visible. Noelle sucked in a deep breath. Her eyes widened and she said, "Is this the Clouded Leopard, Quinn?"

  "Sure looks like it," Quinn said. He was staring at the clouded leopard with a fixed expression. Christy wondered if he was as horrified as she was.

  As big cats went, the clouded leopard was one of the smaller ones. Its markings were not tiger stripes or leopard spots, but a combination of both. Big swirls, colored gold that tapered to greys and blacks, looked like clouds and had given the breed its name. They watched as the cat drew its paws under it, then stood and yawned. Its compact size and the unusual markings made it seem familiar.

  "Stormy!" Noelle said, with delight. "Mom, look! Isn't he beautiful?"

  Christy's heart sank. "Yes, he is, sweetheart."

  Noelle moved closer until her face was jammed against the protective barrier and she was as close as she could get to the big cat. "Tell me about the Clouded Leopard, Quinn."

  Quinn consulted the zoo's website on his phone, then said, "Clouded Leopards aren't really leopards. They are a separate breed of big cat. They live in Southeast Asia. Not much is known about them because they're shy in the wild and stay away from people."

  Christy wished that this clouded leopard behaved like his wild relatives and hid from human eyes. Too bad the animal hadn't read the memo on proper species behavior.

  "I'm glad he's not being shy," Noelle said, looking over her shoulder at Christy and Quinn. "He reminds me of Stormy so much! I bet Daddy would love this cat if he could see him."

  In its compound, the clouded leopard did a full body stretch, yawned again, glanced their way, then padded to a treed area and disappeared into the shadows. They stood waiting for it to reappear, but after a few minutes, when it did not, Christy reached out for Noelle's hand and said, "Come on, kiddo. It's almost time for the zoo to close. We need to get moving."

  Noelle sighed and said, "Okay, Mom," then let herself be guided away from the exhibit.

  As they strolled along the pathway, Quinn dropped behind. He was leaving Christy with Noelle and giving her the space and privacy to explain Frank's silence and probable passing to her daughter. Christy wasn't sure how to begin. Or, indeed, what she could say to make the news easier on Noelle. She chewed her lip. Finally, she said, "Roy phoned the other night."

  Noelle looked up at her. "Does he miss us?"

  "He does, but that's not why he was calling. It was about Daddy."

  At that, Noelle frowned. "Did something happen to Stormy?"

  "No. Stormy's okay. It's Daddy. He's not talking anymore."

  "Is he mad at Roy?"

  "No. It's—" How to explain that Stormy witnessed a murder and the trauma may have convinced Frank it was time for him to move on? "Something bad happened and Daddy saw it. He hasn't spoken to anyone since. I think, honey, that he may have decided it was time to go to heaven."

  Noelle's hand tightened in hers. "Without saying good-bye?"

  Christy had wrestled with that too. "We knew Daddy couldn't stay in Stormy's body forever. It was just a matter of time..."

  "No." Noelle said the word firmly. The expression on her face was determined to the point of stubbornness. "Daddy wouldn't leave without saying good-bye. He loves us, Mom. He wouldn't do that to us!"

  "Sweetheart, sometimes we don't have the option of choosing our time."

  They walked in silence for a minute. Noelle stared straight ahead, while Christy fought the urge to cry. When Noelle looked over at her again, there was both a plea and belief in her eyes. "Daddy wouldn't go without telling. I know he wouldn't. When we get home he'll talk to us again. I know it."

  Christy bit her lip. She could press no further. Noelle might be right. Hadn't she thought the same thing? Maybe Frank still was there. Once she and Noelle were back he'd bitch about the decisions she made and start taking potshots at Ellen again, all in his usual way.

  So she nodded to Noelle and said, "I hope you're right, kiddo."

  Relief shone in Noelle's eyes. "I bet I am!" She tugged at Christy's hand. "You'll see."

  Christy looked over her shoulder at Quinn as she allowed Noelle to pull her closer to the next exhibit. His smile said that she'd done all she could and that she'd let the subject drop at just the right moment. As they paused at the next exhibit, he caught up with them and slipped his arm around her waist. She leaned into him and thought, not for the first time, that she was a lucky woman.

  * * *

  Christy wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and said, for the third time, "I won't believe Frank's abandoned us."

  The last night in California and their return flight home this morning had been quiet. Even Noelle's enthusiastic energy had been dimmed by worry over the change they could find at home. There had been hope, though, that Frank might not be gone.

  Christy clung stubbornly to that hope now, even though Frank hadn't said a word since their return. "He wouldn't leave without saying good-bye. He wouldn't do that to Noelle."

  Roy looked concerned and Quinn's expression was bleak. She knew that they both believed Frank had moved on to whatever came after death, and that she simply refused to accept what was, really, inevitable.

  Part of her agreed with them. The sensible part, the practical woman who had a child to raise and a reputation to protect. But the part of her who had made excuses for Frank almost from the moment they'd settled in Vancouver, the woman who accepted that it was possible for his essence to live in a cat's body, that part wouldn't let go. "Frank loved—loves—Noelle. He made a promise to her. He wouldn't break it."

  "Seeing someone murdered..." Roy said, shaking his head. "It was tough enough looking at Vince's body. Watching it happen? I don't know if I could have handled it."

  Christy pounced on that. "Exactly! It's post-traumatic stress."

  Both men stared at her.

  She felt herself coloring, but she continued resolutely, "He needs time and closure."

  "Christy," Quinn said, but added nothing more, as if he thought her statement was so outrageous that there was nothing he could say.

  Christy drank some coffee to hide the dogged resolution she was sure must show in her expression. She knew she sounded ridiculous refusing to accept what was clear to ever
yone else, but she couldn't let go. "We need to solve the murder, soon. Do you have any idea who could have done it?"

  Quinn rubbed his forehead while Roy rattled off the list of suspects he, Trevor, Sledge, and Ellen had identified.

  "I thought we'd eliminated Mitchel Crosier?" she asked.

  "Of Chelsea Sawatzky's murder," Roy said. "But Vince's? Crosier was there that night and though he says he was wandering the house looking for Chef Rita around the time of the murder, no one saw him. He and Vince were in contract talks for the rights to the new SledgeHammer songs and Sledge says Vince wanted better royalties, more promotion and a lot of other benefits. I don't think giving up control would fit in with Crosier's world domination schemes."

  "And you don't think the murders are linked," Christy said.

  Roy shook his head. "I don't see how. There aren't a lot of similarities. I think the SledgeHammer involvement in Chelsea's death was just a timing accident."

  If the murders weren't related, it didn't matter if someone had an alibi for Chelsea's. Christy drew a deep breath. "Okay, then we start fresh. Did you guys decide who was going to interview whom?"

  Roy shook his head.

  "I'll take Crosier," Quinn said. His expression was grim, his inflection flat. "I can tell him I want to do an interview. He'll be cagey, but I may be able to get him to open up. I can do the same thing for Brody Toupin, the backup guy with big dreams. He'll like the idea of some free promo now that he's looking for a new manager."

  Christy put down her cup so she could slide her hand over Quinn's. He turned it under hers, so their fingers clasped. "Thank you," she said, trying to tell him how much his willingness to get involved meant to her. He squeezed her hand and his expression seemed to lighten.

  "I'll talk to Hank Lofti," Roy said. He ignored the byplay between Christy and his son, though she was sure he'd noticed it.