What the Cat Dragged In

by Miranda James

  She would probably not be in a frame of mind to deal with all that at the moment, I realized. She would no doubt still be in shock over her brother’s murder. I wouldn’t bring up the subject unless she did.

  Sean responded a few minutes later with a phone call. “Hi, Dad. I thought I had told you when we met the other day about the furniture and other effects in the house.”

  “No, you didn’t, not that I can recall,” I said. “Surely I would have remembered if you had. Azalea told me that Aunt Dottie took some of it when my grandfather died. There’s a list somewhere. I guess anything she left out there became Hale’s by default.”

  “I’ll have to go through the lease agreement again,” Sean said. “Depends on the wording, of course. I seem to remember a clause in you grandfather’s will about all this. I’ll check that, too. Didn’t your parents take anything from the house?”

  “Offhand, I don’t remember,” I said. After my parents’ deaths, I had sold their house in Athena, not thinking I would ever return here to live. I had kept a few small things of sentimental value, but I didn’t recall that my parents had any valuable antiques. I sold the furnishings as a lot rather than put it all in storage. I used the proceeds from that and from the house sale to fund my children’s college educations. I knew my parents would have approved. My education had been important to them, and they would have wanted their grandchildren to go to college, too.

  “See if you can find your aunt’s list,” Sean said. “In the meantime, I’ll be working on this end. Can’t get to it right away, because I’ve got a court date tomorrow morning. After that, I’ll be able to clear some time for it.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Good luck in court tomorrow.” I put my phone down. Where could that list of my aunt’s be? I had her desk in my bedroom, but I had been through the contents numerous times and was pretty sure no such list was there.

  Probably in the room where most of her book collection was stored, I decided. The closet in that rarely used bedroom was filled with boxes of her things. I decided I would start my search there, but I cautioned myself not to get distracted by my aunt’s books.

  “We’re going up to check the closet with Aunt Dottie’s boxes,” I told Azalea, and she nodded.

  Ramses scampered up the steps along with Diesel and me. My pace was far more sedate, however. I paused for a moment before I opened the door of the bedroom. I always felt my aunt’s presence in this room. She had shared my love of mysteries and had always encouraged me to read whatever I wanted to from her library.

  What a library it was, too. All the classic children’s mystery series: Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Judy Bolton, and many others. As she grew older she began collecting adult mysteries from the Golden Age: Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, and Dorothy L. Sayers, among many others whose names were far less well known these days. I could spend hours in this room looking at the books and riffling their pages, dipping in to read a paragraph or two, or a chapter or three.

  I opened the door and walked in. I glanced at the wall covered with books, smiled, then turned my attention toward the closet with my aunt’s boxes. Some of them bore markings with broad categories of contents. There were at least three that simply said papers. I might have to go through all three of them before I found that list.

  I located one of the boxes and carried it to the bed. I sat beside it, sideways, and opened the lid. Ramses had already hopped on the bed, and he immediately wanted to climb in the box. There was no room, though, and I gently dissuaded him from his intent. Diesel joined us on the bed, and he engaged the younger cat in play while I began to examine the contents of the box.

  I had no idea of the time as I went through loose papers and folders. The latter were thankfully marked, and I could put those aside quickly in many cases. Eventually I placed everything back in the box and replaced the lid. I set the box on the floor beside the closet and extracted another one.

  This time I didn’t have to dig far before I found a folder helpfully labeled property lists. I opened it to find a mixture of invoices—all marked paid, with check numbers included—and lists. Toward the end of the file, I found what I had been seeking, a three-page, stapled list marked items from Robert’s house.

  I returned everything else to the box and then put both boxes back in the closet. I made sure that the cats were in sight before the door clicked shut. I hated the thought of locking one of them inside a dark closet.

  Back on the bed I began to scan the list. I recognized each piece. Several had the annotation attic beside them, and I presumed that meant she had placed them in her attic here, rather than the attic in my grandfather’s house. I’d have to check that to be sure, though. I hadn’t been in the attic in this house since I had moved back to Athena several years ago. I couldn’t remember what was up there. No telling how dusty it would be by now. I should go up there regularly to clean and sort stuff out. Surely there was plenty that might be of use to someone.

  On the last page Aunt Dottie had noted certain items that she had decided to leave behind. I recognized two of them. One was the settee in the front parlor. The other was one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. It had belonged to my grandfather. The one I sat in on my visit the other day. The others didn’t sound familiar at all.

  I heard Azalea calling me, probably from the foot of the stairs. “Come on, boys,” I said, trying to herd the cats off the bed. “Let’s go see what Azalea wants.”

  For once they actually did what I asked, instead of continuing to wrestle. Diesel hopped down and scampered out the door, and Ramses bolted after him. I turned off the light and shut the door.

  When I reached the landing, I glanced down into the hall below. To my surprise, I saw Kanesha standing there with Azalea.

  “I have news,” Kanesha said. “Dr. Seton has done a preliminary examination of the bones.”

  I hurried down the stairs to join her. Azalea left us, and Ramses followed her into the kitchen. Diesel remained with me after greeting Kanesha. She patted his head but continued to stare at me.

  “What’s the news?” I asked, a little breathless from my rapid descent.

  “The skeleton isn’t complete,” Kanesha said. “I already knew that, of course, but he confirmed something I only suspected.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The feet and hands were amputated. They’re missing.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “I never noticed,” I said. “After I got a look at the skull, I didn’t really examine the rest of the bones. What was the killer trying to hide, do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Kanesha said. “The most obvious reason is to stop us from identifying the corpse, if the body had been found before complete decomposition. I’m betting on that cadaver dog to turn up something for us, though. Maybe the missing body parts were buried close to where the body was originally hidden.”

  “Do you think that’s why the bones were put in the attic? To conceal the original burial spot?”

  Kanesha nodded. “I think that’s as good a reason as any. The other would be to incriminate someone in the house, either your grandfather or Mr. Hale, depending on when this person died.”

  “Maybe for both those reasons,” I said. “Sounds to me that you think foul play had to be involved in this death, too.”

  “I can’t think of any other reason for the hands and feet to be amputated,” Kanesha replied, an edge to her tone. “Unless it was a freak accident, and I’m not buying that.”

  “Maybe the bones are really old,” I said. “Has Dr. Seton said anything about the potential age of the bones?”

  “He says they’re from a female, an adult probably in her sixties or older. That’s from a quick examination. He’s going to do a more thorough one tomorrow,” she replied.

  “Okay, but actually I meant how old the bones might be.”

  Kanesha nodded. “His best guess
is less than a hundred years, but that’s all he would say until he’s had time for tests. I’ve got to go. I just stopped by on the way out to your grandfather’s house. I’m meeting Dr. Seton there with his dog in about twenty minutes.”

  “I don’t suppose I could come, too?” I asked.

  Kanesha shook her head. “No, you can’t. I can’t have any extraneous persons on hand for this. If we find anything significant, you’ll be informed. That’s all I can tell you for now.”

  I accepted defeat. “Thank you for stopping by. I wish Dr. Seton and his dog the best of luck today.”

  “I’ll pass that along,” Kanesha said before she turned to leave.

  Diesel and I escorted her to the door and saw her out. I watched her hurry to her car before I shut the door.

  I found her news unsettling. The thought of those amputations disturbed me. The whole thing sounded so grisly. I wondered if Dr. Seton would be able to determine when the hands and feet were amputated; before or after death? For the sake of the victim, I hoped it had been after. I shuddered. Scenarios like this were the reason I didn’t watch graphic movies or read books with graphic details of autopsies or murders. My imagination was bad enough without having visual or written descriptions to stimulate it.

  Tantalizing aromas wafted my way from the kitchen, and I followed them, Diesel at my heels. Azalea stood at the stove, tending pots. Ramses sat near her feet, watching her carefully in hopes of dropped tidbits.

  “Smells good in here.” I was determined to banish my recent thoughts from my mind. I’d never be able to do justice to Azalea’s meal if I let myself think about the news Kanesha had just delivered.

  “Fried chicken, rice, gravy, biscuits, and butter beans,” Azalea replied, her back to me. “I thought you might enjoy some of your favorites tonight.”

  “I certainly will,” I said, mentally adding up the pounds I would gain from such a meal. I had no resistance when it came to fried chicken, biscuits, gravy, and rice. Butter beans I could take or leave.

  “Stewart said he’d be here for dinner,” Azalea said. “I reckon Mr. Haskell is working with Kanesha.”

  “I imagine so,” I replied. “They’re going to be searching my grandfather’s property with a cadaver dog.”

  Azalea turned to look at me, her expression puzzled. “I heard Kanesha talk about one of them a while back. What exactly does it do?”

  “These dogs are specially trained to find dead bodies, or, in this case, places where a dead body might have been put in the ground.” I told her the little I knew about dogs who had been able to find burial sites even hundreds or thousands of years old. “It’s pretty incredible to me. I knew dogs had amazing senses of smell, but this is crazy.”

  Azalea sniffed and turned back to the stove. “Sure sounds crazy to me. But that’s my daughter’s job, not mine. I wouldn’t want to go traipsing around all over the Lord’s creation after a dog, looking for dead bodies or their graves.”

  Normally I wouldn’t, either, I thought, but in this case I’d make an exception. I had seen and touched the skull of the person in this case, and I felt a sense of connection, odd as that might sound.

  “How long until dinner?” I asked.

  “Should be ready in about twenty minutes,” she replied.

  “I’m going to wash up. Do you think Stewart will be here soon?”

  “Said he would.”

  Diesel came with me upstairs. I hadn’t changed out of my work clothes yet, and I wanted to be more comfortable for dinner. For one thing, I wanted to put on my sandals and get rid of my socks and shoes so my feet could breathe.

  Back downstairs a good ten minutes later, I walked into the kitchen to find Stewart chatting with Azalea. We exchanged greetings, and I asked how his day had gone.

  “Fine,” he said. “The usual academic claptrap. The one thing I won’t miss about my job when I retire is the committee meetings. We never can seem to have an organized one. People are invariably going off on tangents, and I want to stand up and scream.”

  “Why don’t you?” I asked, jokingly.

  Stewart pinned me with his gaze. “Don’t think I might not do that, one of these days.” Then he grinned. “I’m going to get Dante and let him out in the backyard to run around for a bit. I’ll be back with you in about ten minutes.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked Azalea, knowing it was futile. I felt I had to ask occasionally, however.

  “Not a thing, unless you want to take this rascal here and lock him up somewhere.” Azalea pointed to Ramses, who meowed plaintively at the gesture.

  “He hasn’t eaten in days,” I said. “The poor mistreated little thing.”

  Azalea snorted. “That’s what he thinks, anyway. He’s a pester-box, that’s for sure.”

  “Come here, Ramses.” I took my chair and held out my hands. Ramses trotted over and let me pick him up. I stroked him and scratched his head. He started purring. Diesel sat beside my chair and stared at me, no doubt disgusted at my attentions to his annoying little brother. “I know,” I said to my big baby. “You’d rather I were doing this for you, but he deserves some attention, too.”

  Diesel did not appear to agree with me. He warbled once before he lay down, his back to me.

  By the time Stewart returned, Dante with him, dinner was on the table. Azalea gathered her things, ready to leave. Stewart and I assured her we would clean up her kitchen, and she bade us goodbye. Dante darted back and forth between the cats, trying to engage them in play. Diesel ignored him, but Ramses batted at him playfully.

  After we had helped ourselves to the food and taken a few bites, Stewart sat back in his chair, fork down. “Okay, what’s the latest? Any big news about the bones in the attic?”

  I figured if I didn’t tell him, Haskell probably would. “Yes, the skeleton is probably female, adult, around sixty or older. But the hands and feet are missing.”

  Stewart made a moue of distaste. “That’s grisly.”

  “I agree,” I said. “And the less said about that while we eat, the better.”

  Stewart nodded emphatically. “Okay by me.”

  I filled him in on other new bits of information, including the names of the three runaway women. “I don’t suppose Haskell has said anything to you about his aunt since the last time we talked.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” Stewart said. “I haven’t asked. I’ll bring up the two other women, though, and see if he volunteers anything about Mrs. Hale.”

  “He and Kanesha may already know her whereabouts, and whether she’s still alive. I reckon she’d be in her late seventies, maybe eighty by now.”

  “Sounds about right,” Stewart replied. “Haskell’s mother is seventy-four, and I think the aunt was her older sister.”

  “Do you know either Gil Jackson or Levon Luckney?”

  “No, not that I recall,” Stewart said. “I don’t move much in farming circles, other than the occasional tense meal with Haskell’s family.” He grimaced.

  We resumed eating, and silence reigned for a brief period. Silence, that is, except for the occasional sorrowful meow or pitiful whine, the latter from Dante. Stewart and I both succumbed and doled out bites of biscuit, chicken, and the occasional butter bean. Oddly enough, Diesel really liked them. Because Diesel ate them, Ramses did, too. Even Dante had a couple.

  “I’m sure Haskell knows both those men you mentioned,” Stewart said. “Jackson and—what was the other name?”

  “Luckney,” I said. “You mean because he’s from a farming family?”

  “Yes, he knows a lot of the people out in that part of the county, since he grew up there,” Stewart replied.

  “One thing I didn’t tell you about Gil Jackson,” I said, “was that he’s rumored to be a moonshiner.”

  Stewart slapped a hand on the table, and I almost jumped.

  “That’s
who that guy is.” Stewart apparently hadn’t noticed my reaction. “I thought the name sounded slightly familiar. Haskell has talked about a moonshiner out that way, but they’ve never been able to catch him. Every time they go out there to shut him down, his still is gone.”

  “Sounds to me like somebody is tipping him off,” I said.

  “Haskell thinks so, too,” Stewart replied. “Kanesha’s been trying to find out, but so far they haven’t had any luck.” He grinned suddenly. “I think it’s the sheriff myself. He’s fond of his liquor.”

  Given what I knew of our sheriff, I wouldn’t be surprised if Stewart was right. Kanesha wouldn’t have much luck, in that case, putting Jackson out of business.

  We finished our meals, and then we began to clear the table. Our three helpers, after they realized there were no more tidbits forthcoming, got out of our way while we moved around.

  “Too bad Haskell isn’t here to eat this fresh,” I said. “He’s been putting in long hours.”

  “Always, it seems.” Stewart shook his head. “I worry that he’s not getting enough rest, but if I bring up the subject, he turns it off and tells me not to worry.”

  In the brief silence that followed, we both tensed when we heard a sound at the front door. There was a knock, and then someone rang the bell.

  “Who on earth could that be?” Stewart asked.

  I felt like an idiot when I recalled that Alissa Hale was coming tonight. I glanced at my watch. The time was now nearly six-thirty.

  “I’ll explain in a moment, but it’s young Hale’s sister. She’s going to stay here,” I said before I hurried to open the door.

  When I did, I found a harassed-looking deputy, a young woman I didn’t recognize, standing there. “Good evening, Deputy.”

  “Are you Mr. Harris?” she asked.